III. So I Speak Your Name || KNJ

III. So I Speak Your Name || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You and Namjoon bond over literature and alcohol.

Section Warnings: language, drinking, drinking games, bar scenes, pov switches between OC and Namjoon a few times

WC: 7.5k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Tuesday October 9th

On Sundays I visit graveyards, paying my respects to the many  words that have died  on my lips.

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating each admission that I struck down before it could reach you.

On Sundays I leave stones atop marble markers to memorialize those that you and I chose to leave unturned.

They say you only exist as long as someone remembers you, so I speak your name like my own Hail Mary full of grace.

You scratch out the last four lines and read it back. Then you change your mind, decide you like them, and add them once again at the bottom.

The final so turns into an and. Then you change it back to so. You sigh in frustration, closing your eyes. 

“You sound angry,” someone says, and you nearly leap off the stool in your kitchen. Namjoon stands in the doorway, holding a grocery bag, a carton of eggs sticking out the top. 

“Why did I choose a writing degree when I’m so bad at writing?” you ask him plaintively. 

It’s a little more honest, a little more personal than you two have been before. It just sort of slips, honestly, your head still a bit stuck in the world of words and phrases instead of in the present.

He smiles ruefully and moves into the kitchen, starting to put away his groceries. “I know that feeling,” he admits. Then, not looking at you, he adds, “I didn’t know you were in the writing program. I did it, too, for undergrad. You have Jemisen?”

“Really?” you ask. “How did we live together for a month and not know that? And yeah, Jemisen.”

Namjoon chuckles lightly, and you catch yourself watching his shoulders move as he reaches high in a cupboard to put a box away. “I guess we don’t talk that much,” he admits. “Are you doing fiction for your thesis?”

“Poetry,” you tell him.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, clearly surprised.

“Wow,” he says, brows furrowed. “Really?”

You laugh a little at the circular nature of your conversation. “Yes, really,” you say, smiling. “Though I will admit to regretting that decision on more than one occasion.”

“Again,” he says, finally folding up his reusable grocery bag and stashing it between the fridge and the counter, “I know the feeling.”

“Are you doing writing for your grad program too?” you ask, suddenly curious. 

He nods, leaning back against the counter. It’s that magical golden hour in the apartment, your favorite, when the outside light comes in orange and glowing. It casts a honey tinge over Namjoon’s skin, a softer brown showing up in his dark hair. There’s something sharp in his gaze suddenly, something that’s not usually there - like he’s honing in on something for the first time. 

“Fiction?” you prod. This is more interesting than your poetry homework, for sure. 

“Unfortunately,” he jokes. “So, poetry? My buddy did that track, he said it was hard. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to give up on fiction entirely, and I knew I couldn’t handle both. Plus my poetry’s pretty bad.”

“So is mine,” you grumble, eyeing your notebook grumpily. 

Namjoon gives a sigh and moves towards his room. “I have class tonight,” he tells you, “but if you want to order extra dinner and leave me the leftovers, I’ll pay you for it.”

“Sure,” you say easily, glancing at the clock. You hadn’t really thought about dinner yet, but you’ll need to soon. “Text me what you want. I’ll probably get our usual.”

It strikes you, suddenly, that you two have a usual. It’s early October, the leaves barely starting to turn. It’s the part of fall where you’re too hot when you walk in the sun, and chilly when you walk through the shadows. You’ve only lived with Namjoon for about a month and a half, and somehow you have a usual takeout order.

It’s strange.

But you don’t hate it.

Namjoon leaves a few minutes later, a brown cross-body bag settled against his lower back. You sit at the breakfast bar, your poetry notebook closed in front of you with your pen marking your page, and wonder about your mysterious roommate. You wonder what his poetry is like, what it would tell you about him if you ever got the chance to see it. You wonder if his fiction writing is what keeps him holed up in his room day in and day out, the lights low.

About an hour later, you text Taehyung to see if he wants to come eat dinner.

“Can’t,” he answers. “Already have plans for dinner. Sry!”

You sink onto the couch, grimacing. “Already have plans” means a date. 

The thing is, you know you could ask Taehyung to take you to dinner, and he’d do it. Hell, you could probably even say, “Take me on a date,” and he’d do that, too - wear something nice, spray on a more expensive cologne, open the car door for you and pull out your chair, all that shit. He’d do everything exactly right.

He’d do everything for the sake of irony. 

That’s what it boils down to, and you know it in your bones: intention. Taehyung could spend all twenty-four hours treating you exactly how a boyfriend should, but at the end of the day his intention was not romantic, and there was nothing you could do to change that. 

You turn on the tv, determined not to waste your night wondering how his is going.

Thursday October 11th 

Thursday marks nearly the middle of the month. It’s unseasonably warm when you walk to class, but you carry a jacket, knowing that when you leave the bookstore after your shift, the chill will warrant it. 

You have a bullshit class, one that doesn’t apply to your degree concentration, something that the university requires for everyone. The only saving grace is that it’s short. 

When it ends, you have some choices. You don’t have to be at the bookstore until three. You could go back to the apartment. It’s certainly enough time. Or you could get lunch on campus and handle any academic errands you had, as it were.

And, you sort of had an academic errand swimming in the back of your mind. 

You head to the building that houses the staff offices for the writing and literature professors. They’re all tucked away in a little wing back behind where the classrooms are. You’ve been there a few times over the years - twice to talk to your academic advisor about your upcoming schedules, and once to help a professor carry her armload of papers and her laptop back from the classroom. 

You scan the names on each door until you find Jemisen, and knock tentatively. He turns, surprised. 

“Y/N,” he says, and then glances at his computer, as if trying to determine if you’d scheduled a meeting and he’d forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure if it was your office hours,” you say quickly, to let him know he hadn’t made a mistake. “But I had a quick question about my last assignment, and I was already over here on campus…”

“Ah,” he says, understanding. “Well, it is my office hours, but it just so happens that I was called into a last-second budget meeting, because how we spend our money is certainly more important than my students’ academic success!” He looks at you, seeming to think belatedly that this little sarcastic rant might have been better staying in his head. “Anyway, I have a TA here who could help you look at it? I trust him implicitly.”

You’re a little uncomfortable with the idea - Professor Jemisen has been reading and working with you on your poetry for over a year; you don’t want to work on it with a stranger. 

“Oh,” you say, “I’m not - I could -.”

A body comes around the corner. “I heard TA. Have I been summoned?”

It’s Namjoon.

You want to vanish through the floor.

“I’ll just -,” you start to say, but Professor Jemisen cuts you off, collecting some papers off of his desk and reaching for the jacket he’d placed on a hook beside the door. 

“This is Y/N, she’s a senior in my poetry thesis class,” he tells your roommate. “She’s looking for help reworking a stanza on her last submission, right, Y/N?”

You bluster, you struggle to make words. You want to shake your head no, but your body isn’t cooperating. 

“I’m happy to help,” Namjoon says to you. “My office is two doors down.”

Professor Jemisen is already through the door, clapping Namjoon on the back in thanks as he goes. This gives you the chance to collect yourself, jump-start your brain again.

“You get your own office as a TA?” you ask wryly, one eyebrow lifting. 

Namjoon smiles. There’s something different about him here, an easy confidence you don’t see him exude when he’s just at the apartment. 

“Come on,” he says, and you walk out into the narrow corridor. Namjoon closes Professor Jemisen’s door behind you and leads you to his own space.

“To answer your question,” he says, still smiling sort of sheepishly, “no, TA’s do not get their own offices. This one was empty because Bianca - Professor Whyte - retired and they haven’t replaced her yet… I sort of commandeered it. I share it with two other grad students, technically. Just until the university hires someone.”

He sits at the desk and motions for you to take the chair next to it. The office is clean and pretty empty - a tall bookshelf holds only about half a dozen books, taking up just a small section of one lone shelf. There are two small potted plants on the windowsill, and a coffee mug shoved behind the computer monitor. Otherwise, the room seems unowned, devoid of any identifying artifacts. 

“This is very weird,” you say, because you have to say it. 

“What is?” he asks absently, his eyes on one of the windowsill plants.

“My roommate reading my poetry,” you say flatly. “My roommate workshopping my poetry with me.”

He turns to look at you, surprise and perhaps a touch of hurt flickering across his face. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can ask someone else to work with you, or you can wait for Professor Jemisen. I didn’t realize…”

You sigh inwardly. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. “You don’t think it’s weird?” you challenge, trying to keep your voice light.

He shrugs. “I’m just doing my job. I’m on the clock. But like I said… if you’re uncomfortable, then let’s find a Plan B.”

“You’re Plan B,” you grumble. “We’d need to find Plan C.”

You kind of want to take his offer of walking away. But you’re already here, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings worse and make things weird at home. 

“Here,” you say, rummaging in your bag. “Just don’t, like, peer into my soul or anything.”

Namjoon laughs like he’s surprised by this. “It’s poetry,” he says, grabbing a pen and turning to see what you put on the desk. “I don’t think that’s optional.”

You slide your notebook over to him. “Professor Jemisen hated the second stanza,” you say.

He looks at you, eyes wide. “He didn’t say that.”

You chuckle. “No, but it’s still true.”

Namjoon reads the poem to himself silently, lips moving with the words. 

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating each admission that I struck down before it could reach you.

“Okay,” he says finally, “I think you should keep the top line of the stanza the same - to keep the pattern.”

You nod, listening. 

He presses his pen against his lips, eyes narrowed as they scan the lines again. “I think the word admission is too chunky,” he says. “In the second line.”

“Confession?” you supply. “Commemorating each confession?”

