Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a little unusual that your agent asked to meet you in person.

The last time you met up with Ms. Kim was when you signed your contract with her almost two years ago. Since then, it’s just been video chat, phone calls, and emails. But this time, she said it was special.

For some reason, that made you nervous.

The correspondence for your biggest gig yet was negotiated entirely online. What could be more special than becoming one of the youngest professors to be granted tenure at Seoul National University that she needed to see you in person?

“Okay, let’s cut to the chase,” Ms. Kim set her coffee down on your table as you continued to sip yours. “I know this seems very unusual,” well yeah, she couldn’t even wait to meet you at a cafe. She just HAD to come over to your small ass officetel with the news.

“A little unusual, yes,” you agreed with a chuckle.

“But do you remember how I discovered you?”

How could you forget?

A few years ago, you were writing fan fiction to mentally survive your dead-end job. One you couldn’t quit because it’s not a good idea to eliminate your stream of income during an indefinite pandemic.

You didn’t get much attention doing it, but there was this one reader that kept you going.

The reader was so invested in your work that your anxiety once led you to suspect that someone from your real life found out about this and decided to mock you for it. Basically, it just sounded too good to be true. You knew your work was “k”, but you didn’t think it was as special as this reader made it out to be.

That reader was Ms. Kim.

Apparently, she was reading fanfiction in her downtime to avoid developing an aversion to reading. She was an editor at a publishing house and was forced to read transcript after transcript every day. She got into the job because she loved reading, but she had done it so often at such high volumes that she was starting to hate it.

When she’d had enough, she decided to try becoming a freelance literary agent, and the author of her favorite fanfiction was her first prospective client: YOU!

She always talks about how blessed she is to have found you, but you felt like the lucky one.

To say you were lucky would be an understatement. She was your guardian angel, and because you worked so well together, you were both able to get out of your shithole jobs and pursue something you both enjoyed.

“Luckily there’s no evidence left of that,” you scoffed. “I wiped out all soft copies of those when you started representing me.”

“What?? Why??” she protested. “I loved them!”

“To reduce the chances of black mail,” you admitted.

“Well, that’s alright. I kept soft copies for myself,” she grinned.

“Seriously!? How am I going to sleep tonight knowing all my old work still exists!?”

She took your hands in hers, “Okay, so hear me out? I told myself I would hang on to your work until my dream project for you manifested. And since it already has, I’m going to send my soft copies back to you to officially let go of it. I’ll delete my copies and you can keep yours.”

“I’m confused.”

“I know this sounds so weird, but I’m a huge law of attraction gal, and I needed something tangible to help manifest this dream project of ours.”

“AM I WINNING A PULITZER?!”

“What? No!”

You deadpanned, “That’s the only dream I have.”

“Think BIGGER.”

“What’s bigger than a Pulitzer?” you asked. “I would guess the next best thing would be a best selling book, but unless someone stole my outline on the wall, that’s not possible.”

“Wait, you’re writing a book?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” you pointed at all the notes stuck to your wall forming the content outline of your book, “SURPRISE!”

“That’s great news! But we’ll discuss that next time! So do you surrender? Can I tell you?”

You took another sip of coffee, “Unless you’re willing to spend the day waiting for me to guess, that sounds like our best option.”

Ms. Kim shifted in her seat as if to brace herself, “Yesterday, I got a call from one Mr. Park. Sounds about middle-aged, very nice guy. Said he came from an entertainment agency and he got my contact information from Forbes where you last published an article.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, indicating you were following along.

“He said his client was intrigued by your writing style. They said it was enticing and proceeded to make a strange request. They asked me to ask you if you could write song lyrics.”

“As long as I’m not forced to make it rhyme, I guess it’s possible,” you shrugged.

“That’s great! Because I said yes!”

“MS. KIM!” you scolded, “What if I said I couldn’t?”

“But I know you can!”

“But what IF?”

“Why entertain what’s behind us?” she dug into her briefcase. Who even owns a briefcase that isn’t a Japanese salaryman? “Okay, so Mr. Park sent me a non-disclosure agreement to sign. After sending it back, THIS came in the mail at the crack of dawn today.”

Ms. Kim handed you a black bound document with the logo BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT on it and you could have sworn you glitched.

Eyes like ping pong balls, you looked up at your agent who was silently pooling all her remaining willpower so as not to combust, “The fuck is this?!” you said through a frozen jaw.

“It’s all technical, but the brief included that Mr. Park’s client is RM. Girl. Kim Namjoon,” she said as steadily as she could manage, “As well-informed Army, we both know that he loves reading, right? By well-read, that actually includes your work. YOUR work. According to Mr. Park, he read your Forbes piece, blog, published university work, and he even contacted SNU to ask if you had any upcoming lectures. But you’re on break, so he settled on having his studio manager track you down.”

“Whoa—uhm—“ you stood up and began pacing when a thought struck you. You snapped around to face Ms. Kim, “Is this—Is this why you asked about how you discovered me?? Because I wrote BTS fan fiction???”

“EXACTLY!”

“You better not have shown them anything of the sort!”

“I didn’t! I would never!”

“God, this is nerve-wracking.”

“Oh come on! It all worked out, didn’t it? I’m still in a position to refuse on your behalf,” your agent reassured you. “I told them I would still have to see if the terms were good with you. They’re asking for quite a lot on top of all the secrecy they require, but so far they have no comments about trying to haggle your rate when I gave a ballpark figure.”

You turned back to her, this time, biting your nails, “What are the terms?”

“Alright, here,” Ms. Kim reached for the document and flipped to the first tab she created. “They can’t determine the amount of time it’ll take to produce the album, so you can charge per session. This also means you’ll be on contract for however long RM needs you. They prefer to work in the studio, but we have to work around their schedule. You’ll also be loaned a laptop unit so all the original work you produce on their time stays with them after your contract ends. If you want to bring in existing work that you have, you have to sign it over.”

Ms. Kim put the document down, “There’s more, but their terms all seemed fair. Although you still need to go through it all on your own time and get back to me.”

She looked up and found you leaning on your kitchen counter. With the look on your face, it’s possible none of what she said reached your brain for processing.

“Alright,” she stood, “I’ll leave you with this hard copy to review, write on—whatever. Then if you can, get back to me before the week is out with your notes. I’ll make the amendments and send it back. Ideally, RM said he wanted to start studio work in two weeks. By then the press tour would have wrapped up already.”

“What—what if I turn this project down?” you squeaked, momentarily entertaining the possibilities that are starting to activate your panic mode.

“After all this time working with you, I should understand what makes a project eligible for your rejection. And right now, though I see no reason why you should turn this down, I’m going to give you this week to articulate why. I don’t care if it’s a shitty reason or not, but just make sure you don’t regret it. They’re offering to meet our price and the biggest sacrifice I see is a mere shuffle in your university obligations. I feel like since you’ve got tenure, that should be no problem. Maybe your book production will slow down for a couple of months, but that’s not a setback since no one even knows you’re writing one yet.”

When Ms. Kim noticed your expression wasn’t changing, she approached you, squeezing your hand to reassure you, “I know this is our fangirl dream, but this is also your career. As much as I want to run to your rooftop and screech like a banshee to summon the other Army, as your agent, I understand this is a decision we shouldn’t take lightly. It’s probably the project that’s furthest from anything you’ve ever done, but this is a great opportunity to diversify your portfolio. It may open more doors, but if it doesn’t, you have new experiences to stitch into your classes. But that’s only what I think as your agent. It’s your call, and it always will be.”

Ms. Kim was right, but for some reason, you wished she wasn’t.

.

Exciting as this opportunity was you couldn’t help but find yourself getting worried. This was an entire continent outside of your comfort zone.

You were confident in your abilities and you know you’re smart, versatile, and articulate as a writer; but there was something intimidating about working with BTS.

However, before you could even figure out what made this such a daunting career move, you found yourself already shuffling in your desk chair nervously waiting for Namjoon to appear on the video call while Ms. Kim and Mr. Park discussed some technical details.

Noticing you’re still on mute, you decide to do some deep breathing, keeping your poker face as steady as possible. As you breathed, you began rearranging the items on your desk to manage your nerves. It was a strange ritual, but it was calming to you and it was yours. If it worked, it worked.

Then the breathing evolved turned to wheezing.

If anyone heard it, they’d think you were gasping for air on a different planet. But again, if it worked, it worked.

With a matter of moments, you were straight up grunting and growling, almost reaching a state of desperation just to calm the fuck down. It seemed to be working because you felt like you were finally dispensing excess energy.

As you channeled your inner grizzly in your attempt to get zen as fuck, you decided to rearrange your desk items.

DING.

You looked up, still revving like a shih tzu with an anger problem, without moving your lips, only to find Namjoon adjusting on the screen.

Good God. This was real. It was happening.

Your motor skills momentarily glitched, causing you to accidentally knock over the mug of pens which hit your keys and unmuted you.

Preoccupied by the spillage of pens, you missed the sudden activation of your audio in the call. Perfect timing, too, because you began to rev again, but this time it felt like it was coming from the eustachian tube and sounded more like a 50-year-old chain smoker’s impression of a passing, dying motorcycle.

“Hey every—“ Namjoon started, but paused to listen, “Do you guys hear that sound?”

“It sounds like a heavy machine,” Mr. Park commented.

“I wonder what—“ Ms. Kim’s eyes formed perfect circles, realizing exactly what it was.

“GOOD! EVERYONE’S UNMUTED!” she said at full volume, catching your attention to stop you, but startling you enough to choke on your own spit.

“Oh, there, it stopped,” Mr. Park noted out loud.

“Let’s have a quick introduction, shall we?” Ms. Kim suggested to take the focus off any further inquiry of your throat orchestration.

“Great! Is it alright if I start?” Namjoon asked as his eyes scanned the screen.

“Hi, I’m Kim Namjoon, leader of BTS. You don’t have to call me RM behind the scenes. Namjoon’s fine,” he was looking directly at the camera and you felt like he was looking right into your soul. You couldn’t imagine how much more your heart would race if you met him in person and he looked at you that way.

This was so surreal.

As you listened to him speak, you admired how comfortable and relaxed he was. It made you wonder if he would ever get nervous anymore. Who in the world possessed the ability to make a Grammy award winner & Billboard Top Artist nervous?

“I’m actually a fan of your work,” he admitted shyly, obviously speaking to you. “I was in the States during your last lecture, and when I checked back, I was pretty bummed you’d gone on break. I do hope this project doesn’t get in the way of your rest, but I also really want to see where else we can take our new album with you by our side. I’m really looking forward to your input.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, still feeling nervous, but you hoped your delivery was a little more controlled than you imagined. “You know, before I learned to speak Korean, I listened to your music whenever I’d write. Because if I listen to English songs while writing, I end up transcribing the lyrics.”

A husky chuckle escaped his lips, “So does that mean you no longer listen to us now that you’re fluent?”

“Not while writing, but the other day I ran to Run,” you said in jest. And he laughed.

“That’s cute,” he shifted closer to the camera, “I’m surprised you didn’t say Dionysus because the BPM is higher and the vibe seems more suited for cardio.”

“I actually tried that, but I knew it was too intense when I had reached the North Korean border in 14 minutes flat.”

Another laugh from Namjoon, “You’re funny.”

At the back of your mind, you swore you’d find more ways to make him laugh if that’s how he always is when he’s tickled.

.

“So you’re fully aware of everything that’s illegal? Are you sure?” Ms. Kim asked on the phone as you waited for 10am at a cafe close to BigHit.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, I nodded.”

“Get out of your head, please,” Ms. Kim reminded you, “Just focus on the work. Don’t focus on the social stuff. You’ll be perfectly fine. Just do what you do best. This is second nature to you. As long as they don’t hold a press junket for you, you’ll be okay.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you agreed. “I love writing. This is my thing. I’m experienced, people trust me. Impostor syndrome is not real.”

