#kim namjoon smut

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

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“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

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There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I’m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[oddinary4bts]

Emotions of the Soul | knj

☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think

☆word count: 36.3k

☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai​ for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆☆☆☆☆

The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.

You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.

At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…

Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.

You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.

No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.

You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.

Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.

It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.

Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.

Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.

Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.

“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”

“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”

Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”

Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.

Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.

Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.

“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.

You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.

Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.

“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.

Could that have been Namjoon?

“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.

You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”

At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”

“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.

You hated Kim Namjoon.

You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.

Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.

When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.

You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.

One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.

He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.

After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.

Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.

He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.

You could leave immediately after your speech, right?

“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.

You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.

It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”

You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”

“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”

“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.

You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.

Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.

Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.

The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.

You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.

“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”

The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.

“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”

The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.

You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.

Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.

While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.

It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.

All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.

Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.

You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.

“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sooah could go to hell.

You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”

When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.

At least when he was a teen, he could.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?

“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.

“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.

“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”

Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”

“I do not remake pieces.”

Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?

“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”

It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.

“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.

It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”

You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”

At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.

You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.

“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.

Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.

Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.

Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.

Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.

She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.

Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.

Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?

*****

                December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.

Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.

Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.

The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.

You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.

You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.

“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.

She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”

Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.

“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.

Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.

“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.

Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.

“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.

Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”

“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”

“I-“

“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.

“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”

You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”

“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.

But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”

She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.

“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.

Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”

You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.

“What the fuck?”

Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”

“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”

“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”

“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.

Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”

“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”

And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.

Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.

It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?

*****

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.

You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.

Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.

You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.

You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.

Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.

“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.

“It really is you.”

You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.

“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”

You scoffed. “What do you want?”

This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”

You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?

You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.

“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”

The nerves on this man…

“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”

He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”

You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”

He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.

Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.

No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?

You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.

Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”

He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”

You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”

“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.

You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.

You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.

“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”

Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”

He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.

Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”

Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”

He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”

Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.

“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”

At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”

Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.

“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”

Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.

“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”

You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.

Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”

“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”

“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”

He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”

“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.

He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.

Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.

“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?

“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”

He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”

He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”

You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.

You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.

What the hell had just happened?

*****

                Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.

Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.

This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.

And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.

The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.

They were the easiest ones, after all.

“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.

Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”

Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.

You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.

“What do you like so much about painting?”

You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”

You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.

You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.

“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”

You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.

And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.

To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.

“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”

You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”

‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.

“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.

His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.

He had been there after all.

“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.

After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.

“Everything okay?”

You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”

It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.

“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”

You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”

“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.

As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”

He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.

Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.

“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.

Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.

You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”

“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”

You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”

At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”

“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.

You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”

“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.

He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”

It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”

He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.

“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”

You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”

He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.

“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”

“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.

Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.

“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”

You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”

He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”

“What?”

He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”

That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”

The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.

“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”

“I will,” he said.

It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.

*****

                “You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.

Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”

“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.

“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”

She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”

“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”

You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.

“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.

“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”

“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”

Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”

She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”

You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”

“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”

You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”

He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.

“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”

“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”

Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.

You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.

She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”

“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”

Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”

You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”

Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”

You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”

“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”

“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”

You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”

“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.

You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.

You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.

“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”

You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”

Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.

“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”

“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”

“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”

The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”

You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”

“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.

“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.

They had allied against you, hadn’t they?

“Right,” you let out.

“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”

You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.

It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.

“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.

Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.

“What did he say?” she asked.

You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”

Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.

“Consider it done!”

*****

                You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.

Gosh.

You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.

Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.

You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.

But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.

Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.

He was an artist, too, after all.

Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”

He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.

Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”

He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.

You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.

Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.

He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.

You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.

“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.

“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.

A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.

“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”

Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

“Were you?”

He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”

He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.

“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”

He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”

You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”

Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.

“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.

You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.

It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?

When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Does this happen often?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.

“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”

That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”

“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”

Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.

“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.

“Evidently not.”

A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.

“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.

He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.

A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.

Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.

“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”

You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.

As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.

Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.

“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.

You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.

“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”

He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.

Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.

Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”

She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.

You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.

She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.

“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.

You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.

“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”

He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”

You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.

“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.

It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.

When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.

The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.

No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.

“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”

You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”

He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.

“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”

The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”

“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”

“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”

He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.

So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”

He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.

“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”

The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.

It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.

Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.

By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.

You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.

Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.

“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.

You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.

He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.

You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.

You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.

He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.

And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.

Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.

As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.

As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.

You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”

That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”

His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”

You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”

It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.

The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.

You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.

The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” he let out.

You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”

He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”

And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.

“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.

Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.

The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.

“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.

“You’ll have to show me the way.”

You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.

You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.

You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.

It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.

“I want you too,” you replied breathily.

You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.

Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.

“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.

You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.

This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.

He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.

He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.

His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.

Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.

He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.

The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.

“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”

You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.

And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.

He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”

For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.

If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.

He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.

“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”

You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.

The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.

“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.

For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby?”

You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.

“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.

He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.

“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.

His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.

“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”

“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”

 Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”

You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”

That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.

                Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.

                You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.

Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.

“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.

He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.

“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.

Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”

His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.

“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”

You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.

“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.

You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.

“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.

As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.

Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.

You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.

“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.

“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”

It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.

“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.

“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.

You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.

You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.

When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.

“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”

He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.

You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.

As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.

Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.

You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.

All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.

“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered.

He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”

“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”

Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.

“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.

He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”

He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.

Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.

“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”

A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.

It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”

He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.

He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.

When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.

As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.

“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.

He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”

He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.

You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.

The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.

When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“Lie down for me,” he gently said.

You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.

When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.

Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.

“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”

You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”

He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.

You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?”

He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”

The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.

Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.

That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.

After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.

Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.

*****

                You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.

Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.

You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.

Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.

But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.

That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.

Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.

So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.

You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.

You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.

It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.

Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?

The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.

Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.

Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.

Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.

You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.

You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.

Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.

The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.

You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.

Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.

It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.

You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.

You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.

“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”

Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.

“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.

“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.

This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.

“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”

He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”

“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”

Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.

It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.

“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.

Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”

The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”

“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.

You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”

He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.

“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”

It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”

As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.

“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”

This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”

“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”

And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?

You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.

And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.

Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.

You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”

“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”

He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”

A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.

“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”

“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”

He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”

His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.

“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”

“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”

You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.

“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.

Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.

Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.

“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.

That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.

“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”

He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.

He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”

His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.

One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.

*****

                Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.

You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.

To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.

“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”

He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?

Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”

A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.

And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.

“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”

Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”

“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”

“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”

It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”

You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.

The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”

That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.

In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.

Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.

You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.

“I’m fucked,” you said.

She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”

“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”

“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”

You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.

No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.

“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”

“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”

See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.

“Shit.”

Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”

She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.

And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.

Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.

And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…

Almost.

*****

                “Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.

It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.

Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.

Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.

The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.

Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.

As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.

Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.

How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.

You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.

It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.

Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.

“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”

The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”

Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.

As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”

They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.

You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.

“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”

That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.

The smaller woman winced. “How high?”

“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.

“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”

You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”

The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.

When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.

You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.

It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.

I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out

For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.

You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”

“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”

There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”

“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”

Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.

And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?

You highly doubted so.

Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.

The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.

You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?

Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.

“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.

But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?

“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?

Could he be the solution?

“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”

He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.

Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?

A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?

“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”

You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.

“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.

“I know.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.

“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”

You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.

From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.

“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”

“How have you been feeling?”

You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.

“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”

He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.

“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.

That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.

“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.

“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”

“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”

You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.

“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.

To touch you, you assumed.

“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”

You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.

Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”

“Still sucks that it did.”

You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?

“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.

You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.

“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.

“To escape?” he prodded.

You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”

“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.

It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.

“So I assume you must understand.”

He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.

“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”  

Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.

“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.

“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?

“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”

“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”

You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”

Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.

“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.

You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.

“How?”

He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”

The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.

“What?”

He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”

Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.

“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”

Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.

“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.

And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.

It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.

The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.

You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.

“Namjoon…”

“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”

“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”

You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.

But you knew you were going to let him go.

“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”

Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.

“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.

He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”

“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”

He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”

“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”

At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”

Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.

A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.

“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”

The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.

But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?

That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.

Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.

*****

Thirteen years ago

                You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.

Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.

To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.

So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.

Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.

Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”

Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”

You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”

He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.

“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”

“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”

“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”

“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”

As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”

“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”

“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”

He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”

It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”

He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”

You scowled. “Why?”

“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”

“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”

Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”

“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.

But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.

“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”

His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”

“No.”

The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”

“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.

“Clearly not.”

“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”

“Joon…”

“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”

“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.

He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”

You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”

It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.

He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks

[7brownsuga7]

Hi! Are you gonna do a Namjoon freaky edition headcanon? 👀

Hello hello! Here it is 👀

Namjoon headcanon (freaky edition)

Will talk you through it for sure. I'm talking about hellllaaaa praises and sweet poetic shit.

Sub/ soft dom. But I feel like he's very baby girl coded Ifmao and loves when you take control - especially when you're riding him. But don't get it twisted because he WILL and CAN dominate, and won't be able to stop himself from taking over.

Tongue game on 10000. Will have you shaking and squirting and is definitely a holder, you ain’t going nowhere.

Praise kink. Will definitely praise everything you do, even if it's the bare minimum

Okay so like he loves praising you, BUT I feel like he also likes to degrade with a few praises here and there. Call him a polite degrader if you will

Every part of your body is getting attention. You’re not leaving his bed untouched. His fingers will be everywhere

Takes his time with you. Definitely loves to focus on you and making sure you're pleased. He knows your body so well, and is gentle with his touch. He will want to extend his knowledge on your body so he can always be the best for you.

Size kink. He’s big so why not flaunt it

He likes to take advantage of his body size, fav position is probably missionary as he likes to cage you and compare his size to yours, or cowgirl so he can watch you struggle to take him

He can't get enough of you. I'm talking obsessed, like everything you do turns him on and gets him hard

Wants to watch you play with yourself. Will get off on watching you, and will admire you and love every second of it

Wants to experiment with you and is up for whatever you’re up for. Is down to try new kinky things (orgasm denial, sensory deprivation, toys, bondage/restraints, etc)

Not a vocal king, BUT is definitely a groan and moaner. Those grunts WILL be heard!

When he’s cummin he will babble about your pussy and how great you are

Wants to hear you beg for it. Will fuck you hard so you cry out for him, just so he can shush you by covering your mouth with his hand or lips

He needs to hear you call out his name.

Wants to fuck you to his well thought out playlist

Great aftercare. Gentle and sweet with you and will stoke your back, telling you soothing praises. + cuddles

[joonsmagicshop]

Dom Daddy Joon

Summary: When Namjoon catches you doing something you aren't supposed to be doing he decides to punish you, and lets his maknae join in on the fun

Paring: Namjoon/Reader Jungkook/Reader

Word Count: 7.9K

Rating: 18+

Tags: Dom Joon, daddy kink, masturbation, vibrating panties, overstimulation, dirty talk, fucking, unprotected sex (this is fiction wrap it before you tap it) Joon being in leader mode and Y/N loving it, 3some kind of?

Authors Note: Leader Mode Namjoon wrecks me so here you go

Your phone vibrated in your purse the second you walked through the door.

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

It was Friday

and you had more than enough of this week.

The day had been dragging on, you swore at one point the clocks in your office had stopped working entirely. It didn't help that the last few days had been overcast, dark shadows and buckets of rain had poured down leaving you in a tired and irritated mood.

You fished for your phone as you kicked off your heels and placed them by the front door.

When you saw the text your whole demeanor changed, a single ray of hope on these cloudy days

Namjoonie: Office dinner tonight. We are allowed to bring a plus one. Get beautiful for me love. The car comes at seven

Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you couldn't help but smirk at the phone as you shucked off your coat and hung it up, making your way slowly to the bedroom to pick out an outfit for tonight.

A thrill of excitement shot through you as you grabbed a navy blue dress off its hanger and laid it on the bed.

Most people would find company dinners with people you hardly knew boring, but not you. You still remember the first dinner you attended.

You thought it would be boring, and you braced yourself for it, but you were not about to turn down free booze and free food so you went, knowing you could wrangle some of Namjoon's bandmates into having drinks with you.

You were very used to soft, small, sweet Namjoon. With his big smile and cute dimples poking out. His love of big soft hoodies, cuddles and kisses.

However, it all changed when you both entered the venue. He stood tall and proud above the crowd of people. His hand rested on your back as he guided you around. He looked concentrated and calculated and so damn dominant and powerful that your knees almost buckled.

He spoke eloquently to everyone he met, even people you knew he couldn't stand, his hand never leaving your back as he kept his bandmates close and looked out for every one of them.

It was like he had a sixth sense, he could tell when a question made Jungkook uncomfortable or when Taehyung should switch from booze to water, or when Hobi was part of a conversation he did not want to be a part of.

Namjoon was in leader mode and you had to say it turned you on a lot more than you had planned. There was something about him that was so powerful and strong and authoritative that it made you throb.

You let it slip you found it so hot when he was in leader mode. You could see the small proud smile on Namjoon's lips when he fucked you hard into the mattress later.

You quickly got undressed and stepped into the shower, cleaning your hair and washing your body as your conditioner sat in.

You used all the products you knew Namjoon would love and as you washed your body you let your mind drift to him

Your core was throbbing and you bit your lip.

It had been a while since you and Namjoon had been intimate. With both of you having busy schedules there wasn't much time for anything other than a quick fingering, or blow job.

You knew if you were this riled up from just thinking about him you wouldn't survive tonight. You wouldn't last two seconds with Namjoon in leader mode and you squeezed your legs together as the hot water fell on your body.

You looked around, knowing no one was home and Namjoon probably wouldn't be home for hours.

Of course he wouldn't want you touching yourself without him present but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Right?

You softly fluttered your eyes closed as you imagined it was him in the shower with you. Big hands tracing down your neck and chest. His hard cock would be pressed against your back because he was always kind enough to let you face the hot water.

Your hands continued to venture downwards as you felt arousal pool in your stomach and between your thighs.

You finally brought your hand down to your slit and gathered the arousal there before circling your clit and letting out an obscene moan.

You knew you wouldn't last long so maybe it was a good thing you were taking care of it now.

You applied just the right amount of pressure and closed your eyes tighter. Imagining it was him, his strong firm hands circling you. He would have one arm around your middle holding you up as he played with your clit, he would alternate between slow and fast circles causing beautiful, sweet moans to fall from your mouth.

He would try to shut you up with a kiss as he would tease your clit harder and faster, pushing his erection into your back as you whine and thrash in his arms, desperate to cum.

In your mind's eye you can see it all, you can imagine so easily that it is his hands playing with you instead of your own.

Your body feels on fire and you feel on the cusp of your orgasm, your legs are starting to shake and the water starting to feel too much against your sensitive skin.

You are so lost in your fantasy you don't realize the bathroom door is opening. Namjoon was home early and he heard noises and decided to investigate.

He never imagined he would walk in on you, on this.

He had to say, he never thought his girl would be so naughty and do this without him.

A part of him loved it though

Because you both knew

Naughty girls get punished.

He could tell you were close. By the way you were gasping and whining and Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning as his hands closed around the curtain and he pulled it.

You screamed

“Namjoon! I-Your home early!” You nearly shout as you stand there in your shame. You knew he caught you. You knew that you had been loud.

“What a pity. My girl couldn't control herself huh?” He asked folding his arms over his buff chest and staring you down.

You felt flushed under his unwavering gaze. The water still falling on your naked body and your orgasm slipping away.

“I-” You started but you quickly shut your mouth.

“Nothing to say huh?” He teases as you slowly turn off the water and he hands you the towel.

You keep your head down in shame as you dry yourself off, feeling your orgasm fade into nothing but frustration as you clench your legs together and stare at his feet.

“You were close weren't you?” He asks.

You don't bother to use your words instead you nod as he bites his lip.

“Naughty girl didn't bother waiting for Daddy to get home to fuck you right. Had to use your fingers to get the job done and couldn't even do that.” He says shaking his head.

You are left speechless at his words as he lets out a low dark chuckle, his hands coming up to card through his hair.

“I set up a surprise for you on the bed. Put it on. Everything on. I will meet you downstairs after I shower.” He says giving you a curt nod as a dismissal.

You take the hint and wrap the towel around your body as you exit the steamy bathroom. Your hands are shaking and your heart is racing as you approach the bed and you gasp at his surprise.

Gone is the navy dress.