“That gives you some nice alliteration,” he notes, nodding.

“Does it flow better?” you prompt.

Namjoon repeats the first two lines to himself, under his breath. “On Sundays I leave flowers, commemorating each confession. Yeah, I think it does.”

“I’ll change it,” you decide, and he does it for you, scratching out admission and writing confession next to it in red ink.

“The third line sucks,” you muse, reading over his arm. 

“It doesn’t suck,” he says mildly. “What were you trying to say?”

You think about this. “That each admission - confession, whatever - that the speaker didn’t voice…it’s almost like those words were trying to reach their recipient, but the speaker shot them down in flight, you know? Does that make sense?”

Namjoon ticks his head to the side, thinking. “It makes sense,” he assures you. “I’m just thinking about how to say it.”

You both peer at the stanza in silence, thinking.

“You’ve got this imagery of shooting something down mid-flight, like you just said,” he murmurs, eyes on the page, “but in the first stanza, you say the words die on the speaker’s lips, meaning they never get said in the first place. Maybe you need to change the imagery to holding it in instead of stopping it once it’s out?”

You scan the first stanza again, nodding slowly. “Commemorating every confession that suffocated beneath fresh-packed earth,” you say, voice almost a whisper as you listen to how the phrase would sound.

Namjoon chuckles darkly. “Buried alive? Harsh.”

You tap the page, finger on the bottom stanza. “The confessions - the words - are what died and got buried. But then, in the final stanza, she’s saying she keeps him alive by remembering him, but maybe she’s keeping her confessions alive as well. Like, she’s continuing to give them life by continuing to speak life into them. It works on two levels.”

Namjoon nods, letting out a quick, impressed breath almost like a laugh. “That’s good,” he says, sliding your notebook over to you. “Write it down before you forget.”

You scratch out the second stanza and write in the space next to it,

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating every confession that suffocated beneath six feet of fresh-packed earth.

“I like it better,” you say, reading the whole thing back to yourself. 

“It’s definitely better,” he agrees. 

You put a hand on the page, ready to slide it completely away from him, to put it back in your bag. 

Namjoon places his fingers on the page, just inches from yours. His index finger strokes the last line, where your hand had pressed the pen to the page and placed there, Hail Mary full of grace.

“What would happen if you stopped visiting?” he asks, voice very low. He’s leaning forward, his shoulder close enough to yours that you can feel the heat coming off his body. 

“Excuse me?” you snap. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted - interpretation, application to your real life.

“The speaker,” he corrects quickly, eyes flicking down to the page and then back up to meet yours again. There’s something gentle and coaxing in his voice as he continues. “What would happen if the speaker decided to spend their time elsewhere? Wouldn’t it be better for them to just… let the dead stay dead?”

Goosebumps cover your arms, but you’re also suddenly pissed. “I don’t have an answer to that,” you say firmly. “It’s poetry, it’s not real life.” You slap the notebook shut and toss it into your bag, tugging on the zipper like your life depends on it. You stand, hiking your bag onto your shoulder. 

He’s still looking at you contemplatively, leaning back in his chair, long legs stretching under the desk. Then, he seems to snap out of it, and he peers up at you apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m used to that kind of thinking and response from my grad classes. But you’d already expressed that you weren’t comfortable… I should’ve left that alone.”

You shift from foot to foot, still stinging. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Thanks for the help. I’ll resubmit this version.”

“Y/N,” he calls, stopping you in the doorway. You pause, turning to look. “Would it make you feel better to see a really personal one of mine?” His smile is rueful, his dimples teasing.

You exhale on a laugh. “Only if I get to question your poor life choices when I’m done,” you say.

He laughs at this. “I accept,” he says seriously, a smile still tugging at his lips. “In exchange for your forgiveness.”

You slap your palm lightly against the wooden doorframe, twice. “It’s a deal,” you say, and disappear down the hallway. 

–

He sends you a screenshot two hours later. Before you can enlarge it enough to read anything, he sends, “Good GOD this is bad. Enjoy!” 

I love you by pressing my fingertips into soil. Is it too dry? Can it go another day? I love you by pushing ceramic just two inches  to the left where the sunlight hits at exactly four pm. I love you by wiping dust from leaves just how I'd wipe tears from cheeks. I love you by admiring each new bloom as it appears.

And when I’m thorn-pricked it doesn’t hurt because my only expectation  was for it to grow.

You read it twice, then a third time. 

[3:22 PM] You: that is NOT bad omg [3:23 PM] You: i need more context so i can mock your bad decisions [3:23 PM] You: that was the deal 😤 [3:27 PM] Namjoon: haha stop it. [3:28 PM] Namjoon: i cringed so hard when i read it again [3:29 PM] Namjoon: but i hope you actually forgive me now

Friday October 12th

‘-yet with everything left unsaid, still they said goodbye.’

Namjoon pounds twice on his desk in victory as he rereads the last line of the chapter he’d just finished. It’s good, he thinks. It’s actually good, the whole chapter. Not perfect - nothing ever would be - but good enough that he feels excited to send it to the cohort and get some feedback.

There’s a noise from his doorway and he spins in the chair, minimizing the document out of habit. 

You smile at him from the door. “It’s going well, huh?” you say, a little playfully. 

Namjoon feels something like cold run down his legs. It’s the absolute horror of being known.  “What are you talking about?” he asks, voice even.

You fold your arms over your chest like you feel defensive. “You hit the desk when you’re happy about it,” you explain.

Namjoon stares at you, absolutely dumbfounded. He hadn’t realized you even knew he was writing, let alone that you’d been tracking his habits well enough to pick up on little things like that. He’s always kept his writing - and his behavior as a writer - pretty private. The only person who had ever seen behind the curtain, so to speak, was Elyse. And look how that turned out. 

Namjoon decides to side-step this. He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he goes with, “Did you need something?”

He knows it’s cold. He doesn’t even mean to be cold. But something about this interaction has all of his mental alarm bells ringing - telling him that this might be inching towards dangerous territory. 

Territory he’s been in before. Territory he clawed his way out of. 

“Oh,” you say, a little taken-aback. “Well, yeah. I was trying to see if anyone would be into the idea of a game night this weekend? What do you think?”

Namjoon’s about to answer that he doesn’t mind when his conversation with Yoongi and Hobi floats into his brain. He remembers their bony chins digging into his shoulders as they read your texts and affirmed that, yes, he’d hurt your feelings by leaving last time. 

“Game night,” he repeats slowly. “Care to elaborate on the plan?”

This makes you smile again, like you’re pleased that he’s entertaining the idea. “Smaller crowd than last time,” you say. “Game categories up for discussion - could do board games, drinking games, video games… maybe a rotation?”

“A rotation,” Namjoon repeats flatly, not sure if you’re joking.

Your smile widens, eyes crinkling. It had been a joke. “We can decide what we feel like,” you say. “I was thinking maybe Saturday night?”

“Okay,” Namjoon says.

“Okay I can plan it… or okay, you’ll be there?” you ask, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek.

Namjoon feels himself smile despite himself, despite the alarm bells, despite your dead-on observation of his habits. “I’ll stay,” he promises.

Saturday October 13th 

The night actually does rotate. Or, rather, you all start with a board game and it delves soon into drinking games. Namjoon finds himself sitting on the living room floor, a whiskey and soda in his hand, watching across an abandoned game board - pieces still laying sideways, forgotten - as you giggle into Taehyung’s shoulder after being brought down by a very targeted round of Never Have I Ever.

(Never have I ever… worn a bra. …used a curling iron. …put on mascara. …cried to a Hallmark movie. The guys went right down the line, 1-2-3-4-5, you never had a chance.)

“You have to drink, Y/N,” Jungkook says, poking you with his socked foot. 

“Get your toe-socks off of me,” you try to snap, but you’re still fighting giggles and you sound as menacing as a puppy.

“I think we need a no-targeting rule,” Yoongi says fairly, watching as you dutifully down your cup and rise to mix yourself a new one. “Or Y/N will end up in the hospital tonight.”

“I am not holding your hair this time,” Taehyung shouts into the kitchen. “Once was enough!”

“It was enough for me, too, believe me,” you answer him seriously, but your mouth twitches. You’re still fighting giggles.

“He’s right,” Jimin speaks up. “No more targeting - not just Y/N, for anyone. It won’t be fun that way.”

“Should we switch games?” Hobi asks. “How about Kings?”

Namjoon groans. “I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“Then get drunker,” Taehyung tells him, nodding towards the kitchen bar - littered with half-full liquor bottles and various mixers - where you’re still standing with your cup.

“I’m working on it,” Namjoon tells him, lifting his nearly-empty cup as proof. 

You settle back onto the floor across from him, carefully holding your freshly filled cup so that it doesn’t slosh over the edges. “What’d we decide?”

The game of Kings begins harmlessly - Jungkook picks an 8 and chooses Jimin to drink whenever he drinks, no surprise there. Jimin picks a 4, and everyone slaps the floor - Yoongi is last, so he drinks. 

Then Hobi picks a King - make up any rule, any rule at all - and his eyes sparkle with unspilled mischief. 

“T-Rex arms!” Taehyung shouts. “T-Rex arms for the rest of the night!”

“Funny accents for the rest of the night!”

“You have to drink every time you say someone’s name!”

“You have to drink every time anyone says ‘what’!”

Everyone shouts their suggestions, but Hobi waves his hands to quiet them.

“If you say someone’s name,” he begins, and everyone leans forward, interested, “they get to tell the group some tea about you.”

Everyone lets out an ooooh of appreciation.

“That’s gonna get messy,” you observe, eyes wide. 

