Older Reader - Tumblr Posts

First Date

Pairing: Namjoon x Older F Reader

Genre: Oneshot, some angst, my attempts at humour and very slight fluff (if you can even call it that)

Words: 1,951

Summary: Reluctant yet very insecure noona reader's thoughts on being set up on her first date. Others had gone their whole lives without bungee jump. You? You had never tried the relationship thing or dates. And honestly, now that you were much older, you never saw its appeal. So why were you sitting here waiting for a date?

Notes: A culmination of thoughts brewing in my head for too long and also what many around me have been feeling about relationships and looking for “the one”. When I wrote this, I had Namjoon in mind and a reader in their early 40s. However, you can imagine this to be another member. And yes, the age gap is meant to be significant to emphasise on the insecurity. I might continue this with other members it has been pretty liberating to write away the negativity. 

You quietly took in your surroundings, the low-hanging warm lights, the polished silver cutlery and clean glasses arranged neatly atop the dark mauve table cloth. All around you was the low hum of activity. Servers in black and white busy and speaking in soft tones as they attended to other tables. Set against what was supposed to be the famed cosy ambience of the restaurant, you should feel relaxed but another wave of panic rises inside. Your fingers grip the table cloth. Strange that it should be the silkiness of the velvet table cloth that grounds you and keeps you from dashing out the double wooden doors of the restaurant without looking like a victim of a deranged axe murderer. 

One deep breath. And then another. It helps to calm the waves. Somewhat. 

You look down at the wrinkled cloth and quickly smooth them out. The fresh coat of nail polish on your nails gleams back at you. It looks tackier and uglier by the second. You immediately fold your fingers into your palms. 

2 weeks ago

A bell rings, announcing the arrival of a new customer. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You would blame this all on Jim Carrey if you could. Jim Carrey, hormones and a sudden attack of curiosity laced with fear or was it the other way?

 Sitting against the bed rest, you aimlessly scroll through the movie selection on Netflix. Horror? Definitely not, you couldn’t afford the lack of sleep or leaving your lights on for a whole week. Action? Nothing caught your eye and you had enough of romcoms. The last one about waking up in a perfect world and being surrounded by handsome men and helpful gay neighbours made your sides ache too hard at the sheer ridiculousness. Which left you with just comedies. The next thing you knew, you were laughing at the consequences of Jim Carrey’s Carl. Obviously an emphatic "yes!" to everything could only end horribly. 

1 week ago

As you sat at your desk typing up the changes to your school’s reading programme, your phone buzzed excitedly at the arrival of a new message. As a testament to your multi-tasking abilities, you open the app, eyes never leaving your laptop screen. Only after you've finished typing your sentence do you unwillingly tear your focus away. The new message makes you grimace. 

Another reminder from your ex-colleague whom you had remained in close contact with. Another one asking, for the nth time, for your photo. You resist rolling your eyes at her usual tactics. 

The first message was always a cheerful one asking how you were. Backed up by the second one that asked for your photo. This time, a third followed. A gif showing a pair of sparkly puppy dog eyes that no one could resist with sparkly pink font emphasising the "please" above its head. You turn off your screen. Puppy dog eyes would never work on you, not when it came to such matters. You make to turn back to work when a line from Yes Man announces its arrival in your mind.

"You say no to life, and therefore you're not living!"

You scoff at that, clearing your threat and dismissing it quickly. As a librarian, you needed to set good examples in the school library.

No, that’s just the way I want things to be. I’m enjoying life. Life's happiness doesn't depend on having a partner. 

With a stiff nod, you begin to type. 

"You make up excuses to the people around you and to yourself."

And you almost swear. This line resonated Much. Much. Louder. You weren't able to brush it aside like normal.

By the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted. It had been an unusually slow day. Barely any students came in which left you at the mercy of your thoughts. You had tried to drown out them out with music. Only one earbud in, of course. You still had to be able to hear should anyone need your help. Unfortunately, your favourite playlist had only left you with an earache and a dull persistent throbbing behind your eyes. 

After showering, as you sat in bed, you found yourself staring at the message from your ex-colleague again. Against your better judgement, you finally responded with what you hoped sounded casual. Uninterested.

“Why?”

It’s late. You think you definitely have several hours of time to think in between now and the response to come. Mothers of 5-month-olds should be asleep by now. 

Like always, the universe never listens.

The ping of the app announces, “To introduce you to my friend, duh”. 

Followed by a sticker of some anime character sticking out their tongue in what you suppose was a show of adamance. Or cheekiness. Who knows, gifs were trickier to decode than expected.

Another ping. “I’m not asking you to marry the guy.”

Then a third. “Just. One. Meal.”

Your fingers spell and send out a second "why?" before you can stop yourself.

“OMG. I’m not asking for a nude.” Comes the immediate reply and then a gif of Robert Downey Jr. rolling his eyes with his arms folded. You resist sending the same gif back.

The status below your ex-colleague's name informs you she is still typing. You briefly consider changing her contact name to the bomb emoji. Very effective at reminding you that she should be avoided at all costs. 