Instead, it is replaced with a low-cut red dress. The straps are thin and delicate and the material feels soft under your fingertips.

You have never seen this dress before in your life and you bite your lip in embarrassment,

Namjoon bought this for you.

You see he has also laid out your jewelry for the night. Delicate gold earrings and a gold cuff that you knew came from your jewelry collection

The last item on the bed makes you gasp.

It is a pair of black panties.

Very special black panties

That vibrates against your clit and you have only worn once.

You spent the day wearing them to test them out with Namjoon. You lasted only four hours before you both had enough and Namjoon dragged you home and fucked you roughly against the front door.

You bit your lip at the memory.

You were really in for it now.

You quickly put everything on and quickly styled your hair in a way he would love. You left the remote on the bed where he could see it as you exited the bedroom and waited downstairs as he requested.

……………………….

The car ride to the restaurant was quiet.

Almost too quiet

Namjoon was wearing black slacks and a black button-up shirt. He had left the top three buttons undone and you had a sneaking suspicion that he did that for you.

He knew how much you loved his chest

A single silver chain hung from his neck and you tried not to stare but you couldn't help it.

He spent the car ride looking out the window not even acknowledging you as he took in the rainy city around him.

You reached over to him, slowly linking your fingers and you could see a faint smile on his face as you let out a sigh.

Soon enough the car was parked and you were ushered in quickly under a black umbrella.

The restaurant was warm and cozy but high-end as you saw tables upon tables with gold tablecloths and a huge chandelier hung overhead.

Namjoon slipped into his roll effortlessly, putting his hand on the small of your back as he brought you around, greeting people with smiles and nods, not bothering to linger with anyone too long as he made his rounds.

You eventually found your way to a table where Jungkook and Jimin were seated, they both looked handsome as they had their heads bent low and were speaking to each other.

Just as you were about to approach the table your knees nearly gave way as the panties started to vibrate against your core sending tingles up and down your legs and spine.

You clung to Namjoon as you stared up at him in shock, he showed no sign of anything being wrong, in fact, he was smiling at the two boys in front of him as he hauled you to the table.

You clenched your teeth together and tried to smile as everyone said their greetings. Namjoon's hand was still on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing comforting circles as he let you ride out this wave of vibrations.

They were small but powerful and the way the panties were positioned meant it was hitting that perfect spot right against your clit.

You wanted to flutter your eyes closed.

You wanted to moan.

But instead, you steeled yourself and tried your best to focus on the conversation in front of you as you felt your legs wobble.

Just as the boys looked up to greet you the vibrations stopped.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

This already felt like it was going to be a long night.

Soon enough it was announced that dinner would be served. You and Namjoon found your seats which ended up being near Jungkook and Jin and when you sat down to eat the vibrations started again.

You gasped and nearly dropped your water cup as the vibration pattern changed, this time it was short quick vibrations that had you reaching to Namjoon's thigh to squeeze the muscle, in a silent plea for him to stop.

You already felt so overstimulated by your interrupted orgasm earlier and the way this night was going you were sure you would cum without warning and embarrass yourself, and him.

You dug your nails into his slacks and felt your face heat up. The coil of pressure was beginning to tighten and you squeezed your legs together hoping to relieve some of the built-up tension.

You saw a hand wave in front of your face and looked to see Jungkook staring at you with a worried look.

Poor Jungkook with his big round eyes had no idea what was going on and why you were so out of it.

You cleared your throat to stop a moan from slipping from your mouth as Namjoon had not turned the damn thing off yet.

“Sorry Jungkook what were you saying?” You asked trying to keep your voice from shaking as the vibration pattern switched again to slow long vibrations which had you gritting your teeth.

“I asked how you have been. Joon said you have been so busy with work. Something about a big deadline coming up?” He asked innocently giving you a soft sweet smile which you would be happy to return if you weren't clenching your teeth and thighs together.

Right as you were about to respond the vibrations stopped and you let out a sigh of relief, your hand releasing Namjoon's thigh as you turned fully to talk to Jungkook.

He was sweet and patient with you, asking you tons of questions about work and your life as the food slowly started to come out on large silver plates.

It was all delicious and Namjoon let you eat in peace for the meal. His hands sometimes would wander to squeeze your knee, or dip higher which would cause your breath to hitch but overall you made it through without incident.

Once the plates were clear the bar was once again open and you found yourself standing at it with Taehyung, Namjoon, Jungkook and Yoongi.

The boys were chatting and you were scanning the crowd not paying attention to anyone in particular when you felt the vibrations again.

You gasped in surprise which caused Jungkook to look at you in concern.

“Y/N are you sure you're okay?” He asked as he stared you down with narrow eyes.

“Yes, I'm just…thirsty. Joon can you get me a drink.” You asked looking up sweetly at your boyfriend who was grinning down at you.

He could see you squirm and gasp every time he turned the thing on.

And he loved it.

“Of course pretty girl.” He said kissing your cheek and waving the bartender over.

He got you a glass of water which was slightly disappointing because you wanted some booze to get through this but you accepted it graciously. Sipping the drink you nearly had a coughing fit when the vibration pattern changed and you saw Namjoon smirk out of the corner of your eye.

It was getting hard to stand on your own two feet so you leaned against your boyfriend's strong body and let your eyes flutter closed. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and returned to his conversation with Yoongi.

It was getting to be too much, the vibrations were too high and you felt your thighs wet with your slick. Your hands were shaking while holding the glass and you couldn't focus on the conversation around you.

Sweat was starting to form around your brow as you bit your lip to keep a moan from falling out. Your hand reached to grab his bicep and squeeze as you opened your eyes to give him a pleading look but you saw he was talking to some other people who joined the circle.

People who were dressed in impeccable suits

and looked important

and here you were trying not to cum standing up.

You dug your nails into the soft material of his shirt as you felt the vibrations get stronger.

You weren't going to make it

You were going to cum right here… right now

Your eyes were starting to roll in the back of your head, you were drenched in sweat and trying desperately to cover it up and play it cool.

Namjoon was so absorbed in conversation that he didn't notice the pleading looks you were giving him.

He probably forgot the damn thing was even still on.

You clenched your teeth as the coil of pressure got tighter and tighter.

It was too much

way too much

If you could say your safe word you would

You squeezed his arm roughly and he finally looked down at you and his eyes widened in alarm.

He never switched the panties off

fuck

You looked fucked out, you were sweating and slightly shaking and he fumbled in his pocket for the remote switching it off.

You shot him a shaky smile as you excused yourself to the bathroom, nearly fumbling over your own two feet as you tried to get away from him to compose yourself.

You pushed the bathroom door open and took several deep breaths. Your hands shaky against the cool countertop.

You pushed your hair back and stared at your reflection in the mirror.

You looked positively fucked out.

Another vibration sent you flinching but you realized it was from your phone and not the panties.

You fished it out and read the message.

Namjoonie: Color?

You: Now, green, before yellow..almost red

Namjoonie: I'm sorry baby I got distracted and didn't mean for it to be on that long

You: I could tell.

Namjoonie: Don't be a brat. You better not be touching yourself in there. You're already in enough trouble my greedy needy girl.

You: No Daddy. I'm not.

Namjoonie: I am sorry but you are still on punishment for being a slut who can't control herself. A couple more hours then we can go home okay?

You: Of course Joon.

Namjoonie: Color?

You: Green.

Namjoonie: We moved from the bar to a table near the front. Meet me whenever you are ready

You made your way over to him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek as you snuggled into his side. You once again weren't really paying attention to what they were chatting about as it was all business but a remark from a man in a gray suit caught your attention.

“I mean come on guys? How long can a boy band from Korea last? You guys are getting older, fans and fandom can be a fickle thing. I'm just saying maybe invest in us and we can make sure you have stable jobs when this is all over.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked up at your boyfriend who towered over this man. His hand clenched on your back and you felt the electricity in the room. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was in a hard line. He shared a look with Yoongi, the same look you saw all those dinners ago. The cock of the eyebrow and Yoongi was calmly and politely putting this man in his place.

Namjoon stood tall taking small sips from his drink as he watched his hyung take care of it. He stared at the other man over the rim of his glass who had nodded in agreement the whole time his business partner was speaking.

Almost daring him to say anything about them or their fans.

Yoongi handled it perfectly and very polity told the man to mind his own business and fuck off. The man tried to back peddle and explain himself but the tick in Namjoon's jaw spoke for all of them as his excuses died on his tongue.

“Now if you'll excuse us we're going to go talk to someone else.” Yoongi finished as he walked away with Hobi and Taehyung next to him.

Namjoon shot the man a look that had him shrinking on the spot as he laced his fingers through yours and dragged you through the crowd.

The dominance that was radiating off of him was intoxicating and you thought he was going to lead you to the others but instead, he forcefully led you to the coat room hastily opened the door and shoved you both inside.

You gasped as he flicked on the light and threw you against one of the walls kissing you harshly. It was all teeth and tongue and his tall strong body pressed up against your smaller frame.

You whined against his lips as he slotted a leg between your thighs and you desperately grinded against it hoping this was your chance to finally cum after hours of teasing.

His hands tangled in your hair as he pushed his body into yours harder, he kissed you harshly as you moaned against his lips he swallowed the noises down. Your hand reached down to cup his aching erection and he hissed against your mouth.

“Fuck me Joon please fuck me. I'm so sorry I touched myself without you. Please Joon. Fuck. Please.” You were almost chanting as his thigh pressed against your wet core even harder as you ground against him.

“God baby your so desperate for me huh?” He mutters as his lips leave yours to trail kisses down your neck and jawline.

You nod frantically as your hands hold onto his strong shoulders for dear life as you whine and continue to grind against him.

He slows his kisses and you cry out in frustration as he looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You know, Jungkook was really worried about you tonight?” Namjoon said as he adjusted his clothes.

“When you raced off to the bathroom he pulled me aside and asked me if you were okay. He thought you were acting…strange tonight.” Namjoon teased as you blushed.

“Well, he kind of scolded me because according to him you were unwell and I wasn't paying attention. So I told him the real reason why you were acting so…unwell.”

You gasped

Jungkook knew?

“What did he say?” You asked slowly, fingers coming up to adjust one of the straps of your dress which had fallen.

“Well, he admitted he thought it was hot. And he wanted in on it,” he said with a bite of his lip and a cock of his eyebrow.

“Wait what does that mean?” You ask feeling arousal shoot through your body.

“Meaning I passed him the remote. He will have it for the rest of the night. And if you can be a good girl and behave yourself and not cum all over the floor, well I offered him to join us.” Namjoon said with a satisfied grin.

You were speechless. Absolutely speechless as Namjoon stared at you, suddenly the space feels too small and too hot as you take in his words.

Jungkook to join you?

You had to admit the dirty fantasies that had popped into your head were enough to make you shiver.

“Thought you'd like that. My girl can't get enough cock so I figured I'd let you have two,” he says as he brushes past you and opens the door to the coatroom letting you exit first in a complete daze.

.........................

The rest of the night passed quickly. Namjoon didn't want to stay long after the coatroom incident and you had a feeling it was because he liked the idea of Jungkook joining as much as you did.

You had to admit Jungkook was not as torturous with the remote as your boyfriend was.

He would surprise you with quick bursts before turning the thing off which had you glaring at him. He kept pleasure just out of reach which made you even more frustrated.

By the time you were ready to leave you felt like even one single touch could have you cuming. You hastily put your coat on and you heard Jungkook snicker beside you. You shot him a dirty look but immediately regretted it as he flicked the panties on again causing you to wobble and grab a chair for support.

“Ready to go love?” Namjoon asks as he eyes Jungkook who is grinning like a menace and smirks as he waves goodbye to some people and drags you out to the car.

The air is damp after the rain and the three of you pile into the backseat.

You are stuck in the middle of these two ridiculously hot men in the backseat of the car. Their legs are spread which means both of their knees are touching yours and caging you in. Worst of all Jungkook hasn't turned the panties off yet.

Namjoon loops an arm around your back and plays with the small hairs at the nape of your neck as you shoot Jungkook death glares.

The pleasure is starting to build in your stomach and you let out a small whine as you bury your face in Namjoon's shoulder.

Jungkook finally pulls his eyes away from the window to stare at you, how desperate you look. How you are rutting your hips up and trying to stifle your moans. Honestly, it felt like a dream when Namjoon invited him to join him tonight and he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.

You were starting to lose control once again and you pulled your face away from Namjoon's shoulder to stare at Jungkook who looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and plead with him to stop, or to touch you, the car stopped outside the house and Namjoon shot you both a look as Jungkook reached into his pocket and handed the remote back to Namjoon

Leaving the damn thing still on and vibrating.

“Okay I can't. If you don't turn it off you'll have to carry me to the door. I'm serious.” You plead out as both men grin and Namjoon shuts it off.

You sigh once again as you make your way out of the car and into the house. Kicking off your uncomfortable heels and sitting on the couch hanging your head in exhaustion.

“How are you feeling baby?” Namjoon asks coming over to the couch to sit next to you, his arms wrapping around you and comforting you.

“So overstimulated I …just. Please. I just need a minute.” You explain breathless as you bury your face in his chest and feel the couch dip next to you as Jungkook also takes a seat.

“Such a good girl for me. Baby, you did such a good job tonight.” He praises you as his hand sweeps your hair from your neck and he starts to give your skin slow soft kisses.

You want to cry out as just that motion has your legs clenching together, which he takes note of.

“So sensitive baby.” He teases as you bring a hand up to fist into his shirt.

“All your fault.” You mumble as a hand that does not belong to your boyfriend is suddenly resting on your bare thigh.

“I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you correctly Princess. Who's fault is it?” Namjoon challenges as you pull your face from his chest and stare down at the tattooed hand that is slowly crawling its way up your thigh.

“Mine.” You whisper as you can't tear your eyes away from Jungkook's hand.

“And why is it your fault? Want to explain to our guest why I made you wear those panties tonight.”

You swallow hard.

“Cause I was bad and touched myself in the shower without your permission.” You mumble.

“Shit Hyung torturing her like that because she touched herself. Your…well…wow” Jungkook replies clearly impressed as his hand climbs higher and is now resting just below the hem of your dress.

Namjoon chuckles darkly beside you.

“Kook. My princess was bad and needs to be punished. I'm thinking I'll let her suck you off and let you fuck her. You are allowed to cum. She is not.”

You gasp and feel wetness coat your thighs.

“She will only cum on my cock. Understand.” Namjoon says as he stands up and heads to the mini-bar, pouring himself a drink and grabbing a chair from the kitchen, setting it a couple of feet away and sitting on it.

Even though he is letting Jungkook have his fun with you his dominant energy is radiating through the room causing you to shiver under his heated gaze.

“Go ahead, princess. He's all yours. Show him you can be a good girl.” Namjoon directs as you turn to look and Jungkook and see his eyes are blown wide and his tongue is darting out to lick at his lips.

Jungkook leans in close and kisses you. His lips are soft and warm against yours and you melt into his touch. His hands wrap around you as he deepens the kiss and you whine against his mouth.

Jungkook laces his hands through your hair as his tongue darts out to lick at the seam of your lips. You moan against him as you boldly climb on his lap. You hear him groan in satisfaction as you spread your legs and sit on his clothed cock.

Which is hard and thick against your core.

You want to hurry this along so you pull away from his lips and begin to pepper kisses down his neck and collarbones. He throws his head back and bucks his hips against your core.

You can feel him so hard under you and it just eggs you on to do more so you begin to suck on his neck which had his hands flying to your backside to massage the flesh.

You scoot back and pull his shirt over his head and are met with miles of toned skin and a whole tattoo sleeve which you could stare at for a lifetime.

His hair is sticking up in all directions and his cheeks are flushed as you slowly grind your core against his cock and pepper more kisses down his neck and chest.

His chest is heaving as your lips connect with the toned skin and you suddenly let out a gasp as panties vibrate again.

This time Jungkook can feel them vibrating against his clothed cock and pretty moans spill from both your mouths as you whip your head around to stare at Namjoon.

Who is sitting on the chair with his legs spread wide, the material of his dress pants taut under his thigh muscles as he grins at you.

“Keep going love you looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He says darkly raising his glass in a toast to you as he brings it to his lips and drinks the dark liquid.

You shiver under his gaze as you turn to Jungkook who is jutting his hips up to meet yours in absolute desperation.

