"it's the beginning of a new year! oh dear, aren't you excited for all the opportunities and chances as well as the new memories you are going to create?"

how the first day of 2024 is treating me:

Hiii~ sorry to bother you, i dont know if you're still taking request but can you write something where the reader had to turn down a job she really wanted and member (joon, hoseok or yoongi) comforts her? Ps you're my fav blog please keep writing💕

Hi! You’re not bothering at all~ Thank you so much for the request, and the feedback! You’re so, so sweet! It really means a lot. Here’s my take on the scenario, I hope you enjoy!! 💜💕

“Whatever You Want” Namjoon x You

“Okay.” You release a deep breath and turn to face Namjoon. “How do I look?”      He sits up a little, pretending to scrutinize your appearance before the grin breaks across his face. “Perfect,” he says. Then, suddenly frowning, he scoots to the edge of the bed and adds, “Except...come here, babe.”      “What?” you ask nervously, reaching up to smooth your hair. “What is it?” You move towards him when he doesn’t answer.       “Just...” He waits until you’re within his reach, then grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. Smiling at your startled laughter, he says, “Just this...” before leaning in to kiss you softly.       When he finally releases you, you give him a look. “Namjoon, I love you---but if you just messed up my hair, I’m going to have to kill you.”     He laughs. “Fair enough. All right, up you get.” He stands up after you. “Let’s make sure you’re still perfect as ever.”      You roll your eyes at his comment, but when he runs his gaze over you, purposefully slow, you can’t stop your heart from beating a little louder. “Well?”      “As I said,” he grins, bending down to place a soft, gentle kiss on your cheek: “Absolutely perfect.”      Ignoring the blush that creeps over your face, you give him a sincere smile. “Thanks. Ugh, I’m so nervous.”     He reaches out and takes your hand, guiding you out of the bedroom and down the hall. “Don’t think about that,” he says. “Just soak it all in. You’ve worked hard for this, my love; you deserve all the good things. Did you eat lunch?”      You shake your head.      “Do you want me to make you something?”      You shake your head again, feeling sick.       “Okay, okay.” He squeezes your hand. “Just relax.” Releasing your hand, he grabs your long, black peacoat and helps you into it, careful not to disturb your perfectly planned outfit. “They’re going to love you.”      “As much as you love me?” you ask playfully.      He fakes outraged shock. “Never.” Grabbing the lapels of your coat, he pulls you to him slowly. “I just love you too much,” he murmurs, before brushing another kiss against your lips.       This time when he releases you, you’re ready to go. “Okay.” You exhale again, turning towards the door. “Wish me luck.”      “You don’t need it. You’ve got this, babe. It’s all yours, whatever you want.”      You smile. “See you tonight.”

