thetruthuntoldnet

Namjoon finally sat on his bed, feeling the comforting exhaustion that comes after a performance, the kind of soothing, relaxing content of having done well, of everything going according to plan.

He was relieved and tired, ready to sleep.

His mind went to you as soon as he laid down, towel wrapped around his waist, rolling onto the bed.

It was almost eleven and, though he had loved having dinner with the guys and some of the dancers too, he was not in the mood for being around people.

He felt tired and lonely, especially after seeing a few staff members go for a late walk, hand in hand, exploring the nightlife in the city.

He just wanted to sleep.

He wanted the gooey, gelatinous feeling of nostalgia and melancholy to leave his chest. He counted the weeks until he would be back home. He took out his phone, sending you a text.

It felt strange that you hadn’t texted him yet.

He somehow expected better from you, his fiancée, beloved darling of his heart.

Just the thought of you brought a smile back on his face before he pouted and shook his head. Still, you hadn’t texted him.

He told himself it was just the adrenaline dying down, that he was feeling blue because the excitement of the performance and the crowd was receding.

He didn’t think about the way he missed touching your hair before falling asleep or feeling your limbs tighten around him. He didn’t think about the extra pillows he’d been ordering in the last three hotels just so he could get some peace of mind, placing them so he could get in his usual sleeping position — the one where your leg would end up between his and your head would find its place underneath his chin.

He missed your fingers in his hair, combing it until your arm got heavy and you drifted off to sleep like a pup.

His daydreaming was stopped by a quick, quiet knock on the door.

He was startled by it, and almost worried for a second, slipping on his bathrobe in case it was someone unfamiliar.

He was waiting for a second knock, just in case it was one of the guys messing around, before a voice called, “Mr Fox. I think there’s a special delivery for you.”

Namjoon blinked a few times. There were slim chances anyone would call him that unless they were extremely close to him. The kind of people that would see him with you, celebrate birthdays and holidays and drive the two of you around, protect you from the press.

The kind of people that knew about his little fox.

He opened the door slightly.

There you appeared, a bit messy and chaotic. It wasn’t your usual look. Your hair was tied up and half hidden in a bandana, you were wearing glasses and you had a face mask on, but he would recognise you anywhere. Plus, the charm hanging from your necklace made your identity obvious. You were the only one who could have it.

“Oh, sorry I ruined your plans,” you cooed, batting your eyelashes. “I believe I’m welcome— Ah!”

Namjoon stretched his arms out, picking you up and hugging you to him, a grin widening on his face.

“Please, go inside,” a security guard told him, Namjoon nodding and carrying you into his room.

By the time he closed the door, he was already kissing you like a man possessed, mask shoved down to your chin; still, you felt his arms shaking and insisted to be put down. “Hi baby,” he murmured, unhooking the elastic bands from your ears and removing the garment, cupping your cheeks.

“Sorry, I’m a sweaty mess,” you said, taking off your bandana and glasses. “I was at the show tonight!”

His eyes widened. “Really? And I didn’t spot you?”

“I was a bit far from the stage. Giggles and Candy and Kitten are here too! We were together! And I think Yoongi noticed Kitten! I’m sure Hobi spotted Giggles but he managed to keep a straight face. She was swooning over him the whole time, it was so hilarious!” You told him, still excited. “And the crowd was great. It was magnificent! They knew every word! I was so surprised,” you went on, Namjoon beaming at your enthusiasm.

“Did you eat? Would you like to wash up? Where are you staying?” He asked, already trying to understand how much time he would have.

“You guys are leaving the day after tomorrow, right?” You checked in, ignoring the other questions.

“Yeah, around seven a.m. Answer my questions, baby.”

“Okay, we sort of ate, and we’re staying in this hotel. We got a room for the four of us because we knew it wouldn’t be actually used,” you confessed with a shy smile, placing your hands on his hips and shyly getting closer. “We arranged everything with your managers. They were so sweet.”

“Vixen. Did you eat?” he asked again, slightly upset at you not answering the question.

“We had something after the concert, but I wasn’t really hungry.”

“Vixen.”

“Okay. I had a steak. We ate in the hotel’s restaurant. I drank two cups of water and ate a fruit salad for dessert. Happy? And don’t call the girls, I believe they have better stuff to do instead of filling you in on my meal plans.”

He inhaled. “Why didn’t you bring a change of clothes?”

“It’s in my room,” you said, your finger sliding into the deep neckline of his robe, separating the lapels until your lips could meet the skin of his chest.