You scoot back and run your hands over his clothed cock. His eyes flutter closed at your touches and when you reach for his belt he gasps.

You quickly undo his pants and slide to the floor as he stands up to rid himself of them and let his cock spring free.

It is long and veiny and it makes your mouth water as you take him in your hand. The skin is soft but hot under your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down.

Just as you are about to take him in your mouth the vibrations in your panties stop and you give kitten licks to the head of his cock.

Jungkook is groaning above you as his hands collect your hair to pull it back as you take the head of his cock into your mouth.

It fills your mouth perfectly as you get used to his salty taste. You slowly begin to bob your head focusing on flicking your tongue and gathering as much spit as you can.

Jungkook is a mess of moans above you and you whine against him as you take him deeper and deeper.

Your hand is working in tandem with your mouth and Jungkook is softly jutting his hips to get you to take him deeper. His hands are a tangled mess in your hair and when he pulls slightly a filthy moan falls from your lips which sends vibrations up his shaft.

You bring one hand up to fondle his balls and he pushes you away sharply.

You pull off with a gasp as you look up at him, his chest is flushed pink and his eyes are dark and blown wide. He stares down at you in awe and you grin up at him.

“Fuck Joon she's so good at that.” He says, eyes flicking to your boyfriend who is still sitting on the chair watching.

You turn around to see Namjoon palming his cock with his large fingers through his slacks and your stomach flips in anticipation.

“Please let me fuck her Joon. Please.” Jungkook begs and Namjoon offers him a curt nod as you stand up and wait for instruction.

Jungkook grabs a condom from Namjoon and rolls it on his throbbing length.

“Where do you want me Kook?” You ask as you slowly bring the straps of your dress down and let it pool by your ankles.

Both men are staring at you unmoving as you step out of the cloth and pick it up to drape it over the back of the couch.

You bring a hand down to your panties and stare at Namjoon waiting for instruction.

Namjoon offers you the same nod he did to Jungkook and you slowly pull the fabric down your legs and kick it over to Namjoon where it falls at his feet.

He shakes his head and smirks at you as you make your way over to Jungkook who seems to be frozen in place. His eyes darting from your breasts to your thighs to your pussy.

He doesn't seem to know where to look.

You run a hand down his bare chest and look up at him.

“Where do you want me Kook?” You repeat as he lets out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his messed-up hair.

“Fuck Namjoon you get her all time. You are so lucky.” He says as he grabs your waist and directs you over to the couch.

He has you lie down as he kneels between your legs. Instinctively you raise your legs so they are on his shoulders and his eyes widen as he stares at Namjoon in shock.

“She's very well trained,” Namjoon replies as you blush deeply.

“Should I? Do you want prep?” Jungkook asks as he stares down at you. His hands coming to rub down your tits and stomach

“She couldn't keep her hands to herself. We teased her all night. She's probably soaked. No prep.” Namjoon answers for you as you bite your lip.

Jungkook teases your hole with the tip of his cock and you whine out at the contact. Your whole body feels high strung and you worry that the second he enters you you'll come all over his cock.

Jungkook slowly eases himself in and you whine and arch your body up to meet his as his length stretches you out.

Once you are impaled on his cock you try to breathe and relax. Jungkook was not as big as Namjoon but without prep, it was still a stretch and you could feel yourself clench around him as he kneeled above you.

The burn is starting to subside as Jungkook begins to move slowly inside you, shallow thrusts to get you used to his length.

Your body is shaking under him as he looks down at you, chains dangling in your face as he begins to pick up the pace and fuck you harder.

“She likes it rough Kook don't worry about being gentle,” Namjoon instructs as you catch a quick smirk form on Jungkook's face before he straightens up and pounds into you.

The breath is taken from your lungs as he starts to thrust into you with more force. His hands are in a vice-like grip on your ankles keeping them in place on his shoulders as he pounds into you.

You are moaning and thrashing under him as you feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

He is groaning above you and you are keeping your eyes closed trying to subside the pleasure that is building inside of you.

“Look at him princess. No cheating.” Namjoon calls out to you as you open your eyes and are met with an absolute vision on top of you.

Jungkook's hair is plastered to his forehead and sweat is dripping down his brow as he rails you with reckless abandon. His lip is trapped between his teeth and his muscles are clenching as he chases his high.

You grab his shoulders and force his body closer to yours which causes him to hit deeper inside of you and a broken moan to fall from your mouth.

The coil of pleasure is getting tighter inside of you and you are almost sobbing from overstimulation as Jungkook is starting to pound harder.

The sound of slapping skin is getting louder as you claw at his back to keep yourself grounded. Your eyes are fluttering as you are having a hard time keeping them open with how well he is making you feel.

You are desperate to keep your high at bay as his thrust becomes sloppy and you know he is close.

You clench around him, wanting to tip him over the edge as quickly as possible as Jungkook is panting above you.

“God this pussy, so tight, so good. F-fuck F-f-fuck.” He groans out as he chases his high and his eyes widen as he locks them with Namjoon.

“Yes, you can cum inside Kook. She loves it.” Namjoon says calmly as his words alone cause you to clench again and he thrusts a couple more times before his cock is unloading in the condom.

You bury your face in his bare chest as you let him chase his high. You clench everything together to keep a tight seal for him but also so you don't lose it yourself.

When Jungkook finally comes down from his high he slowly releases your legs and you sigh as you feel the blood flow start to return to them.

He pulls out slowly and flops on the couch, hair a mess and breathing heavily.

You whine and look over at Namjoon who at one point took his pants off and was stroking his large cock slowly.

“Fuck Joon please.” You beg out not caring how desperate you sound.

“She's such a slut huh Kook. You just fucked her and she wants more. Can't get enough cock.”

Jungkook lets out a mumble of incoherent words as he gets up from the couch to move to the floor.

Namjoon stands up and pulls his pants fully off his legs stepping out of them with ease. Your mouth is watering as he stalks over to you, cock hard and bobbing against his stomach.

You suck in a breath as he sits down next to you and pats his thigh. He wants you to ride him, his favorite position.

“Figured we would give Jungkook a good show. I know he likes my thighs as much as you do.” Namjoon teases which causes Jungkook to make an embarrassed noise on the floor as you straddle him and his hands come to your waist.

“You did so well for me pretty girl. So good for Daddy. Gonna make yourself cum without my permission again?” He asks as he grabs the base of his cock and teases it through your soaked folds.

You shake your head and he laughs.

“Be a good baby and take daddy's cock huh?” he asks and with one swift movement, he grabs your hips and lifts you so you are impaled on his throbbing length.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine at the stretch. Sure you just got fucked by Jungkook but Namjoon's cock had more girth and he stretched you out deliciously.

“Baby girl, how are you still so fucking tight after Jungkook fucked you?” He asks as he stares you down with an intense gaze that has you mesmerized.

“Fuck shit Joon it feels so good.” You whine out as you grip his shoulders hoping your body will relax soon.

“You can take it, baby. You always take it so well. Come on now. Fuck yourself on my cock. Show Jungkook how good of a girl you can be.” He asks as you clench around him involuntarily.

“Ah, so you like that. You like my maknae watching you whore yourself out.”

You throb under his words and slowly you fuck yourself on his cock. Your hands stay on his shoulders as you ride him.

Your body is tight with pleasure and you know you aren't going to last long as Namjoon thrusts up to meet you.

His cock is hot inside you and you love the feeling of his bare cock against your insides.

He can tell you are desperate as his grip tightens on your hips and he takes over, thrusting up inside you hitting your g spot with each slide of his cock inside your wet walls.

You close your eyes tight as you feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed. You are so overstimulated and so tired from the night's activities that you can hardly hold yourself up as Namjoon thrusts into you harder.

You are whining and moaning against the damp skin of his neck, you aren't even sure what you are saying anymore as you chase your high. You can feel your body getting hotter and tighter and you start to involuntary clench around him.

“Hold it, baby girl. Hold it. Let me cum first then you can cum.” Namjoon instructs out as you pull back from him eyes widening in shock.

He dips his head to flick his tongue over your nipple which has you arching your back and whining.

“Close… Close please Namjoon fuck please.” You cry out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jungkook on the floor now in his boxers as he inches closer to you both to get a better look.

Just that fact alone has you clenching around your boyfriend again.

“I said hold it,” Namjoon demands as his hands grip your hips impossibly tight as he fucks into you. Letting deep grunts slip past his lips.

“Joon I can't. Please daddy I can't. I'm gonna cum. You-You gotta cum. Please, Daddy.” You wail as he chases his high and you are a moaning mess above him.

“Close baby girl so close that you can cum Kay.” He says breathlessly as his thrusts get harder and you are sure you can feel him in your stomach at this point.

You look down to see a slight bulge as he fucks into you and you snake a hand between your sweaty body to feel it pulsing inside of you.

Namjoon looks down at your small hand pressing against his cock head which is thrusting in and out of you at an alarming pace and he loses it.

He cums hard and deep inside you, panting your walls with his cum as you groan and whine at the feeling. His cock is still throbbing inside of you and you are so overstimulated that you are begging and crying above him as you try to hold off for as long as you can.

You want to be good for him.

Namjoon stills inside of you and you cry out at the loss of friction as you feel like you are teetering on the edge. You grit your teeth as tears fall from your eyes. Your body is a live wire ready to explode at the slightest touch and you are so overstimulated it is starting to hurt.

“Joon. Please. Fuck. I'll do anything. Please Daddy make me cum. Please let me cum around your cock.” You beg, lacing your hands through his hair and forcing him to look at the desperation on your face.

“Will you be good and not disobey me again?” He asks

“Please Daddy fuck I'll always be good for you please.” You cry out tears slipping down your cheeks.

Namjoon slowly starts to thrust back up into you pushing his cum deeper inside as you bury your head in his neck and chase your high.

His hand comes down between your sweaty bodies and he finds your clit with ease a couple of fast circles have you cumming around him

Your body shudders as you bite the skin on his shoulder as you throb around his length which is still buried inside you.

Your orgasm takes you over as you shut your eyes and let broken whines and moans spill from your mouth as you feel it down to your toes. You bury your face further into Namjoon's shoulder as you chant his name as you ride out your high.

Namjoon slows his thrusts as he lets you ride it out. You are chanting thank yous as you sob above him. The sensation of you finally getting to cum overtaking you.

Once your orgasm dies down you look up at Namjoon who is staring at you with so much affection in his eyes it makes your heart swell.

“You with us baby girl?” He asks as you chuckle and run a hand through your sweaty hair pushing it back from your face.

“Yeah I-Fuck.” You say as you slowly raise yourself to let his cock slip out of you.

You look at Jungkook who is still on the floor looking up at the both of you in amazement and you chuckle.

“Enjoy the show, Kook?” You ask as you untangle yourself from your boyfriend and stare down at the boy on the floor.

“God you both are so hot. Like what the fuck?” He teases as you all laugh.

“Come on I think we need a shower.” Namjoon decides as he raises himself and wraps his arms around you as he slowly lifts you from the couch and carries you in his arms.

That's the thing about Namjoon, he can fuck you rough and make you cum but he can also be the kindest more considerate person.

You feel admiration for him flow through you.

“Well, I guess I should go,” Jungkook says getting up from the floor himself as Namjoon turns to face the younger boy.

“Jungkook it's almost midnight. You're gonna shower and spend the night here. I'm not sending you away.”

Jungkook smiles shyly at you both.

“You sure? I don't want to impose.” He asks softly.

“Impose? Jungkook I invited you to fuck my girl. Were past the stage of imposing now come on.” Namjoon says as Jungkook's smile widens and he follows you and Namjoon to the bathroom.

[bts-0t-7]

BTS | KNJ | FIC RECS

Here is the Namjoon Collection!! Just a few of my favourites. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do!

Dom daddy Joon, @joonsmagicshop (Namjoon/Reader Jungkook/Reader, daddy kink, masturbation)

Caramel, @casuallyimagining (fluff, angst, slice of life)

Oh, Honey!, @yoongiofmine (Fluff, angst, so much smut, strangers to lovers, sugar daddy au.)

What's left of us, @yoongiofmine (fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, exes au.)

Out of the woods, @angelicyoongie (fluff, angst, slight smut, wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader)

There's gonna be no take two, @sopebubbles (Idol!Kim Namjoon x reader, angst)

Reckless, @vyduan (angst, idolverse, friends to lovers, slow burn, canon compliant)

Drunk in love, @joon4eva (one-shot ; friends-to-lovers au)

Gift Wrapping, @btsqualityy (fluff, slice of life)

We have time, @souryoong (boyfriend!namjoon x reader, smut)

Prohibido, @personasintro (brother's best friend au, fluff, angst smut)

Bellisima, @personasintro (parents au, fluff, smut)

[veethefreeelf]

RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (I)

M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending

None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works

new guy - one-shot, 5.5K - by @kithtaehyung - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Solace - one-shot, 13.5K - by @m-yg93 - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

the interpretation of dreams - one-shot, 13.8K - by @ppersonna - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

out of my league mini Series by @ppersonna (go through their masterlist, trust) -> M / A / F / HpE

lost in the funhouse - one-shot, 9.7K - by @dovechim - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE?

The Body Through Time - one-shot, 10.9K - by @yeoldontknow - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

False awakening - one-shot, 6.8K - by @taleasnewastime - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Between the pages - one-shot, 4.5K - by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

you, after all - one-shot, 6.8K - by @effortandmore - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

the sleeping hours - one-shot, 12K - by @effortandmore again because their writing is beautiful -> M / A / F / HpE

tuesday moon - one-shot, 7.7K - by @effortandmore again. Just read all of their Masterlist, please, you won't regret it -> M / F / HpE

worth all your while Series by @effortandmore (just leave here and go to their page) -> M / minor A / F / HpE

promises - one-shot, 18K - by @jeonbunnie - full Masterlist -> M / major A / F / You can choose your ending

lacuna - one-shot, 7K - by @eoieopda - full Masterlist - this one has a prequel and a sequel, do yourself a favor and read all of them -> M / A / F / HpE

The Making of: Love - one-shot, 12.7K - by @inkjam-moon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Not Another Holiday Romance - one-shot, 32.3K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist - this one is one of my absolute favorites, they never disappoint -> M / A / F / HpE

The Rich Man's Crochet Club - one-shot, 32.4K - by the incredible @kpopfanfictrash again -> M / A / F / HpE

My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold Series by @daechwitatamic - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

give and take - one-shot, 10.5K - by @ddaenggtan - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

midnight wishes - one-shot, 10.3K - by @ddaenggtan again because they write Namjoon beautifully -> M / A / F / HpE

Moon Child - one-shot, 16K - by @adonis-koo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Scent of a Woman - one-shot, 10K - by @sahmfanficbts - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

The Take-Home Test - one-shot, 11.3K - by @versigny - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

keep in step - one-shot, 2.6K - by @jjkeverlast - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

On With The Show - one-shot, 33.9K - by @joheunsaram - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

reflection - one-shot, 18.6K - by @jimilter - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

A Fine Line Series by @moni-logues - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

All Night - one-shot, 12K - by @luaspersona - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

real magic - one-shot, 16.7K - @here2bbtstrash - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

deep end - one-shot, 4.2K - by @here2bbtstrash again because their writing is incredible -> M / F / HpE

The Stand-In - one-shot, 13.5K - by @yoonia - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

doom boy - one-shot, 4.2K - by @soft4gguk - full Masterlist -> M / HpE

s u g a r - one-shot, 10.8K - by @joonberriess - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

rivals academia - one-shot, 4.2K - by @aseaofyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / HpE

Love Language - one-shot, 14K - by @rmnamjoons - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Castaways - one-shot, 25.5K - by @rmnamjoons - this one is absolute GOLD -> M / A / F / HpE

all aboard! (the passion express) - one-shot, 10.8K - by @ve1vetyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Inside My Mind - one-shot, 19.2K - by @jimlingss - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

His Majesty - one-shot, 9.6K - by @yoonieper - full Masterlist -> M / A / minor F / HpE

Dragonfire - one-shot, 7.3K - by @hamsterclaw - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

obsessed - one-shot, 13.8K - by @namjuicyy - full Masterlist - really read the trigger warnings for this one please, it's not for everyone (it's brilliant tho) -> M / A / F / HpE

Untitled - one-shot, 16K - by @ahundredtimesover - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Dino-Mite - one-shot, 34.7K - by @chimcess - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea - one-shot, 8.1K - by @roses-ruby - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

English literature - one-shot, 7.6K - by @tayegi - full Masterlist - this one also has a sequel, be sure to check it out as well -> M / F / HpE

glasses-clad boy - one-shot, 10K - by @jeongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Love Borrowed - one-shot, 7K - by @goldenkookietae - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Love is Blind - one-shot, 7.4K - by @helenazbmrskai - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

the snow globe effect - one-shot, 10K - by @gukyi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

there was a bug - one-shot, 7K - by @kimnjss - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

[aaagustd]

cat and mouse | kim namjoon

title: cat and mouse pairing: kim namjoon x thief!(f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp; 18+

summary: every weekend you sneak into one of namjoon's parties and attempt to steal his jewelry. sometimes you get caught; sometimes you get away, but you'll always be back for more. wc: 1.1k warnings: g*ns/w**pons, threats of t*rture/m*rder, reader and namjoon are just something else honestly, reader is captured but all acts are consensual, mentions violence, g*n play (whether it's loaded or not is up to you but in my mind it's def loaded), impact play, f*ngering, c*m eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, cl*t stimulation, pet names (pretty doll, doll, etc), name calling/degradation, restraints/handcuffs, sensory deprivation; unedited lol…let me know if i missed something release date: april 14th, 2024; 12:36am note: hi! don't look at me. someone requested this awhile back lol. i hope you like it anon. it's not much since i've been preparing for room for two but i appreciate you for sending in a request. thank you for celebrating with me.💞

masterlist - inbox - read on ao3 - join my taglist?