The game continues, everyone being careful to tap each other’s knees to get their attention instead of calling their names. But as the hour grows later and the alcohol flows, you all forget to be so careful. When Jimin gets up to grab another drink, Jungkook calls, “Jimin, will you bring me a beer?”

“You said his name!” Nearly the whole circle shrieks it at once, pointing sloppily at Jungkook in accusation.

“Ji- I mean, sir in the kitchen, you get to tell us some tea about Jung- I mean, this one,” Hobi says, correcting himself around a series of belly laughs. 

Jimin grins like the cat who ate the canary. “He’s the one who broke his good headphones.” He points at Yoongi to indicate which his he means since he can’t say Yoongi’s name.

“Hyung!” Jungkook cries, betrayal written all over his face and voice. 

At the same time, Yoongi’s head whips around to look at his younger friend in accusation. “You owe me money for those! They were my favorite!”

“I told you,” you say, your voice carrying sweetly over the din. “Messy.” 

The game continues, pausing when Yoongi misses his turn as he’s too busy looking up how much his headphones cost so he can show Jungkook.

Without thinking, Namjoon lazily says, “You’re up, Yoongi.”

Everyone looks at him, grins growing like predators who have discovered injured prey. 

“Oh, damn,” he sighs. Yoongi looks up from his phone, eyes glinting.

“Well,” he says, clearly enjoying his audience and the chance to embarrass his best friend, “when this friend was getting over Elyse, he played Davichi’s Beside Me on repeat for hours at a time, and I know for a fact that he still knows every word.”

Namjoon’s not sure how to name the emotion that surges from his stomach up to his face; mortified, sure. Angry, a little. Everyone around the circle is laughing - Jimin’s even wiping a lone tear from under his eye. Is it funny, from the outside? He guesses it is. He feels a little detached, a little floaty.

“Oh shit, Elyse!” Taehyung sort of shouts, sitting up a little. “I forgot about her!”

“That’s cute,” Namjoon says. “Wish I could.” Even he can hear how bitter he sounds.

“What ever happened with her?” Taehyung asks, more musing than actually directing the question at Namjoon, or anyone.

“Tae!” you scold, elbowing him. “You’re such an insensitive ass, do you know that?”

To his credit, Taehyung looks abashed and backpedals immediately. “I mean - sorry - I’m just curious. Didn’t mean to put you on blast.”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says, but he’s dying to get out of that room, out of everyone’s sight, away from the fading laughter and from the sideways, searching look you’re giving him. He stands, tries to keep his face passive. “I’m gonna… go pee.” 

He slides into the dark of his room and heads for the bathroom. He doesn’t even need to go, he just needs it to look like he left for a reason. Behind him, he can hear Yoongi despite his purposely lowered voice as he says, “She left him back in June. Same shit as always - he loved her way more than she liked him.”

Namjoon wishes he could refute this. Even if he’d been out there to defend himself, he couldn’t. Yoongi knew every detail about Namjoon’s last relationship and the break-up that ended it, and his assessment was right. 

Namjoon had liked her - loved her - more than she liked him. His expectations were too high for what she could give him. Sometimes he wondered if she was the problem, or if he was. Were his expectations for a partner too high in general? Was he asking too much, wanting someone to care for him the way he cared for them? 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Yoongi is leaning against his desk waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “The song part is funny - I was thinking about it because you were humming it in the library yesterday. I didn’t think about the… Elyse of it all. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. Especially in front of…” He trails off. But Namjoon knows where the sentence was going. 

He doesn’t even have the oomph to argue it.

“I know,” he says simply. “It’s okay.”

“If we hadn’t been drinking…” Yoongi says, voice a little thoughtful. “I mean, I’m not trying to make excuses. I just would have considered my words a little more carefully.”

“I know,” Namjoon says again, insistent. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m not mad at you. Let’s go back.”

When they return to the group, it seems that in their absence you had organized the board game again and gotten everyone focused. He wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose, diverted their attention to rules and set-up so they wouldn’t look too closely at his face as he took his spot again, but he appreciated it regardless. 

Taehyung catches his eye, grimaces in apology. Namjoon gives a shrug and a headshake, letting him know they’re alright. 

How can he be mad? Are they supposed to pretend his mistakes don’t exist? He can’t impose his own rules on others, it wouldn’t be fair.

Friday October 19th

The week passes in a blur. Namjoon works on his book, workshops for his classmates, goes to class, attends his TA hours, eats, sleeps, walks outside when he can. You exist in orbit around him, sometimes communicating in passing - but only in passing. You spend no time together, have no conversations, share no text messages or meals.

It’s starting to feel safe again, Namjoon thinks. Those alarm bells have quieted down. Now they act more like disgruntled guard dogs who think they saw something in the yard; they keep their narrowed, suspicious eyes on the gate, giving unhappy grumbles now and then.

Of course, the universe never lets him rest for long. On Friday night, Hobi texts him at eight, “Bar! You have two hours to mentally prepare! I will see you there or else!!!”

Namjoon texts back, “you need to calm down with the exclamation points”. But he still turns to eye his open closet, pondering what to wear.

–

Sometimes, Namjoon just watches people. People watching is a thing, right? He catches himself at it all the time - at train stations, on campus, in malls, and here - now - at the bar. 

He watches throngs of young women mix onto and away from the dance floor, ebbing and flowing like high and low tide, like they obey the moon too. He watches men his age eye the scene like hawks.

He watches the bartenders hustle from one end to another, hands in constant motion as they exchange money, clutch shakers, wipe out glasses, open beers. He watches the bouncer sweep his gaze over the crowd, like a seaside lifeguard. 

He watches Hobi and Yoongi bend their heads together, talking animatedly over something on Hobi’s phone. He watches Jungkook and Jimin dance near the edge of the crowd, peeking surreptitiously over their shoulders to see if any of the girls near them are looking. He watches Jin throw his head back in laughter at whatever the pretty girl before him has said. 

He watches you lean forward on your elbows, eyes on Taehyung’s face like they’re magnetically drawn, as he talks to you. You both laugh at something; you finish your drink. Namjoon watches as Taehyung leans over to say something to you, slides off of his barstool, makes his way towards the dark hallway that houses the restrooms. You flag down a bartender, ordering a new drink. 

You aren’t watching Taehyung make his way back from the bathroom, but Namjoon is. He watches as Taehyung is intercepted by a beautiful, dark-haired girl who stands only as tall as the middle of his chest. He watches as Taehyung stops in his tracks, a grin slowly growing across his face, starting sly and ending open and friendly. It’s deadly, and Namjoon knows he knows it.

Namjoon sees it happen when the girl cocks her head towards the front entrance, sees it when Taehyung nods and leans down to say something to her before zig-zagging his way through the crowd back to where you sit, waiting for him.

Namjoon sees it when your smile crumples, when you quickly stitch it back together and nod eagerly, when you wave goodbye. He sees it when Taehyung and his date slip out the front door, sees it when you let your head drop to your hands, shoulders heaving with one single deep breath. 

When you raise your head again, your eyes meet his. 

And he sees it - all of it. He sees the crushing disappointment, the resignation, the acceptance. 

He’s moving without making the decision to move, his beer glass cold against his hand as he makes his way to the empty spot next to you. 

“Sorry,” he says, not hiding that he’d seen exactly what happened, had witnessed Taehyung abandon you for preferred company. 

You give yourself a little shake and give him a tiny smile. “Don’t be,” you say easily. “Good for him - I wish I had half his luck.”

Namjoon wouldn’t say he knows you that well if he was asked, doesn’t think himself an expert on your personality. But he knows it’s bravado. He can just tell. 

But he’ll let you save face. He’d want the same. 

He struggles to find something to talk to you about. His brain goes empty, like static, the second he relies on it. Finally, as you stir the ice cubes around your drink, trying not to look as dejected as you feel, he asks, “How’s senior thesis going? What are the criteria for poetry students?”

You perk up, sitting up straighter and releasing the plastic straw you’d had pinched between your fingers. “It’s going okay,” you tell him, glancing over sideways at him like you want to make sure he’s actually interested in the answer, not just asking to be polite. “The criteria? It’s half a written portfolio, half an author study.”

“Who’d you pick?” Namjoon asks, taking a sip of his beer and finding it low. 

You smile at him mischievously, eyes sparkling a little. “Guess,” you challenge.

He feels himself smile in return. “Rumi,” he shoots out.

Your laugh bursts from you, surprising both of you. “That’s your first guess?” you laugh. “Seriously? Going straight to Rumi?”

“Am I wrong?” he asks, chuckling. 

“Yes,” you insist. “Try again.”

He ponders it for a second. “Whitman. Yeats. Eliot.”

“Absolutely not,” you say. “Quit naming dead white dudes.”

Namjoon laughs again. “Poe?”

“Still a dead white dude!”

He stops, thinks again. “Olds,” he finally guesses.

You raise your eyebrows. “Wow, obscure.”

He shrugs. “She seems like your type.”

You laugh at that, a peal of laughter that has you hunching over your drink. “You’re not wrong about that,” you admit. 

“I think you need to just tell me,” Namjoon admits.

“Surely you know more poets than that!” you tease accusingly. 

“Of course I do,” he allows. “But I think this little game could go on for a very long time.”

You laugh again, and Namjoon feels a smile tug at his lips. 

He growls a mental shut up at the part of him that wants to keep making you laugh.

“St Vincent Millay,” you say, caving.

“Wow,” he says, just a bit struck dumb. Because what are the odds you’d pick her? “A favorite.”

You smile at him, eyes crinkling. “You know hers?”

