#the entirety of numb with the fucking empty mic stand

[wulfhalls]

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#rewatching the chester tribute concert because well its tradition and i love hurting myself #some of the worst moments for me personally even after 5 years: #mike fighting for his life trying to get thru roads unravelled especially the last section #mike harmonising with the clip of chester during new divide knowing itll be the last time #the entirety of numb with the fucking empty mic stand #mike fighting for his life trying to get thru the beginning of leave out all the rest #mike introducing/playing looking for an answer. IS THERE SUNSHINE WHERE U ARE THE WAY THERE WAS WHEN U WHERE HERE #i am in fact not fine! #also listened thru the whole post traumatic album for the first time since it dropped again and like. painpainpainpainnnnnnn #on a lighter note mgk was not horrible on papercut which is surprising to me every time i watch it #oli on crawling was muwah idc what anyone says he did fantastic TO ME #taka crushing somewhere i belong!!!! my best friend taka!!!!! #but this whole thing just showing how good chester truly was cause no one came even close at all #ANYWAYS. just had to type that out lol #linkin park

[jhsbrat]

stories that never were pt.5 

i don’t play tag, bitch i’ve been it

genre: stories that never were pt. 5, idol au, lovers to enemies au

word count: 1,787

warnings: rough sex, unhealthy relationship, both oc and namjoon are idiots 

Noise. Lights. Flashes. In the midst of it all, you’re focused on the toupee of the man three rows back, synthetic brown hair laid askew on his perfectly round head. He reaches up to itch at it, knocking it even further off center, eyes still focused on his notes in front of him.

I need to give him my stylist's number, you think to yourself, taking a swig of water and swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing to aid your thirst. Then there’s a tap on your shoulder and you look up to find your manager hovering beside you.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, adjusting the mic propped on the table in front of you. “We’re about to start.”

You sigh and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Sejin straightens up and fixes you with a stare. “Remember, just like how we practiced. You’re polite and cordial. Only talk about your new album, no going off track.”

“Yeah, sure.” You wave him off.

“Listen to me, promise that-“ He’s hushed by a stagehand and pulled off to the side, behind the curtains shielding staff from the flash of the reporter's cameras. You look up and paste that soft smile your agency made you practice a hundred times in the mirror in preparation.

“Good morning, thank you all for coming,” You speak into the microphone demurely. “I would like to start taking questions now.”

The room erupts into noise after your welcome statement and you blink for a moment before pointing randomly at a woman off to the side, eagerly waving her hand.  

“Hello,” the woman coughs and glances down quickly at her notes, “First, I would like to congratulate you on all your success so far. It must have been an interesting journey for you to have started from making songs in your basement to being signed and releasing a full-length album with Big Hit Entertainment. How are you feeling right now?”

A softball, easy. You knew the answer to this off the top of your head. “It’s amazing and incredibly humbling. I’m so grateful to everyone that had a hand in supporting me to where I am today.”

Hands shoot up again and you point to toupee man now, curious to know if his voice was as thin as his hair.

“Early critiques of your new album are calling the changes to your sound “meteoric” and “exponential”,” he rattles off in a squeaky tone. “Some are going so far as to say that it’s a complete 180 to your SoundCloud days. What is your response?”

“I would say the equipment I get to work with now is a step above the trial version of Audacity, so that’s probably why.” You grin and there are soft chuckles heard throughout the room. You wait a second to let them write that down and then point to a younger guy directly in front of you. He grins politely, bunny teeth revealed, before leaning closer in his seat and looking down at his note pad as he reads off his prepared question.  

“Your collaboration with Gloss has proven to be very successful and it’s helped land you on XXL’s Freshman Class for this year. Billboard is even crediting it as one of the best songs of the year. But not everyone feels the same. How do you respond to rapper RM’s claims that you’re just ‘a singer who raps’?”

The room quiets for the first time and you blank, lost in thought, catapulted back into time at the mention of the name.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon groans, throwing his head back.

You look up at him, mouth sliding off his cock with a wet pop. “Not quite,” you reply, snarky, giving him a lick.

The man lets out a breath and looks down at your figure, kneeling on the cheap carpet of his makeshift studio, knees rubbed raw from the polyester. The tight spandex of your dress hugs your body and he has to gulp and look back up again before he comes to the sight of arched ass alone.  

“You talk too much,” he complains half-heartedly, fingers yanking hard on your hair and bringing the heat of your mouth back where he wants. You rake your teeth along his length in retaliation and it shocks him, his body spasming from the feeling before you take all of him back in your mouth in one go, wet slurping sounds quickly filling the small space.