“You’re in trouble now, bitch.”

You can hear the sound of his footsteps before he even enters the room. Even the muffled sound of coming music downstairs doesn’t overpower his aura. Soon the pungent odor of whiskey and decaying molars will be covered by the smell of money, rage, and Chanel. 

As you listen to the cackling—nose twisted with disgust—your fingertips explore your cuffs, knowing that nothing man-made is escape proof.

Your lashes push against your blindfold, trying to make out the four silhouettes standing before you. Once you have found your way out of this mess—and you definitely will—your first vendetta is to take them to your dungeon for some much needed dental work. 

Every single one of those rotten pieces of shits will be remove and shoved directly up their—

“Give us some privacy.”

His voice tears you out of your plot for revenge. 

The room instantly becomes silent, no one daring to speak a word out of turn when it comes to the boss. His dominance needs no introduction as he’s one of the wealthiest and most powerful men to call this city home. 

Crossing him is a death sentence. One you’ve managed to escape several times. Tonight will be no different. 

“You just can’t keep your hands off of my shit, can you?” 

After the room is cleared, he acknowledges your presence and moves closer towards your bound figure. Despite standing for almost an hour with your hands over your head, you show no sign of weakness because you’ve been through worse—much worse.

“I’m starting to think you like getting caught.”

A grin spreads across your face, further testing his patience. “Aw, don’t you miss me, Namjoon?”

“Watch your mouth, pretty doll.”

He grabs you by your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly enough to cause a slight discomfort. Still, you laugh in his face unfazed.

“Or what?” you taunt. “Going to rough me up like your brutes did?”

There’s a pause.

“They touched you?”

Namjoon’s body tenses. “I told them not to.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, and I’m sure I wasn’t an easy catch.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “I’m sorry—”

The sound of metal clinking as you attempt to pick the lock of your cuffs pierces Namjoon’s ears like a knife. The sincerity in his tone fades away as it is replaced with anger, knowing he’s fallen for your lies.

“You little bitch. Are you crazy?”

“Just a tad,” you counter.

He pulls his glock from his waistband and places it directly beneath your jawline.

“Drop it,” he demands, referring to the bobby pin tucked between your fingers. 

You allow it to fall to the floor, abandoning this method of escape—but he’s a fool if he thinks you don’t have more up your sleeves.

“Aw, man. You caught me.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t amuse him in the slightest.

“You think I won’t blow your fucking brains out, doll? ‘Cause I will.”

You cackle, throwing your head back and ignoring his threats. Namjoon grabs your hair and reunites the barrel of his gun with your face.

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

You take deep breaths, calming yourself so you can speak. Namjoon keeps a firm grip on you, making sure you can’t squirm away. Little does he know, you wouldn’t dream of moving.

“You aim that any lower and I might make a mess of this expensive ass floor,” you whisper.

You watch the way his head tilts through the fabric as he processes that statement. He ponders over the thought for just a moment, and then lets his curiosity run wild. “Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Indeed.”

The weapon slowly travels down your body, making your adrenaline spike as it descends. You know his eyes follow the trail every inch of the way till he reaches your thighs. There, he pauses—allowing you to spread your legs voluntarily before he moves any further.

Your dress starts to rise slightly as Namjoon searches for your center. Upon contact, your back arches—exposing your eagerness to fulfill your twisted fantasy. 

“No panties?”

“In this dress? Be for real.”

Namjoon chuckles, making small circles as his weapon touches your clit. The feeling elicits small moans from your lips, and he doesn’t seem to want to keep them at bay.

“Maybe you were just…prepared?”

He smacks your clit so abruptly you don’t even have time to brace yourself. You bite your lip to suppress your scream, but your whimpering is still a lot louder than you intended. 

“Or that,” you answer breathlessly.

He spanks your pussy a few more times, leaving you trembling and dripping. Juices run down your thighs and Namjoon collects it on his fingers before having a taste. 

You hear him moaning around his fingers, lapping up every drop of your wetness he was able to gather. He goes for seconds, but this time he puts his finger in your mouth—making you taste yourself while he watches you with his dark eyes.

“Nobody should taste that sweet, doll. I should put a bullet in your head right where you stand.”

“Do it.”

“Hm,” he scoffs. “Don’t test me.”

Once again, the steel is in your face while Namjoon’s other hand slips between your thighs. With no warning, he pushes them into your wet crevice, causing you to shriek in surprise.

“Keep playing with…like I won’t blow all your fucking teeth out.”

Thumb pressed against your clit, index and middle fingers deep inside of you—he pleasures your pussy while he spits venom in your ears.

“But I bet you’d like that, huh?” he quizzes. “Twisted little slut.”

“Mm, fuck!”

“Speechless, aren’t we?”

Your eyes roll back when he speeds up. You’re unable to warn him because the pressure building inside of you abruptly bursts, sending you into an intense orgasm. 

“That’s it,” Namjoon coos.

He shows no mercy as you wither with sensitivity, draining you of every ounce of strength you have left. You’re spent by the time his fingers slide out of you. You stand there slumped over, struggling to catch your breath.

“Look at what a mess I’ve made of you.”

Namjoon snatches your blindfold off, and exposes your eyes to the piercing bright lights. You turn your head until your vision adjusts, but even through everything you just endured—your focus never strayed away from your ultimate goal.

“There are a million other things you could be doing, doll. This is getting old.”

Namjoon begins to walk away, thinking you’re still restrained. You don’t waste time letting him know he’s dropped the ball yet again.

“Like what?” 

You purposefully allow the metal to hit the floor so he can hear it. Namjoon stops in his tracks before looking over his shoulder.

“Come with me. You’ll find out.”

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Between the pages

AN: Shoutout to Indigo for violently thrusting me back into my Namjoon feelings. This has been a long time in the making.

Synopsis: If anyone asks, Professor Kim is definitely not crushing on the pretty librarian he spends all of his free time with on campus.

Heads up: Kim Namjoon x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, so much pining, Non-Idol AU, University professor! Namjoon, Librarian! Reader, Reader wears glasses and Namjoon thinks it's hot, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Reader kisses Namjoon without his explicit consent at first, dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Namjoon's fingers post fingering, praise kink (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex and creampie.

Word count: 4535

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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Namjoon tries to convince himself that the reason a smile immediately graces his face when he enters his department's library is because of his love for knowledge. That's it. That's all.

It definitely has nothing to do with getting the opportunity to see and talk to the very attractive head librarian. Nope. Nothing of the sort.

"What's got you all smiley? Found a new favourite philosophy journal?"

Namjoon studiously ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest. He turns around to face you directly and is once again caught off-guard at how ridiculously attractive you manage to look in a simple pencil skirt and flowy blouse. Your glasses framing your warm eyes, and your glossed lips quirked upwards in amusement.

God, he had it so bad.

"Am I not allowed to simply smile for the sake of smiling?" He asks with a grin of his own, the two of you seamlessly falling into step as you make your way to your office where he was initially headed.

"Answering a question with a question is deflection, Professor Kim," you respond with a good-natured poke to his arm. He jokingly rubs the spot, "Violence and referring to me as Professor Kim? Y/n I thought we were friends. I'm hurt."

He doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes with that unfairly pretty smile on your face as you hold your office door open for him, "I never took you to be one for dramatics, Namjoon."

Namjoon feels little better than a schoolboy with his first crush. Warmth flooding his face at the way you say his name. He just hopes his body wouldn't hate him enough to make his blush obvious or, you'd give him the curtsey of not mentioning it.

"Clearly you don't know me all that well then, Miss y/l/n. Seems like all this hiding out in each others' offices might've been for nothing," he retorts, making himself comfortable on the lounge chair by the window you'd both unofficially agreed upon was his. He tries not to think too deeply about that.

Typically you'd join him by the window, but you opt to prop yourself up on your desk, and Namjoon's tongue turns to sand in his mouth. Your already figure-hugging skirt sits tighter on your hips and thighs somehow, even riding up enough for Namjoon to feel the need to take a generous sip from his trusted water bottle.

"Wow really? My surname? Now you're being petty, Joon," you say before taking your first bite of your lunch.

It had become a habit for the two of you to meet for lunch whenever possible. Usually alternating between offices or whoever was closer to the other's side of the campus on a particular day. Namjoon thinks it's partly during these lunch sessions that the seeds of his feelings for you were planted. Though he hasn't quite decided how to unpack that can of worms yet, he wouldn't trade these moments with you for the world.

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Namjoon can't stand these end of year functions, but he attends because he knows it'd be a terrible look if he didn't. He does have other people in the department he's friendly with, but they definitely don't outweigh how tedious these functions can be.

He's standing somewhat awkwardly in the back of the room nursing a glass of juice (because of fucking course they wouldn't be serving any alcohol) when he first spots you. Namjoon knows you're beautiful. It's a fact that he's violently reminded of every time he sees you. However, he's never seen you like this. He thought your pencil skirts were form-fitting, but the way the red dress you're wearing now cups your ass and hugs your hips has the blood rushing to his dick at record-breaking speed. He's never seen so much of you at once, a hint of cleavage peaking out and the dress coming to a stop mid-thigh. To make it all worse (or better, depending on one's perspective), you're still wearing your glasses.

Namjoon is just happy he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet, honestly.

The bright smile that spreads across your face when you spot him and make your way over to him makes him feel more nervous than he has in ages. Which is saying something considering how tongue-tied he gets around you in general.

"Joon, thank god. I'm so happy you're here. These functions are always so boring," you say as you pull him into a hug. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around you, his body moving before his brain can fully process you pressed against him and your perfume invading his senses. God, you smell delicious.

"I'm glad to see you too. Yeah, I've been entertaining myself with a glass of juice for the past 30ish minutes. Having the time of my life," he responds sarcastically but makes sure he's not loud enough for anyone to hear him other than you. These functions may suck, but Namjoon has no desire to sour his relationships with his colleagues.

The mischievous smile that graces your face makes his palms sweat, "Want to get out of here? I have a bottle of wine I've been saving in my office."

"Wine in your office? That's pretty unprofessional of you, Miss Librarian," he responds with a grin.

"Well, I've been keeping it for a time like this. Unless you're content to sip on juice all night and make small talk about semester plans," you retort, mirth twinkling in your eyes.

"It has been almost 2 hours, so it wouldn't be a bad look if we excused ourselves now..." he reasons, and honestly he could use a drink right now.

"Glad to see you're on board. You're always so serious and responsible, I'm a little surprised you agreed," you say with a small snort, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the door.

You two say goodnight to everyone who crosses your path, and Namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes at the grins and thumbs ups that Hoseok and Seokjin give him.

"I'm not that uptight," he argues a little defensively when you two are finally by yourselves.

"There's nothing wrong with being responsible. It's a big reason why I think you're such a loved and respected professor. I just think you could stand to let go sometimes," you say and, Namjoon's heart is trying its best to beat out of his chest.

You think he's loved and respected? You think he's a good professor?

He knows he doesn't need your validation, but it means the world to him all the same. The genuine sincerity and concern in your voice making it challenging for him to find his words.

"I plan to let go a little tonight. I think you're a bad influence," he jokes, playfully shoving you with his arm.

"I'm a fantastic influence. That's why you spend so much time with me," you retort with another one of those cute, amused snorts. Unlocking the door to the library when you two arrive quicker than Namjoon expected.

"I spend so much time with you because Hoseok's unending optimism and positivity drains my energy," he fires back, closing the door behind him once you enter the library before him.

"Hoseok's a sweetheart. You're just grumpy and overly jaded," you respond, leading the way to your office.

He tries not to feel too jealous hearing you refer to Hoseok as a sweetheart. You're not wrong. It's fair to refer to him as such, but it's still not exactly pleasant to hear.

"Me? Grumpy? Overly jaded? I'm delightful!" He says in mock offence, settling himself in his chair and watching you pull out the bottle of wine and two coffee mugs. Biting back a groan when he takes in how amazingly your dress hugs your ass.

"I never said you weren't delightful. I wouldn't be offering my treasured wine stash to you if I didn't at the bare minimum like you," you argue with a light laugh as you fill up your respective mugs.

"You just used the wine to bribe me to sneak out with you. I'm flattered nonetheless," he says with a laugh of his own, graciously accepting the generously filled mug you offer. He's severely unprepared for you to take a seat on the arm of his chair, your thigh brushing against him as you get comfortable.

Namjoon is starting to think this isn't a smart idea after all.

"Have you spending time with Seokjin? Is that why you've been so theatrical lately?" You ask with a smile before taking a generous sip from your mug, your pleased hum affecting him more than it had any right to.

"I'm just seeing this for what it is," he says, taking a swing from his own mug. Sweet. Seems like you enjoy your rosé. He makes a note of that for any future gifts.

"Sure, Joon," you respond, patting his shoulder. Taking another sip from your glass, licking your lips to chase the remnants of the wine. The wine is only worsening the hazy sensation he feels seeing the action and the slight smudging of your lipstick.

"Your lipstick looks nice," he spits out and immediately cringes at himself. Resisting the urge to rest his face in his hands as warmth floods his face. What the fuck was wrong with him? Surely it wasn't the singular sip of wine he took.

"Oh," you say, sounding surprised, "Thank you. You know I'm not one for make-up, but I thought why not since it's a special occasion. I'm glad you like it. I didn't take you for one to notice," you finish, playfully nudging his arm with your thigh.

Namjoon takes a generous sip of his wine before responding.

"I always notice these kinds of things when it comes to you and, you look pretty," he says before panicking at the implications of his words, "Not that you don't look pretty without the lipstick. You look pretty all the time. It's just-"

"I got it, Joon," you laugh, taking a drink from your own mug, and Namjoon definitely doesn't notice how appealing your neck looks. He needs to get his shit together. He's too old to be this flustered talking to a pretty woman. Well, you're more than just that, but that's besides the point.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty. I didn't know you thought of me that way," you say so quietly that Namjoon has to strain to hear you. You look almost...shy? Completely unlike the sarcastic, confident woman he's become familiar with. It's cute. You're cute.

"I think you're beautiful honestly but, it's not exactly like I can just drop it in casual conversation," he says, surprised by his own confidence but, he's already called you pretty. What more does he have to lose?

"Kim Namjoon, are you flirting with me?" You ask with a smile behind your mug, but he can still see what he thinks is shyness in your expression.

"Is it so bad to flirt with the prettiest librarian on campus?" He asks, taking satisfaction in the stunned look on your face, your lips parting as you sit there just staring at him.

He watches you flounder with your words, a very private part of him enjoying being the one to fluster you for once.

"You think I'm the prettiest librarian on campus?" You ask quietly, as if you can't quite believe what's he saying to you right now. In your defence, he can't quite believe what he's saying to you right now either. He has the feeling that he's reached a crossroads now. Whatever he says to you now might change the nature of your relationship entirely, and Namjoon is tired of being a coward.