“Well, it is, but you don’t have it right now,” Ms. Kim replied.

“What if they discover I’m a fraud??”

“SERIOUSLY!? Distract yourself, please! You’re overthinking again!”

“RIGHT! Fine! I’ll read one of the ebooks on my phone.”

“Speaking of reading on your phone, did you get the email?”

Suddenly your mood shifted and you responded through gritted teeth, “Why the hell would you send copies of my fan fiction to me?”

“I told you I would, to release the energy of the manifestation and lock that shit into place!”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Okay, okay. Fine. But in my BUSINESS email? Really? And with the title BIGHIT DREAMZZZ too?”

“Just delete it if you don’t want it, but I no longer have a copy of my own,” she assured you. “Now, don’t you have to go? It’s 10 to 10. It’s like airport security in there, by the way.”

.

It was a little overwhelming how massive the building was and you personally couldn’t imagine how much space and staff BigHit needed to run an entertainment agency at the level of a corporation. But then again, what would you know?

In the VLIVE’s, it seems they all use the same dance studios, so that looks like it rules out the theory that there are three floors dedicated to training rooms. Unless they’re all built EXACTLY the same.

Guessing the contents of the huge building was doing a spectacular job at keeping you distracted in the lobby of the floor where all the producers had their studios. Before you knew it, the receptionist was walking you to RKive.

It was just like his livestreams with the modern wooden interior, sculptures of pop culture characters, and the warm ambient lighting. It was homey and comfortable. And to you, it soothed your nerves. You could see yourself spending a few hours every other day here working together.

You couldn’t help but notice that it smelled like fresh bamboo in here. The scent immediately energized you.

Then you heard the doorknob turn, “I’m sorry for making you wait. Taehyung’s list of ideas was a lot longer than I’d anticipated.”

You stood, “No problem. How are you doing today?”

“I’m good, thanks. How about you? Did you have breakfast yet?” He took a seat on his chair and started up his computer.

“Yes, I did,” you replied, noticing he was closing a couple of programs.

“Ah, here it is,” he pulled up a leather computer bag and rolled over to you.

“This is the loaner unit we told you about. You’re familiar with Mac’s operating system?”

“Yup, it’s what I use,” you took the computer and unpacked it. You turned the power on and set it down on the coffee table. “So, what do you have in mind for today?”

“Okay, don’t kill me?”

“Not exactly the best way to start our first session, Namjoon,” you deadpanned.

He chuckled, “I kinda did some digging, and…”

You feigned a look of horror, “You found the body I buried when I was in college?”

“What? Oh my god, no,” he shook his head, “What would I do with it if I found it anyway? Wouldn’t it have decayed by now?”

“Touche,” Ugh. You loved when people play along with your dumb-assery.

“I actually found the poetry booklet you published for a charity to sell for their fundraiser. I think…” he started clicking away on his computer, “this is the one?”

You walked over to the computer, watching from over his shoulder. It was really the scanned copy from the 2017 original printout.

“Whoa, I didn’t know they scanned it,” you said while reading through the scans. “Is the NIS on BigHit’s payroll or something? Even I can’t find the photo of me on the day of the press launch on their Facebook.”

“I have my ways, anyway, here, sit,” Namjoon stood up and let you sit in his chair, “It’s so different from how you write now, but there’s something interesting about it. Your imagery is so clear. And I realize this is very different from who you are now, so I’m not asking you to replicate any of this. I was just thinking that maybe we can work with a similar form.”

“Must it rhyme?” you asked as you continued to skim through your old work.

“Not really,” he admitted. “I’m more interested in story, dialogue, messaging—that kind of stuff. Rhyming is just icing. I don’t find it necessary to rhyme to make something good. It is fun though.”

“Yeah, I noticed that with your lyrics,” you stood up and walked back to your spot on the couch. “I feel like you have a story in mind when you write and then you condense it for song. I’m no musician, but I’m guessing that’s how it works?”

“Pretty close,” he nodded. “Well, this time around, I’m not only working on the group’s album, but I wanna release a new mixtape. Something a little more personal.”

“More personal than Mono?”

“Yeah.”

You were curious, “How deep are we going?”

.

You clocked in on your first day, earlier than planned because you picked up a lot of food along the way. You wanted to celebrate it somehow and introduce yourself to who you’ll be working with.

You were originally scheduled to go straight to RM’s studio, but the receptionist stopped you, “Miss, they said to meet in Conference Room B today. I’ll take you there.”

Once there, he opened the door for you and you entered, startled to find RM and all six members all sitting together with some familiar faces.

“She’s here!” RM cheered as they all turned to look at you, greeting you just as cheerfully. The table had an assortment of breakfast pastries and snacks in the middle. There was even a small console to brew coffee & tea on the side.

“Morning,” he approached you, voice soft but bright, “What’s all this you’ve got with you?”

“I wanted to get you guys something as a thank you, but it seems you beat me to it,” you laughed, placing the drinks and food down.

“Oh come on, we’re the one hiring you and you’re treating us?”

“Are you even aware of how wonderful this opportunity is?” you asked the leader right back.

He chuckled, and for a split second, your eyes darted to the little bounce of his Adam’s apple. You were too distracted to hear that he muttered, “Well, it’s the first time I’ve ever been this nervous around a collaborator in a long time.”

“Sorry? I missed that.”

“Oh,” he blushed, “Nothing.”

“Is that chocolate?!” Jungkook squeaked.

“Oh right, yes!” you unpacked the drinks. “I asked Mr. Park and I got everyone an iced americano & two iced chocolate drinks for Taehyung & Jungkook?”

“Me too?” Taehyung’s sleepy face brightened up as he nudged Jungkook to get both their drinks.

“Oh thank goodness, ice,” Yoongi muttered, taking his drink. “Thanks for this.”

“Alright, since we’re all here, I think we should start,” Namjoon took a seat. “Can we just introduce ourselves to our new collaborator?”

Every member had their turn and the other faces you can’t believe you didn’t recognize right away were SupremeBoi, pdogg, Adora, and Slow Rabbit. Turns out the agenda this morning was to discuss the direction for the new album. They apparently already had the main meeting with Bang PD a month back and this was just a refresher and check-in.

Your assignment was clear, you’d be shuffling between RM, Suga, and j-hope’s projects. Suga likes working steadily, so his process was to send work back and forth virtually and meet when needed only since his work hours were the most unusual. It didn’t sound too difficult to keep up with.

J-hope mentioned he was a second opinion type of producer. He worked on something and would pop up either physically or digitally asking you to check his work out. He’s working harder on trying to incorporate more in-studio sessions as a personal effort to improve his process. You decided you’d just adapt and keep an open mind since he’s trying new things.

The vocal line was part of the meeting since they’re now venturing into more songwriting. Your role was simply to guide them, give comments, or sit in their sessions with the other producers if they need help.

But for the most part, RM was your main guy here. He liked having someone around to bounce ideas off of, and his best writing comes from inspired conversation. Plus, he was working on a new mixtape which he needed help juggling with the current album in progress.

It all sounded so exciting because this wasn’t an environment you were used to having. It was so collaborative and fluid.

You became a writer because you were an introvert and you didn’t know how else to express yourself. So to write in a social setting was new to you. Scary too, but good scary. You always loved a challenge.

.

It had been two weeks since you started. You and Namjoon actually had something good going and you were excited to see how it’d turn out.

The other day, he was right in the middle of a spoken word piece he wanted to finish when he was called to a band meeting he’d forgotten about. It was the first time he didn’t want to go because he was on the brink of a breakthrough, but he was learning to trust you.

Keyword: Learning.

He wasn’t quite there yet since you discovered he has traces of his delegation issues.

The result? He handed you his personal laptop and he dragged you to the meeting where you kept earphones on while you tried to work in his presence.

Your earphones were on full blast so you didn’t notice Jimin express his interest by hovering as you typed. You looked up only to find Namjoon dragging Jimin away by the sleeve and muttering something rapidly, his face deadpan.

The way you and Namjoon worked was exhilarating. It always kept you on your toes.

While you expected to proof his work, do research for him, and assist, it ended up being so much more collaborative than you expected. Both of you were your own hemisphere of a shared brain.

While Namjoon wrote, you let your mind wander and stitch words together based on what he was making. So if he came up with one verse today, you’d spin off that message and either continue to create another verse or write a different version of what existed.

Then when you had an idea, you’d find Namjoon repeating it out loud, oftentimes to a made up melody.

Words have always been so alive for you, but this time, it was vibrant and each one had a life of its own because it was being nurtured in a highly creative environment.

On one occasion, you went home so inspired by work that you decided to journal and write about a personal experience it reminded you of.

The next day, you brought the journal entry over and shared it.

“Here,” you handed Namjoon the notebook as you took your seat on the couch.

“What’s this?”

“Last night after the session, your last verse replayed in my head. Reminded me of a time my mentor crushed my hopes,” you recalled as he opened the book mark, “Dark, I know. I looked up to her and she turned out to be a delusional narcissist. Long story. Point is, it gave me an idea.”

You shrugged, “I let all the hurt out last night in a journal and you’ll notice in the entry that it eventually fizzled into a set of verses from its original journal form. You’ll even see red marks of me nitpicking verbage with potential.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out two kraft notebooks, handing Namjoon one with his initials KNJ on the upper right corner in your handwriting, “Soooo... I got us these. I was thinking we could free write and journal in our down time. No obligation, but it might open up new ideas. And they match the colour of your studio!”

He was silent for a moment as he finished reading your entry, his fingers drumming on the journal you gifted as it sat on his lap, “I love this,” he looked up, “I genuinely love this. Are you willing to sign these verses over?”

“Of course,” you said. “I was hoping to clean it up first.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he nodded as he handed your personal journal back. “And thanks for this,” he lifted his journal. With a smile that shrunk his eyes, he chuckled and held the journal against his desk, “Look. Matching! And yes! I love the idea of the journal. I mean I journal too, but I just keep those for me. It’d be nice to journal with a little more intention. Like this one would be just for the mixtape or album.”

“Oh, and on days that we’re feeling blocked, I prepared this!” with a grin plastered on your face, you pulled out a box slightly larger than your hand.

“How much stuff do you have in that bag of yours anyway?” Namjoon chuckled, poking at your purse.

“This isn’t even my big bag,” you wiggled your eyebrows eliciting a laugh from him before you handed him the box. “It’s a bunch of journal prompts I found in different places online aka my Pinterest board. Things like ‘Discuss your favorite childhood memory’ or ‘define silence as you understand and value it’…stuff like that. They’re folded so whatever you pick will be at random. I created some of the prompts too.”

Namjoon paused, setting the box down on his lap to look at you as if he was trying to read you, but as he did, the corners of his lips lifted, revealing his famous dimples, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all.”

“Is this your process?” he genuinely inquired.

You leaned back to think, “Hmm. Not really. I don’t actually have a process. Or maybe I do, but I’m not aware? Make any sense?”

“I could pretend it does if this topic troubles you,” he suggested, opening the box and using his index finger to mix up the folded pieces of paper and pick one up.

“Nah, I just never thought about it before,” you admitted.

“So you don’t teach your students about a writing process?”

“No, I teach them how to edit,” you said. “Write how you want, but the skill comes in when you edit.”

“Like proofreading and all those strange editing symbols that look like their own language?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” a part of you perked up since this is the bit about writing you enjoy discussing. “Writers are set apart from each other not by their writing ability, but their editing skill. Anyone can write. But what makes writers good is how they splice, mix, trim, embellish, or how much word vomit they clean up. Just like a music producer. Anyone can hum a note or strum a chord, but producers are the geniuses because they put everything together. They make everything make sense.”

Namjoon kept silent and you could see he was deep in thought. A soft nod followed, but it sped up when he replayed your words in his head. He couldn’t agree more. And if he wasn’t fan enough of your work before, having conversations like this with you only confirms he’s made the right choice in selecting you as a writing collaborator.