Namjoon is pretty sure he has a copy of Alms stuffed between pages of his favorite notebook, a memento to his post-Elyse days, when he was - yes - listening to Beside Me on repeat and reading every heartbreak poem he could get his hands on, all in the name of feeling understood. All in the name of feeling less alone.

“My heart is what it was before, / a house where people come and go; / But it is winter with your love -” Namjoon quotes from Alms instead of answering.

You keep your eyes on him, steady, as you finish in a quiet voice, “The sashes are beset with snow. Alms? I wrote about that one for my thesis the other day.”

Namjoon catches the bartender’s eye. “If I get a few shots, do you want one?” he asks, looking over at you. You nod, he orders something cinnamony, and then he returns to your earlier conversation. “Alms is one of the only ones of hers I can quote off the top of my head. But it’s… my favorite of hers.”

You give him a sly smile. “I argued in my thesis that Alms is a diss-track.”

Namjoon splutters. “What?” he demands. 

You grin, loving this. “It is winter with your love? Like, tell me your lover is cold without telling me your lover is cold. Plus, all those lines in the middle about how she tends her plants in winter? Of course that’s your favorite.”

As the bar-tender pushes filled shot-glasses towards him, Namjoon just stares at you. You have this uncanny way of knowing things about him, and it’s unnerving. Partly because he doesn’t know that much about you, and partly because he hadn’t realized he was so easy to read.

You each take a shot glass, clicking them together before knocking them back. The burn of alcohol in his throat urges him to speak up, to address it.

“You remember how you mentioned that I tend to hit the desk when I'm happy with what I wrote?”

You frown with your whole face, brows and all, not following his line of thought at all. “...Yeah…” you say, voice wavering with uncertainty.

Namjoon looks away, at the wood of the bar beneath his fingers, at the crowd of people shouting their conversations around them, at the empty glasses waiting to be whisked away. “What else do you know?” 

He’s not sure what makes him say it. Maybe he’s tired of you dropping these little observations here and there and wants them all out at once. 

You trace a whorl in the wood with your pointer finger. Thoughtfully, voice sounding somewhat far away, you tell him, “You pace when you’re stuck. You listen to rap when it’s flowing and classical when it’s not.”

Namjoon lets out a single, shuttering laugh, barely louder than an exhale. “I’m trying to think of a less rude way to ask this, but why - how - do you know this stuff?”

You twist your mouth sideways into the cousin of a smile, self-deprecation written all over your face. “I spend a lot of time in the living room,” you say defensively with a bit of a laugh. “I can’t help but notice. You’re not very secretive.”

That’s the thing. Namjoon thought he was.

You sit in silence for a minute, the loudness of the bar’s music and chatter flowing around you. Then, completely unprompted, you add, “I know that poem you sent me is about your ex.”

Namjoon’s head snaps up, his eyes finding yours. He searches your face for anything unkind, anything mocking. Elyse had made him feel stupid - something he had very little experience with - and he was evading that feeling every second since. But there’s none to be found as you look back at him patiently.

“Y/N,” he says finally, “don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck.”

Once you’re sure he isn’t going to get mad or defensive, you relax, shooting him a knowing smirk. “Please,” you protest. “The line about how you can’t get hurt because you had no expectations? A juxtaposition to when you have certain expectations of a partner, and how it hurts when they’re not met. Like expecting someone to love you back, and then they don’t.”

“I think I need to be rescued from this conversation,” Namjoon jokes, pretending to look around for a life-line. “Quit it with the direct shots!”

You shrug innocently. “I’m not making any judgments about it. Just saying I understand the message.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Namjoon demands.

“I don’t know… three or four? Why?”

He can’t say because you’re saying very honest shit and people are usually polite enough to not do that. “You’re just… dropping words like juxtaposition and I…. truly don’t know how to handle it.”

You give him a wide smile, proud and teasing. “Just admit that I have a big, sexy brain.”

If this is the game you want to play, he thinks, he can play it. 

“Well,” he counters, “I know that your poem about the graveyard is actually about -” He snaps his mouth shut, sober enough to know a mistake when he’s shin-deep in it, buzzed enough to fail at stopping his gaze from flicking over to where Taehyung and that girl had disappeared through the front door. 

He watches - literally watches it happen - as a wall crashes down over your face. The open, teasing expression flattens into dull nothingness, your smile melts into a thin line, your eyes leave his and settle on your hands.

Namjoon opens his mouth to apologize, but the heavy weight of someone’s arm across his shoulders distracts him. 

“Are you two talking about poetry?” Hobi asks, voice a touch too loud. “We already have a resident nerd, Y/N, we don’t need another.”

You grasp at the interruption desperately. “Not just any poetry. His poetry.”

Hobi gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest like a wounded man. “He let you read his own poetry? My God.”

Namjoon sits back, allows Hobi and Yoongi to incorporate themselves into the conversation, lets the moment slip away. He zones entirely out of the conversation, lost in his own thoughts, letting the others pick up his slack.

He’s thinking about Alms and thinking about Elyse, thinking about how St Vincent Millay’s line “But it is winter with your love” had rolled around his brain for a solid month as he was wrestling with the insecurity and pain of loving someone who just didn’t feel it too. Elyse hadn’t been cold - at least, not until the very end. Yet, even still, it had never been… enough. 

He’s thinking about the way you just noticed things about him, the way you made him feel seen when he was used to feeling the opposite. 

He’s thinking, and it’s probably a little fucked up, that Elyse had lived with him for over three months - sharing a bed, even - and had never picked up on his mannerisms this way.

He keys back into the conversation when he notices you signing to close out your card.

“Are you going home?” he asks you, the first words he’s said in a while. Both Yoongi and Hobi turn to look at him, as if they, too, forgot he was sitting there. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. You meet his eyes, but your voice is still a little flat. “I was gonna Uber.”

“Wanna share?” he suggests.

You look at your hands again. “You don’t have to leave just because I’m leaving,” you say. 

Hobi and Yoongi swivel their heads back and forth in silence, watching this conversation like a table-tennis match.

“I’m ready to go. But I can get my own ride if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m not. That would… that’s fine.”

You say goodbye to the guys and Namjoon follows you through the bar. He’s tempted to reach out a hand and guide you, help you navigate the drunken, dancing crowd. But you aren’t his to protect, and he’s just this minute starting to examine where the urge comes from, what’s blooming here, a tiny bud forming seemingly overnight.

Outside, the silence hits him like the slap of an ocean wave. The night is warm, despite it being late October. 

You walk silently towards the curb, phone in your hand. You don’t look back at him.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. You glance over your shoulder, frosty, but you soften almost instantly when you look at him. The apology must be clear as day on his face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sag with a sigh. “No,” you say. “I asked for it. I started it. You’re not supposed to dish it if you can’t take it, or something.”

Namjoon doesn’t agree or disagree, doesn’t shake his head. He just keeps his gaze on you, heavy and serious, and repeats, “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

You drop your eyes again - he’s noticing you do that when you’re nervous, unsure of your words. Then, eyes on the road instead of on him, you say, “Assuming I was right about… you know, the poem… I’m sorry you went through that.”

Namjoon raises his eyes, up past the bar’s neon sign, up past the yellow-lit apartment windows above it, up past the fire escape and the rusty rooftop structures. He finds stars, glinting and joking from behind swiftly moving wisps of clouds. 

“Thanks,” he says. That’s all.

“It’s hard when the people we love…” you trail off, rub your hands up and down your arms as if to ward off chill on a definitively unchilly night. “It’s hard when they disappoint us. For whatever reason.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says. The Uber pulls up, and you check the license plate against what’s on your phone screen before reaching for the back door. He’s got that same urge again, to reach out and guide you into the car. He shifts his hand into a fist, wills himself to get his shit together. As you slide over to make room for him, he lets one last breath out towards those same stars. “Yeah, it is.”

– 

Inside the Uber, you scoot to make room for Namjoon to slide in next to you, folding his long legs in behind the front passenger seat. 

The ride begins in silence, except for the driver’s music, which currently plays an advertisement in a language you don’t speak and can’t even identify. 

You feel a little dizzy, maybe from the drinks. Maybe from getting vulnerable with your roommate. You lean your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. You can feel the heat from Namjoon’s side, can sense him, solid, less than a foot away. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, to keep the conversation as close to private as possible.

You open your eyes, looking sideways at him. He looks back at you, searchingly. You’re struck for the first time, here in the back of a stranger’s shitty Kia, by how pretty his eyes are - full of warmth and depth, but also something sly, like he constantly knows something you don’t, yet. 

Looking at him, you’re tempted to lean against him; the desire comes out of nowhere, comes from the surety you feel that he would feel… safe. Protective. You feel sure he wouldn’t move away. 

What is this? you wonder. It’s just a moment, just a fleeting thing that will be gone by the next red light, but as tiny as it is, there’s a voice in your head pointing out that you haven’t felt this kind of anything for anyone in your whole life except Kim Taehyung. 

You fold your hands in your lap, turn to look straight ahead through the windshield. You can’t lie to him while looking at him.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m fine.”

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thank you so much for reading!!!! we're past the set up, stuff is movin!!!! please consider some type of feedback, even just 'loved it!' or a keysmash lets me know it's not hot garbage!

Section IV will post on Friday, February 3rd. I hope to see you there!!!!

Just wanted to make a small appreciation post for @yoongiofmine @dari-ede @daechwitatamic I’m HOOKED on to their fics. If you get a chance please check out their fics 💕

Little do You Know | OT7 | One Hundred

Pair: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Chapter warnings: Can you believe we reached 100 chapters?? Have you been here since the beginning?? We only have 15 more to go and I already miss this story. From now on, we’re moving to the last leg of the series, where ends are closing up, we’ll see the closing of arcs and characters saying goodbye! Ugh, I don’t want this to end. Now, for the chapter warnings: Little talk of pregnancy, sadness, fluff and the results of the HYBE Internship are out! 