"I think you're the prettiest librarian I've ever met," he says with so much seriousness that there's no possible way you could misunderstand his words for lighthearted bantering. His heart bouncing off the walls of his chest as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

"Namjoon," is all you seem to muster at the moment, wide eyes still locked on him.

"You don't have to reciprocate my feelings, y/n. I've liked you for some time now, but I'd never put my feelings before yours and before this friendship. You mean too much for me to do that. I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable -" you promptly shut Namjoon up by cupping his face and pressing a searing kiss to his lips.

Well, it seems like it's his turn to be stunned.

His eyes widen as you seemingly pour everything you have into his kiss, your hold on his face tightening momentarily before you pull away. All Namjoon can do is stare at you. Looking unfairly attractive as you struggle to catch your breath and your glasses look slightly askew.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just kissed you. I just-I couldn't find the words to tell you that I like you too in the moment. I'm sorry," you say in a single breath, and Namjoon has to strain to catch all of your words. However, panic hits him when your words do finally register.

"No, hey, it's okay. I was just surprised, is all. It's not every day the woman of your dreams kisses you. Give a guy a minute to recover," he jokes, reaching for your smaller hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Your hand squeezes his back, and frankly, Namjoon is just impressed that he's managed to remain conscious through this all.

"Woman of your dreams? Namjoon, please," you whine somewhat embarrassed, and that just endears you to him more.

"It's true," he says and means ever word of it.

"If you keep looking at me like that and speaking like that, I might just have to kiss you again," you respond playfully, resting your mug on the small coffee table.

"Is that a promise?" He fires back with a grin of his own, following suit.

"You're so annoying," you retort with an affectionate eye roll before you press your lips against his once more. This time, he's better prepared and more than ready to reciprocate. One of his hands tentatively resting on your thigh as angle yourself better to deepen the kiss. The feeling of your tongue against his own sending sparks down his spine. Arousal pooling in his gut, fed by all the little moans and whimpers you let out.

"Is this okay?" You ask breathlessly when you straddle him, your chair barely big enough to fit the two of you, but Namjoon isn't going to complain any time soon. Your soft thighs press against his and he's almost completely certain that your panty covered pussy is pressing against him.

"Yeah," his brain pulls itself together enough to spit out before weaving his fingers into your hair and, tugging you down for another earth-shattering kiss. Months' worth of desire and frustration pouring out of him. His other hand tentatively holding your hip in place all while he hopes his erection isn't too obvious to you.

He can tell the moment you feel it because you still against him momentarily. "Shit, I'm sorry. We don't have to do anything you don't want. It's just a natural reaction-"

"Joon, breathe. It's okay," you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I want this. I'm just as excited as you are," you breathe, taking his much bigger hand in yours and guiding it up your ridiculously soft thighs. A quiet moan falling from your lips when his fingertips make contact with your wet panties.

Namjoon wonders what heroic acts he committed in his past lives to find himself here.

"You're already so wet," he breathes, fingers lightly running along your slit. Lidded eyes taking in the way your lips part to let out moans and your hips buck into his touch. Your fingernails digging into his shoulder when he's certain he's found your clit and uses that information to his advantage.

"You don't have to ah say that out loud, y'know," you respond, but any sarcasm that would typically be present in your voice is replaced by breathy whimpers. Namjoon thinks he much prefers them. As much as your quick-wit is one of his favourite aspects of your personality, he's finding that he immensely enjoys rendering you speechless.

"Why not, baby? You are so wet for me already, though. I could always stop," he trails off, stopping the movement of his fingers and keeping them pressed against you. A smirk spreading across his face when you whine and squirm in his lap.

"You're being mean," and fuck if the desperate edge to your voice doesn't shoot straight to his dick. Deciding to be merciful this time around, his fingers continue rubbing over your wet slit over your panties. Kissing along your jaw and neck as you whimper and grind against him in search of friction.

"Joon, please. Touch me di-directly," you hiccup, pressing yourself firmly against his fingers. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He had no idea you'd be so needy and desperate. He briefly wonders if you're always like this or if this is all because of him. His self-esteem certainly hopes it's the latter.

"You're so cute when you're needy," he rumbles against your throat, canines brushing the skin there while his fingers push your panties to the side. He thinks he'll remember the strangled gasp that flies from your lips when his fingers make contact with your clit as long as he lives.

He knew you were wet before, but he's severely unprepared for the effect feeling said wetness for himself has on him. His cock already leaking pre-cum where it rests untouched underneath you. Teasing you is a double-edged sword. You're not the only one becoming desperate here.

"Namjoon," you whine, "Please, please let me feel your fingers. It hurts. Please-" your begging is cut off by a sharp moan when he finally concedes and pushes two fingers inside of you. How can he say no when you sound so beautiful for him? He's just a man.

He tugs you into another messy kiss while he fucks you on his fingers to distract himself. He feels like he'll lose his mind soon if he doesn't feel you around his cock soon. Groaning into your mouth at how harshly your velvety walls grip his fingers as he familiarises himself with the spots that make you moan louder and hold onto him tighter.

The whimper you press against his lips when his thumb finds your clit and rubs slow circles against it is immaculate. In the dead of night when he'd fantasised about having you like this, he hadn't considered how sensitive and pliant you are. Reality is significantly better than any of his dreams.

"Joo-Joon, I- ah I'm," you whine out, your glasses slightly skewed and foggy on your face while you ride his fingers and chase your release. Namjoon doesn't think he's seen anything more erotic in his entire life.

"Are you going to cum for me?" The gruff edge to his voice or perhaps the question seems to do it for you because before he knows it you're holding onto to him for dear life and he has to slot his mouth over yours to silence your suddenly sharp cries. His cock pulsing as he feels your walls hold onto his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them anymore and, your wetness drips down his palm.

"That's a good girl. You did so well for me," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder softly as he waits for you to come back to him. He takes notice of the way your walls momentarily clench from what he assumes is the praise. Well. He'd happily give you all the praise you wanted.

"You're ridiculously good with your fingers," you mutter, cupping his face and kissing him as though you have all the time in the world. Something dangerously close to love for you swells in him from the affection you pour into the kiss. You rest your forehead against his when you pull away, a small smile playing on your bruised lips.

"Thank you," is all his brain can come with right now with his fingers still nestled inside of you and being harder than he ever has been in his entire life.

"Would it be okay if I sucked you off?"

You're trying to kill him. This is what this is. An elaborate plot to end his life in an instant.

His cock very much likes the sound of that, however.

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to,"

He closes his eyes and tries to gain his bearings for a few seconds.

"Maybe next time. I don't want to cum in your mouth right now,"

The pout on your lips is surprising and unfairly attractive, "Why not?"

You really were going to make him spell it out for you, aren't you?

"I'd rather cum while I'm inside of you,"

His jaw clenches when he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers once more, a barely there whimper falling from your lips, "Kim Namjoon, you're going to be the death of me."

Funny you should say that because the feeling is mutual.

He does laugh at that. Pressing a kiss against your cheek, "And you think I'm dramatic. We can just stop here if you don't want to. Plus, I don't have any condoms on hand. I wasn't exactly...anticipating all of this."

"What in the world would make you think I'd want to stop now?" You ask, sounding genuinely baffled, "And on the topic of birth control, I'm on the pill."

His eyes close then, and he can't bite back a groan. You would really let him fuck you raw? He's not sure if you're insane for suggesting it or if he's insane for seriously considering it.

"If you're not comfortable with that we can just stop here. I'm not in a rush," you reassure him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple and it's then that Namjoon thinks he may lose his mind if he doesn't have you right now.

Without a word, he pulls you into another earth titling kiss, grinning against your mouth when you grip his fingers like a vice when he tugs on your hair and nips your lip. "You really don't know what you do to me," he breathes, easing his fingers out of you and chuckling darkly at the way you whimper from the loss. He might be pushing his luck here, but "Open."

He watches through lidded eyes as you eagerly suck on his fingers coated in your wetness. Your lashes fluttering behind your glasses and, your soaked slit grinding down on him in search of some sort of friction. "Such a good girl," he praises, kissing you while his hands fumble with his belt and the buttons of his pants. Relief coursing through him when manages to finally free himself. His cock slapping against his shirt covered stomach unceremoniously.

Your reaction to seeing him does fantastic things for his ego.

"You're...bigger than I anticipated," you breathe out, your eyes laser focused on his dick while your hands absentmindedly tug on his hair. "You thought about my dick? I'm flattered," he says with a smirk likely a touch too smug but, he can't help it. It's not every day the woman of your dreams casually mentions that she's fantasised about you and you have her spread out across your lap.

"I've thought about more than your dick but, it's featured in a fantasy or two," you laugh breathlessly, squirming in his lap.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer then,"

When you slowly start to sink down on him, Namjoon knows he's a goner. His hands grip your soft hips for dear life as your warm, wet walls gradually accommodate him inch by inch. He's not sure where he wants to look more. Your pretty pussy stretching around him or the blissed out look on your beautiful face right now.

His hand impatiently tugs your dress down and he takes a hard nipple in his mouth both to distract you from the discomfort and, for the simple want to. His head spins when your pussy clenches around him at the contact. Needy hands tugging on his hair while you moan from the sensations.

"Nam-Namjoon," you moan out so brokenly and, he's pretty sure he's never heard a more beautiful sound. He might be inlove with you actually but, he shoves that thought aside as soon as it arises.

He grits his teeth when you slowly rise up and sink back down on him again, your nails biting into him as you try your best to establish a steady rhythm. "You're so beautiful," he groans as he watches you bounce on his cock. He  didn't intend for that thought to slip out but, he doesn't regret in the slightest when he watches your eyelids flutter and your pussy tightens around him.

You can't even coherently respond to him. Too lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of his cock to string together a sentence at the moment. Not that Namjoon can really blame you. Your walls are like a vice around him, and he feels his release approaching dangerously quickly. There's no way he's going to cum without atleast getting you to cum for him one more time.

One of his hands tugs on your hair to pull you down for another heated kiss. All teeth and tongue and spit. While the other reaches between your thighs, the corners of his mouth ticking up when you gasp against him as his fingers draw quick circles on your clit. Thankfully, he's a fast learner.

He nearly bites down on your lip when you cum. Velvety walls clenching and spasming around him while you cling onto him for purchase. I mean, is it really a shock that it doesn't take much more than that for him to follow suit?

Groans and stuttered curses leaving his lips when pulses inside of you. The symphony of your sounds of pleasure and heavy breathing all that can be heard as he fills you. Holding you to him while he rides out his intense release. He doesn't think he's ever cum this hard in his entire life. Guess that's what happens when you cum inside the love of your life.

Pushing that insane thought aside once more, he loosens his hold on you when he regains feeling in his body. The sticky combination of your releases dribbling out of you and down his groin but, he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Usually, people go on dates first, no?" You ask still sounding breathlessly but, he can hear the smile in your tone.

"Mmm yeah, usually they do but, I don't think there's anything wrong with doing things a little out of order,"

"You're not wrong. I hope you know this is my roundabout way of asking you out,"

The laugh that forces itself out of him is hearty and more carefree than he's felt in a concerningly long time.

"I'd love to go out with you, y/n."

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 11 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, major toxic behavior, mentions of abuse

taglist: @wecanpretendit | @whoisbts | @yoonjinsrkive | @my-current-mood-is | @joonzseoulmate | @parkinglot-nights | @missbangtangirl | @m00njinnie | @mantaecrolss | @busanbby-jjk | @bangtanxmegan | @nochelunaxx | @certified-lana-del-rey-lover

A/N: Disclaimer babes i'm not majored in law but i have searched to have a background on the actual thing to try include actual right details and pls let me know if i missed something, ps this may include typos because of my keyboard it's going insane and driving me nuts :)

Previous | Next

“Ew, so you practically baby sit his son the entire flight?” Even when it’s just a video call, you could clearly see the cringe on Taehyung’s voice. You had just arrived to your place a couple hours ago, Namjoon drove you to your place and went home so he could finally be prepared for the hearing that’s actually going to be tomorrow.

You were on your nerves the entire time, your appetite is long gone for almost the past week, your nausea is creeping back on you and you find your hands to be shaking occasionally even when there was little to no effort done that day.

Namjoon was nervous too but he was masking it pretty well to try and make it easier for you even when it should be the opposite. You were genuinely worried about the outcome, what if they go through trial? What if the entire divorce is cancelled? It can’t happen, you find yourself near panicking when this thought crawls into your head so you shake it off immediately before you dive into over thinking, and you don’t really need that right now.

“Yeah, I did.” You roll your eyes. “But it wasn’t that bad.”

“He’s still a kid.” He shrugs, “And how was he? Was he nice?”

“He was okay.” You were folding your laundry, “Are you coming over tomorrow?”

Your friends were kind enough to gather at your place during the hearing tomorrow just to keep your mind off of it, and since all of you enjoy Jungkook’s noodles, he offered that he would make a big pot for you all to have for lunch tomorrow.

And it was sweet of Hoseok that he actually called you earlier and told you that he can’t be there for tomorrow’s lunch, and he was “Work” to do, and he’ll be back right after. He just did it to reassure you and promised you that it’s going to be okay.

“Yeah, I’m coming over alone though.” He finally parks his car and gets into his building, “And your girlfriend?”

“She went over to her parents to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday, I’m on my own.” He unlocks his place and gets inside, “I’m home now, I’ll see you tomorrow chief, okay?”

“Mhm, see you.” You wave your hand and hang up, you throw your phone down and just lay down on your couch, your head faces the ceiling and you start thinking.

What if Namjoon gets the divorce? What happens after that? That’s the question you never asked yourself. You’re convinced that there’s something between you two, but it’s still not labeled nor official.

What happens after the hearing regarding you two?

You roll your eyes at yourself, you just gave yourself an extra thing to over think about when your thoughts are already crammed inside your head.

You want tomorrow night to come faster than ever, you missed sleeping without having to struggle before or even without having nightmares.

Your phone buzzes a message and you sigh before you grab it, thinking it was probably one of your friends  but it’s Namjoon who texted you a picture of his suit hung  up in his closet.

“do you think it’ll look good?”

“tie or no tie?”

“off to get myself a divorce tomorrow hahaha.”

A little breath escapes your nose when you chuckle softly at his message, your fingers hover over the screen to type back.

“I guess no tie.”

“how can you joke about this I’m scared.”

And only seconds after he Facetime’s you a video call and you answer him right away, he’s in his bed smoking a cigarette and having a drink, “I know I don’t have to ask you why because I already know.”

“What if—“

He interrupts. “Hey, no what if’s. I know everything is going to be okay, I’m well prepared and I trust Hobi, don’t you?”

“I do, I just don’t trust her.” You shrug. He takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “Just so you know, regarding the outcome, and whatever happens, I want you to know that I would still choose you.”

It does reassure you a little, but still you don’t want anything to be in the way between you two, and you know his wife tried to set him up so many times, what if she actually figured something out without you two knowing?

“Y/N.” He laughs. “Stop over thinking, I’m the one going through the divorce not you.”

“Alright. I’m not going to call you nor text you anything tomorrow, I’ll get the news eventually.” Your stomach drops just by the thought of it, he nods. “I’m sure you will, I just called Jay.”

“Poor little thing.” You pout, he takes a drag from his cigarette and puffs away the smoke. “Apparently he likes you.”

“I like him too.” You can’t help but smile, even when you’re a little surprised on the inside, children don’t usually like you. “Is he having fun at his grandparents?”

“Oh yeah, he enjoys being around his cousins, he’s used to staying there.” He turns off his cigarette, “Oh, Hobi is calling, can I call you back later?”

“Mhm, I’ll chat with you later.” You blow him a kiss and he blows one back before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Of course you hardly fall asleep that night, you did see it coming so you weren’t that surprised. You woke up with sore shoulders and a headache that didn’t go away even after having your morning coffee. You decided to give it some time before taking a pill.

As for him, Namjoon had a good night sleep, only his was full of nightmares, and of course he kept twisting and turning before he did manage to fall asleep, his morning was a little similar to yours, only he washed up and got dressed, he bathed in his own cologne and finally got on the road after texting you.