“Is this what your mentor taught you?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, “She was a corporate mentor. Her views on artistry are flawed and limited to jewelry brands that produce earrings the size of dessert plates.”

“Aren’t all our views flawed somehow?” he asked.

You jokingly rolled up your sleeves, “Oh, so we’re swimming on the deep end today, huh? Brace yourself, Kim Namjoon. I overthink for a living and pass it off as insightfulness.”

.

END OF CHAPTER I
PART II ON 19 DEC 2020, SATURDAY
PART III ON 26 DEC 2020, SATURDAY
PART IV ON 02 JAN 2021, SATURDAY
PART V ON 09 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

In the meantime, care for a ONE SHOT? I've got a fluffy Jungkook x Reader one shot called "#2" & and a soft tooth-rotting one shot called "Always" of Taehyung x Reader on my profile. Go check it out if you're interested. Sometimes I drop stories out of nowhere, so do follow me for your dose of fluff & character development :)

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

WRITING PROMPT: How many times a day do you say “I”?

“This one sounds familiar,” Namjoon said, squinting at the piece of paper in his hand.

“Oh,” you swallowed the muffin you were chewing, “I was watching Princess Diaries when I wrote that. It’s actually made me think about how many times I explain myself. What about you?”

He leaned back and allowed himself time to think of his answer. It was weird how this very simple, second-nature mannerism of his seemed so breathtaking to you. There was something so attractive about seeing a man taking time to think instead of pretending he knew all the answers. Namjoon was a breath of fresh air in the list of all the men you've ever had to call a colleague.

“How many times I talk about myself when no one’s asked,” he admitted after a few moments.

“Good one,” you nodded. “We do that a lot huh? But I don’t think it means we’re narcissists."

"Did someone ever call you a narcissist for talking about yourself?" his question was genuinely curious. Almost as if he was digging for some point of intersection with you. Is it possible Namjoon himself was once called a narcissist for talking about himself?

You chuckled, "It scares me how much you're picking up about me with so little conversation."

He grabbed a pencil and began playing around with it, still in his relaxed posture, as if he was going to let his thoughts take the wheel and drive the conversation, "You know, my therapist once told me that over explaining myself and inserting myself into every conversation is a response to trauma. It means I may not have felt valued when I was younger, or I was often silenced, or made to feel like my opinion didn’t matter. Interesting, huh?”

You softly nodded in agreement before asking, "Does that mean you've experienced that? Your input being invalidated or being made to feel unimportant?"

"As a student, no. In fact, I was overwhelmed with praise," he swiveled his chair a little bit away from you, "But as a rapper and producer? Yeah. Yoongi and I have very similar experiences. But the most I've felt unimportant was as BTS' leader."

Your little Army heart sank, but you tried your best not to show it, maintaining your silence because you felt like he wasn't finished speaking.

"At first I really wanted recognition in the industry. I wanted to make a name for myself and climb up the ranks. Then I met Yoongi and thought it'd be a good idea to do that together. Then Hobi came along and we all daydreamed about being the next Epik High," Namjoon paused his little chair swiveling. His body reflecting how he'd now moved into a more serious thought pattern.

"But when Bang PD turned us into a group, things changed."

"How so?" you squeaked, engrossed in his candid storytelling.

"I found myself getting more and more frustrated that no one was paying attention to six of the most talented, hardworking, admirable guys I've ever met in my life. It was making me angry that my teammates were being disrespected the way they were. If it were me on my own, I could take it. But..." he shifted in his seat, "Jungkook was fifteen when we began. Fifteen."

He sighed, "I wanted to succeed because my teammates deserved it."

"Do you think you've succeeded already?"

"Career-wise? Yes," Namjoon put the pencil down in front of you, not taking his eyes off you, "But I think it's about time we started doing things for ourselves."

You felt your ears heat up and did your best to remain stoic despite the sudden rush of blood and the increase in your heart rate, "You guys deserve that."

Namjoon returned to his relaxed position, hands clasped together, resting on the chair between his legs, "How about your personal life? Have you been all career so far or have you juggled it simultaneously?"

"By personal, what do you mean?" you were turned to your bag, feigning a search for something so your could avoid eye contact. Why in the world was his casual, innocent question making you flush?

"I dunno," he shrugged, but you failed to see it. You also failed to see how intently he was looking at your body language. "Uhm, did you get a pet? Make new friends? Do you date?"

"I don't really want to date right now," was the first thing you said and you mentally slapped yourself for it.

"Why not?"

"I guess I don't like the idea of hanging out with someone and expecting something," you shrugged, looking back at him when you were slightly more confident the blood rush was dying down, "I'd rather make friends, maintain friends, then if something more develops, we'll see where that goes."

"You're not scared it'll ruin the friendship?"

"I'm not expert, but shouldn't a friendship get stronger in a relationship? I mean, all the relationships I've witnessed that failed, did so because there was no friendship. I think I only want a relationship with my best friend."

He rested his elbows on the arm rest of his desk chair, fingertips kissing as he spun slowly to face his computer in deep thought.

Your dumb ass decided to break the silence, "Okay, so what song can we make out of that conversation?"

And he broke character too, a hearty chuckle escaping his throat and echoing in your mind long after the sound of laughter faded into keys clicking. Work resumed, but your mind wandered every chance it got.

.

“I know it’s your day off,” Namjoon whispered on the other line as you lay your phone flat on the side of your head. “But I have an idea I can’t get through.”

Eyes shut, you groaned through your sleepiness, “I can barely hear you. There’s no need to whisper. Are you afraid you’ll wake me?”

You rubbed your eyes and pulled your phone away to look at the time. “It’s 3am, Namjoon. Don’t you need your sleep too?”

“I’ve already reached my ideal height, I don’t need anymore sleep,” he jested in an attempt to lighten the blow that he was quickly realizing was a mistake.

“Good for you. Some of us still have a lot of work to do in that department.”

8 months with Namjoon had blurred the boundaries between professional and personal since you two very quickly became good friends.

But in the last three weeks, he’s been calling past midnight because it seems he got possessed by an artistic spirit whose unfinished business it was to STEAL SLEEP FROM COLLEAGUES.

A lot of these ideas he had, however, have a fork in the road and he can’t seem to decide where to take it. That's always where you came in. You provided him with a sense of clarity. If not, or if you were as undecided as he was, you helped him flesh out all the details so you can both make a better decision together.

For someone with strong logical intelligence, he sure relied on your voice of reason more than his own sometimes. You didn't mind at all. It's just that this is one of those times you wished you were a complete moron.

You sighed and put the phone on speaker, laying it down so you could scoot closer and listen, eyelids still unable to part, “Alright, Joon, go. Make sure you’re recording what you say unlike last time. There’s a slim chance I’ll remember any of this besides my mental note to self to power off my phone after 10pm.”

.

The great thing about your friendship is that it works both ways, because there are some days where you’re the one having a moment.

“How’s your verse coming along?” Namjoon asked nonchalantly, not looking up until he realized you probably wouldn’t reply.

He spun his chair around to find you curled up like a ball on the couch, “Oh my god are you still bothered by the barista from downstairs?”

“It's not just him,” you sniffed, trying to conceal your tears of frustration, “I just feel like everything’s falling apart, you know? I just want it all to stop for a second–like STOP.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Namjoon rolled his chair speedily over to you, hand on your forearm, “It’s not that bad. Everything is just temporary.”

He looked panicked but you were too busy feeling like shit to notice.

"It's just a bad day, not a bad life."

And his words were so comforting that it just opened up the floodgates.

.

The next day, you got to the studio and Namjoon was holding up the drink the barista was unable to make for you yesterday. Your eyes grew into orbs and you pointed at yourself, asking if the drink was for you. He nodded, dimples present and everything, as you skipped over and grabbed your drink, "You're the best, Joon!"

“Hey,” he said softly, bending his head to catch your eye, his hand over your shoulder with a gentle squeeze, “A bad day is not a bad life.”

That sounded familiar, but confusion spread across your face, “Uhm thank you?” you chuckled, “Why are you so serious, Joon? You're acting like someone died.”

Your expression suddenly shifted, "No one died, right?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head, “I was--just trying to reassure you it’ll all be okay. We all have very vulnerable days. We're allowed to have that and I want you to know I'm here for you.”

Still confused, you nodded, "Thank you, Joon. I genuinely, genuinely appreciate that. I do! But I'm fine. Everything's fine."

“So you’ve already gotten over yesterday’s meltdown?”

“Meltdown?"

“Your meltdown before the session? And I quote ‘I just want it all to stop for a second like STOP!’,” he said. You were surprised he remembered every word. “To be honest, I was a little worried since you’ve never reacted that way before. At least not with me.”

“Oh that! Haven’t you heard of PMS?”

“You were PMS-ing? That was PMS?”

“It gets pretty bad,” you nodded, “But it’s usually fine the next day. Don’t worry. I’m just between pills is all. I’m much better now. Thank you!” and you skipped over to your spot while he stood there stunned, trying to process if witnessing PMS was considered traumatic.

.

END OF PART II

PART III ON 26 DEC 2020, SATURDAY

PART IV ON 02 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

PART V ON 09 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

In the meantime, care for a ONE SHOT? I've got a fluffy Jungkook x Reader one shot called "#2" & and a soft tooth-rotting one shot called "Always" of Taehyung x Reader on my profile. Go check it out! Sometimes I drop stories out of nowhere, so make sure to follow me for your dose of fluff!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

WRITING PROMPT: List the challenges you faced today

"I know it's not my place," you said as calmly as you could inside the call cubicle of the office. Namjoon was on the other end of the line on set for a new episode of Run! BTS, "But I can't stand her. Why do you still keep hiring her? She's a nightmare."

You've hear rumors about this collaborator as an Army, but you didn't think it would be this bad in person, "Also, I'm not being petty here, but of course her surname is the name of a cranberry juice drink. She makes me want to take a shit because she's so full of it."

You could hear Namjoon's strangled laughter on the other end of the line. You knew he felt the same way you did about this situation, but the reality was that this was out of both yours and his hands. Needless to say, remembering he felt the same way was comforting.

"Army doesn't like her either," Namjoon finally said. "We're still having a hard time wrapping our heads around why someone would say those things to people."

"She's a bubble popper," you muttered.

"I'm sorry–a what?"

"A bubble popper," you said through gritted teeth. "She enjoys popping bubbles, killing joy, and ruining good things for people. I bet she's one of those people who tell random kids Santa doesn't exist."

"Why does that sound so accurate?"

"Because it is!"

Namjoon chuckled. Amusing as this was to him, the woman you were working with was giving you a migraine.

"I think you'll be glad to know the company isn't taking Army's complaints lightly. It's just that we have to ride out the remainder of an existing contract, so we can't terminate our collaboration with her yet," Namjoon informed you. "I'm sorry I'm not there with you right now. I can only–"

You sighed, frustrated, "We said no apologies for obligations, right?"

"Right," you could already imagine he was shaking his head, lightly tapping his temple as if trying to make it stick, "but it sucks I couldn't prepare you enough for today. It sucks I can't be there to help somehow."

"Well, this call's helping," you said softly.

"It is?" if only you could see the blush creeping on Namjoon's cheeks. "Talking to me helps?"

"When has it never helped?" you glanced at your watch, "Shoot."

"What's wrong?"

"I gotta run or they'll get suspicious about how long I've been in the bathroom."

He laughed, "You didn't at least say you took a call?"

"I wasn't thinking straight! I was fuming! Joon, she acts like she's amazing. I mean, I'm happy for anyone with self-confidence, but this is delusion. I wouldn't be surprised if she took credit for the carbon dioxide I produced today."

"You know," Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, voice a little softer now, "I could share with you how Yoongi and I like to mess with her."

"You can do that?"