WC: 4k

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It’s incredible what a few days of extreme rest, being babied by seven boyfriends and strong medicine will do to a person. You weren’t one hundred percent back to your normal health by any means, but you didn’t feel like dying every time you took a deep breath or lifted your left arm too high either. 

The bruises on your chest from the seatbelt and on your shoulder from the impact were looking greenish and a little disgusting, but at least that meant they were healing well. 

Being out of Seoul was also doing wonders for your spirits.

No one knew you were in Busan, no one knew Bangtan was in Busan yet either, which gave you all a sense of tranquility that you appreciated. The sea air was a fresh change you didn’t know you needed, but you welcomed it regardless. 

Before you even made it to the hotel BTS and staff were staying during this one day visit to the coastal city, you were kidnapped by the two Busan born members. The destination was nothing short of exciting –as well as nerve wracking–, as you were taken to Magnate; the café owned by Jimin’s dad. 

“Are you sure no one can see my bruising?” you were looking at yourself in the reflection of a window as you pulled the collar of your dress to cover more of your chest. 

“You look like the perfect doll.” Jimin pulled your hand from your dress so you’d stop fiddling with it. His voice had dropped low and the meaning behind the words didn’t go over your head. 

“Don’t you even start that with me when I’m about to meet your father.” you chastised. 

“Don’t be mad at hyung, it’s been a while and we all miss you.” Jungkook started kissing your neck as he stood behind you.

“It’s only been three weeks–” your sigh was pitiful as you were caged between the two men. 

“That’s too long for us and you know it.” Jungkook’s satoori got thicker ever since you arrived at his hometown. 

“Kook, please.” you blinked hard, forcing your body to stop responding to them so pliantly. “I’m about to meet your mother too. I can’t be introduced to your parents while thinking about how long it’s been since I had your cocks inside me.” 

Jungkook groaned at the mental image, but Jimin giggled and pulled you by your hand. 

Thankfully the front of the Magnate café was all thick walls and heavy metal doors, so no one inside could see the little display that just went on outside. This area also wasn’t bustling with tourists, so you guessed it was mostly frequented by locals and ARMY. 

That last thought made you a little worried, but Jimin assured you his father had texted him just a little while ago to assure him that the coffee shop was mostly empty and you could all come over safely. 

Like he owned the place, Jimin opened the heavy doors and pulled you in with him, leaving Jungkook to follow the two of you. The inside of the café was nothing like the outside. There were different kinds of furniture and art pieces everywhere, giving it a cozy, yet artsy vibe that you liked a lot. It was pretty open and very spacious, with natural light coming in from the side windows and big glass walls at the back that opened into a garden of sorts. 

It was too hot in the middle of July for anyone to want to sit outside, but the aircon was already working to cool your heated skin down. 

“Appa!” Jimin let go of you when he saw the older man that looked surprisingly like him; both had the same small eyes and the same nose. 

“Jiminie, you’re here!” Mr. Park opened his arms wide to hug his son and it was clear to you then that all stories of the man being as warm as Jimin were obviously true. “Jungkookie!” 

Jungkook was the second one to get a hug while you stood there not sure of what to do. It wasn’t until Jimin held your hand again and gave you an encouraging smile that you said something. 

“It’s so nice to meet you. Mr. Park.” you bowed respectfully as much as your sore rib allowed you to. “I’m Yn–”

“Of course I know who you are, and you can call me siabeoji.” Mr. Park offered you a hug and you accepted it instantly, sniffing his ocean and baked goods scent. “Welcome to Busan. Have you ever been before?” 

The man’s hand was on your back as he led you deeper into the café, to a table you assumed he had kept empty for your small group, as it was away from the center of the room and in a little hidden corner. Not that there were many people inside in the first place, but it was nice to be cautious. 

Mr. Park sat with you at the table and, only when you did the same, you watched as the two younger boys were placing an order at the counter. But instead of feeling nervous about meeting the father of your boyfriend, Jimin’s dad already made you feel at ease and welcomed. 

“I have, a few times. I have family on my father’s side, so I practically grew up at the beach.” you told him with a smile. “Actually, my uncle doesn’t live too far from here.” 

“How nice! Then I like you already, since you have some Busan blood.” just like Jimin’s Mr. Park’s eyes grew smaller as he smiled. 

“I like you too, sir– siabeoji. Jimin always told me great stories about you.” you told him as you rested your purse on the back of your chair. “I actually feel like Minie takes a lot after you, so I might be a little biased.”

“And I like the way you talk about my son, so we can be biased together.” 

When Jimin and Jungkook finally made it to your table, they were holding trays with pastries that looked fresh and buttery, and three drinks for all of you. The pastries were a little piled up, but at this point it didn’t surprise you how much those boys could eat; especially Jungkook. 

“How are you guys getting along?” Jimin wanted to know and you wondered if he was nervous about this meeting. 

“I approve of her, if that’s what you really want to know.” Mr. Park said with a little chuckle and Jimin’s whole face lit up with his own smile. “How long have you been together for?” 

The question was directed at your boyfriend, so you focused on the small plate with a big chocolate croissant Jungkook put in front of you, as well as a glass of iced tea. You were thankful for the lack of caffeine, as you didn’t need any more reasons to be anxious today. 

“Eight months.” Jimin answered proudly, which made you choke on your tea. 

Again, he was counting it from the day you shared your first kiss, ignoring the two months you spent apart, but he looked too cute and happy saying it, so you didn’t have the nerve to correct him. Especially not when his father looked so impressed about it. 

“I should have known it’s serious then, since you brought her home to meet me.” Mr. Park said, turning to you. “Jiminie’s eomma and hyung will be so jealous I got to meet you first. How long are you in town for?” 

“Unfortunately we leave tomorrow morning. I would love the chance to meet them, though.” 

“Next time, I promise.” Jimin smiled with his eyes as he took a bite of a cheese bread. “We’ll be back for my birthday.” 

“Perfect! Eomma will make seaweed soup, you’re gonna love it.” Mr. Park said to you and all you could do was nod, with your mouth full of chocolate croissant. The man looked at something over your shoulder and answered someone else: “Huh? Ah, yes, I’ll be right there– Excuse me for a second, please. Jiminie, come say hi to everyone.” 

At his father’s calling, Jimin followed Mr. Park away from your table and into the staff area, where you guessed the cooks and workers wanted to see him after so long away. You turned to Jungkook then, who had sugar dusted on his bottom lip. 

“Come here, bun.” you giggled, whipping the sugar with your thumb and licking it clean. “When will your eomma get here?” 

“In a bit.” he told you after checking the clock on his wrist. “I told her we’d get here a little later so you could meet Jimin’s dad first and it wouldn’t be so overwhelming.” 

“Thank you.” you gave him a smile as you took your glass of tea to sip from. “I hope she’ll like me too.” 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Jungkook flicked something from the corner of your lips, and his eyes lingered there a beat too long. 

“Well, you are her youngest. And she could be bothered that I'm older than you.” 

The man scrunched his nose with a smile as he shook his head. “Eomma is older than appa too.” 

The buzzing of your phone inside your purse made you turn around to grab it so quickly you winced in pain with the sting on your shoulder. Jungkook plucked the device from your bag instead and handed it to you. 

“You really need to get that screen fixed, tokki, it could cut your fingers.” he told you, but you had more pressing worries at the moment. “Is it out?” 

“Not yet, they are just nervous.” you told your boyfriend as you closed your phone again, but left it resting on your lap just in case. “I don’t know why I’m nervous too, I know I didn’t get it.”

“You don’t know that.” Jungkook corrected you. 

The results of the HYBE Summer Program were supposed to be posted today, where you would all know who were the three students chosen for the internship. You kept telling yourself not to get your hopes up, but you still wanted it. So much. 

“Eomma is here!” Jungkook was chirping as he looked at the front door. 

You had only ever seen pictures of Jungkook’s parents from a really long time ago, whenever he’d find his baby and pre-debut pictures, so you didn’t know what to expect from his mother. But while you knew your boyfriend had his good looks from his father, it made sense he’d get his personality from his mother. 

You watched as the short woman and Jungkook ran to each other, embracing in a hug as the man almost swallowed her in his arms. Mrs. Jeon patted Jungkook in the arms and on the head, pinching his cheeks with a giggle. 

When both made it to your table, your hands were clammy and your heart was going a little crazy. You knew how much Jungkook had been waiting for this, always telling you about wanting to introduce you to his family, especially his eomma. So you really wanted this to go well. 

Putting your phone on the table, you got up from the chair to bow to the woman, who mirrored you with a sweet smile that reminded you of Jungkook’s bunny ways. 

“Yn-ssi, I can’t believe you’re finally here!” Mrs. Jeon sat on the chair that Mr. Park was on before, next to yours. “You look good, how are you feeling? Your accident was broadcasted on our local news.” 

“It was?” your eyebrows raised as you had no idea you’d be important enough to be on the news all the way across the country. “I’m doing a lot better, thank you.” 

“Good. Did Jungkookie give you the flowers we sent over?” 

“Yes, the tulips, right? I loved them so much.” 

Jungkook hand delivered his family’s flowers and card to you, after dinner with your father when you made it home from the hospital. While you hated worrying people, it made you happy that the boys’ families –some who didn’t even personally know you yet– cared enough about you to send you their well wishes. 