“Good morning :*”

“you were right”

“no tie looks way better”

“have a nice day beautiful <;3”

The clock is ticking and the hearing is a little over an hour away and he can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, there was little to no traffic luckily and Namjoon is the type of guy that considers the tiniest thing to be a sign that his day will go well or not, and no traffic could probably be a sign.

He makes it to Hoseok’s office in no time and walks inside, of course Hoseok was already there hours ago finishing the last couple of things and finishing the documents that he may possibly need.

“Good morning Hobi.”

“You’re here early.” Hoseok looks at the watch on his wrist. “Good morning,  how are you feeling?”

Namjoon  plops down on the couch in front of Hoseok’s disk with sigh escaping his lips. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t nervous. I want things to go well.”

“You’re in safe hands, don’t  worry.” Hoseok walks towards the coffee machine beside his disk. “Coffee?”

“Sure, yeah.” Namjoon takes out his pack of cigarettes. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Hoseok cracks the window open before he makes two cups of coffee and sits in front of Namjoon to have a smoke as well, “Her lawyer called, and they think they have something in their hand but they don’t.”

“What if they found something else we don’t know of?” Namjoon leans his elbows on his thighs. “I’m worried.”

Hoseok take a puff of his smoke before crossing his legs. “Is that what you’re worried about? Or the entire thing generally?”

Namjoon takes out a cigarette and lights it up. “The entire thing, I’m worried over Y/N, what if the outcome doesn’t come in our benefit?”

“Then you still don’t know who your lawyer is.” Hoseok grins, “Don’t worry about Y/N, no matter what the outcome is, she’s going to be okay.”

Namjoon opens his mouth and he’s so close to saying it out loud to Hoseok, but he’s a little hesitant.

Of course he’s not unsure about the way he feels about you, he’s just hesitant on how he’s going to share the fact itself. He wants you to be the one to hear it first, but he feels the need to reassure Hoseok, since he’s really protective over you. “Hobi I…”

It looks like it’s coming out earlier than expected.

“Hmm?” Hoseok’s gut feeling was never wrong, and he kind of knows what’s about to be said.

“I… I know this happened quickly, but the past four months are the happiest I’ve been in my life.” His thoughts are racing through his head when he speaks again. “I’m getting the divorce mainly because I want her instead.”

“Instead?”

“I feel like I wasted the past thirty years of my life being with someone I cannot stand and will not stand no matter how hard I tried.” He shrugs his shoulders, slowly getting relieved at the fact that he’s spilling what’s been kept inside his heart as he never shared it with anyone. “I’ll choose Y/N over anyone anytime.”

Hoseok turns off his cigarette and crosses his arms. “But you just said it, it’s been only three months, aren’t you worried that you’d change your mind? Or probably the way you feel may change.”

He scratches his head and looks into Hoseok’s eyes. “I liked her in the beginning, you know the way you like any girl at the bar, and I was totally unfair to her when I hid everything and wasn’t completely honest with her, and deep inside I thought that I might actually lose her if I told her the truth. And when she found out I was a little relieved even when I was the bad guy.”

Hoseok is a smart man and due to being in his field for so long, he can easily tell if someone was being honest or not, Namjoon does seem genuine to him, the man gave up his marriage just to be with you, and he wouldn’t do that if he never felt anything for you.

“And when I saw her on that plane to Ilsan, I knew it was a sign that I shouldn’t let her go this time, and I can’t risk losing her again.” Namjoon puts off his cigarette and shrugs. “She makes me happy.”

“What’s your next step Joon?” Hoseok asks. “After the divorce.”

A smile creeps on Namjoon’s face when he crosses his arms. “I want her to be my girlfriend, I want everyone to know about her, I want to show her off.”

Hoseok was always your wingman back when you two were young, he would go around and ask guys you liked how they felt about you just so he can tell you later, and as much as he wanted to tell you every single thing about the conversation that just happened, he won’t.

“I actually think it’s very brave of you to decide and go through a relationship again when you’re working your way out of one.” Hoseok shrugs. “No offense, I’m telling you this as your friend.”

“None taken. I know, and you can’t believe how bad this experience was, and I can’t wait to be over with it, I thought I’d be traumatized by women for life, but Y/N  is different on so many levels, and to be honest I did compare them both so many times, but she can never live up to Y/N.” Namjoon scoffs.

“Well.” Hoseok puts his  hands on his own knees for support before getting up and looks at the time on his wrist. “As long as you two are happy, but for now we need to go.”

-

“Jungkook please don’t make it spicy.” Taehyung hovers behind Jungkook who’s standing in front of the stove and opening up the noodles packets.

“No put all the spice in and please pass on the seaweed, it makes me want to puke.” You stand next to Jungkook and watch him work, before he rolls his eyes and turns off the heat. “Okay, you two, either shut up or leave the kitchen.”

“Y/N? Did you order something for delivery?” Seokjin calls your name from the living room and you rush outside to open the door.

You ordered birthday cake for Namjoon, of course you didn’t forget, and since all of you are gathering at your place, you were going to celebrate it.

“Birthday cake?” Seokjin unsurely asks. “What if—“

“Hey, there no what if anymore, no matter what the outcome is, we’re going to celebrate his birthday. If he did get the divorce then there’s two reasons to celebrate, and if he didn’t, then we’ll celebrate it to make him feel better.”

“You’re totally in love with him aren’t you.” Jimin gets up to look at the cake. You roll your eyes and close the box to put the cake in the fridge. “You know sometimes I regret not having girl friends and choosing you guys instead.”

“You don’t mean that.” Jimin carelessly shrugs, “Jungkook hurry up we’re hungry.”

“You need to relax.” Seokjin tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re acting all paranoid, the hearing already started and I know there’s nothing I could say to make this easier for you, but trust me it will be fine.”

You take a long sigh and take a seat in the living room. “I know, but his wife knows what she’s doing and that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Don’t you trust Hobi?” He asks. “He’s like, the number one divorce lawyer in Seoul.”

“Speaking of which.” Yoongi walks out of the bathroom to join you in the living room. “Did Namjoon pay Hoseok?”

“Yes.” Jungkook walks out of the kitchen with the large pot of noodles in his hands, using the sleeves of his top to protect him from the heat. “Hobi hyung told me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” You shrug your shoulders. “Hobi’s doing his job after all.”

“But he’s our friend now.” Seokjin grabs a pair of chopsticks and you immediately object. “I know he is, but you have to put business aside, Hobi is an excellent lawyer and he deserves to be paid even if it was me getting the divorce.”

The entire room goes silent as they start scooping noodles into their plates and devouring the food, you still don’t have the appetite so you barely put one ladleful in your plate and force yourself to finish it.

Your phone buzzes a text and you rush to take it out of your pocket, it’s a text from Hoseok.

“Oh my god.” Your stomach drops. “They’re on their way here.”

-

“File number 3501CR. Mr. Kim versus Mrs Lee.”

“I am here for Mrs. Lee.” Her lawyer speaks, and Hoseok speaks right after. “And I am here for Mr. Kim Namjoon.”

“Mr. Jung, glad to see you.” The judge gets up on his feet to handshake Hoseok, he was pretty popular and loved, people enjoyed his company so much and most lawyers want to be taught and trained under him.

“Glad to see you too sir.” Hoseok shakes his hand back. Namjoon’s pounding heart still hasn’t calmed down but oh well, the judge knows Hoseok so this may serve his benefit.

“Alright, you can go ahead.” The judge orders and both lawyers hand over their files, Namjoon’s anxiety increases when he sees her file thicker than his, do they have something new?

“I’m here to speak for my client, Mister Kim, who filed a divorce 11 months and 23 days ago, he gave his testimony to the previous attorney who handed me over this case.” Hoseok flips through the file. “Sir the testimony is attached in pages 4 through 24.”

“Mhm.” The judge flips through the papers, taking his time to read some of the highlighted points that Hoseok worked on.

Namjoon’s testimony was taken long ago, he included everything about his fucked up marriage, he mentioned that he didn’t get his rights as a husband, and the mental stress she puts him and his son  through, how downhill Jay’s health deteriorates with every arguments, even included medical reports, the last one being signed by you, when you found out that Namjoon was married.

“Your honor, Kim Jaehyuk is their son, also known as Jay in the passport copies.” Hoseok flips through the papers. “3 Years old, with a medical history of seizures, occurring on the attached dates, clipped to that are picture of the hospital trips taken by mister Kim’s dash cam, and below that are his medical reports.”

“What are mister Kim’s conditions to this divorce?” The judge asks as he flips through the papers.

“Full custody of Kim Jaehyuk, and no asset distribution.” Hoseok answers right away even when Namjoon doesn’t mind neither.

If she did get the custody of Jay he will be able to see him every now and then, and for the assets even when she wasn’t worth it, he was willing to give anything away to get rid of her.

“What do you do for a living mister Kim?” The judge asks and Namjoon clears his throat and answers. “I’m an aircraft pilot sir.”

“How long have you been an aircraft pilot?” He asks and Namjoon tilts his head. “Almost 6 years.”

“Sir I have included his portfolio the page after, clipped behind it is a laboratory test that rules off any drug addiction or biological disease that may disable him. And on the next page is a written psychological evaluation written by a specialist, that clearly shows that mr. Kim may be suffering from recurrent panic attacks that occurred only in the past three years, meaning the years he was married to Mrs Lee.”

Namjoon feels himself about to have one of those from the excessive pounding in his chest, he even finds himself hyper ventilating that his own watch notifies him to log in a work out.

“Mhm.” This time the judge takes his time to read the entire paper, giving Namjoon a couple glances here and there.

And even when he’s really on the verge of panicking, he was doing a very good job hiding it,  they could barely tell by his body language and the way he sits. Only when he takes a sip of water or anything, his hands were shaking like crazy.

“Anything else?” The judge asks minutes after. “One last thing sir, the last two pages are bank statements of both mr. Kim and his spouse.”

“Alright, thank you mr. Jung. You did great.” And Hoseok nods before closing the file in front of him, her lawyer finally opens the thick file that’s been concerning Namjoon.

He even turns to look at Hoseok and their eyes meet, Hosok gives him a reassuring nod and sits back to listen to what they have. This is the part Namjoon has been dreading the most.

The judge looks at her lawyer and nods. “Go ahead.”

Namjoon pulls his chair closer to Hoseok’s to see the file that they have a copy of. “Between page 4 and 38 are Mrs. Lee’s testimony sir.”

“Mhm.” The judge also takes his time to read, Namjoon does the same and dives into the papers to scan the entire thing.

The testimony was taken only a couple  weeks ago and it seems like she didn’t include all the details or she probably purposely skipped some, and of course a huge part of it Namjoon could easily deny that it happened. “Mrs. Lee, I take it clearly that you’re accusing Mr. Kim to be abusive and obsessive and alcoholic.”

“Yes your honor.” The lawyer speaks, which makes the judge abruptly flip through the papers and the lawyer immediately speaks. “Sir if you open page 41 you can see that there’s a sealed medical report written by an emergency resident to prove that my client was in fact a victim of abuse.”

The judge rips the sealed envelope that has your signature on it which makes Hoseok stifle a grin, and what’s coming up Namjoon didn’t expect at all.

“Mr. Jung?” The judge passes the paper to Hoseok and he grabs it in his hand,  eyeing it carefully.

It was rigged, and this wasn’t the report you wrote even  when you had your signature on it. The report clearly said that she was presented to the ER with bruises on her upper torso and her back, a cut wound on her forehead and a broken toe.

Namjoon is about to lose his mind, none of this is true and she knows that. Their eyes meet and she immediately looks away and crosses her arms. Zero signs of regret on her face.

“Do you have anything to say?” The judge asks Hoseok, and he nods. “Sure,” He digs into his suit case and takes out a paper to hand it to the judge. “Sir this is data is confidential but she visited the hospital using Mr. Kim’s health insurance, so we were allowed full access to their files, and this is the original report, written by the same doctor on the same hospital, and if you put it side by side for comparison, it’s printed on the same date and time.”

“Agreed.” The judge nods his head and puts both papers aside. “And sir regarding alcoholism, I already presented laboratory tests and Mr. Kim is a social drinker.”

The judge looks at her lawyer and signals him to continue. “On pages 44 and 45 are a witness’ testimony of Mr. Kim seen in a wine cellar with a female aged between 25 and 32, and on the next page is a written report of a video tape that if you allow me to show you.”

“Of course.” The judge agrees and the lawyer turns his iPad towards him to show him the clip of CCTV that  they planned for.

Namjoon can clearly see the video tape and he squints his eyes to see the box of the Legos being put on the floor in the end of the aisle, it was you, and god it shatters his heart that you witnessed something that was meaningless.

“Mr. Jung? I guess you can’t deny a video tape.” The judge grabs his pen and starts writing, Hoseok laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Watch me do it sir, I’m surprised you still don’t know me.” And the judge laughs too.

Hoseok digs into his suitcase again and takes out a bunch of papers. “Sir this is an order placed by an IP address located in Seoul, which is Mr. Kim’s apartment, the date of this order is in July 28th. And the next paper is Mr. Kim’s flight schedule that week, that clearly shows that he was out of town when this order was placed. And the paper after that is the delivery receipt showing that this package arrived a day prior to the video on the CCTV.”

The judge wasn’t surprised that Hoseok was good at his job, he knew when and how to represent anything that defends his own clients. And the judge was also shocked on how everything was manipulated, showing that Namjoon was set up.

“What are Mrs. Lee’s conditions to this divorce?” The lawyer asks and this is where Hoseok’s heart drops, if they don’t agree on each other’s conditions then the divorce will be transferred to trial and it will take much longer with no guaranteed end.

Namjoon is aware that they have to settle on something, so he grabs a pencil to write down on a small paper to show Hoseok. “I’ve been compromising my entire life and I wouldn’t mind doing it now.”

And Hoseok nods, but still he will try his best to make them agree to Namjoon’s conditions.

“Partial custody slash co parenting, and a 50/50 assets distribution.” The lawyer shrugs his shoulders.

Hoseok speaks without consulting Namjoon. “Partial custody is agreed, assets distribution 80/20.”

Her and her lawyer go through a debate quietly, giving Hoseok the time to glance at Namjoon, he nods his head and whispers. “She’s not getting more than 20.”

“70/30.” The lawyer speaks and Hoseok objects immediately. “No more than 80/20,”

“We need time to negotiate sir.” Her lawyer turns towards the judge to which he agrees immediately. “Mr. Jung please understand that my client is sharing custody, she needs the assets for their son.”

“If she needs the money for the shared custody let my client have it full then.” Hoseok shrugs. “Or zero assets and he’ll give his son the money he needs, it’s either one of those options or 80/20.”

“Mr. Kim, I want you to know that—“

“Sir please, I’m here for Mr. Kim, and if you need anything I’m the one you should talk to, this is what Mr. Kim wants and I was assigned to speak for him.” Hoseok interrupts mainly because he knows Namjoon will give them what they want, but he always made sure that his clients got their desired ends with the least amount of damage.

“75/25 last call.” Her lawyer makes one last offer, Hoseok turns to Namjoon to seek for an answer.

“5 percent is worth like 9 thousand dollars.” Hoseok whispers. “It’s your call.”

“I’ll give her the 25 percent on the spot, but what about the custody?”

“Shared custody, but since it’s her choice she gets to decide what days you can have Jay.” Hoseok puts his pin down. “Let’s settle?”

“Yes.” Namjoon nods, his heart racing more than ever, Hoseok turns to face the lawyer and judge and speaks up. “Agreed.”

“Mr. Kim do you have any debts?” The judge takes out the divorce papers and gets to writing, “No sir.” Namjoon answers right away.

“Mrs. Lee and Mr. Kim, you have agreed on 75/25 assets distribution with shared custody, but the court will decide based on  your profiles and your financial status in order to accept your agreement, is that understood?”

“Yes your honor.” Namjoon and his minutes away to become ex spouse answer at the same time.

“Mr. Kim you have two apartments, on located in Seoul and the other is located in Ilasn am I correct?” The judge asks again and Namjoon agrees.

“Sir if you check the last page on our file, you can see that we hired a real estate agent to evaluate the cost of both apartments.” Her lawyer speaks which makes Namjoon scoff, she’s clearly after his money and he can’t understand why he didn’t realize that before?