"Oh yeah," you could practically hear how smug his expression was. "Wanna know?"

"Of course!"

"We just throw stupid ideas her way," he said, "And the best part is seeing her trying to make sense of it or trying to make it work. Then we save the real work for when she's not around."

"That's genius," you managed to say after catching yourself with your mouth agape.

"Listen, you have amazing ideas. To me, they're gold. Don't waste it on her or it'll end up with some other artist or under her name. If it's alright with you, let's save the magic for us."

How this man managed to make the butterflies in your stomach worked up was beyond you. He always had the gentlest commands.

"You've done your job by attending," he continued. "Treat the rest of the session as a professional obligation. Attendance is all that matters here. Don't let her in on your magic. She doesn't deserve it. Besides, I can be a selfish guy. I don't want to share you."

There it is again...butterflies.

The call ended with the sweetest little "That's my girl. See you tomorrow."

It was more than enough motivation to get through this session.

As you walked through one of the main studio doors, she was the first to greet you, your eyes almost forgot about her blinding holographic windbreaker, "Hey girl! What took you so long?"

Her tone was mocking, as if she was trying to put you on the spot.

"Yeah, it's hard to keep a shit under a minute, Melatonin," you clapped your hands, "Alright, let's keep going, yeah? I think we should name that new Taehyung track–the English one–Snow Chinchilla. What do you think?

.

WRITING PROMPT: What element of yourself do others love that surprises you the most?

It was studio day with Yoongi and it was pretty chill during the day. Your session with him today was mostly sitting back and going over what he already made. Once in a while you'd chime in with a suggestion or two.

You've heard all the music before since he sent them beforehand, but hearing them with his demo vocals and any changes he made was a lot of fun.

Yoongi knew exactly what he was doing and how he wanted things, but he always made time for your ideas. The most exciting part for you was when he'd get an idea and stop whatever he's doing. There was no rule to keep still when he worked, but he was so focused you'd hate to break it for him.

It's like when you'd write and forget hours passed because you were so engrossed in the text. You understood that highly artistic moment when you'd forget the world because you were called to pour your time into whatever you were working on.

Honestly, it was exhilarating, but you didn't get it very often.

At least not as often as Yoongi does. And sometimes, he'd forget to eat or go home.

Luckily, you were very observant and thoughtful. Watching people is where most of your writing inspiration comes from, so you eventually put in enough studio time with Yoongi to know when his pockets of grounding happened.

He had these small moments where he'd break from the flow and catch his breath. You called them pockets of grounding. These are small intervals where he's present.

And today, you wanted to test your little observation.

"Yoongi," you said the moment you saw him take that familiar sigh after spilling words on paper. "Lunch?"

He looked up at you, back to his paper, and at his watch before nodding, "Good call."

You put down the phone after calling the studio floor assistant for a lunch run and leaned back on the couch, opening a pack of nuts you brought with you as you and Yoongi waited for lunch to arrive.

He walked over and sat next to you, one hand outstretched, fingers formed into a cup and you knew to pour some of your peanuts on his hand.

"Did you know you had pockets of grounding?"

"Huh?" his brow arched as the other pressed itself down while he continued chewing.

He swallowed, "Should I give you more tasks? Are you getting too bored with me?"

"Nah," you laughed, "I'm just observant. I like people watching. I do it to Joon and Hobi too. I have less time to sit and watch them since they can get pretty chatty, but with you I have more time to really take notes."

"Care to explain?" he dusted his hands of the crumbs from the peanuts.

"You get so into your flow that I don't want to interrupt even though you allow me to. I think it's because I know how it feels? So I look out for little pockets where you're back here in the room, where you find your footing back on the ground after working on a cloud."

"Hm," he hummed, deep in thought as he subconsciously took your peanut packet from your hand, pouring more into his own. "Go on."

"So I tested it today," you admitted. "While you wrote, I waited for that moment when you'd sigh."

"I always sigh," his said through chewing.

"No, but they're not all the same," you scooted to the edge of your seat, excited to share your observations. "Your sigh when you make a mistake is different from your 'let me take a step back and see if it's all okay' sigh. And it's the latter when you're grounded because you're stepping out of artist Suga and into producer Suga to see if it all worked. And that's when I called your attention for lunch."

Yoongi sat there one leg crossed over the other as he finished the rest of your peanuts, eyes not staring at anything in particular as he chewed and nodded.

"You sure you don't want more tasks?"

You laughed, tapping his shoulder, "No. I'm good. It's just something I do. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop and just get you a few kilos of peanuts to keep by your desk so you don't go hungry."

"Oh god," he stared at your empty packet in horror, "I'll call Hanbin to buy you another."

"No!" you chortled, "It's alright!"

"Sure?"

"Sure."

He crumpled the packet and tossed it in the bin, "And actually, I wouldn't have cared if you observed me like that if you didn't tell me. Now, you'll have to stop because at the back of my mind you'll just be no different than a CCTV."

"Drats," you feigned frustration before glancing at the new message on your phone, "Hanbin's on his way back now with our food."

Yoongi nodded and stood to check his phone, "You know, I finally get Namjoon."

Confused, you looked up, "You've been friends since 2010. It's a little alarming it took you 10 years."

"No–ugh," he face palmed, "He warned me about these kinds of comments you make."

He sat back down, "What I mean is, when you first joined us, about a month in, not long before we started having sessions together, he told me you had this really attentive quality. Far more attentive than what we're used to."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," Yoongi shook his head, "Quite endearing actually. It's like having a sister around, Hobi says. I remember when Namjoon was surprised you knew his exact drink order."

"Not gonna lie, I sound like a creep right now," you admitted.

Yoongi chuckled, "Nah. It's refreshing. We're like that around each other, but we're not actually around each other all the time. The other guys love it actually. Namjoon especially. He's always looking out for everyone, so I bet he likes the change of being looked after. He deserves it."

"I didn't realize that was something people would appreciate," you thought out loud.

"You'll be surprised at how much we appreciate you," Yoongi admitted, "It's not part of your job to be thoughtful of us, is it?"

You shook your head, "I sometimes don't feel like this is work."

"And we sometimes don't feel like you were hired."

If only there was a way for you to express what a gem of an experience this has been so far.

.

WRITING PROMPT: What makes a person worthy of your trust?

The deadlines were piling up and it didn't help that last night, you had sorted all the finished material in the wrong folders. You made a rule for yourself to never take home your work computer outside of the contracted work hours, so you started bringing a flash drive around. One with a red ID lace so you'd never lose it, and so you could tell apart your flash drive from Namjoon's millions.

Namjoon's Virgo came out when you discovered he bulk purchased custom flash drives. They had a light wooden case and retracted when not in use. Each one had an engraved RKive logo.

Every producer in BigHit that has ever worked with Namjoon had a couple of these and this is where they'd submit/store material they worked on with the leader of BTS.

You thought he was nuts, but it was his best chance at reducing the number of times he emailed the wrong files around.

At the beginning of your work with BigHit, Namjoon gave you one flash drive. A year later, you were already on your 14th. All were stored in a small box in your work locker.

Except for one.

This flash drive had a red ID lace attached to it which you wore around your neck whenever you were at work. It was the only one you brought home.

It never left your person, and bringing it everywhere proved to be a reliable strategy for whenever you had to catch up with a deadline or two but couldn't finish it at work. It has never failed you.

Until today.

"Now's not good," you replied briskly over the phone pinned between your ear and shoulder as you tried to locate a missing file on your home computer due today.

"Then when? I've been reminding you about the contract renewal all week," Ms. Kim was trying her best not to nag you. "You have to send in your comments by today or else the terms will just be the same. And I know you're going to need a new schedule from BigHit since the University is increasing your class load."

"Ah, shit," you backspaced violently, realizing you renamed the wrong folders again, "Fine fine fine. Tonight. Can I just get through today and send you what you need tonight?"

"Okay, I can hold off until tonight, but you have to input the changes on the original document. It's not just a simple schedule change. You have to revise the conditions surrounding that change."

"Uuuugggh," you slumped, head in your hands, "I have no idea where the original is anymore. I thought after I signed it, it's all good."

"Just search BIGHIT on your email from me," Ms. Kim advised.

"Do you have any idea how many emails you sent me with BIGHIT on it?"

"Just download everything and go through it at work."

FINE.

"Got it. Okay, can I go now? I'm getting really confused here."

"Alright, TONIGHT, please."

"TONIGHT."

You went to your email and typed in MS. KIM, quickly downloading the contents of her emails before zipping into the rest of your pre-work tasks and practically flying to BigHit.

.

The producers' floor was abuzz today, and you found out from the receptionist that Yoongi slept in his studio again while Hoseok and some producers couldn't reach a final decision on which tracks to submit. On top of all that, so much back-end paperwork was due.

Namjoon, on the other hand, was a little more hyper focused. He picked up fast and nothing got past him, but man was it hard to retain his focus for a conversation that didn't involve what he was currently working on.

When you got to RKive, you grabbed your laptop from the shelf and took it to Namjoon's desk.

You whipped out your flash drive and began transferring the files, getting to work straight away. You were so focused you didn't notice Jimin and Namjoon enter.

"Morning. You're early," Namjoon noticed.

You hummed in response.

"I've got time," Jimin approached you. "Need help with anything?"

"It's the paperwork for licensing that's got me confused," you admitted. "Plus I have to submit my notes for my contract renewal."

"Oh right!" Jimin took the seat next to your desk, "You're already one year with us! When things calm down we should get you cake!"

"Which paperwork is troubling you?" Namjoon asked, towering over your seated figure and looking at your screen.

"This set from legal," you had about six open folders on your desktop, "That one, #3."

"I can do this for you," he tapped you on the shoulder. "Jimin can help you with the contract. Wow, your files are a mess."

"Sorry about that," you remarked, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm actually pretty good at that," Jimin proudly stated. "Let's go grab my laptop, and we can use one of the conference rooms."

"Thank youuuu," you grabbed your flash drive swiftly from the port without ejecting.

"Wait! The files!" Namjoon panicked.

"I transferred all the contents of the drive already. Just check around the open folders."

"Oh okay, good," Namjoon sighed with relief. "Alright, you guys go. I'll take care of this."

.

"You really didn't have to walk me back, Jimin," you patted him on the shoulder.

"I don't mind at all, besides, I have something I need to ask Namjoon hyung."

Jimin opened the door to the studio and you followed him in. You looked over at your desk and saw that your laptop was shut and a printout of the accomplished document was set next to it.

Taking a seat, you picked up the paperwork and went through it, "Wow, you printed it too! Thanks, Joon!"

Jimin tapped Namjoon's shoulder, "Hyung, I was wondering if you could take a look at this melody I--"

The halt in Jimin's query caught your attention and you turned to look.

"Hyungie? You good?"

Namjoon's back was turned to you. All you heard was a groan as he leaned back, a frustrated grunt escaping him as he ran his hands through his hair.

"You know what? I can come back next time," Jimin walked towards you, "I forgot I have to meet Jin hyung for something." Jimin turned to you and mouthed, "Let's go."

"Why?" you mouthed back as you stood anyway to follow.

Face scrunched up as if he couldn't say anything, Jimin tried to silently escort you out.

"I need to talk to you, please," Namjoon said almost too softly, eyes downcast. His energy worried you. He looked defeated.

"You go ahead," you told Jimin out loud who looked at you one more time as if asking if you were sure. He took your silence as a yes and slid out.

"Did you see the paperwork I print--"

"Yes, thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

Namjoon stood, hands in his pockets as he took a few steps towards you, but still quite distant, "I don't mind. I wanted to."

You couldn't ignore Jimin's inquiry earlier and how Namjoon didn't respond, so you decided to check-in, "Are you alright, Joon? You seem...off."

He took a deep breath, "I'm not. I just--I have some trust issues."