As your boyfriend went back to the counter to get his mother a drink, you watched as she picked a pastry from the tray with a napkin and took a bite from it. Like her son, she didn’t wait to start eating. And like her son, she looked mad while savoring the food. 

“I was just telling baby how you’re older than appa.” Jungkook said as he sat back down again and your face heated up at the casual use of the pet name, expecting him to retrieve to noona instead. 

“I am, just two years, though.” the woman agreed, getting her coffee from the boy. 

“How did you get together?” you asked as you picked your own drink again to sip before the ice melted too much. 

“I thought Jungkookie’s dad was really handsome, so I chased him.” Mrs. Jeon told you with a laugh. “I’m sure you can understand.”

“Absolutely.” you giggled, looking at your handsome boyfriend. “But I wasn’t the one doing the chasing. Although, Jungkookie didn’t do much of it either–”

“Excuse me, yes I did!” he scoffed and you laughed harder.

“Baby, you couldn’t even hold your eyes on mine.” 

“Always the shy one.” his eomma cooed.

You were this close to agreeing, but Jungkook looked at you with a challenging crooked eyebrow. Daring you to say he was shy. Daring you to make him prove you wrong. And you weren’t about to repeat what happened outside Magnate, so you kept your lips shut. 

“Eomma!” Jimin’s chirpy voice saved you as he skipped happily to greet Jungkook’s mother. 

“Oh, Jiminie, I missed your face!” Mrs. Jeon got up to hug the boy, both were almost the same height. 

Mrs. Jeon and Mr. Park shook hands like old friends as Jungkook picked up another chair for your table so everyone could sit and talk. Jungkook’s mother and Jimin’s father seemed very familiar with each other, talking about things you didn’t understand –like an event that was happening a week from now that they wanted to go together, bringing their respective significant others–. 

It was easier to be part of Jimin and Jungkook’s conversations, but your phone started buzzing again and your gut feeling was telling you this was it. You unlocked your phone and went straight to the Naver icon, refreshing the page that was already loaded. 

You were filled with nerves as you read the words: 

HYBE CONGRATULATES THE FOLLOWING STUDENTS FOR THEIR OUTSTANDING PERFORMANCE DURING THE SUMMER PROGRAM OF 2022 AND FOR WINNING A 6 MONTH INTERNSHIP. 

Lee Woojin. 

Yun Sumni.

Kan Eun-hye. 

You were happy to find out that taking an IUD out, even one that went a little wrong, was a lot better than putting it in. All you really felt was a light pressure that lasted less than five seconds and then it was done. Right after it was taken out, you were already cleared to either put a new one in or change to pills or an injection and since your latest experience with the contraception wasn’t positive, you decided to give the injections a go. 

The doctor sat down with you and answered all of your questions, talked to you about what types of injections would be better for you, what you should expect and what were the pros and cons of every contraceptive method so you could make an informed decision. 

By the time you left the hospital, you still managed to catch the last half of the livestream from BTS’ 2030 EXPO appointment. As it turns out, only Tae was wearing the suits made for them, and the others had different kinds of clothes. It made you feel more than a little guilty that your accident might have been the cause for that change in schedule, but even if you asked, you doubted any of them would tell you the truth. 

You should have been relieved when you made it back to the hotel, knowing at least one part of your life was sorted out; your uterus was all healed and there were no permanent issues, you wouldn’t feel pain when having sex, your energy levels were slowly coming back into place, and the gyno told you you’d most likely not have a lot of trouble when choosing to conceive. 

But every deep breath of relief was paired with the aching of your upper body and every happy thought was dampened by the news you received earlier in the day. 

You ate a quick meal in your bedroom and hid from the world, needing some time alone. It shamed you to be hiding from your boyfriends, but you knew the moment you told them about the internship, it would feel too real, too final. So you wanted to hold on to that for as long as you could. 

The hotel you were all staying overnight was by the beach, and a small portion of it was closed from the public and exclusive to the guests, open 24h. That’s where you went late at night, when you started to feel claustrophobic in your bedroom. 

Sitting on the sand, looking at the gentle waves kissing the shore and Gwangan bridge in the distance, breathing in the salty air and feeling the wind and humidity on your skin, you felt a small smidge of peace. 

“How did I know I’d find you here?” Namjoon’s voice came from behind you, followed by heavy steps in the sand as he approached you. 

You didn’t turn, but said: “I’m sure it had nothing to do with staff telling you where to find me.” 

“Technicalities.” your boyfriend sat down on the sand next to you, a big thigh knocking on yours and almost tipping you over to the side. “I’m sure the soulmate pull would have led me to you even if no one knew where you were.”

That brought a silly smile to your face and you asked: “Have you been reading fanfic again, Joonie?”

“It’s a book, actually. I read the first chapter but stopped, I wanna read it to you. It's really good.”

“I would love that.”

Namjoon smiled softly, still enough to show his dimples. He was wearing the same dress pants and shirt he had during the 2030 EXPO event, minus the knitted vest. He was barefoot, however, toes wiggling in the sand.

“How did the appointment at the gyno go?” he asked you.

“All good. I’ll be all covered and safe in five days and everything can get back to normal.” there was relief in your voice as you told him.

“Don’t tell Tae or Jin hyung or they might try to get you pregnant tonight.” Namjoon’s chuckle was highly amused.

“Aigoo, those two are really bad.” you scoffed, stretching your legs in front of you, feeling the warm sand under your skin.

“Yeah, but Tae actually thought you were pregnant, so he was already making plans.” 

“I feel bad about that.” you were looking at your lap, smoothing your dress in an attempt of distracting yourself for the other reasons you had to feel guilty. 

“Don’t be. Tae explained everything and while a girl might not have assumed pregnancy as the first option, men are dumb.” your boyfriend took your hand in his, pulling you closer to his body and you let your right shoulder rest against his thick bicep. 

“Maybe. But the rest of you were clueless, so even if I was pregnant, you wouldn’t have found out.” 

“Are you saying Tae will be the first to know when you actually are?”

You wrapped your arms around Namjoon’s much bigger one, hugging to your chest as you would a sleep body pillow. 

“After this whole fiasco, I might tell him first just to ease my guilty conscience.” you let out a frustrated puff of air from your lips. 

“Okay, hang on now, that’s not really fair–”

“I thought you didn’t want kids anymore.”

While Kim Namjoon was known by ARMY as the member whose dream was to be a dad, some even believed he already was and had secret kids, you knew that had changed a few years prior. He had changed his mind when he grew more mature and possibly thought about his life and all of the challenges bringing a child into his world would have. 

It was too early to actually sit down and have a conversation with all seven about starting a family, but since you were on the subject, you had to ask. 

“Not if I have to be one of two responsible adults for the child.” he told you, and after a couple of seconds, he added: “I haven’t been able to keep you safe all this time, and it would really fuck me up if something happened to our baby.”

“Joonie, none of what happened to me is your fault.”

“I know you think that, but I don’t completely agree.” no matter what you said, Namjoon would argue if he didn’t agree with you. You were alike like that, when it came to being hard on your own selves. “Anyways, I would still like to be a dad, and having other six dads in the picture makes me a little more relieved.”

“You just don’t want to change the dirty diapers, don’t think you fool me.” you giggled, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Well, I’ll have other important roles.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You felt Namjoon nodding against you, lips pressing to the top of your head. His voice was a little muffled, but you heard him loud and clear. “Who do you think will teach them to ride a bike? Or teach them about art? There are plenty of cool kids museums in Seoul, you know?”

“God.” your sigh came out ragged and you looked up at your boyfriend’s face, finding him already looking at you. “Are you sure you don't want to get me pregnant tonight?”

“Are you offering?” his nose bumped against yours as your lips brushed together.

You grinned, saying: “If you keep talking like that I might.”

Namjoon’s soft laugh was always able to bring butterflies to your stomach, especially accompanied by those damn dimples that just made him look so cute. This wouldn’t be fair to your heart if you weren’t already madly in love with him for way over half a year at this point. 

Your boyfriend spread his legs on the sand and gently took you from your spot on his side to bring you to sit between his legs. Your back rested against his chest, but his arms were loose so as to not squeeze you and hurt your recovering body. Joon pushed your hair to the side of your neck so he could kiss your shoulder. Your eyes closed as you relaxed into him. 

“Why are you out here all by yourself?” his voice was low and deep, sending shivers all through you. 

You weren’t sure if your sigh was from his lips on your heated skin or the subject you were walking into. Might as well pull the bandage off. 

“I didn’t get it.” you said and Joon’s eyebrows furrowed, so you were a little more specific. “The internship at HYBE.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” you felt him tensing against your back, so you pulled his arm to wrap around your shoulders so you could kiss his tanned skin in an attempt to soothe him.

“It sounds exactly right, I saw it coming miles away.”

“What about Woojin and Sumni? Are they upset?”

“They got it. And I’m happy for them, they both deserve it. And another girl got the third spot.” the lack of bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself.

“Wait, hang on, that really makes no sense. Why would two of your teammates get it and you wouldn't? When the pilot project was your idea?” Namjoon was starting to stress out, so you pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow so you’d have more space to kiss. “The project wouldn’t even have been executed if it wasn't for you.”

“Well, I didn't make it to the presentation, so I don't exactly know everything that was said.”

“That’s bullshit. You didn't go because you were on medical leave, if anyone held that against you when making a decision then they will answer to me. I’ll call Bang PD–”

“You will do nothing about that.” you told him, assertive. “I appreciate you worrying and wanting to fight my battles for me, but this war is over. I never had any expectations to begin with, and I am very thankful for the opportunity to even be part of the program.”