Hoseok rushes to open the file to check out the actual price of both properties, opens up his calculator and starts adding and subtracting numbers that are surprisingly big, he grabs out a paper and writes down for Namjoon to read. “25 percent is approximately worth the place in Ilsan and a little over the price of the other car.”

And Namjoon grabs the pen and writes down. “Ok. Let her have the car and the place.”

“Your honor.” Hoseok clears his throat. “I would like to inform you that 25 percent of Mr. Kim’s assets is worth the place in Ilsan and a little under the price of the car she’s driving, Mr. Kim wants to make an offer for Mrs. Lee to have the property and it’s kind of him to offer her the car without paying him what’s left of the car’s price on the market today.”

“What do you say?” The judge looks at her lawyer, who’s already discussing the offer with her.

Namjoon starts thinking months after, Jay will have to fly twice a week to be with his parents, which makes him want to consider a new flight schedule to be able to take him there. He already visits Ilsan repeatedly so it shouldn’t be a problem.

“We agree sir.”

“Alright then, we’re over for today. And in an hour we’ll hopefully have an answer for you.” The judge collects the papers and stands up on his feet. “It was nice to see you again Mr. Jung.” He shakes Hoseok’s hand and leaves the meeting room.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok rubs Namjoon’s shoulder and he nods. “I can be better.”

“Relax, the hard part is over. It’s going to go just as planned, and we’ll go celebrate back home.” Hoseok winks at Namjoon and grabs out his phone to text you.

“Hey chief”

“We’re on our way home”

“Tell Jungkook to save us some noodles we’re starving :(”

Hoseok knows he sent the message way too early just to tease you and keep you tip toeing, he knows you won’t call or ask, so once he sees the read receipts turn blue he puts his phone back in his pocket. “You wanna go out for a smoke?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon gets up on his feet and leaves the meeting room, the aura was suffocating specially when he senses that he’s being looked at the entire time by her.

Her gaze never left him, deep down in her mind she’s still digging deep, she’s one hundred percent sure that he’s seeing someone else, but she can’t prove anything. And what’s killing her the most is that even when they’re getting a divorce around the same table, she still had a dash of hope that the entire thing will be cancelled.

Both her concrete evidences were rigged and she kind of saw it coming, her father warned her repeatedly that his lawyer was one of the best in the republic.

For a second a thought crosses through her mind and she recalls when she visited the emergency room with her father, she clearly remembers you when you agreed to help them with the rigged report, which when her lawyer found out told them that none of what you said was true, so when he opened the envelope he knew exactly why you lied.

And to be frank, the lawyer her family hired was the cheapest in the market since they’re already broke, so he rigged papers to try and win the case. And speaking of lawyers, another thought crosses her mind, why is Namjoon this close to his lawyer?

Her thoughts are racing back to back, is it possible that you and Namjoon know each other? But oh well, it’s too late for that now.

-

“Did you see their faked medical report?” Hoseok blows out the smoke. “I was so close to laughing.”

“Did you know they were going to manipulate it?” Namjoon leans against the bench and turns off the cigarette he just finished. Hoseok nods right away. “Yeah, I already told Y/N to give me a copy earlier this week, but gosh I wish I told it to the judge before they did.”

“You did great anyway, I’m really impressed, your job suits you like a glove.” Namjoon laughs and Hoseok nods. “I know, but yours was really easy since their lawyer was stupid enough to rig confidential papers.”

“Isn’t that illegal? Shouldn’t he be punished or something?” Namjoon asks out of curiosity. Hoseok blows the last puff of smoke and turns off his cigarette. “Everyone rigs papers in this field, it’s quite fucked up actually. Let’s go to the car and put some cologne on before going back up.”

They rush to their cars and to spray cologne so they could mask away the smell of cigarettes before heading back upstairs to the meeting room.

She’s still there with her lawyer with her arms crossed. Hoseok pulls a chair to sit down and nudges Namjoon. “How did you even marry her?”

Namjoon stifles a laugh and elbows Hoseok before whispering back. “Well, I’m here today because I regret that.”

The judge knocks on the door and enters the meeting room with one single paper in his hand, and considering Hoseok has been in this field for a while know, he knows what this paper means.

“Mr. Kim. Mrs. Lee. The court has made a decision.”

-

You’re in your bathroom vomiting the noodles you forced yourself to eat, it has been over an hour since Hoseok’s message and they’re still not here yet. And Hoseok’s text message with the sad emoji was the trigger you needed for the vomiting parade to start.

“It’s okay.” Yoongi rubs your back and tugs your hair away from your face. “I’ve never seen you this paranoid, you need to give yourself a break.”

“I wish I can, I’m sleep deprived and I haven’t eaten something properly for the past week.”  You stand in front of the bathroom sink and wash your face. “I don’t even know why I’m this nervous, I’m not the one who’s going through the actual divorce.”

“I think it’s because you have something for Joon.” He shrugs, “And you probably haven’t realized that yet.”

“You’re right, I’m still unsure how I feel, maybe that’s why I’m anticipating the entire divorce thing to see how I actually  feel about him.” You open the bathroom door and take a look at the living room, Seokjin and Jungkook are using your game console to play Just dance, and both of them look like actual idiots dancing.

“I wish I could be this careless.” You sigh, Yoongi rubs your shoulders and pulls you into the living room to watch the dumb and dumber dance.

“Are you feeling better?” Taehyung asks. “Do you want me to make you noodles? You’re probably hungry now.”

“No I’m good.” You unscrew your bottle of water and take a sip, He scoots closer to you and wraps his arm around you. “Just so you know, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“What do you mean?” You pout and he chuckles and pinches your cheek. “I’m used to seeing the strong Y/N who never let anything effect her. You’re a smart successful woman who knows how to handle everything and control her feelings.”

“I’m still human after all. I’m allowed to break character when I’m going through something like this.” You lean your head against his chest. “I hate going through this much stress and sometimes I regret voluntarily going through this.”

“But it’s going to be worth it at the end, I know it.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “You should know it too.”

You hear the door code being clicked and your stomach drops, your face even grows pale and you break into cold sweat, the guys even hear the code being clicked and they pause the game. Your eyes are close to popping out of their socket and your body refuses to function, you can’t get up on your feet since they’re too week so your body lags and decides to stay on the couch.

Yoongi and Jimin get up on their feet and Jungkook and Seokjin who were already dancing are gazing towards the door.

“I’m telling you, I had my blinker on but she still honking behind me, and I ended up flipping her because she was a terrible drier.” Namjoon laughs and high fives Hoseok when they enter the place. “No way, I flipped her off too. But she did get a speeding ticket after, did you see her?” Hoseok laughs back and puts his suit case down on the ottoman near the door.

“Yeah, and she saw us driving past her too.” Namjoon looks towards the living room to see everyone on their feet except you and Taehyung, “What’s up guys?” Hoseok takes off his suit jacket and throws it onto the couch. Complete silence is the answer he gets as everyone is anticipating the answer.

They were all worried equally but hid it from you so well. After all, Namjoon is their friend now and they do care about him and want the best for him.

“You tell us.” Yoongi speaks. “What’s the outcome.”

“O-oh.” Hoseok scratches the back of his head.

You feel your heartbeat an inch away from stopping and you even hold your breath, not only the sad emoji concerns you now, also Hoseok’s reaction was the end of you. You feel each heartbeat taking away a breath from you that you’re slowly starting to get dizzy.

“What?” Jimin’s shoulders sulk in disappointment, Jungkook puts the gaming console down on the coffee table and walks towards Namjoon, “It’s okay hyung, even if didn’t get it today, you will have it eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Namjoon looks at the youngest, and Jungkook blinks in confusion. “The divorce.”

“But I got the divorce.”  Namjoon’s smile creeps on his face and Hoseok yells right after. “He got it!”

They all cheer excitedly and get up to congratulate Namjoon and Hoseok but you’re still in your spot on the couch, your face fell in your palms when he heard he got it and you’re too overwhelmed to do any reaction. This divorce drained you, but you’re more than happy that it’s over.

Namjoon hugs back Jimin and Jungkook and takes off his suit jacket, his eyes on you when you’re still curled up on the couch with your face in your hands before approaching you and going down on his knees in front of the couch. “Don’t I get a congratulations hug or what?”

You held back the tears of relief and take your hands off of your face and lean in to hug him, burying your face in his neck and wrapping your arms tightly around him. “It’s okay, everything is okay now.” He whispers for only you two to hear and kisses you on the cheek. “I’m so sorry for making you go through this, but believe me I wouldn’t have done it without you.”

“How did it go?” You pull back from the hug, he leans his forehead against yours. “It went great, and now I can finally take you out on proper dates and show you off.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss her or what?” Jungkook plops down beside you on the couch and you roll your eyes. “With you in the room? I’m not so sure.”

“I heard you two fucking before do you think kissing her would matter?” The younger crosses his arms and Jimin plops next to him. “You heard them too? I thought it was only me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes when Jimin starts imitating you. “Oooh Namjoon, please, don’t stop. Oooh Namjoon you’re so big. But are you though?” He even looks down at Namjoon’s pants, you grab the pillow on the couch next to you and hit Jimin with it repeatedly. “I’m so sorry, I know they’re weird.”

“But you do sound like that though.” Namjoon laughs which makes you hit him with the pillow too.

“Jungkook, go make us something to eat.” Hoseok finally sits down, you nod your head. “Yeah please, I’m hungry too.”

“You didn’t eat yet?” Namjoon tugs your hair off of your face and Jimin answers him. “She did but she ended up vomiting it.”

Namjoon’s heat melts and he pulls you in for a hug again and smothers you with little kisses all over your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

You hug him back and get up on your feet. “Let’s go get you changed.” You pull him into your bedroom and close the door. “Tell me everything.”

“You know, I’ve never been this happy on a birthday before.” He unbuttons his shirt and takes a seat onto your bed. “Come here.”

You walk towards him and you’re about to sit beside him but he pulls you to sit onto his legs. “Hey, we’ll do anything you want later, but please tell me what happened first.”

He fumbles with the collar of your sweatshirt and gazes down onto your lips before looking onto your eyes. “I gave her the house in Ilsan and her car, and we’re sharing custody of Jay, the judge decided that he’ll stay in Seoul for two weeks and then go to Ilsan for the other two weeks and be with his mother.”

“She doesn’t deserve shit, she had no idea what she had in her hand and she completely lost you.” You scratch the back of his head, he grins and shrugs one shoulder. “Well now I got you.”

You nod your head slowly. “Hmm, you practically didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend yet so I’m guessing you still didn’t get me.”

“Yet?” He laughs and nuzzles his nose against yours before teasing you. “Well, I’m starting to wonder what being single feels like.”

“Oh yeah?” You whisper and hover your lips over his before pulling back. “I don’t think you’ll like it that much.”

“And why is that?” He runs his hands on your thighs, you put your hands over his and get back up on your feet. “Because you won’t get to spend your nights with someone as sexy and as beautiful as I am.”

“Fuck, you’re absolutely right.” He stands up and pulls you in for one single kiss on your lips. “But hey, in my defense, I want it to be special so you’re going to have to be patient.”

“Maybe someone else will beat you to it.” You pull back and grab him out something to wear. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

-

His and his ex wife’s family are going crazy in Ilsan, his father fired hers and took everything away from him in a blink of an eye, and all the projects he was working on and that were funded by the Kim’s are on hold and are being handled legally by someone professional.

Mr. Kim was kind enough to not ask for the money they stole back, and he was kind enough to finish her sibling education since some of them considered him like a father or like an uncle.

Her father was going hysterical and he started losing his mind, the projects and the big plans he was working on evaporated in the air in seconds, and of course they’re forcing their daughter to sell the house and the car that she got from the divorce just to be able to fund and cover one of the smallest projects he’s been working on.

But still, it would cover it for less than a year, after that there’s nothing he can do about it.

Namjoon’s family made plans to go visit their son the next day and congratulate him since he’s the one who exposed the other family even when it wasn’t on purpose. And they were going to offer their help on transporting Jay to Seoul and back so he wouldn’t have to take a day off from his job.

Meanwhile you were getting ready to go stay at Namjoon’s for the night, since he insisted and you were never there before, so you agreed and got ready before going there.

The moment you get inside the house, you thought you were going to feel bittersweet about it and about the fact that you were one of the reasons of this divorce. This house once had a housewife and she’s no longer here.

But it’s the exact opposite. Victory tastes so sweet and you don’t feel half bad for her, she’s the villain in his story and she doesn’t even deserve the end she got, she deserves worse.

You see Jay’s scattered toys here and there and something inside you feels greedy, you feel the need to let her know that you’re going to replace her, and that her loss no longer matters.

You feel the need to show her that he’s way happier with someone else, you feel the need to show her that you’re in her house, on her bed.

You throw your top off when you actually feel your body heat up, it’s either you getting horny or your body acting up on the greediness you feel.

“Do you want me to show you around?” Namjoon’s eyes hover down to your tits that still have his love bites on it from two nights ago. “Fuck you’re making it hard for me to focus.”

“Sure, show me around.” You put your top on the couch beside you and walk further inside the house, he gives you a little house tour, showing you the two furnished room that they used to sleep separately in, and both of them are familiar.

One you saw behind him as you video called him for hours. And the other one was the one you saw in your nightmares, similar to every exact detail which makes the hair on your body erect. It was so weird and scary somehow.

“Are you okay?” He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in closer. “Yeah, I’m alright, I love your place.”

“You do?” He whispers, burying his face into your neck to inhale your scent, secretly wishing for you to leave your own scent in his place to replace the old one. Any place that has your scent is like a home to him.

“Mhm.” You giggle when he reaches his hand inside your bra and squeeze onto one of your tits. “Your hands are cold.”

“They are?” He nibbles onto your ear. “Aren’t you tired? Do you want me to give you a massage?”

“Stop, last time your massage ended with a cream pie Joonie, that was cute and shit but we need to be a little more careful.” You laugh and he mirrors your laugh and whispers. “I’ll cum in your mouth this time, or on that beautiful face, what do you say?”

Your panties soak in milliseconds at his words, you let out a hitched breath and clear your throat, you need to say something but he left you speechless. And who are you to actually say no?

“Debatable.” You manage to say and he chuckles before pulling back. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Wine, or whiskey, your call.” You shrug one shoulder, he presses a kiss onto your shoulder. “How about a couple shots of tequila?”

“You’re totally trying to get me into bed.” You walk out of the bedroom to the kitchen and he follows you. “Me? Of course not.” He feigns innocence and opens the cupboard to grab out the drink and two shot glasses to pour out a couple of shots.

“Here’s to being single again.” You tease him and he rolls his eyes before clinking his shot glass with yours and drinking it in one go and so do you.

“You know I don’t think it could use another shot.” You throw down your shot glass and without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, he immediately kisses back and hugs you into his arms tightly, your tongue already invading his mouth, he carries you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, he walks towards the master bedroom and it seems like he’s on the same page as you are.

He puts you down on her bed and it feels exactly like your nightmare only with different details, he leans towards you and presses his lips against yours, his hand already crawling inside your jeans and panties to rub your pulsating clit in circular motion.

You hum against his lips and move your hand down to palm his cock through his pants, it’s already rock hard which makes you a little less embarrassed that you’re already wet yourself.

“Fuck.” You gasp and your head falls back when he slides in two fingers inside you, he moves down to your neck and chest to print several wet kisses and sucking on other spots to print even more purple hickeys onto your skin.

His fingers slam against your spot as he thrusting them up and down, the tightness in your stomach increases and he feels your cunt clenching around his fingers and he whispers. “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes.” Your hand sits on his shoulder, his lips land against yours again and he shoves in another finger which stops you from kissing back right away. “I’m gonna cum.” You speak with your lips still on his mouth, he curls his fingers against your spot and right when you’re about to cum.

You feel a set of eyes on you.

Your heart drops and suddenly you feel yourself about to lose your consciousness, a silhouette standing right near the bedroom door behind him. Your fight or flight works and you close your legs onto his hands and hold his wrist tightly. “Namjoon stop.”

“Are you okay?” He looks into your eyes and sees that you’re staring somewhere near the bedroom door, he snaps his head to look behind him.

And holy fuck it’s her.

Standing right there near the bedroom door and it’s the same facial expressions you saw in your nightmare.

Even when they’re divorced, she looks lonely and hurt and empty. And of course, betrayed.