"Care to elaborate? Maybe I can help." You don't know why, but you felt like you were walking on eggshells here.

He looked conflicted, as if he couldn't decide what to say among the array of responses in his mind.

"Alright, I'm just gonna come right out and say it," he muttered.

"What is it? You're worrying me."

"Are you obsessed with us?"

You weren't sure if you heard that right, "Excuse me?"

"With BTS. Are you a fan?"

"Well, yes, but I hardly think that qualifies to be called ob--"

"You wrote BTS fan fiction?"

Your face dropped at his query, "Wait a minute, how did you--"

"Do you have any idea how many harmful stories about us are out there perpetuating rape, violence, drugs, and murder?"

"Joon, hang on, can we dial back?" You were so confused. He'd skipped so many tiers of where this conversation could have gone. You didn't partake in the type of content he was worried about.

Your immediate choice was to try and get him to listen. It wasn't anywhere close to what he was thinking.

Unfortunately, Namjoon looked like he'd been stewing in this thought for a while.

With no time for you to get a hold of the situation, Namjoon proceeded to mouth off in a tone where it was clear he was struggling to maintain his composure.

"There are stories of Jungkook set as a trainee, 15-16 years old, having sex with his stylist. I found one where I was written as a dominant sexual partner, but it wasn't dominance. It was clearly rape. And a lot of disturbing content I found were written by minors. MINORS. Some apparently fantasize being kidnapped, owned, beaten, enslaved, and sold," his tone was low and it seemed very tense to you. You took it as a sign to let him continue.

"There are even people out there romanticizing stalker behavior and writing about what went on in the mind of the person who threatened to kill Jimin, or the girl who cut herself when Jungkook was rumored to be dating. There are even stories of what people imagine a member suicide would be like," at this point he looked so set in his decision to believe whatever his triggered thoughts told him that you heart began to race, but not in a good way.

You knew about these serious stories, but they weren't always among those you used to read. They were especially nowhere close to the type of stories you'd written.

And as much as you wanted to go into detail to defend yourself, something else stood out to you. Namjoon's anger wasn't an initial reaction. It looked like a wound had reopened. He'd been burnt by this before and it was clear this was much deeper than some story. There was some real damage here, but your priority was to make sure he didn't fall any further into this misunderstanding.

You don't know what damage his experience had done, but you needed to get him to listen somehow. But before that, he needed to calm down, "Joon, can we maybe rewind? I understand how upsetting this looks but if you'll let me, I can explain everything."

But you saw it in his eyes, that indescribable look that you knew meant he was firm in his beliefs.

"I don't–I don't have the bandwidth for this," his said almost inaudibly.

"We can talk about it next time if you–"

"I can't do this," he stood, facing you, eyes clearly hiding behind a look of betrayal. He was almost unrecognizable.

"Then how do we–"

"We don't," he said, so clearly detached from the fact that he was talking to you who was at his right hand for an entire year, as if you both hadn't confided in each other all those times. As if nothing had been born from your friendship.

"What are you saying, Namjoon?" you asked, trying your hardest not to let your voice crack.

"I don't know if I can trust you right now."

"Did you even see what I wrote?"

His mind was somewhere else, "How do I know you didn't look for a way to come to BigHit just to work with me?"

"Excuse me?" you scoffed, "Namjoon, YOU found ME. It's not like I got up one day and decided to fabricate an entire career, get your attention, and lure you into hiring me. Who the fuck does that?"

"You'll be surprised," he muttered.

"I'm more surprised you think I fall under that category," if anyone should feel betrayed here, it was you.

And with the worst possible timing ever, Yoongi walks in, stopping in his tracks, sensing almost immediately how thick the tension in the room was, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Why don't you ask our stalker?"

Suddenly your need to defend yourself escaped you completely and you immediately snapped from feeling helpless to having your blood boiling, ears almost scalding hot.

Next thing you knew, you saw Yoongi take a step back, startled as he looked at you with shock. Not because Namjoon had called you a stalker, but because your eyes had turned red and tears began to stream down your cheeks.

"Say that again," you squeaked, not caring that you were beginning to tremble.

"You heard me," Namjoon stood by what he said, it was clear, but he didn't make eye contact. Somehow that was like a glimmer of hope that he would regret what he said, but at this point, you were not granting him that luxury of you sticking around to find out if he would.

"I won't waste my time waiting for you to take that back," you packed your things as you spoke, not hastily, but with steady certainty, doing your very best to remain composed. "You've clearly decided that coddling your worst fears is more important than saving whatever THIS is."

Closing your bag, you hand the flash drive with the red ID lace to Yoongi, "Can we talk?" he muttered to you, holding onto your hand and not the drive.

"Read my story," you said as you headed for the door, but you stopped when Yoongi called your name, turning to face him, but every word you were about to say was clearly for Namjoon to hear, "I came here because I believed in you guys. I put my career on hold in hopes that I could help somehow and learn from you. But clearly, it's easier to believe I've displayed obsessive behavior than to have taken a leap of faith. I would have waited until your leader calmed down to discuss this with him, but sadly, he's nowhere to be found."

You reached for the door, "Be well, Yoongi. If you find Namjoon, tell him I've left. Ms. Kim will come by for anything I've left behind."

.

END OF PART III

PART IV ON 02 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

PART V ON 09 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

In the meantime, care for a ONE SHOT? I've got a fluffy Jungkook x Reader one shot called "#2" & and a soft tooth-rotting one shot called "Always" of Taehyung x Reader on my profile. Go check it out! Sometimes I drop stories out of nowhere, so make sure to follow me for your dose of fluff :)

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

WRITING PROMPT: When was the last time you really listened to someone without putting your own ideas first?

“It’s been a week,” Yoongi had cornered Namjoon inside RKive. “You have to talk about this someday.”

“Not now, hyung,” the leader muttered.

“Stubborn doesn’t suit you...and I’m not leaving until you talk.”

Still, Namjoon refused to speak.

“You know, I’m the one who doesn’t talk in this group. I don’t appreciate being outdone in that sense.”

Namjoon’s lips were sealed shut. He slouched in his computer chair and began fiddling with a Rubik’s cube. Yoongi decided that if Namjoon wouldn’t have this conversation with him, he would have it on his own.

“If you were to ask me, I think you were in the wrong.”

“I didn’t ask,” was all Namjoon said, continuing with the cube.

Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh, “Well, I still think you’re wrong.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a very familiar flash drive, a red ID lace attached to it. Namjoon did a double take, but quickly tried to mask it by shifting his position. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Here,” Yoongi walked over and placed it next to Namjoon’s desktop keyboard. “As your hyung, I’m giving you an assignment. Read what’s in the drive so we can form a book club or some shit.”

He took Namjoon’s persisting silence as a greenlight and kept talking, “I know what you endured as our leader. I understand your fears...or at least I try to. And I feel like shit for being older but not being able to do what you do for us. But, Joon, we’re all adults now. Brothers that can lean on each other, but adults. We’ve never not appreciated how much you protect us, but sometimes I find myself having to remind you that we’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

Yoongi took pause when he noticed Namjoon stopped twiddling with the cube. Finally, it seemed like he was listening.

“Someone’s always going to want something from us. But our normal life has to resume somewhere. We can’t live on the defense all the time. You coined it yourself: Namjooning. Let Namjoon live. Let Namjoon make real friends–or more than that.”

Yoongi laughed at his next thought, “I don’t mean to stroke our ego, but do you really think that with all the milestones we’ve hit in our career, one of us wouldn’t end up dating an Army?”

“We weren’t even huge yet that one year we went to Manila and Hobs came home with a hickey from a fan,” Yoongi was beginning to cackle on his own, “And with Jimin’s wandering gaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if his wedding was purple.”

In no time, Namjoon had caught up to Yoongi’s laughter.

When the laughter died, Yoongi took a moment of pause, noticing that Namjoon looked like he was trying to form the right words to speak.

“Did you read it?” Namjoon softly said.

Yoongi feigned shock, “Oh look, he speaks.”

Yoongi stepped back and walked to the door, “Yes. I did. And you should too, because, boy, do you have a lot of groveling to do.”

.

It had been a week since you walked out of BigHit.

It was horrible and you felt like shit.

You wanted to defend yourself, but what chance do you have against a giant like BigHit? If this ever got out, BTS’ Army wouldn’t hesitate to defend the leader and come after you.

You didn’t even want to entertain the possibility of the public finding out what happened. You’d have almost no defense.

Luckily, Ms. Kim had just called to let you know BigHit had no plans of suing, agreeing without hesitation to keep everything under wraps as long as you legally promised to do the same.

Deep down, you wish that there’d at least be a meeting with Namjoon to clear things up, but he didn’t once reach out. Everything was coursed through Ms. Kim, your lawyer, and BigHit reps.

Guess this was really over, huh?

You wanted to feel sad. It would be so much better from the resentment you felt. It’s as if that entire year with him meant nothing to him.

You genuinely, genuinely understood his trauma. Not first-hand, but you knew of it. On later work nights, he’d candidly open up about his worries as leader, but you never realized how much it would trigger him.

To some degree, you feel like maybe he felt betrayed. Maybe no one this close to him was actually an Army. And while a part of you wanted to continue to defend him, the other half of you couldn’t help but feel betrayed as well.

It was so confusing to feel so much resentment but still want to sit with him through his panic to help him process everything. And every time you reconsidered calling him yourself, one word came back to mind and brought you back to bitterness…

STALKER.

You were no stranger to the stalker culture in Korea. These people weren’t fans anymore. They didn’t care if their idols hated them, they just wanted to be close. Everything they did was inhumane.

Stalkers gave up their lives in pursuit of another person. They were sick and dangerous. Actual criminals who obsessed over hair strands and hurting themselves when their idols got into relationships, rumored or true.

Stalkers are sick in the head.

And you knew for a fact that Namjoon knew that.

Then again, your mind circled back to an overwhelming sense of empathy, realizing that the trauma of stalkers obsessed with being with them or getting rid of them wasn’t anywhere close to normal. But as you recalled the time you spent with Namjoon, how well you two worked, and how you were beginning to trust him, your resentment tugged you back out of your empathy.

You were so confused and rattled by the confusion that to get over all this, you decided to now pour yourself back into your work as if the entire year was just a product of your imagination.

To console yourself, you entertained the thought that you were a fan in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Maybe if you ignored what ‘more’ happened, the transition out of this phase in your life would hurt less.

You know that saying? Never meet your heroes?

You always wondered why. But now, you know.

.

“Spring Day” a BTS fan fic

Summary: It’s always darkest before dawn. It’s always coldest before Spring. It’s the year 2130 and a young reporter finds a time capsule in Korea, buried on the day of its reunification on 13 June 2043, exactly 30yrs after the debut of BTS, ambassadors of One Korea.

Namjoon was finally sitting up on his bed after pacing and overthinking. It took him almost two months to find the courage to rip the bandaid off and open file.

He leaned back on his headboard as he scrolled through his laptop, finally heeding Yoongi’s persistent recommendation.

His heartbeat drowned out the sound of his humidifier’s humming as he scrolled past the first page and onto the first chapter, the tip of his pen between his teeth as his focus landed on the first few words.

Before he knew it, he was lost in your words, forgetting himself as he immersed in the world you’d created.

After the reunification, also known as the establishment of One Korea, peace and order became the nation’s top priority, families reunited, boundaries dissolved, and there were no poor, homeless, or struggling.

Korea had become a utopian model, envied by nations all over the world.

But stories of utopias are only worth telling the second it stumbles onto chaos.

There were still misfits and rebels who resided in the outskirts of the main districts, claiming to be ungoverned, resistant to change, claiming that life was better divided.

Years later, an internal power struggle ate through the government, dismantling the skeleton of One Korea; not into two parts like history, but into seven nations of uneven density.