“Baby…” Namjoon sighed, breathing in on your neck. “I’m sorry. We all really thought–”

“I know. It’s okay.” you said, but your eyes still filled with water. Your forehead rested against his forearm in front of you and you admitted: “Fuck, I really wanted this, Joon.” 

“I know, baby, and you deserved it. Are you sure Woojin and Sumni didn’t betray you in some way? Maybe they claimed the idea was theirs?”

You shook your head. “While I dont put my hand in the fire for anyone anymore, I don’t think they have it in them to pull something like that.” 

“Still, it makes no sense.” he grumbled.

“HYBE needs to do what’s best for them as a company, and it clearly wasn’t me.”

“I’ll just hire you as my Indigo release manager.”

That made a giggle bubble up from your chest. “I’m sure that would go down well.”

“Try and stop me.”

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Attitude | One-Shot (Namjoon)

anonymous: Hi! I'ma join the drabble game i just saw it on my notifs that i was tagged. Anyways i like your writings and stories so I hope i get to read some more in the future and i only really follow the authors i find that have great writing styles cause I am a bit picky when it comes to that stuff. It’s up to you who’s bts member/members your gonna use but imma request some kinks for the drabble. Spit kink and choking kink please 🥺

Rating/genre: M (18+), established relationship; smut 💖 Pairings: Fem!Reader x Namjoon/RM Warnings: Explicit smut, dom!Namjoon, sub!reader, playful brattiness, size kink, choking, spit kink, manhandling, reader is described as small in comparison to Joon but like he’s a big boy so, he actually picks her up and carries her, fxod mentions Word Count: 1.4k Summary: Your boyfriend is needy. Or are you the needy one? Neither of you really knows. But you’ll both endlessly bug the other about it. 

“Oh my god, stop!” you exclaimed, scoffing through a laugh as Namjoon stole a piping hot bite of the meal you were still cooking. “Can you just wait?”

“You’re so cranky today,” he said through a smile, sliding behind you instead to hook his arms around your waist. 

“Oh, yeah, this is much better,” you noted sarcastically, elbowing him as you stirred to emphasize your point that he was in the way.

Keep reading

Little do You Know | OT7 | Ninety Two

Pair: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Chapter warnings: A doctor visit, the start of the HYBE summer program and Hobi’s rehearsing for Hobipalooza. I know you’ve been wanting to see the TXT babies! 

WC: 3.7k

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Going to the gynecologist was at the top of your list of worst things you had to do. The exams were always uncomfortable and invasive and you really hated having your blood taken. But you still liked Dr. Choi a lot more than the old doctor all playmates had to go to when you worked at Nolichingu. 

Especially when receiving news you weren’t expecting. 

But the middle aged woman had answered all your questions patiently, as well as explained what would be the next steps and made sure to assure you everything would be alright. So when you left her office, you weren’t freaking out. 

You kept telling yourself you were in a good place financially, you had a lot of time on your hands, and you had seven boyfriends that loved you and supported you. And things would be okay. You just hoped this wouldn’t be in the way of any future plans. 

As you rode the elevator down to the garage floor, you texted Hana to give her a summary of what the doctor had told you and check if she was already there. 

You were perfectly capable of driving yourself, of course, but she had a lunch date with Eunwoo near HYBE, and she knew she was the only one you had told about this appointment, so she offered to give you a ride just in case you needed someone to be there for you. 

Finding her car in the underground garage was easy, she had parked near the elevators and blinked the headlights when she saw you looking around. 

“Hey, boo, how did it go?” your best friend was asking as you slipped into the front seat of her car. 

“Uncomfortable.”

“But is everything okay?” she checked just to make sure.

“Yeah, well… Okay as can be, I guess. At least it’s confirmed now.”

The AC of the car was on, it was a very hot summer day outside. Hana pointed one of the air vents to you as she asked: “And how do you feel about it?”

“Surprisingly I’m not freaking out.” you chuckled. At least for now your nerves were under control. 

“What will you tell the boys?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Boo, don’t you think they should know?” your friend definitely didn’t agree with your decision. 

“Sure, but if I tell them now, they are just  going to freak out. And Hobi has his launch party in three days and he’s nervous as it is. Not to mention the Lollapalooza concert, and the trip to Busan, it’s just too much. Plus, this isn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, you’re going to have a–”

“I’m going to be late if we just sit here.” you cut her off, not wanting to be reminded of just what you’d be having. “Shall we go?” 

Hana hit you with a look that let you know she thought keeping it hidden from them was not the best idea, but she got the car moving nonetheless. It’s not as if you didn’t plan on ever telling them. You kinda had to. Just not right now. 

Your friend started driving, leaving the clinic through a back door. She had been the one insisting to let security know beforehand who you were and asking for privacy. And you were thankful for her, more often than not forgetting people knew your face and your name, and that Koreaboo and Dispatch would have a field day if they saw you leaving a place like this. 

You were well on the way to HYBE when Hana’s phone started ringing, connected to the bluetooth system of her car. You could read the contact name ‘Eunwoo Baby’ and had to stop a squeal from leaving your lips when she sent you a look. 

“Hiiiii.” she answered with a press of a button. 

“Hi, baby, are you close?” the idol greeted and you bit your lips to stop another noise. 

“Not yet, still dropping Ynie off at HYBE. She can hear you.” 

“Hi, Eunwoo-ssiiiiiii.” you sang teasingly, hearing his laugh and your best friend’s scoff. 

“Hey, Yn.” he said with a new laugh. “Alright, I was just checking in. Drive safe babe. See you Thursday, Yn.”

“See you!” 

“Bye, baby.” your friend said with pink cheeks. 

The call fell through and you counted until five, basking in the silence that was anything but awkward. When Hana opened her mouth to speak, you giggled and teased her:

“Baby?! Oh my god, you are soooo dating!” 

“Stoooop.” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” you poked her as the car came to a halt on a red light. 

“We were going to tell you at the party!” Hana batted your hands away. “And it’s not like we can go official either.”

“Why not?!” 

“Eunwoo is not allowed to date. And the moment Hyeon finds out, he’ll have me moved to another idol.” she explained and your heart broke for her. “He’s not about to lose another high level playmate when he’s not over losing you. So keeping it hidden is the only way for us to be together.”

“I’m sorry, I know that’s rough.” you gave her arm a little squeeze. “It won’t be like that forever, okay?” 

“We know, it’s alright.” 

Ten minutes and many questions about Hana and her new boy later, your best friend parked in front of the tall building that felt like a second home to you at this point. As you removed your seatbelt and grabbed your purse from the backseat, Hana checked:

“Do you need me to pick you up later?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll run into one of the boys in there and just go home with them.” you smiled, assuring her you’d be okay. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“Alright. If you feel anything–”

“I’ll call you, I know.”

“No, girl, you tell your men what’s going on!” 

You left Hana with a kiss on the cheek and departed from her car, making your way into the familiar building. You still had ten minutes before the Welcoming Brunch was set to start, the kicking off to the two week Summer Program at HYBE Corp. 

You weren’t sure you’d have any lectures today, since the email with the packed schedule for the program only spoke of a hang out with a few of the professionals that would be working with you during the program, as well as the introduction to how it worked and a special guest appearance. 

All seven of your boyfriends assured you they weren’t the special guest coming over, all understanding of your reservations and supportive of your career; however none-existing it was at this point. 

“Good morning, Yn-ssi.” the nice girl at the front desk greeted you when you approached her with a smile, after bowing to all of the security people at the lobby; all whom you knew and knew you. “I got your new pass ready.”

“Oh, thank you, Yeji-ssi. I wasn’t sure I should use my regular visitor's one.”

That was putting it nicely, of course. The security card you had, had been gifted to you by Sejin when you came back into the boys’ lives as their girlfriend and not as a playmate. It was one that allowed you into floors, rooms and facilities that the regular visitor’s pass, and even most staff passes didn’t open. 

“You can still use it, but I’d keep it hidden.” the woman explained. “Here you go. You can go straight to floor ten, you know the way.” 

“Yeah, thank you so much.” 

You slipped your special card into your purse and put the new one around your neck, hoping it would make you blend in enough with the other program attendees. Once inside the elevator, you remembered to take the small, round band aid off the band of your elbow. The last thing you needed were curious eyes trying to guess just what for you had your blood taken for. 

Once on the tenth floor, it was easy to find the group you were supposed to join. Nine people, between boys and girls, were waiting at the lounge. You got a few double takes as you joined them and said your good mornings, but no one really seemed to care, which made you relax as you sat down on a single seat armchair. 

You put your phone down when you heard heels and heavier steps entering the lounge, looking up to see a man and a woman dressed in comfortable clothes. Their presence, however, still demanded attention and respect, so you knew they were important. 

“Good morning, everyone.” the woman had a nice smile on her red lips. “Please follow us and let’s get started.” 

You followed your peers quietly, trying to blend in as much as possible. 

The group was taken into one of the office spaces on the tenth floor, a room you had been to before. You couldn’t tell if it was when the Dispatch photo of you and Kook came out, or when Sejin brought you in to talk about the magazine cover you were featured on –without your knowledge– or even when giving out your statement about the Jia and Mina case. 

Being inside an office with one of HYBE’s lawyers wasn’t a rare feature for you.

But the room was set up differently this morning, with the big, round table pushed to the back to hold a lot of food and drinks, and chairs were lined up at the front of the room, facing a projector. As all of you took a seat, you were left between a boy and a girl who looked to be a little younger than you. Maybe even younger than Jungkook. 

“Oh goodness, can you believe we’re really here?” the girl on your right was gushing, looking around with stars in her eyes. “Everything is so big!”