The first thing you notice when you enter the office is the impossibly immaculate marble flooring.       The receptionist, a woman about your age, looks up and smiles brightly. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”     “Y-yes.” You clear your throat and try again. “Yes, thank you.” Handing her the paperwork (and making sure to keep your hand from shaking) you add, “I have an appointment?”      She studies the paperwork for just a moment, and you see her eyes widen at something. “Oh you---you’re here for the new position.”      “Yes.” It still filled you with giddy excitement: this was literally your dream job, a perfect position to reward all the work you had put in, the menial internships and starter jobs that had led you to this point. You almost don’t notice it when her face falls a little.       “Of course. One moment, please.” She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else before changing her mind. Grabbing the phone instead, she dials a few numbers then says into the receiver: “Yes, your afternoon appointment is here.” She listens, then hangs up. “If you wait just a moment, someone will take you back to the offices.”      You nod eagerly. “Thank you so much.”       She merely smiles, and an unsteady silence falls over you.       “The floors in this building are just gorgeous,” you say after a minute, trying to dispel the awkwardness and distract yourself from your own nerves at the same time.     “Oh, yes,” she agrees. “They’re the very best, top of the line. We only have the best here.”      You smile, even though her response doesn’t really invite much conversation. “How long have you worked here?”      “Six years.”      “Six--?” You cut yourself off. “Oh. That’s...that’s great. You must really like it here.” To yourself, you think: 6 years as an entry-level receptionist??       She doesn’t really answer.       The awkward silence falls again.       Finally, a door behind you opens and another woman (this one several years older than you) steps into the waiting area. “Hello,” she says with a practiced smile. “I’ll take you back now to meet with the boss.”      “Great.” You turn to the receptionist, but find her already engrossed in another matter. Uncomfortably, you take a quiet deep breath and cross to where the other woman stands. “Thank you so much.”      She just nods pleasantly, ushering you through the door.       The first thing you notice when you enter the work floor is that you are surrounded by men. Every single desk, every cubicle, is occupied by a man. The second thing you notice is that they all look the same; a sea of the same skin color, haircut, and expression.      Somewhere deep down in your stomach, a tiny pit appears. To distract yourself, you catch the attention of your guide. “How long have you worked here?” you ask, trying to keep a pleasant smile on your face.      “12 years.”     “Oh, wow. That’s great.”     She just nods. “I saw your resume,” she adds. “I graduated from the same university.”      “Really??” Some of the pit recedes. “What was your major?”     “Same as yours,” she says with a little tip of her head.      The pit whimpers. “Oh, that’s...that’s really cool,” you say falteringly.      She nods again. “I’m certain it’s changed since I was there,” she adds with a laugh. “It has been quite a while.”      “I---” The words die on your tongue as you distinctly hear someone call out “Damn, that’s some nice fresh meat” from behind you. Turning sharply, you’re unable to tell which cubicle the comment came from. You look back at your guide and are shocked to see her completely unaffected. Maybe she didn’t hear it... “They are constantly renovating it,” you agree belatedly.     Finally, the two of you reach the boss’ office. Without another word, the other woman reaches up and knocks three times on the door.      “Enter!” a voice calls from inside.     She pulls the door open and ushers you inside the office, where you find yet another man sitting at a desk. “Your 3:15, sir,” she says respectfully.      For the second time that day, a pair of eyes wander up and down your frame, but this time you just feel sick. “Ah,” the boss says with a smile. “Lovely. Come on in, doll, have a seat.”      You clear your throat and correct him with your name, trying to remain as polite and calm as you can.       His smile never wavers, but he ignores your correction and turns away from you to regard the other woman. “So, is the coffee-maker located in a different city, or...?”      She blushes deep crimson and nods her head awkwardly. “It’s coming, sir. Very sorry about that.”      “Don’t be sorry, just bring the coffee,” he says a little dismissively. “And better add a few muffins, don’t you think, doll?”      “Yes, sir. Of course.”      He waves her away. “Go on.”      The pit has swallowed your entire stomach and is now screaming.       “So.....” The boss fixes his gaze on you, and you resist the urge to squirm uncomfortably. “I assume you’re familiar with our company?”      “Yes.” You try to ignore the pit, but it’s getting more difficult by the second. “Of course. I was thrilled, actually, to be offered a position here. It fits exactly what I’m looking for, and I think I can be a great asset to the team.”      He huffs a soft laugh. “Yes,” he agrees, “A great asset, indeed.”      “I’m sorry??”      Waving it away, he goes on, “Now doll---”      “My name isn’t doll.”      The faux-cheeriness falls away quickly. “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he says derisively. “It’s just a term of endearment. Think of it like a compliment.”      Your mouth actually falls open at this one. “A--a compliment?”      “Yep. See, doll, we have a system here, an organic sort of environment where people go with the flow.” His eyes harden. “If you manage to remember your place within that environment, you’ll be just fine.”      You straighten in your chair. “It is highly unprofessional for you to address me in that way,” you say stiffly. “I believe I’ve already made my opinion on that clear.” You brace yourself for his angry retort.       Instead, he laughs in your face. Literally leans forward in his chair and guffaws at you. “Your opinion?? You think I’m hiring you for your opinion? Please.”      Your cheeks are hot. “Then what, exactly, did you hire me for?”      “Gotta fill a quota,” he shrugs, leaning back in his chair and leering at you again. “And that old hag out there clearly couldn’t cut it even as a waitress, so it’s time for her to go. One out, one in. By the way, do you know how to make espresso?”      “No,” you answer tightly, feeling the rage build inside you.      “Better learn, then, dollface,” he says with a wink. “Your looks are only 50% of why you’re here. Well, then.” He sits forward, shoving a stack of looseleaf papers in your direction. “Sign on the dotted line, look up a few coffee how-to videos tonight, and come ready to smile tomorrow morning, all right?” He literally pushes the contract into your hands. When you don’t respond, he finally seems to notice your seething anger. The pleasant facade fades. “Problem, dollface?” he asks intently, watching you. Before you can speak, he heaves a dramatic sigh and goes on, “Think carefully before you answer, sweet cheeks. You know how prestigious our company is. Don’t miss out on an opportunity just because of a little girlish pride.” He rolls a pen at you. “I’ll even let you use my expensive pen. Got this from the president himself. Go on, sign your name.”      You’re so angry you’re shaking, but you reach out and take the pen; you notice that it’s extremely high quality, carefully engraved with fancy lettering. It must have cost a lot. “My name,” you ask, your voice so quiet he has to lean forward to hear, “Or dollface?”      He guffaws again, but it’s cut short in surprise when you rocket to your feet.       “You’re disgusting,” you say, rage clipping your words. A million other insults are racing through your mind, but in the end you choose no words: instead, you drop the stack of papers back on the desk and spin on your heel, heading for the door. Yanking it open, you turn back: “To hell with you and your company,” you say, then hold his pen aloft---and promptly drop it in the trash.       Before he can speak, the other woman reappears, a mug of coffee and plate of muffins in hand. She takes one look at how your hands are shaking with fury, and instead of looking shocked or alarmed, she looks resigned. It only makes you angrier.       So in one smooth motion, you take the mug of coffee from her and carefully, deliberately, pour it into the trash.      “Hey! You crazy bitch---that’s my pen!!”       His outcry soothes some of your rage, and for the first time, you’re able to smile. Turning to the woman, you nod your head at the plate of food and say, “I’d throw those muffins in there, too, if I were you.”      Without another word, you leave the office, head held high all the way down to your car. As soon as you shut and lock the doors, you’re able to fully feel what the pit of fury has been covering: heartbreak.