The story begins from the perspective of Mona, a young painter, and the only descendant left of One Society, a favorite subject of public conspiracy that kept One Korea intact. Each member of this government-funded society lived in different parts of the country, undercover, eyes and ears peeled for acts of treason and rebellion.

Each member lived quietly but cautiously close to rebel groups. Not one had ever gone into any conflict whilst most citizens enjoyed peace and order. As for the rebels in the outskirts, they were generally harmless as long as the government kept their distance from them.

Life for Mona was peaceful growing up until her father received word that members of the society were being assasinated one by one after a mole leaked their identities. Their families were counted among the casualties.

Mona’s family was the last to survive and escape into a quiet life in rebel villages unmonitored by the state; but as this story begins, her father and mothers’ stories end. Mona’s father died due to poor health, and a year later after descending into dementia, her mother followed.

Unsure how to continue life in her home without her family, Mona embarks on a journey to find her new home. But as she packs to leave, she stumbles upon one of her fathers’ journals from when he was an active member of One Society.

She soon finds the exact location of the buried time capsule. It seems the capsule had been forgotten once the nation divided into seven.

Upon finding the capsule, she learns that it contains relics from the 2043 reunification, each one a pledge from every local government in the country to contribute to One Korea’s success.

One relic in particular stood out, a pendant that didn’t belong to any district, but carried the emblem of the nation’s pride and symbol of peace, Bangtan Sonyeondan.

Mona finds later on that the pendant, when opened, reveals a needle. Each relic contains a fingerprint engraved into it. The pendant, when placed on the fingerprint, begins to travel through the spiraling lines, and a melody starts to play as if it were a phonograph needle on a vinyl disc. Each relic’s fingerprint was a different song from BTS’ 30-year career.

It was now Mona’s mission to return each relic to its proper district, in hopes of prompting another reunification, one that would last much longer than it first did. One that can withstand any form of rebellion. One that reminded everyone that life is only worth living united despite all the differences.

Namjoon’s finger frantically scrolled the trackpad for more pages, but the page just bounced on the screen, indicating he’d hit a dead end. Exiting the software, he browsed the remaining contents of your flash drive to only find your unfinished work and no continuation.

Your story stopped after Chapter 12, right before Mona met the first district leader she was set to meet.

He pushed his laptop aside, sliding down to lay on his bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling as he tried to juggle absorbing your story and building his apology.

Yoongi was right, there was a lot of groveling to do after reading your work. If anything, it was probably the most wholesome and ambitious piece of fan content he’s seen in so long.

He face palmed, groaning, unable to comprehend how he could have forgotten, even for a moment, how much Army loved him and the boys.

In the face of his worst fears, he’d forgotten how much their fans meant to him. How much good they’ve given to the world in their name.

Mindlessly, Namjoon fiddled with your red ID lace, trying to figure out how he could make this up to you. His mind spiraled into overthinking, even scanning through upcoming schedules in his head to find a proper time to meet you, to mend things.

He pulled out his phone to check his calendar and it was far from promising. Their album production was wrapping up in a month and he had too much responsibility on his shoulders to let his personal issues interrupt production.

And just as he got up to work out all his restless energy, your flash drive slipped from his lap and on the floor. He looked over to pick it up, spotting the red ID lace first, his mind suddenly snowballing into ideas.

He grabbed the notebook on his bedside and began writing from where he was. Your red ID lace between the thumb and index finger of his free hand, gently rubbing it as he scribbled away.

.

END OF PART IV

(LAST) PART V ON 09 JAN 2021, SATURDAY

In the meantime, care for a ONE SHOT? I've got a fluffy Jungkook x Reader one shot called "#2" & and a soft tooth-rotting one shot called "Always" of Taehyung x Reader on my profile. Go check it out! Sometimes I drop stories out of nowhere, so make sure to follow me for your dose of fluff!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

It's been a full year since you left BigHit, and you were happy to say you'd gotten to this point socially unscathed. You couldn't say the same for your feelings, but at least that was much easier to cover up than what could have been a hot mess had anyone outside BigHit found out about why you and Namjoon had a falling out.

God, never were you more thankful to be a nobody to the public eye.

Early on, you couldn't deny that there were times you actually missed him. And missing him didn't happen whenever you stepped into a convenience store that blasted BTS on their radio. Rather, you missed Namjoon in the little things.

Things like when you'd burn your tongue after forgetting to blow on your ramen. You could almost hear the way he would grunt whenever he burnt his own tongue during your "we skipped lunch again, but we should really eat something" breaks.

It was strange how you didn't miss him when you passed by their faces in the grocery, seeing them on bottles of Chilsung Cider. But you missed him when you drove past lamp posts with banners of his face on it because you remembered those car rides with him where he'd comment things like, "I remember the day we shot that. I had no sleep. My makeup wouldn't stick."

BTS was everywhere. There was literally no escaping them.

And at first it bothered you...more than you wanted it to. But as time passed, you slowly started erasing the small things, so the bigger things stopped bothering you too.

On September 12th, you left for work, nose in your phone as you filed into the subway cart with the crowd. Once the train got going, you put your phone down to avoid motion sickness, only to look up and see Namjoon's face all over the cart, greetings everywhere for his birthday.

This was the day you realized you'd finally started to file him away in your thoughts. You burst into uncontrollable laughter, onlookers seemingly frightened, but you were too busy trying to catch you breath to care. The woman sitting to your left even inched away a bit, but your body needed this release. The laughter was almost cathartic.

You realized then how silly your bitterness was.

Namjoon and the boys were global figures, quickly climbing up the ranks in the music world, carrying all of Korea with them. They had bigger problems and a better use of their time than to mull over whether or not you were really a stalker.

And you, you had your whole life ahead of you and no room to carry the hurt caused by someone who had a completely different reality from yours.

Someone who, by now, had probably forgotten all about you.

As much as you understood this completely and accepted the fact that you were two different people in starkly contrasting worlds, something about the idea that he'd already forgotten about you somehow stung.

It stung because at some point, you really believed you made a real friend in Kim Namjoon, not RM of BTS, but Namjoon. The Namjoon that carries RM on his shoulders. The Namjoon that drags you to museums when you're both having a writers' block.

The same Namjoon that keeps forgetting which instant ramen you like most because you keep changing your mind so he buys one of everything in the nearest convenience store.

The more you spent time with Namjoon, the more RM faded. The more you saw him as a real person worth holding space for in your life more than how you did as an Army.

It baffled you how he so willingly shed his layers in your presence, but built all his walls back up in the blink of an eye when your fanfiction triggered him.

And for a moment, you were genuinely overcome with grief. Almost as if someone close had suddenly died, because Namjoon fled from your company to label you a stalker.

Perhaps he really had no room for you in his life.

Perhaps this was the best way for things to end, even though you knew very well there could have been better ways to handle it. For your sanity, this is what you chose to believe, and luckily it helped you move on.

And as you moved forward with your own life, you started to be okay with the reality that we outgrow people, and that not everyone's place in our lives are permanent. People, like experiences, come and go. That's out of our control.

But one thing that remains within our control is what we choose to take from it.

You had a subconscious belief that people have a designated time and space in the lives of others. Perhaps if your dad stayed in his marriage with your mom any longer, they would have completely destroyed each other. Or maybe if you never learned to let go of one of your best friends, you'd have never discovered your purpose in Seoul.

Everything goes.

But with that, new things arrive.

We outgrow people, you thought, and that's okay. It's just unfortunate that there are some experiences that were so good, letting go becomes almost physically painful.

To be completely honest, seeing their faces everywhere eventually helped you move on.

The constant reminders of their fame and fortune pushed the real BTS further and further away into your memory. As long as they remained on this pedestal, it was much easier to stay away from your personal memories of them.

Their indirect presence in the posters, merch, tv shows, and ads helped you in convincing your brain that your world and their were not compatible, making it easier to move ahead.

Of course, there was no escaping the occasional feeling that you wish you had more time to get to know them. But for the most part, you just really hoped they were happy and healthy.

After all, you had more than any fangirl could ever dream of.

It didn't feel like your place to be so greedy.

.

Today was just like any other day in the new semester, but for the first time, you were given a freshman class.

It's proven to be a refreshing, albeit frustrating, experience. They're definitely the more energetic of your classes, but they're also the nosier and more distracted ones.

Your class had just wrapped up, students filing out of the classroom as you packed up your things and closed the projector. Some light murmuring in what you thought was finally an empty room, caught your attention.

You looked up to find a group of four students in a huddle, each one taking a turn to look at you before returning to their muddled chatter. You weren't interested in what they were discussing, but you knew there was a class following yours, so you took it upon yourself to walk over and usher them out.

"I'm really hoping that isn't an unflattering video of any of my lectures," you said as you approached them, some of them chuckling, but Sola, the one holding the phone, wasn't. "There's another class on their way, you guys should clear out soon and take your gossip elsewhere."

"It's not gossip, ssaem," Sola spoke up. You glanced down at the phone and saw a glimpse of Taehyung speaking in an interview, but the audio was on mute. They're probably Army. But honestly, who isn't these days?

"So, you're just fangirling over BTS again?" you asked, smiling.

David raised his hand, "Fanboying too, ssaem! Their new album came out last week and they're on their press tour right now."

"We'll only be five more minutes, we promise," Erin said. "It's a replay but we really wanna see it and this classroom has the best signal on this side of the campus. We promise to leave as soon as the next class starts coming in."

You nodded as you stepped back, "Alright."

"Uhm, ssaem?" Sola stood, taking a step towards you. "D–do you mind if we asked you something? Something kinda random?"

"It's not about her, Sola," David rolled his eyes.

"Me? What's not about me?" you asked.

"It's nothing, ssaem," the quiet one, Jay, spoke up finally, turning to you, "Sola has this theory that BTS is referring to you in their interview."

For the first time in a long time, your heart skipped a beat at the mention of BTS, but you sustained your deadpan reaction, leaving room for more information before reacting.

Even then, you had no plans of showing your students your actual reaction.

"Okay, why don't we let ssaem decide then?" Sola asked the others.

You looked at the rest, their expressions showed they anticipated your answer, "Sure, but I highly doubt it," you chuckled as Sola handed you the phone and played the interview.

INTERVIEWER - Now let's talk about the tracks on your album. Army told us about one song that's spreading like wildfire on streaming platforms, but along with it an intriguing clue was spreading as well. They say it's inspired by one of your girlfriends. Many think it's Jin's. Is there any truth to this?

(all seven members laugh, amused, almost as if they were prepared for the question)

RM - If you're asking if any of us are dating, we only have eyes for Army.

J-Hope - But it doesn't mean we haven't ever fallen in love.

Suga - Like most of our songs, it's a collaboration between all members. A product of our many experiences fit into a song.

Taehyung - One night we were talking about everyone we had fallen in love with or had a crush on and then we came up with this song.

Jungkook - We're lucky Suga hyung brings his computer and MIDI board everywhere!

(all of them laugh in agreement)

"I don't see how you could think this had anything to do with me," you laughed.

"Just keep watching, ssaem!" Sola urged.

INTERVIEWER - How interesting! So you all wrote the lyrics?

JIMIN - RM hyung did most of the writing. He was the one who saw an opportunity to write a song because of the conversation.

RM - But everyone contributed. It was a group effort.

INTERVIEW - So why is the song called Red? You never once mention why in the song.

JIN - Have you ever heard of the red string of fate?

JIMIN - In this case, it's a red ID lace!

(Jimin laughs as Taehyung's eyes turn to orbs as if Jimin had spoken off-script, he nudges the older one)

INTERVIEWER - Hold on. Is that a clue? Is there really someone that got away? One that wears a red ID lace? Whose is this person? Jin's? Suga's?

RM - Nah (chuckling). They don't belong to anyone, and we're being honest when we say we're all single and not dating right now. Honestly, how can we find the time?

JIN - We won't say who among us, but yes, this song started about one person's story, then like many of our songs, it developed into something bigger.