“Why didn’t you shower there?” he asked, letting your hands get curious. He had missed your touch, your girlish ways, everything.

“I wanted your soap.” You stared at the dark circle of his nipple once you managed to get the robe off his shoulder.

“Do you need help undressing, little one?” he asked, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt and tugging it out of your tennis skirt.

You nodded, lifting your arms up. “I missed being undressed.”

He smiled and let his large palms brush up your sides, slightly wet with perspiration. “I bet.” As soon as your shirt was off, he was happy to find a light cotton bra with a funny flower print. He took it off gently as you watched his every move. “I missed you,” you said tenderly once his hands cupped the curves of your breasts.

He kissed both before cupping your cheeks instead and kissing your mouth chastely, innocently. “I missed you too. I love you so much, Vixen. So, so much, little fox.”

You hugged him close, welcoming the way you felt at home in his arms. “I love you too, you big cuddle bear.”

His smile was so heartwarming you could barely hold back tears of joy.

“I missed kissing you and touching you so bad,” he went on, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his cheek, kissing your palm.

“Please, get me naked,” you reminded him, hoping he would take care of it.

He was ecstatic to reacquaint with the tattoo on your hip, kneeling and kissing it as soon as he pushed the waistband of your skirt and panties low enough. “Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asked, placing his lips over your belly button.

“I think so.”

He clenched his jaw and tried to look like he wasn’t bothered by that. Why would you make plans if you had travelled for twenty-five hours to see him? Shouldn’t you have kept yourself free so he could spend time with you?

He tried not to sulk. He really tried hard not to…

“Aw, don’t sulk, Joonie bear. The only plan I have is spending at least six hours making love with you.”

He blinked a couple times before he squeezed your waist between his hands. “You played me?” he asked with a wide grin. He was too happy to scold you. “And who told you I’m even interested in making love to you, naughty girl.”

You crossed your arms, entirely unafraid no matter your completely naked state. “Is that so?”

Namjoon backtracked quickly. “Vixen, wait. Baby—”

You were pouting. And it was not your cute pout. It was a sad pout and he hated seeing it. It usually didn’t announce anything good.

“Can I please shower?”

And now he had you out of your little space.

“Babylove?”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just fussy from jetlag.” Your expression was tired, quickly losing the happy gleam you had on a few minutes ago.

Namjoon knew your mood swings could be very brusque, but from how quickly you had lost your temper, he also understood how tired and stressed you had to be.

He couldn’t do much once you locked the door.

A playful joke had turned into silent treatment and although a part of him wanted to complain about how utterly insufferable you were, a smarter side told him to wait and talk it out.

From being with you for more than one year, he had learned that you had a tendency to hide your fears and insecurities, attacking whenever someone hit too close to an unspoken vulnerability.

He knew what to do. He mustered all his patience and nerves and common sense and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as time ticked by before you finally decided to come out of the bathroom.

“Hey,” he called, patting the bed at his side.

Wrapped in a towel, you followed his suggestion, taking place at his side.

“What was it, love?”

You shook your head.

“Babylove?” he spurred you again.

Once more, you shook your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Sorry, it just sent me spiraling. As I said I’m messed up with jetlag and I’ve been a bit all over the place with my feelings.”

He placed an arm behind your back, pulling you closer. “What is it that you’re not telling me, ____?”

It felt easier to say once in the cocoon of his loving embrace. “About three weeks ago I took a test.”

Namjoon inhaled loudly. He’d been in Los Angeles three weeks ago. Wait, was it Los Angeles? He couldn’t even remember. “Okay. And?”

You rubbed his chest. “It was negative. Still, I was really scared.”

He nodded, his hand still rubbing your shoulders. Hold on. “You mean a pregnancy test?” he asked, now more worried.

You nodded with tiny, imperceptible movements.

He had you in his lap in seconds, pulling your body flush to his. “For fuck’s sake.” He covered your face in kisses. “Are you feeling okay, baby?”

You nodded again, this time more convinced as he reassured you. “It was just a bad scare. I think it was a mix of stress and the weather and… yeah. All of that.”

“Oh, god.” Namjoon touched your face, making you look into his eyes. He was so worried. “I should have been there—”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, I took care of it,” you reassured him in return, stopping him from quickly losing his mind.

“What if it had been positive, uh? I should have been there,” he fussed, tugging at his hair violently out of stress.

You kissed him to make him quiet. “Well, it wasn’t positive so let’s not fuss about that. Stop worrying. You’ll get wrinkles and get bald. I don’t want to marry a bald man. Bold yes, bald meh.”