As soon as you open the door to the apartment, you can smell it: pizza, from your favorite restaurant. No matter how good it smells, it can’t break through your layers of fury.     “Hail the conquering hero!” Namjoon sings out as he pops into view; in one hand he has a bouquet of daisies (your favorite) and in the other he’s holding a box of your favorite brand of expensive chocolates. “Welcome home, babe!”     You’re speechless. A quick scan of the room reveals the rest of his plans: the table is set with 2 boxes of your favorite pizza, the TV is on and your guys’ favorite video game is loaded, the controllers waiting on the empty couch. He had clearly planned a celebration of your “accomplishment.”       You can’t help it: the angry tears clog your throat, burning your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.       “Babe...” He looks shocked. Quickly ridding himself of the flowers and the chocolates, he goes to you. Taking your face in his hands, he says, “What happened??”      “I’m not going to work there,” you say hotly, tears still streaming down your face.       Fear is starting to mix with his concern. “What happened? Are you okay? Did---”      “I’m okay,” you manage. Carefully moving out of his grasp, you step all the way into the apartment, shrugging out of your coat and dropping it on the floor. “But that company---they’re just---”      Sensing how absolutely wild you feel, he changes tactics: grabbing your hand, he pulls you to the couch and sits down with you, turning towards you. “Tell me.”     So you do. You tell him everything, from the uncomfortable atmosphere and whispered catcall to the words ‘dollface’ and ‘sweet cheeks.’ You tell him about the way the man had spoken to you, his open admission about your position, the suggestive way he had looked at you. “How can a company like that still exist??? And those women, they--” you choke on a sob. “The one woman was exactly like me. She graduated with the same degree from the same university, and he turned her into a coffee-girl. I can’t believe I ever wanted to work for them! I hope their building catches fire, I hope both of those ladies quit, I hope he gets hit by a bus, I---” Your anger can’t even find words anymore. “It was disgusting. I should have--should have thrown that coffee in his face or-or something.” You suddenly realize that your boyfriend hasn’t said a word the entire time. Angrily wiping at your eyes, you turn to look at him; and find him absolutely livid. “...Joon?”      “I’m going to end him,” he growls. “I’m going to burn that entire place to the ground.”      “Baby---”      He gets to his feet suddenly. “I’ll make sure he loses everything, make sure the entire country knows the truth about that place.” He starts pacing, his mind racing in a thousand different directions. “The lawsuit will be easy---I’ll make sure both of those other women are compensated extremely well, I’ll make sure that he has to apologize to both of them---no, grovel at their feet and apologize!”       You sit back on the couch, watching him rant and rave; it makes you feel better, actually, to not sit alone in this fury.       “And you....I’m so sorry, babe, that you had to go through something like that.” His hands clench into fists. “I’m going to kill him for what he said to you, the way he treated you. I should’ve gone there with you, I would’ve knocked that smug smile off his face immediately.” He goes on, detailing all the ways he can bring the company down, the ways he’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. He goes on and on until the anger burns out.      And by the end of it, your anger’s been doused, too. Now all you can feel is the heartache. My dream job...what I’ve worked so hard for.. The tears bubble up again, this time in devastation instead of fury.      Noticing the change, he exhales heavily and returns to your side. Gathering you in his lap, he rocks you back and forth, pressing constant kisses to your temple and cheeks. “Oh my love,” he says heavily, “I’m so, so sorry.”      “I wanted it, Joon,” you admit tearfully. “I wanted that job so bad. Why did it have to be like this?”     “I know. It’s not fair.” He holds you close. “Oh, love, I wish I could have spared you from this. I wish I could fix it and make it all go away.”     You turn your face towards him, burying it in his neck, and sob.       The breakdown only lasts a few minutes, but the entire time he hugs you tight, reminding you that you weren’t alone. When you finally take a breath, he kisses your forehead.       “It’s going to be okay. An even better job will come. I know everything sucks right now, but it’s going to get better. Something amazing is coming your way, love, I know it is.” He kisses your temple and murmurs against your hair, “You deserve something better than that place anyway. You’re going to do amazing things. Something better will come.”      You take another deep breath and sit up, rubbing at your eyes. “I hope so,” you say thickly.       “It will.”      Managing a smile, you lean forward and kiss him briefly. “Thanks, Joonie,” you say softly, feeling much lighter. Your eyes dart to the discarded flowers and chocolates. “I feel bad I ruined the celebration...”      He shakes his head, squeezing you tight. “You didn’t ruin anything.” A faint smile crosses his lips. “How about....instead of pizza and video games, we do.....pizza and a bubblebath??”      You laugh.      He smiles happily at the sound. “I’m serious. How does that sound, my love?”       “Hmm...pizza in the bath?” You pretend to think. “Amazing.”      “Perfect, right?”      “Almost.” You get to your feet and hold a hand out to him, waiting. “But perfect actually is pizza and you in the bath.”      He grins and takes your hand, getting to his feet quickly. “Like I said: whatever you want, baby.”