JHOPE - It eventually became a story of love in general. We always try to make our personal experiences more universal.

SUGA - We actually do this a lot. It's bits and pieces of all of us.

TAEHYUNG - The red string of fate was a theme we've been thinking about for a while, but we didn't want to be limited to romantic love. Just like how Jimin and I say we're soulmates.

JUNGKOOK - We wanted to talk about how we're all connected as people.

RM - One red string of fate that connects all of humanity. We feel like now more than ever we need to be united against so much injustice and put our humanity first.

JIMIN - Red is also the color of blood. Under all our different skin colors and body shapes, all our blood looks alike.

INTERVIEWER - That was beautiful! So beautiful it almost made me forget about my burning question!

RM - Oh no. Didn't it work?

(everyone laughs)

INTERVIEWER - Come on, just one hint! You can make it vague!

(BTS looks at each other)

JUNGKOOK - She's a writer.

INTERVIEWER - A writer??

TAEHYUNG - And a professor!

JIN - Look over there!

(the interviewer looks in the direction Jin pointed in while he pokes both Jungkook and Taehyung in the ribs)

JUNGKOOK & TAEHYUNG - Ow!

INTERVIEWER - Alright, fine. I'll let this go. Let's get into your new world–

You handed the phone over to Sola, mindful of your facial expressions as you felt all four students staring at you, "I really don't see what you're talking about," you chuckled.

"You're the only professor on campus with a red ID lace, ssaem," Erin stated cautiously. "Everyone wears the standardized royal blue ones."

"Is this the only campus in Korea though? Am I the only professor who's a writer? And why are we assuming the love interest in question is female?"

They just gawked at you in response.

You raised your hands and stepped back, "But I would be more than happy to pretend I was dating Namjoon if that means you'll be more attentive in my upcoming classes before the midterm. If that's what it takes, I'll play along!"

Sola laughed, seemingly relieved as she picked up her things to leave, followed closely by David and Erin.

But Jay stayed back a few paces, and leaned in, speaking in a voice low enough for the others not to hear, "Ssaem, no one referred to Namjoon."

.

You were going over the outline of your new lecture in a cafe close to the campus when you began to space out. It had been a week since that BTS interview and you still found yourself randomly spacing out whenever it came to mind.

All week, you were convinced that it bothered you because you were curious. Was the red ID lace really referring to you? Were you really the subject of their new Billboard Hot 100 track?

NO. You shook your head violently. Luckily there were no onlookers to think you were crazy again.

Since you've been sitting on this thought for a week, eventually your ideas evolved from nervous guessing to genuinely wondering if you had missed something.

Was there actually anything that went on with you and Namjoon that was no longer platonic?

Sure, you admired him and his endless curiosity. But it didn't mean you were in love. Who wasn't ever looking for answers? Who didn't have questions about how things worked or why life was the way it was?

How in the world could Namjoon not be thoughtful either? He was a born leader and he always took care of his teammates and he always kept an eye out for the most uncomfortable person in the room. He was so sensitive to things so naturally. It's not some astounding quality...right?

And he listens. Like, come on. People SHOULD be listening. It's only right. He's doing what's expected of him as a person. And besides, shouldn't more people be listening to what isn't being said? Like listening to actions and clues?

He listens to patterns so well he could almost predict when you had your period based on your small habits. He listens to your body language so well he knows when you've mentally checked out of one of the bigger meetings that could have been an email.

Whenever his members called his attention, he'd stop everything he's doing to listen. He barely made eye contact, but he focused on one spot that wasn't distracting so he could listen.

You then remembered the time there was a spontaneous meeting in the break room and you had forgotten the specific note of Slow Rabbit about the last verse of the new track you were working on.

It seemed Namjoon forgot too, so he stood up and left, returning a few moments later with the answer. You told him he could have just called Slow Rabbit, but instead, Namjoon rushed to the break room and stared at the dent in the corner of the table close to where he sat. He said he was staring at it the entire conversation and easily remembered it from there.

It was the most you'd laughed in a while, not because of how unusual it was, but because it was so endearingly Namjoon.

He was so organized but spontaneous. He worked the way he felt like working and it always worked for him. No one knew him better than he did, and you felt like it was a privilege to have known even a speck of that which he normally kept away from public witness.

Probably the biggest perk of your job was witnessing him being himself.

Plus, it's not like you were physically attracted to him.

Pfft! NO. Please!

That would be so unprofessional to think that.

But then... would it be unprofessional to think that NOW? Now when you're not employed by BigHit anymore?

Granted, he was a handsome man, but that was just fact. He wasn't only good-looking, but he carried himself so well. To the unknowing onlooker, he'd seem cocky, but that wasn't it. He was confident and dignified.

This was just the icing on the cake.

Physical attraction meant something else to you.

For example, the way he moved...

You always enjoyed the way you could visibly see him shift thoughts.

Or how if his left dimple came out, he was trying to make a decision, but if it was his right dimple being poked by the corner of his lip, then he was trying to keep himself from saying something.

And who the heck cared about his posture? Or the way he sat in his chair, slumped when in thought, straight as a post when he realized he forgot something, or swiveling when he felt playful or mischievous?

Then when he'd stand, he'd lower his head to speak to you and you could smell his minty fresh breath or his last drink, then you'd see his lashes so up close you could almost count them. One time you finally noticed his bottom lashes up close.

His hands were so secure too.

You two were in the building's indoor parking when you crossed from one side to the next, not seeing the car passing by. Next thing you knew, a strong hand grabbed your wrist, slender and sure fingers wrapping securely around it as he tugged you closer to the designated pedestrian lane.

Strong, but gentle. You felt the care in the pressure of his hold. You subconsciously wished it was a little more possessive.

Long after letting go, you still felt the heat of his hold buzzing on your wrist. Almost as if you'd been wearing a weighted cuff the entire day despite your wrist being completely bare.

Do you even have the bandwidth to process your favorite part? His clumsiness?

While Army nicknamed him the God of Destruction, you came to realize it was out of endearment and not a form of mockery. There really was something loveable about the way he was so smart, confident, thoughtful, handsome, and big YET so clumsy.

There was something so charming about the look he has on his face after or in the middle of a moment of clumsiness. He was almost completely clueless about how funny he really is.

He always looked like he was taking notes after regret or fear flashed on his face. You imagined the notes he was taking in his head sounded like "arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, Namjoon", "stop picking things up out of curiosity", or "do not let go of something until it's completely set down on a surface".

Or your favorite imagined 'note': "item contains liquid, item contains liquid, item contains liquid". And then the moment his clumsiness possesses him, his face just reads "but I was careful" and it's like nothing added up.

God, you couldn't stand how these thoughts permeated your brain when you should be moving on. You were already doing so well. And suddenly, one hint at the possibility he might be thinking about you and you were prepared to give it all up.

It didn't help that you were now beginning to realize he was so much more than a friend to you all this time.

But if that was the case–with the way he dismissed you–does this mean he didn't feel the same for you? Does this mean you were special to him?

Where was your therapist when you needed her?

You couldn't take how it was so hard to genuinely stay mad at him because you would always remember how the good time outweighed the bad.

You wanted so much to stay angry, to sustain it so that it maybe inspired new work from you. Instead, you kept rewinding to the memories with him that made you miss him even more.

Another memory took a seat in your thoughts.

It was so irritating how he forgot to eat when he got excited about your work that you got accustomed to ordering food for two almost every time–

"Excuse me, ssaem?" the barista, who happens to be one of your students working part-time, pulled you out of your daydream to place your order on the table, "Your usual, buy one get one croissant."

"Right, thanks Suzy," you said.

"Ssaem? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why do you always order two croissants? Do you like it that much?"

And then it dawned on you. It had become habit.

Your mind might have tucked Namjoon away for a while, but your subconscious was still holding onto him. A year later, you were convinced you moved on, but here you were still ordering for two.

This thought hit you like a truck.

God, there was so much to unpack.

But right now you didn't have the luxury to entertain this. Not all this at once. Not now.

Your annual lecture for the university's Open House was right around the corner and there was so much new content you had prepared for it.

This lecture was the icing on the cake for you. You got to discuss what you were most passionate about on your own terms.

No syllabus, no proposal, no board approval. This is where the university allowed you to practically freestyle and share what you loved the most.

And each year, your lecture was one of the main attractions for the university's Open House where prospective students and the general public got to immerse in university life as if they themselves were students.

You would be competing against the concert showcase in the main auditorium and the interactive fine arts exhibit for the best Fine Arts Department activity. All the creative writing and literary courses had to offer were publications.

But then you came along, bright-eyed and almost bouncing with excitement when you began teaching. You had no idea you even had the ability to teach, but sometimes people find their true calling by accident. In the end, you were just really happy you found your favorite way to share your love of writing with others.

When you first started, you were a bit all over the place, but little by little you refined your delivery and paid attention to how your students responded to you.

In no time, you were a rockstar in your own right. Your stage was your lecture all.

One day, you wanted to propose a new unit for the creative writing syllabus. It struggled for approval among the board members, but Professor Kanai, the Dean of Fine Arts, saw potential, suggesting you switch your proposal to an elective lecture series available each semester.

On the day of your demo class, so few attended it almost broke your heart. But the bright side was the outstanding feedback of those in attendance.

And now, four years and four featured lectures later, your lecture hall was a main event at the university open house.

Since it only occurred once a year despite the demand, your lectures were always standing room only.

The board even requested you hold two sessions every Open House to accommodate an audience of students, faculty, prospective students, and guests from the public who are oftentimes visiting students & professors from other universities.

This lecture was your passion project, and every year it evolved in one way or the other; but this year, you were excited to introduce a completely evolved form from your original lecture.

What was originally "The Art of the Written Word" had now become "The Power of Stories".

Your perspective on this craft has changed so much, and you would be remiss not to acknowledge Namjoon's role in that. Perhaps in your book it would be more discreet to credit him in some way without stirring up any buzz at the mention of his name, but you were sure this wouldn't be possible without his influence.

Before working with him you always considered the lyricists' work a mere speck of the music industry. You never really held lyricism to the same standard as authorship.

It was only when you got to dive into the world of storytelling through music that you realized rappers and songwriters were an elite breed of writers whose stories are so big it elevates into music, dance, and film. Stories have to be so strong to survive a life through all this media.

Your exposure and brief experience writing to someone else's pace and practices taught you so much more about writing than you thought possible. It taught you to embrace collaborative culture as well.

You learned first-hand from BTS that writing is not limited to what's written. Writing is more than the pen and paper. Writing documents human experience.

In your new lecture, your challenge was to make current and aspiring literary enthusiasts understand how much power they hold with their words. All in hopes that you inspire them to treat their stories with utmost care and reverence because they'll never know who will experience it.

You were so unbelievably inspired to give this lecture, but something was still bugging you that the ambience didn't feel right...

"Suzy, do you think you could wrap up this second croissant to go for me? I'll save it for dinner."

.

Today was the day.

The faculty from your department and a lot of your favorite students were flooding you with good luck text messages two hours before your lecture.

Not only was it the day of your lecture, but this was going to be your time to announce that you would be turning this lecture into a book which was set for publishing by the end of the year.

But, excited as you were, you were still a bit nervous. And the only way you could manage it was with this strange little routine you set for yourself last year.

You required all participants to sign up to keep them updated on new lectures or material you were working on, but it served another purpose.

Before your lecture, you would sit in the booth at the very back, where all the audio visual controls were placed. You did that so you could watch people file in and get used to some faces. Building that familiarity helped you manage your nerves. It would be just like talking to your students.

The list of attendees helped with that. Going through the names to find a familiar name would help you. And since you required all your students to attend, you decided to look them up.

A total of 523 people were attending and this was your biggest crowd ever. It was practically a TED talk. And though that momentarily distracted you, a specific name caught your attention.