You got him to smile faintly.

“See. That’s it.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t worry.”

He bobbed his head and held you tighter, sniffing at you. “I really like you in my shower gel,” he said out of the blue.

“That’s why I travelled for twenty-five hours and snuck in your hotel room.”

He let himself chuckle. “I like you even more in my body lotion.” He kissed the shell of your ear. “May I propose that as atonement?”

You shed your towel comfortably and layed on your back in the middle of the bed. “Don’t make me wait,” you murmured, looking at him sweetly.

He licked his lips, staring a little before grabbing the tube of lotion and pouring some on his palm. “Massage boy is right on track.”

He started from your calves, the lotion only slightly chilly after he had warmed it up in his hands. He rubbed the tendons of your ankles before digging into your twin muscles. “Need me to take care of the footsies, love?”

You purred and nodded, his thumbs pressing down the arch of your foot, where the muscles had stayed stressed all day due to pressure, the weather and all the walking and standing.

He worked the pads of your toes, the ball of your feet, your heels—

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips landing on the back of your knee. “I bet I would die of beauty overload if I ever saw you in your white dress.”

You smirked, trying to reach for him though you were laying on your back and couldn't see him. “Be patient.”

Namjoon couldn't. “And I would die again if I ever saw you with a baby bump.”

Your heart stopped.

“So pretty. Radiant. Full and round and florid. You'd look so alive. So… so beautiful.” He kept massaging the back of your thighs until he reached your bottom, getting more lotion before starting to knead into the soft, plush flesh.

“You'd be into that?” You asked, insecure, your voice shaky.

“I'd be into that, as long as it's you,” he replied, melting all the knots in your glutes before reaching your lower back, getting your spine to crack a few times as he diligently released all the pressure packed there.

“You want to see me pregnant?” you asked again.

“When you're ready for it. Possibly after we get married and I get to have you for a full week naked in a comfy, artsy villa in the middle of a very thick, very deserted forest.”

You chuckled. “You found the villa?” You felt incredulous.

“I found the villa. And it's free two weeks after the ceremony. For ten days.” He reached your nape. “Can you believe it?”

“Tell me you booked it, please.”

“Booked two weeks ago.” He kissed your neck. “We're only missing the plane tickets but I don't even care, I'm willing to pay tens of thousands.”

You snickered. “Don't splurge. I'll get the tickets. Do you think we can travel together?”

“I'm finally putting a ring on your finger, Vixen. I don't fucking care if anyone sees us. They can put us on the papers all they want. We'll be married, little fox. Husband and wife. Till death do us part and all of that. Turn, babylove,” he instructed you.

You obeyed, your eyes locking with his, his strong thighs straddling you. “Are you sure about the whole forever thingie?”

“You mean if I'm sure about committing to the smartest, sexiest, cutest brat I've ever met?” Namjoon's eyes filled with joy. “where do I sign up?” His focus lasted little. “Hello, my pretty cherries,” he whispered flirtily, cupping your breasts and kissing one nipple, then the other. “So perfect,” he murmured.

Your hand drew a thin, light line up the back of his thigh, underneath the robe. “I don't even know why you like them.”

“I love them.” He let his palms skim your sides and belly. “I think I've never properly showed them some love…”

“Except that time you covered them in chocolate.”

He hummed and climbed off you, starting once more from your calves. “Memorable days. We should do that more often.” His hands slid up all the way to your thighs, making you hum as he kneaded the knots in your quads. “Feels good?”

“Very,” you mewled, parting your legs only slightly as he kept heading up, digging his digits in your hips, finding the spots that always made you weak. “There…”

“Right here baby fox.” He kissed your belly as he kept massaging you. He slowed down to deliver another small kiss, just below your belly button. “Do you need me to take care of it? Your period should be close…” he murmured, offering you pleasure but also knowing your libido could be slightly different due to hormones.

“Can we just sleep for tonight? I kept myself up to catch good sleep.”

Namjoon smiled before he stretched to kiss your nose. “Such a good girl. You must be so sleepy and grumpy, baby love, uh?”

You nodded and wrapped your legs around him, beginning to take off his robe. Few things made you happier than falling asleep wrapped up in Namjoon and nothing else. You could love him like that, all the time.

You would love him and nobody else, and require for nothing but him. You knew once in his arms you would be in need of nothing but his heartbeat harmonising with yours.

“Daddy?”

He kissed your forehead. “Yes, my love,” he replied calmly.

“I want to be held.”