(Neither of you would ever admit it aloud, but you’re both pain sluts, reveling in the sting of a harsh slap or ache of a hard bite. It fed a hunger both of you possessed, but could never quite fully sate in its entirety. Which is why, you suppose, the two of you kept returning to this place, finding that nothing could stoke your fire quite like pain twinged pleasure of a too hard fuck.)    

Your fingers trail up and down his torso, pink-tipped acrylics threatening to scratch at the sensitive skin of his chest, and it’s that coupled with the look you give that sends him hurtling towards a premature finish. Your eyes are stretched wide, carefully applied mascara now running in rivers down your cheeks. It makes him hot thinking you did that for him, that your hair is tied up in a ponytail so he can yank on it and your nails are manicured to prick at his skin.

(Though he knows it would be delusional to believe you would dress for any man, he still likes to indulge in this fantasy, at least temporarily, because then he could pretend at least for a little while that you were his.)

With teardrops hanging at the tips of your lashes, you give a hard suck and moan, the vibration enough to tip Namjoon over the edge. You swallow, but don’t let up quite yet, and he has to shove you off when the overstimulation becomes numbing.

“Whore,” he sighs, but his words carry no bite and he bends forward to thumb at your chin and kiss you softly. Your teeth tug at his lips as you pull away, grinning softly before you stand up to search for your panties from wherever he flung them off an hour ago.

“We can’t keep doing this, I only came to talk to you and now I’m late for a dance lesson,” you sigh, shimmying your underwear back up your thighs.

“Mhmm, but we say that every time.” Namjoon tucks himself back into his pants, watching you pull the hem of your dress back down and regrets not marking up your ass when he had the chance. “And what are you still doing those classes for?”

You fall into the chair by his keyboard, intentional in your decision to not sit next to him when you speak next. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about-“

“Wait, let me guess,” he chuckles, walking closer to look down at you and wipe away the remnants of the streaked makeup around your eyes. “They finally kicked you out?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, annoyed. “No, Joon, I-“

“No, no, I got it! They kicked you out and banned you from ever coming again-“

You swat his hand away and stand up, pushing back from the chair and grabbing your bag to walk out the small room. “I’m just going to leave if you’re not going to listen.”

“Wait, wait,” he grabs your wrist, but is still chuckling softly when he pulls you closer. “Go on, tell me. But do it quick, we still gotta finish that song from last week, Yoongi is waiting for the lyrics before he can start making the-“

“I got signed,” you blurt out, frustrated with his constant interruptions. Namjoon freezes and blinks, his hand still wrapped around your own.

“You got…signed? Like, to an agency?”

Sighing, you nod, letting your hand fall from his own. “Yeah. I filled out the contracts yesterday.”

He blinks again. Then his mouth spreads into a grin. “Very funny, you had me going. Okay, I got the message, I won’t joke about those classes again.”

You stare at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

His grin widens and he turns to find his phone. “C’mon, stop kidding, let’s get started. I’m just going to call Yoongi so we can-“

“Namjoon, I’m not fucking kidding. An agency scouted me and I decided to sign with them yesterday.”

His back goes rigid from where he’s standing hunched over his bag, looking for his device. He turns around to face you, smile gone. “You-you’re serious right now?”

You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I thought you’d be more excited, I’ll get to actually perform the songs I write now-“

“Excited? Excited? For what, for you to be pranced around like a prized show dog?” He spits.

Your head jerks back, blood boiling hot at the vitriol in his voice. He doesn’t take note of your shock, continuing on his tirade instead.

“Please tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you didn’t actually willingly choose to become part of the empty machine that is that industry, to become a-a-a-“ He stutters, then looks away before turning back to you and it frightens you how his eyes go cold. “A mindless slave.”

Post-coital glow completely dissipated, you feel your skin heat up at his words and you step close enough for the tips of your noses to touch. “I make that choice and suddenly I’m nothing more than a cog in a machine? You think there’s nothing left to me?”

He stares down at you, jaw clenched. “If you decided to sell out like that without a gun to your head, then yeah. I do.”

There’s a squeeze at your heart from his words, but it doesn’t stop you from speaking next. “Then you can die mad about it.”

His teeth hurt from how hard they grind against each other as he watches you walk out the studio, choosing to forgo collecting the last of your belongings in the room in favor of having a dramatic exit. He realizes it hours later, laying on the torn up couch after he’s angrily scribbled his feelings out on ripped pages of paper. Sighing, he promises himself he’ll apologize when you eventually come back to pick them up.

You don’t.  

The sound of Sejin releasing a soft cough off to the side brings you back to the present, your gaze focusing once again on the man in front of you. The badge hanging around his neck reads Jeon Jeongguk and you drag your gaze back up to his wide eyes expecting an answer. Smiling, you lean forward into the mic to speak.

“And I still beat him on the charts, didn’t I?”

e/n: yea boiii

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #namjoon smut