"Reginald Dong"

You almost choked on your laughter.

What kind of name was that? Who was named Reginald in South Korea? Maybe this person's a foreigner, you thought. But Dong? If Dong was used like "Donghae", you'd think it's normal. But it was used next to a Western sounding name. So you perceived Dong in the Western context, and that made you laugh.

Wow. A professor with tenure was laughing by herself at the name Dong. How mature.

In no time, you were gathering your things in the booth once the audience hit critical mass, and you made your way down the aisle to the front, greeting familiar faces along the way, stopping for some small talk with your students sitting close to your podium.

The lecture was off to a great start. Everyone seemed genuinely interested to be there, and it was so much more encouraging to see that the room was packed down to the aisles.

"Great writing is not found in first drafts. It's not born in lofty vocabulary, or the thickness of pages. It's not about how many words rhyme or how many people cry after they put the book down. Great writing is in the editing. Those are the muscles of your story."

You put the clicker down, "This is my personal philosophy. We write to release thought and emotion, but we edit to release to the world. Writing is the marble block and editing is the sculpting phase. This is where you chip off the marble to make sense out of a block."

You paused, thinking of something to share that wasn't on your outline, "Writing is like falling in love. At least for me. Let's get a little personal. I don't meet or date people with the intention of I WANT TO HAVE A PARTNER. I just go and meet people. Just like how I write. I just write because I have something to say. I pen down even the most nonsensical ideas. So when it comes to 'dating', I just keep expanding my circle and making friend. I keep meeting people until someone clicks with me in a special way. So I write not for clout, but to reach like-minds until my work clicks with someone and they look for more of my work. If clicking with someone lands me in a romantic relationship, then great! If my work clicking with certain people gets me published, then AMAZING!"

You still your movements to bring focus to your message, "The point is: What we need to do is to just start. Begin. Anywhere. We know our goals. In my case, if I meet people, eventually I'd like to meet a friend who would become a significant other. And in writing, I one day would like to get published. But don't obsess over your goals. Trust that life will respond and give you the ideas or opportunities you seek. And from there, your duty is to answer a call of one of the many opportunities reaching out. There's no shortage of these chances to get to your goal. There are multiple paths for one destination."

"And what about in love?" a voice in the audience spoke up, "What has it called you to do?"

"Whoever said that, if you're one of my students, I'm docking points for asking me something that could have been saved for Romance in Literature 101," you retorted in jest, the hall rippling in soft chuckles. "Well, in love, I feel that it has called me to forgive."

"Did you get hurt, ssaem?"

"Who let Dispatch in here?" even more laughter as you bought yourself a moment to think.

"Who doesn't get hurt?" you continued. "Well, since this is the Power of Stories, I guess it's not inappropriate to share my own story somehow."

"I feel like I'm called to forgive myself for not realizing I loved someone and suddenly burning a bridge," you leaned against the podium, "I feel I need to forgive them for hurting me because they haven't yet forgiven the world for how it hurt them. The world gave them one thing and took away the small things that mattered. I need to forgive myself for knowing this person was speaking from a hurt place."

"What if you found out they're equally as broken as you were?"

"Remind me to start charging extra for these personal questions," you took a deep breath as laughter filled the hall to give you a moment to think. "I just sincerely hope they're okay. I don't believe we can heal at the expense of others."

To your relief, the personal questions stopped there and you got to proceed with the rest of the lecture, eventually closing with applause and being approached by some who wanted to express how much they enjoyed it.

And as the hall emptied itself of the last attendee, you took a seat to breathe and take in the triumphant feeling of another successful lecture. You were happy to know the response was so positive, followed by a sincere enthusiasm towards your book announcement.

"Is it true?"

You looked up and all the seats were empty. You squinted to look at the booth. No one.

Then you heard the voice again, "Is it true that you didn't know you were in love?"

You turned your attention to the one door on the right, in the middle, at the edge of Row M.

A tall, seemingly male figure stood in the doorway with only his silhouette visible, light spilling in from the lit corridor that he entered from. A cap on his head cast a shadow over his face as he moved into the light of the lecture hall.

"Who's there?" you asked.

"It's only been a year and you already forgot how I sound?"

Your heartbeat began to fill your ears, almost too loud for you to think. Your mind never said it, but your gut knew exactly who it was.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, primarily concerned about him being alone. This was a huge security risk. You could already imagine Sejin freaking out about the idea.

"Yoongi hyung was right," he said as he moved through Row M.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He told me one of the signs you weren't what I'd falsely accused you to be was that you worried about us like you were one of us."

"So you're admitting you falsely accused me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because right now, with your black bomber jacket, black jeans, and black cap, you're the one who looks like a Grade-A Kdrama stalker."

There it was, his husky chuckle.

You didn't know you needed to hear that.

"You still didn't answer my question. What are you doing here, Namjoon?"

He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, "I told you. I've always wanted to attend one of your lectures. I missed the last one. I wasn't going to miss this one."

"Alright, so you did. What now?" Your hands were crossed over your chest.

Joy wanted to triumph, but your resentment was persistent. You were not about to let him know that he got away with anything, but you were also lowkey hoping he'd say what you wanted him to say so this could all end.

You spoke up again, "Where were you?" your voice almost cracked.

"I don't know how long it'll take for me to apologize, but if you'll let me, I'd like to start now," he said. "For everything. From hurting you to my silence after that."

Still with your walls up, you responded with a nod, arms still over your chest to make it clear there was still a line in the sand, "Alright. Go ahead."

"I'm sorry for putting my fear before our friendship. Will you forgive me for that?" he asked in a tone you'd never heard him speak in before. His sincerity was unmissable.

"I'll work on it," you replied softly.

"I'm sorry for being distant," he took a deep breath. "And it's not because I was too busy. Honestly, I had so many opportunities to reach out, but I was too scared to find out that you've written me off. That's why I'm here today. I wanted to see how you were."

"And what did you see?"

"That maybe I still have a chance to make things right."

"You always had that chance, Namjoon," you told him, you posture relaxing a bit. "And what if you saw something else? That I've completely moved on?"

"Honestly? I don't know," he admitted. "I tried to move on, but clearly I failed. I guess I was just hoping to see you as broken as I was. But you had a point about how we shouldn't try to heal at the expense of others."

If only you knew how badly he wanted to break his rigid posture and just embrace you.

"There's one more thing I need to apologize for," he said. You nodded in response as you took a deep breath, "Will you ever forgive me for not immediately realizing that I've fallen in love with you?"

Honestly, you had enough energy to do a repeat of this entire 2hr lecture, yet you couldn't find the strength or brainpower to respond to what had just escaped Namjoon's lips.

Was this really happening?

"Frankly, I don't know if you really are as hurt as I was. It's been so long that I was just holding out hope that you were maybe referring to me earlier and that no one else had entered the picture."

He let out a shaky sigh, "I wouldn't be surprised if there was someone else. You're funny, thoughtful, intelligent, patient, charming, and so passionate. How can anyone in their right mind resist someone like you?"

He stepped closer, lifting his hands tentatively, gesturing for permission to take your hands in his. You lifted your hands and placed it on his. His thumbs softly rubbed the back of your hands while his other fingers kept them securely together. His hold was as secure as you remembered, but the pressure was a little different. It was almost as if he was afraid to let go, trying to speak to you and express his sincerity through his grasp.

"After all the work I'd done to love myself all these years, that day was the first time I hated myself again," his voice was soft and he was staring at your hands.

"I want you to know that I would be over the moon if you gave me the chance to make it up to you, but I don't know where you are now, or if you even have space for me. And if you decide you don't want any of this, I'll leave. I'll try to move on. But I need to hear it straight from you, because all this time, I couldn't convince myself we weren't meant to be, and I have no idea why."

"Maybe because I feel the same way," the words escaped your lips before you could filter it.

His eyes widened, unsure if he just heard what he heard.

Despite what you said, your heart was still so anxious about diving into this with Namjoon, "Did you really mean all that just now?"

He nodded. The slight movement of his head exposed the tears pooling in his eyes.

This was the moment that you realized you shouldn't be listening to his words. You should have listened to his body. His tears, his grip, his expression...his presence.

Part of you wanted to tell him it was too late, but you didn't have the heart to articulate it. He wasn't too late. The truth is, you do have space for him. You've always held space for him.

On your tiptoes, you reached for his face and tilted your head up, your lips meeting his plush ones, and thumbs stroking the apple of his cheeks to wipe his tears.

He almost lost balance, not expecting this to happen, but he quickly regained his composure to wrap his arm around you and pull you flush against his solid frame. His other hand tucked your hair behind your ear and spread his fingers to gently cradle the base of your head, fingers gently pressing against your scalp so he could hold you as he deepened the kiss.

You wanted to melt in his arms. This was so unlike you.

You always took care of yourself, but this time, you were more than willing to let Namjoon do that. And while Namjoon knew to do the same for himself, he was eager to let you take care of him too. It was never something you discussed, but you just both knew that to be part of your dynamic.

And as you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to relieve you feet of your weight, you felt Namjoon's hold tighten, doing just that, letting you melt. Proof that you did understand each other beyond words.

After all this time apart, he still understood you.

Moments later, you both parted slowly yet hesitantly.

Namjoon had to place his forehead on yours to catch his breath and gain strength to keep himself from diving back into the kiss, eyes closed as he tried to bring himself back

"Does this mean you also forgive me for not telling you about my fan fiction?" you asked quietly, thumbs grazing the apple of his cheeks to wipe of what remained of his tears.

"Are you kidding me? Need I remind you that I reached out to you first as YOUR fan?"

"Ugh!" you slapped his chest with a scoff, "You're right! Oh my god! And you had the audacity to call me a sta--"

His lips crashed onto yours, cutting you off and you didn't mind, quite enjoying how his hands got a bit bolder and began rubbing the small of your back. He pulls away.

"I can't believe I called you that."

"Then call me something else," you hummed against his chest as you rest your head against it.

"Honey? Baby? Sweetheart?" he suggested as you shook your head in response. "Then what?"

"I dunno. That's your first task on the path to true forgiveness," you muttered.

"How about Reginald Dong?"

You sprung back, your lips in an "O", "That was YOU?! I knew something was up with that name. Where'd you even get that?"

"I wanted to hint at your song Red, but I didn't want to be obvious," he said with his nose scrunched.

"Wait, so Red WAS about me?" you clarified.

"Jimin and Taehyung almost gave it away too," Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"There's plenty of time for that," you said hugging him you head landing perfectly below his chin. "There's plenty of time for us. I'm not letting you live down Reginald Dong for a long time."

"Mhmm," he hummed, a cocky expression now plastered on his face, "So that means we're going to be together for a very, very long time then?"

"Mhmm," you smiled back. "Maybe."

"Do you think we'll still be together by the reunification of One Korea in 2043?"

You grinned like a Cheshire cat, "You really read it?"

He planted a soft kiss on your nose, "Every," (kiss) "single" (kiss) "word."

You tightened your hug with everything you've got and he enveloped you right back with utmost gentleness so you were now encased in his arms.

"If I wasn't clear earlier," you said looking at him, "I'm in love with you too, Namjoon."

Your name escaped his lips and it was music to your ears, "I'm also insanely in love with you."

You took a moment to remain in each others' embrace before you spoke up, "Promise me we'll talk about everything so we avoid misunderstandings in the future?" you asked against his chest.

"I promise," he said, kissing you on the forehead.

When you both finally let go, he reached for your bag and took your hand in his.

"Can we start now? Talking about things?" you asked as you shut the lights.

He nodded, "Sure, what about?"

"Do you actually know someone named Reginald Dong?"

X

Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, let me know what you think!

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Before this piece, I published a fluffy one shot of Gamer Jungkook and your Childhood Best Friend Taehyung. Both under the friends to lovers trope and some very soft moments and character exploration. I have a bunch of new stories coming soon!

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Love,

Id