“It is, isn’t it?” you smiled in what you hoped would come off as a friendly smile. 

You were trying to stay positive, trying to convince yourself that not everyone you would meet in your life would have bad intentions or try to take advantage of you or sell a story to the press. It was a task easier said than done, but you knew you would never have this opportunity again, so you would push yourself not to retrieve into an imaginary corner within yourself. 

“I’m Sumni.” the girl introduced herself, fleeting eyes too excited by her surroundings to really focus on you. 

“Yn. Nice to meet you.” 

This was usually the time someone would look at your face and wonder if you were actually The Yn, but Sumni only gave you a little nod and focused on the projector again. It had just been turned on as the woman in heels and a red lip took the front of the room. 

“It is a pleasure to welcome you all to the HYBE Summer Program of 2022!” she said excitedly, clapping her hands once in celebration. “My name is Chae, and I’ll be one of your supervisors.” 

Chae went on about HYBE’s history, of how it was born as Big Hit, but evolved through the years and it was so much more than an entertainment company at this point. Much more than the home for global superstars. As she spoke about the company and explained more about the program you were all starting today, the projector showed pictures and well designed slides that showcased photos and videos relating to what she was talking about. 

“On your way out you’ll all receive a goodie bag with some welcoming gifts and your schedule for the next two weeks. You’ll have the chance to see the real behind the scenes of our marketing team, watch meetings, and be challenged to create your own projects for a chance to pitch your ideas for our very own team.” Chae told everyone and you felt like you were in line for a rollercoaster. “We have more surprises for you during the week, but the first one…”

Chae looked at the man waiting by the door, who gave her a small thumbs up. 

“Well, why don’t we let our guests tell you?” the woman nodded to her partner, who opened the door of the conference room. “Come on in, boys.” 

For a whole second your blood ran cold, fearing the apparition of your boyfriends. But they kept to their word and weren’t the surprise guest. The five members of Tomorrow x Together walked in, gaining squeals and claps from the group of students. You hadn’t seen them in quite a while, so you were excited to have them there. 

“ONE DREAM. Hello, we are TXT.” the boys did their introduction, bowing to the ten of you. 

Soobin was the first to start speaking: “We were invited here today to give you guys a warm welcome and say congratulations for being selected as part of this year’s Summer Program.” 

“And to let you know that three of you will have an amazing opportunity at the end of the two weeks.” Kai said, making gasps and chirping noises fill the room. 

“That is right!” Yeonjun smiled brightly, and a little mischievously. “By the end of the program, three of you will be selected for an internship here at HYBE, where you’ll be part of our own team, to work closely with us and start your careers in a grand way.” 

Of course HYBE would pull off something like this. Hiring three pupils on the spot, young people they saw potential in. New blood they could mold to their likings, much like they did to idols in their trainee stages. And of course no one would deny that opportunity, since having an internship at HYBE as part of their resume would open many doors. 

After Chae and TXT answered some questions, the brunch was served and the five idols were allowed to stick around. In true young boy manner, they were invited to stay and eat, which gave you all the chance to talk to them and get to know them better. 

You tried keeping to yourself, not wanting to take away the opportunity of someone else to meet the idols, when you already knew them well. But of course two of them found their way to you after signing some autographs. 

“Noona!” Taehyun practically skipped towards you, giving you a hug while you tried to swallow a small tuna sandwich. “We didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“Hey, guys.” you hugged Beomgyu next. “It’s good to see you.” 

Running into the five boys at HYBE was common to you, whether as a playmate, or Bangtan’s girlfriend, you could always count on your luck to see at least one of them around. All were much younger than you, and they absolutely looked up to your boyfriends, which made them have this huge respect for you in comparison. They felt like younger brothers to you, always excited to see you too.

“Are you guys excited for Lolla?” you asked, watching as they almost started buzzing at the mention of Lollapalooza at the end of the month. 

“So excited!” Beomgyu almost jumped in place. “Are you going to be there, noona?” 

“Yeah, I think Hobi and I will already be there by the time you guys perform.” 

“We caught a bit of hyung rehearsing, his performance is gonna be epic!” Taehyun told you. 

And you couldn’t agree more. 

After brunch was eaten and the TXT boys went away to their own dance practice and activities, you and the rest of the alumni had a couple of lectures about the program you were all part of. You met with some staff of the marketing team that had worked with BTS before, some you knew by name and others you’ve seen in passing. 

Overall, you were very excited about this week and the next, knowing you were about to learn a lot. Also, you were nervously interested in the little competition you knew would be going on apart from all the learning and you hoped you stood a chance when it came to the three available spots to join the company. 

“I always thought you’d be working with us.” Jimin was sitting next to you, sporting a cute pout on his plush lips. 

“I did work with you, Minie.” you giggled, looking through the contents of the goodie bag you were gifted after the first day of the program. “Plus, everyone has the same chance when it comes to the three spots available. I’m not so sure I’ll get it.” 

“I’m sure you will. There’s no reason for you not to get it.” 

You had just told your boyfriend about your morning affairs and he was set on the idea that this was just an excuse from HYBE to have a way of hiring you as part of their company again. You were pretty sure he was more than a little biased, but the idea of joining their communications team did bring a nice feeling to your stomach. 

Both you and Jimin were sitting on the floor of the Bangtan practice room, backs resting against the mirror as you had front row seats to watch Hoseok rehearsing for his Lollapalooza concert at the end of the month. It was your third time watching him, but you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired of it. 

At the moment, the older man was watching the playback video of the last run of Equal Sign, hawk eyes trying to find mistakes and weak points so he could fix them, so you and Jimin could talk without bothering him too much. 

“When do you and hyung leave?” Jimin asked as he eyed the goodie bag while you looked over the WE BELIEVE IN MUSIC notebook you found inside it. 

“Right after Busan.” you said, flipping the pages. “Wish more of you were coming too.” 

“Greedy girl, can’t have just one boyfriend with you, huh?” 

You giggled, handing him the notebook and looking inside the bag again. “There’s a reason I have seven boyfriends, you know? Besides, I meant you should come for Hobi.”

“I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a surprise?” 

Those words and his mischievous look made you stop and stare at him, wide eyed. Jimin only winked at you, but you knew him too well to know he was up to something. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin had already bought a plane ticket to go to Chicago and surprise you and his hyung at his first solo concert. 

The subject was dropped, however, when your phone started beeping with the alarm going off. 

“Oh, shit.” you turned it off, looking around. 

There was no way you could play this cool, not when Jimin was already sending you a funny look and Hoseok was walking over to you with a tired stance and a bright smile. 

“You have anywhere to be, doll? Thought you were going home with me.” 

“I am, yeah.” you shook your head, picking up your purse and searching for the pills you had to take, popping it out of the little medicine pack without taking it out of your purse. “Just have to take some vitamins, is all.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” Hoseok asked, offering you his own water bottle for you to take your meds. 

Both men watched you nodding as you swallowed the small red and blue pill, pulling a face at the sheer size of it. Jimin had never seen vitamins that size and color, but he knew you didn’t have any reason to lie to them, especially when it came to your health, so he didn’t press you on it. 

Taehyung had asked him earlier today to keep an eye on you, to make sure you ate, rested and didn’t push yourself too hard. It made him wonder if he knew more than he was letting on, but Jimin trusted the both of you to let the rest of them know if something was going on. 

“You can’t get sick on me, we have a party to go to. And a trip together.” Hoseok told you as he squeezed your sides, making you giggle and bat his hands away. 

“I know, my love. I promise I’m fine.” you assured him, trying not to let your guilt transpire. 

You were okay, and you weren’t really sick. But you hated to hide things from them, and your talk with Hana this morning, where she insisted you told your boyfriends what was going on, didn’t really help. But everything would be fine. You’d tell them all soon enough. 

“How’s Jack?” you asked your boyfriend in an attempt to change the subject. 

“The vet managed to save his eye!” Hobi told you with relief, accepting his water bottle back. “I’ll bring him over to your place on friday, if that’s okay.” 

“Wait, wait.” Jimin shook his head, long hair messy from the movements. “What did I miss? Who’s Jack?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a cat owner now.” you said with an incredulous smile. 

“And… You don’t mean Yoongi hyung?” Jimin blinked. 

“No, but he’s just as cute.” you laughed, turning to Hoseok and booping him on the nose. “Hobi found him on the set of Arson, but he was hurt, so he brought him back to Seoul.” 

“And he just… Gave him to you?” Jimin had a frown on his pretty face. 

You weren’t sure if he was offended that Hobi didn’t give him the cat, or worried about his own allergies. You wondered if he was thinking about the day you all moved in together and living in a house with a cat wouldn’t be the best option for him. So you assured him:

“It’s just temporary, baby. We’re looking for a forever home for him, I’ll just keep him until he’s all healed.” 

“I mean, I could always get shots for my allergies, if you really wanted a cat–” 

“I have a cat.” you turned to him again, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder. “And a puppy-kitty.” 

Jimin went absolutely pink in the face, which was rare for the teasing man. He giggled cutely as Hoseok laughed at the flushed state of his friend. 

“Okay, gonna go back.” the older man said with a long sigh. “Good luck kiss?” 

“Mkay.” 

You puckered your lips for your boyfriend to kiss it before getting up and going back to his work. You felt a small poke to your ribs and turned to see Jimin pouting for you to kiss him too. 

“Am I your good luck charm too?” you teased, gaze following as his tongue licked between his pillowy lips. 

“Always.” 

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Little do You Know | OT7 | Seventy Three

Pair: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Chapter warnings: Little angst if you squint and fluff! 

WC: 4.2k

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