He smiled so wide the whole room lit up. “I have to wash my hands first, baby.” He kissed your cheek, buttering you up so he would get you to cooperate. “I'll be back in ten seconds.”

You whined as he made to stand, hooking your legs around him.

“Let go, baby fox. If you don’t get bratty, this will be done in seconds and I'll be back to braid your hair for bed.”

You pouted and let him go, turning with your back to him.

He snickered and headed for the bathroom, cleaning his hands quickly and energetically before placing the robe on the hook and coming back to bed, completely naked — just in case you turned around and wanted a bit of an eye candy.

You did not turn. He laid behind you as delicately as possible, given his size. “Can I braid your hair?”

“Do you still remember how to do that?” You murmured reluctantly.

He felt twice as wrong. “If I forgot, I'll learn again. Over and over. Just for you.” He kissed your nape. “And the baby daughter we'll have someday.”

Once more you felt your body tense. You forced yourself to relax as Namjoon's hands started stroking your slightly damp hair, dividing it in three sections.

“From the sides to the middle,” you reminded him absentmindedly.

He did have some muscle memory, but the locks were too messy and they kept getting tangled and in the end he had something far from the neat, balanced, aesthetic pleat you would make. He still wrapped the end in a tie and placed it down, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his chest. “You really feel too nice in my body wash and lotion.”

You fixed your stance against him. “Switch off the light, please?”

He blinked and did as you asked. He wanted his little one back — not this old and distant woman.

Somehow in the dark you found it easier to talk. You turned and spread your limbs all over him, Namjoon feeling relieved as your body language announced yet another shift.

“I'm scared of children,” you murmured. “I— I don't want to think I'll have to share you with even more people. I already have to share so much of you.”

He held you closer and exhaled. He knew the time he gave you was always little compared to the one you deserved. He knew sometimes he felt too distant, too away, and it caused you to suffer. He trusted your rational part, the one that appreciated every moment he gave you and never dared ask for more; however, he knew you were greatly restraining yourself from roaring at him and asking for more. For a full weekend. For a Friday night. For an unplanned dinner at the restaurant mid-week. For a trip to a bookshop or a visit at the museum. For anything and everything you deserved.

“I can handle sharing you with your job and your fans and your friends. But children? No,” you opposed. “I couldn't handle raising them by myself eighty percent of the time, watching them suffer because dad never has much time for them.”

Namjoon felt ice in his veins. “You mean to tell me you don't want them ever?”

You shook your head. “I know you want them and I wouldn't have said yes to marrying you if I didn't want kids myself. I'm just saying I want them to live in a safe, emotionally stable and healthy environment. I don't want them to grow up with mom and a sliver of dad.”

He knew the topic came from your own upbringing and he was twice as delicate just for that. “Then we can have them once I start slowing down.”

You kissed his heart. “Sometimes I doubt you'll ever slow down. You can't go ten thousand miles an hour and get to see the first tooth, the first step, hear the first babbling, the first word… Plus, I love my job. I don't want to give up on it.”

He clenched his jaw and slipped his fingers into the hair at your nape. “Look at me, ____.”

Shyly you did so in the dark. You could barely see his face, still you could feel the tension on him. “I won't let you be alone. I'll be there. When you're down, when you're up. And I'll be a dad just as much as you'll be a mom. I won't leave you alone. Ever. I'll stand at your side. I need you to believe in me, babylove.” He kissed your mouth feverishly, like all his fears could crumble the moment your lips met his, an antidote to anxiety and insecurity. “I want to be your husband, your equal, and I need you to have faith in me, Vixen. The moment we're ready, I'll take a step back. I'm even ready to be a stay at home dad. We'll get a bigger place, and I'll produce and write from home, get a part time nanny. I'm ready for everything, as long as it's with you.”

You were short of words, mostly for the way his thoughts came from a place of unspoken understanding, from cares he never forgot to deliver and small things you had told him once, in the dark, terrified that the scars of old wounds would drive him away.

“I love you,” you whispered, touching his face and kissing his heart.

Namjoon caressed your hair. “I love you too. I trust you, baby fox. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, your eyes getting watery. “I do.”

“I do.” He squished your cheeks together and rolled on top of you, your back now against the mattress. “Remember those words, Vixen. You'll have to say them again soon.”

You grinned and tickled him, making him jump off you as you reclaimed your position on his chest. “Oh, trust me. I won't forget them. And you'd better remember them too.”

He tangled his legs with yours. “I keep them in my head. All the time.”

Namjoon stood from his chair, finding it extremely strange that by now you hadn’t yet sneaked into his home studio, curling up on his sofa and mewling obnoxiously until he paid attention to you.