“If I send you a photo, you are going to find some way, somehow to reject him.” Came the new line after some time. 

“Don’t say no.” A new text warningly reads almost immediately.

Damn.

“You always do.” And you wonder how if all mothers had developed some sort of manic energy to keep up with their babies or was it just Chaerin.

You want to reply something. Anything to make her shut up but the usually rich inner monologue of your head has gone silent.

Thanks.

“I’ve been telling him about you for a while now and he’s curious to meet you :)” A new ping informs.

“Just one photo..!”

You inwardly curse again looking at what you had sent the night before while you sit at your desk. It was a fairly recent photo taken by a colleague announcing your promotion to Head of Library Science. A title that only meant everyone else on the team was done with the low pay and long hours and left you to carry on as a one-woman show. 

Do people usually send such photos to their dinner dates?

You choke loudly at that, ignoring the sting in your throat while locating your bottle. The stupid thing was now taunting your lack of reach from the far right corner of your desk.  

3 days ago

Seated on a plush black chair, your reflection looks back reminding you of your sudden panic which led to different sections of your hair now neatly wrapped in foil.  

All part of the regular hair routine.

The lady to your right whips her head in your direction at an unusually loud wheeze. 

2 days ago

“And is there anything else I can help you with?” The saccharine-sweet tone of the way-too young sales assistant asks. 

You hope you had responded with a polite “no thank you” however you can only recall grabbing your card and leaving. 

“Ma’am, your new dress!”

5 hours ago

The sunlight shining through your windows cheerfully informs you that it is way too bright and early for anyone to get started on make-up for a dinner date. At least you no longer choke on that last word as you apply a single line of brown eyeliner on your left lid. The more hours you gave yourself to erase and redo, the better.

You critically study your reflection.

Not bad.

2 hours ago

The reflection in the unfamiliar mirror in the restaurant’s washroom is that of a stranger. The worry and panic in their eyes are very familiar though.

It’s not too late to say you are sick.

15 minutes ago

A glance down at the new fabric reminds you of the money you had spent on a whim. The stretched fabric across your skin reminds you of how many flaws you have revealed. You squirm in your seat. The feel of your thighs rubbing against each other reminds you of the consequences of too many late-night convenience meals. Your metabolism no longer what it was aeons ago. You tug the end of your now too-short dress down. The back of your fingers feels each and every stretch mark etched on your skin. 

This fabric is definitely choking your body. You can see the softness of your tummy sticking out. Your waist looks much too thick in this and more skin than you were comfortable with was exposed. You missed being in your favourite oversized and comfy sweatshirt and pants. 

You habitually seek out a lock of hair to twirl around your finger. A bad habit of "messing up your hair" as your mother had called it. One that she never could get you to quit. However, your finger turned up bereft and you recalled what else you had done on a whim. Or was it panic? 

When you were done at the salon, the young hairdresser had assured with a playful wink that you looked, “at least 10 years younger”.

Easy for him to say. 

The feeling at the pit of your stomach soured further. Maybe you were sick after all. You lift your hand about to ask for the bill when someone slides into view, effectively blocking you from calling out to the nearby waitress. 

“I’m so sorry that I’m late.” The deep voice announces. One laced with warm honey and sincerity. “The traffic was heavier than I expected.”

“Th-that’s alright, I was early.” And you try not to wince at the awkward laugh that escapes your lips. 

What the fu-

“I’m really glad you agreed to meet me.” The voice says again, almost as if in reassurance that they didn’t know of your struggles. “Chaerin noona told me so much about you.”

Another awkward laugh acts as a filler between both of you. At this rate, you might as well communicate in laughs. 

“Thank you.” And you really have to look up at this point. A hand had suddenly appeared and it looked to come too close to your own.

As you looked back, you felt more exposed and more out of place than ever. The voices inside hissed, each sentence from them much too acidic and venomous. Every one of them reminding that you were too old, too different, too awkward and just way too late. You feel your throat swelling and closing up.

“Kim Namjoon,” The owner of the voice says with a courteous nod.

You see as the shapely pair of lips widen further into a smile and a set of dimples appear on both sides, the left one deeper than its twin. Your eyes travel upward to slowly lock onto a set of brown eyes. So dark brown and watching you so patiently behind a stylish pair of glasses. Half of its frame was black while the bottom other half was frameless. 

And then, unexpectedly, your head nods back in response. A deep breath and your voice finds itself. 

"Y/N. Thanks for meeting me too." A hint of a smile appears on your face.

 Namjoon smiles a little wider and a little more assured. He politely hands you the menu pointing out the signature dish. Then lets you know what is his favourite dish, as an afterthought. 

We still can dream… we are not dead yet

Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

Thinking about poor 16 years old touya who was just a kid on a street at night and no heroes helped him...

What if 20yo!reader who was a small hero saved him and took him home with her and took care of him and him slowly become obsessed with her as 3 years went by bc she was the only one who saved him, stood by him. While the reader is so clueless to his obsession <3