He secretly loved when you acted dramatic and needy, especially because all he needed to do was pat his thighs to have you quiet and cozying up in his arms.

Furtively, he opened the door, suspicious and almost scared of what he would find. It was almost midnight and by now you should already be pestering him for sleepy time and booty rubs.

He started organising the potential scenarios in his head, grading them for increasing level of danger.

Asleep in the bathtub.

Baking biscuits.

His stomach rumbled, his mouth watering. Biscuits and hot chocolate before bed.

He scratched the idea. Too much sugar and you’d be up all night, dashing around the house like a fennec.

Maybe you’d hit the gym?

His eyes rolled close at the thought, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

Maybe curled up on the sofa, half asleep as you pretended to watch tv. Maybe reading?

The lights in your small studio were off. He walked down the corridor, ready to reach the living room when he spotted a familiar scene in the laundry room.

With an oversized shirt on, you were cutely bent over the dryer, long, naked legs stretched as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to get the last few bits of laundry from the bottom of the machine.

Namjoon grinned and leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms — already trying to feature the look that always made you go wobbly legged, blushing and babbling. He smiled even brighter when he noticed your tiptoes leaving the floor, your calves tossing a little as you tried to finally reach the piece before trying to regain your balance.

He watched you struggle a little, his feet padding softly across the floor before he licked his lips and purred, “Need any help, little fox?”

You tried to regain your composure as his hands appeared around your waist, your head hitting the lid of the dryer with a hard thud, causing you to whine in pain.

Namjoon chuckled, completely endeared, empathy overwhelming him. “Poor baby,” he cooed, helping you up and wrapping his forearm around your waist while his other hand rubbed your head. “Are you okay, Vixen?”

You were more than okay. You felt only slightly sorry for your clumsiness. What you felt the most was his hard chest against your back and his crotch against your ass. You clamped your lips shut, nodding wordlessly as Namjoon held you closer.

“You should be asleep, babylove,” he kissed the crown of your head, where you knew the bump would be appearing soon. “Why don’t you let me do these things, mh?”

“Because you always forget about them,” you replied, trying to twist in his arms before noticing he was now pinning you harder.

“Leave me a post-it on the door. I promise I’ll take care of it,” Namjoon kissed the sweet spot under your ear. “I don’t want to see my little one upside down into the dryer.”

“Such a sorry view...” you said through a pout.

“Too sorry to make me get ideas,” he teased, pressing his hips against you in a way that let you know he had spoken anything but the truth. “Poor little, helpless fox, upside down, tiny, struggling, stuck in the dryer.”

“Maybe you should put a camera to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you suggested with fake innocence.

He hummed in appreciation, gripping you harder as an excuse to feel you up. “Sure. A camera. Maybe next time I’ll feel the obliterating need to watch your cute ass appear from there. Accidentally naked...”

“Your back would look so good caught on camera while you’re fucking me,” you purred, letting your thoughts wander.

“Should we get a mirror installed on the bedroom ceiling?” he asked, letting a hand snake under your shirt, palming your thigh heavily until he reached your waist. “I see you’re already half ready.” The arm around your waist grabbed your shirt and tugged it up, until his free hand could comfortably cup your naked mound.

“In my defence, I was digging for my favourite panties,” you said, pouting at him over your shoulder before batting your lashes, swatting at his wrist before dashing for the door. “Shirt off, sir.”

He arched an eyebrow and licked his lip before shaking his head. “Come here.”

“Shirt. Off,” you said before showing him your teeth.

He cackled at the empty threat you were. Feisty but adorably little. He crossed his arms in front of his waist, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it up, taking off the garment and throwing it at you.

“Here, Vixen.”

At the sight of his chest, you trotted over happily. “Catch!” You called before stopping in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving a small skip as you threw your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he murmured fondly as he secured your grip, fixing the room quickly as you nibbled his warm skin. “I’m not a snack, Vixen.”

“You’re a whole damn meal. A large one,” you cooed back, still leaving small, harmless bites.

“All yours, babe.”

He carried you straight to the bedroom, making sure you brushed your teeth before getting anywhere close to the bed. He knew the moment you’d get under the covers would be the moment you crashed. Once clean and calm, he allowed you to tuck yourself under the comforter, laying at your side for a minute. “I need to go switch off my equipment, babylove.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once he came back, he turned off the lights, taking off his glasses and finding his spot at your side, your limbs adjusting naturally.

“Love you, baby fox.”

“Love you, big bear.”