 This time not a single inch of regret do you feel, this time it tastes sweet, it tastes like pure victory.

And what you wanted happened right away, you wanted her to see that she’s replaced, and that Namjoon couldn’t care less about her loss, and most importantly..

You wanted her to see you on her own bed, in Namjoon’s arms.

Namjoon’s hand slides out of your pants and he helps you get up onto your feet, totally not ashamed himself, he grabs your hand and walks you out of her bedroom and sit in his.

He takes one last glance at his ex wife and barely hides the disgust he feels towards her. “Take all your stuff. And maybe you should consider knocking next time since you no longer live here.”

You’re all ears anticipating what she would answer but she doesn’t, he walks into his bedroom and slams the door shut on purpose before walking towards you and yanking his shirt off. “Now where were we?”

You knew the man was freaky, but was he freaky enough to have sex with you with his wife in the room next door? He actually is.

And it’s even more arousing to you, you grab him into your arms and press your lips against his, raising your knee up slowly and gently to rub it against his clothed boner, his hand slides into your panties again and this time he slams his three fingers inside you without a warning which makes you hold him tighter into your hands and moan off of the top of your lungs. “Holy fuck.”

The two of you were enjoying the actual thing, and enjoying the fact that she’s in the room next to you.

“Cum for me.” He bites onto your earlobe and curls his fingers against your spot, slamming against it repeatedly, you’re usually talkative in bed but the stimulation got your voice a couple octaves higher.

“Don’t stop.” You breathlessly moan and throw your head back, he licks a long valley from your neck to your chest and proceeds to use his other hand to grab one of your tits out of your bra.

And of course she can hear everything, her attention was drawn away when she saw you topless, and she couldn’t help but to notice the purple kisses onto your breasts. Meaning that you and Namjoon had already done this before and this is not his first night with you.

But she still didn’t have the chance to look you in the face and recall your features.

She walks towards the bed and smells the bed sheets, it’s the exact same smell she picked up from the hospital, and the exact same smell that was on Namjoon’s clothes that night.

She’s a little slow to process the fact that it could be you, but she just needs to take one look to recognize you.

“Oh my god. Joon please-“

She hears through the thin walls, but she decides on ignoring and opening the closet to start packing her stuff. Right when she hears her phone ringing from the living room, she walks out the bedroom and Namjoon does too.

He’s on his way to grab you a bottle of water when their eyes met, she takes one glance inside the bedroom to see you laid down on the bed.

And it takes her a little over two seconds to finally recognize that it’s you.

“I knew you were seeing someone.” She looks at Namjoon in the eyes. “She’s the woman you abandoned your son for, isn’t she?”

“This doesn’t concern you.” He closes the door to his bedroom, but you immediately get up and press your ear against the door.

“She was the doctor who helped Jay, and she was the one that got you the medical report.” She nodded. “Now it all makes sense.”

You knew she knew all along, women know and feel everything going around them.

“I’m not going to argue because this doesn’t concern you.” Namjoon repeats, you open his closet and grab out one of his tops before opening the door.

You look her in the eye with your chest heaving dramatically.

This was something you were anticipating long time ago, you wanted her to know everything. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

[personasdestinyy]

Next time | Kim Namjoon drabble

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; It was quite unexpected when a heavenly stranger joined you at the club's roof, just when you were feeling all alone.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut(li8), dark(a little bit), fluff, strangers to??

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: namjoon x reader y/n

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: making out, heavy(sexual) tension in the air, nipple sucking, dry humping, calling reader princesse

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k+

a/n: Namjoon wearing glasses is my weakness ;-) and I'm not very knowledgeable about clubs. Well, Please forgive any errors if I may have made, but if you happen to spot any, kindly point them out to me.

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐲 [𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝]

The vibrant lights, booming music, and the overpowering scent of sweat from the crowd - it's all a nightmare for you. You're not one for clubs, but your best friend insisted. And by insisted, you mean she practically started a quarrel and argued with you until you gave in. She even went as far as choosing a black tight thigh-length V-neck dress for you, accentuating your cleavage. The makeup she applied was equally extravagant - a smokey eye look with a shimmery red lipstick. She may be a baby, but you nearly broke down in tears when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection in the full-length mirror. You've never worn that much makeup in your entire life, but her stubbornness won this time.

You've been sitting at the bar, your face buried in your hands, elbows resting on the glass counter, for about 15 minutes now. When you both entered the club, she tried to convince you to dance, but you had already done enough for the day and didn't want to be surrounded by sweaty bodies. So you told her to enjoy herself and even asked her to leave you alone. Little did you know, that wasn't such a great idea.

As you sit there, lost in your thoughts, the bartender suddenly comes into your line of vision. Your tired eyes gaze up at him, as he takes in your appearance - his eyes naturally drifting from your hidden cleavage to your face. Oddly enough, he doesn't appear interested at all. You sit up straighter, removing your face from your palms. Just as he turns away to walk off, not bothering to ask if you'd like to order something.

"Hey! Can I get a glass of orange juice?" you call out to him before he can take another step. He comes to a halt, turning around to face you once more. His expression remains as uninteresting as ever. You study him for a moment, your eyes landing on the name badge pinned to his white bartender suit, which reads 'Yoongi'. He simply nods and walks away.

'Strange'

After about five minutes, he returned with your drink and a bill, placing them in front of you on the counter. You thanked him, but he didn't reply. He was really starting to get on your nerves, but you still managed to smile as you took out the cash from your purse and handed it to him. He casually grabbed the bill from the counter and walked away, leaving you alone.

Sitting here has become quite challenging after that peculiar encounter with him. You had desperately craved some fresh air, so you tightly held onto your glass, rose from the stool, and made your way up to the roof.

The breeze up here is refreshing, causing a slight shiver to run down your spine. It's a welcome change from the lingering scent of sweaty bodies that had been assaulting your nostrils while you were perched on that fancy stool. Leaning on the railing, your elbows find support as you tightly grip your glass. You bite your lower lip, moistening it with your tongue before bringing the glass to your lips. In one swift motion, you gulp down the orange juice and carefully place the glass on the floor, ensuring it's far enough from anyone's step to avoid any accidents.

With your chin resting on your bent elbows, you find yourself captivated by the view of the streets below. The towering buildings resemble giant pencils, and the wind playfully tousles your wavy hair as it dances around you.

Suddenly, the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts your reverie. You turn your head to the left and there stands a breathtakingly beautiful being, almost ethereal in nature. Your mind momentarily stops functioning, and your heart seems to follow suit. While your head remains nestled in your arms on the railing, your focus shifts from the cityscape to this angelic presence before you.

He gazes back at you, his eyes shining through the transparent frames of his glasses, captivating you with their beauty. His petite nose adds to his overall charm, and his perfectly styled blonde hair, revealing his forehead completely, leaves you in awe. Dressed impeccably in a plain black pant, white button-up shirt, and waistcoat, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he exudes an air of effortless style. And those lips, naturally pink and enticing, prompt you to moisten your own with your tongue. You find yourself not just staring, but thoroughly checking out this stranger. A small gulp escapes your throat as you straighten your posture, lifting your chin from your arms and smoothing your hands over your dress. The fabric clings to your body curves, accentuating your cleavage and bare legs, but you try to ignore it as best as you can.

"Why are you up here?" his voice breaks the silence, sending shivers down your spine. It's deep, rough, and undeniably captivating. Glancing up towards him, you're met with a sight that leaves you breathless. His muscular physique is accentuated by the fabric that wraps around him perfectly, and every defined muscle is visible beneath the surface.

In an attempt to steady your voice, you clear your throat, not wanting it to waver in front of him.

"Not a party person," you reply, shrugging your shoulders slightly. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he shifts his gaze away from your face, focusing on the front. However, your attention is momentarily diverted by the beautiful dimple that forms on his cheeks when he smiles. You quickly avert your gaze as well and focus on your ahead.

"I'm not much of a party person either," he says, still looking straight ahead. Curiosity sparks inside your mind, and you can't help but wonder why he's here.

"Then why are you here?" The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air as you realize you haven't received an answer. Embarrassment floods your stomach, and your face flushes with heat. You quickly clear your throat, ready to apologize for the intrusive question. When you look at him, you're taken aback to find him already staring at you. Your lips part slightly, and a breath escapes, unable to contain your surprise. His gaze lingers on your red-painted lips before meeting your eyes once again.

"I had a meeting with the club's owner," he replies, his gaze still locked with yours. As his words reach your ears, it feels like a wave of relief washes over you, momentarily dissipating your embarrassment. You break the eye contact first, not daring to delve deeper into his captivating gaze. You know that his looks, his voice, everything about him is melting you from the inside out.

Yet, you can still feel his eyes on you, studying your every move and posture.

"Want to know the same thing" he inquired, you bite your lower lip between you teeth. His curiosity about why you're here piques your interest, making your heart do a little flip in your chest. Your eyes meet his once more, you averted your gaze for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, before meeting his intense gaze once again.

"Well," you began, your voice slightly shaky, "Lila, my best friend, practically dragged me here. She insisted that I needed a change of scenery, a break from my monotonous routine. And, well, I couldn't say no to her."

A small smile played on your lips as you reminisced about all the crazy adventures you and Lila had shared. The late-night phone calls, the impromptu road trips, and yes, even the times when you had to rescue her from her drunken escapades. You had always been there for her, like a protective elder sister.

As you spoke, you noticed a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and a mischievous dimple appeared on his cheek. It was a sight that made your heart flutter uncontrollably again. Your smile transformed into something more than just friendly, something that revealed your growing attraction towards this handsome stranger standing before you.

His gaze changed, turning darker as he observed the sudden shift in your expression. He took a step closer, until you were almost chest to chest. The sudden proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but gulp nervously, feeling the tension thickening in the air. The chilly wind only seemed to enhance the heat radiating from your body.

His intense eyes bore into yours, as if he could devour you whole with just one bite. You feel a gentle touch on your face, his long fingers delicately brushing with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your left eye. He twists it between his fingers before tucking it behind your ear. The simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your body instinctively reacts, leaning into his touch. Your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the sensation. His hand on your jaw caused you to lean in even closer, but the subtle touch of his thumb on your lower lip, causing your eyes to flutter open. You meet his gaze from beneath your long lashes, feeling a magnetic pull between you. In that moment, all other thoughts fade away, leaving only one desire lingering in your mind - to kiss him.

His thumb continues to brush against your bottom lip, its feather-light touch sending tingles through your body. He leans in closer, his warm breath caressing your ear, causing you to shiver even more. Your thighs clench involuntarily, a physical response to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"You're so beautiful. What's your name?" In a low, husky voice, he breaks the silence, his words dripping with admiration, his voice is like a sweet melody mixed with a hint of spice, intoxicating and irresistible. As he pulls away slightly, you already feel the absence of his warm breath on your ear. His hand remains on your jaw, and you nervously nibble on your bottom lip, unsure how to handle this enchanting stranger.

His gaze fixates on your lips, and he gently removes your bottom lip from between your teeth with his thumb. He resumes rubbing it with his thumb pad, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You know you have to answer, or else your legs might give out beneath you.

"Y/N," you whisper your name, your voice barely audible. You can feel yourself losing control, your senses overwhelmed by his presence. You're certain that your panties are clinging to your core, a testament to the desire he has ignited within you. He hums, his eyes locked onto yours, then your lips, and back to your eyes again.

"Namjoon" He introduced himself, even though you didn't inquire. You repeat his name in a hushed tone, and it flows from your mouth as if it was meant to be. It sounds perfect.

His eyes were also fixed on you from the moment he saw you standing alone, observing every little movement of your body, the way your features seemed to effortlessly fit into his hand, and how smoothly his name rolled off your tongue.

Your heart began to race, the desire to kiss him overwhelming you as soon as he entered your line of sight. You tried to control yourself, but now when he shared his name with you, all you wanted to do was utter it over and over again.

But then, just as quickly as he came close, he pulled away, taking a step back. Your eyes widened in disbelief, confused by his actions after making you feel so hot with his touch. His expression remains dark, but there's a hint of something different in his eyes now. It's as if he's about to do something he'll regret, or perhaps something you can't even fathom. Your heart feels heavy all of a sudden, and he gives you an inscrutable look, your brows pinched together. Then, he turned to his left and headed towards the rooftop exit.

'No, no.'

He's about to leave you, and you know you have to act.

Remembering Lila's advice about seizing the moment when something felt right, your mind urged you to stop him, and you made up your mind to do just that. Stepping towards him, you caught his muscular wrist in your small hand before he could take another step. He halts in his tracks, tilting his head to look back at you. Without hesitation, you stand on your tiptoes, even though you were wearing heels, you still stand much shorter than him. You press your lips against his without hesitation, eyes closed. His lips feel like soft cotton, so plump and different from what you had imagined.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a sense of unease when you realized his lips weren't responding. Guilt flooded your heart as you reluctantly opened your eyes to meet his gaze, which seemed to have been fixed on you the entire time. Nervously, you released his wrist from your grasp and took a cautious step back. Your eyes start to sting, but you hold back the tears, directing your gaze downward to your heels. Massaging your temple, you clear your throat, preparing yourself to apologize for crossing a line.

The weight of your mistake settled heavily on your shoulders, filling you with a sense of regret that seemed to stretch into eternity.

However, before you can utter a single word of apology, he closes the distance between you in a single stride. Without hesitation, without warning, he cups your face with his large hands and in an instant, his lips crash against yours in an intense and passionate kiss. Your feet stumbled backward until your back met the railing, and you instinctively clutched onto his shoulder for support. The pounding of your heart resonates so loudly within your chest that you can hardly hear anything else. He begins to suck and nibble on your bottom lip, causing a low moan to escape from deep within your throat.

He breaks the kiss with a soft pop, the sound lingering in the air as your breaths synchronize. Both of you are panting heavily, the intensity of the moment leaving you both gasping for air. He takes off his glasses, revealing his perfect face, and tucks them away in his pants pocket. Without breaking eye contact, he leans in for another kiss, his desire evident in his eyes.

Once again, his lips capture yours, but this time the kiss is different. It's sloppy, hungry, filled with a raw passion that consumes you both. You try to match his movements, but his lips are dominant, taking control of the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch with a fervor that leaves you weak in the knees.

"Stick your tongue out, y/n," he orders, his voice husky and filled with desire. His hands roam from your neck to your waist, then down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You obey without hesitation, your body responding to his command like a well-trained child. He wastes no time and starts sucking on your tongue, teasing and biting it gently.

Your eyes shut tightly as pleasure courses through your body, making you wet with anticipation. Your hands wander from his shoulders to his perfectly styled blonde locks, gripping it tightly as the sensations overwhelm you. Your knees begin to wobble, making it difficult to stand, but you can't bring yourself to break the kiss just yet.

After felt like eternity, desperate for air, you try to withdraw your tongue, a silent plea for him to stop. He senses your need and releases you, both of you gasping for breath. As you open your eyes, you're met with the sight of his face so close to yours, causing your heart to race even faster. His lips are swollen, his eyes hooded, his jaw clenching and unclenching with desire. He looks ethereal, a perfect blend of beauty and handsomeness that leaves you craving for more.

Your body aches for him, your wet core yearning for his touch. Unable to resist, you grind against his clothed, hard erection, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through you. A gasp escapes your lips as you realize just how big he is, and his own groan echoes in the air as your hips move against him once again. The desire between you both is palpable, and you know that you want more.

"Please, I.." you try to convey your request to him, to convey your desires to him.

He suddenly takes action by firmly grabbing your buttocks, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. The sensation makes you momentarily forget what you were about to say, and in the blink of an eye, he effortlessly lifts you up by your hips. Your legs instinctively wrap around his well-defined torso, while your arms find their way around his neck.

You can feel his sweaty hair brushing against your arms.

"You're going to lose yourself entirely, princesse," he murmurs in that seductive accent of his, using the endearing nickname he uses for you. Just as you plan to respond, he silences you by placing his mouth on your neck. First, he nibbles, then sucks, and licks at the same spot, causing you to whimper. Your back arches automatically, and your head falls back, granting him even greater access to your neck. Suddenly, your eyes snap open when you feel an absence behind your head. You realize you're leaning over the railing, with only the lower half of your body supported by him. Your survival now depends on clinging tightly to him, preventing you from falling off the rooftop.

"Mhm, listen..." you try to get his attention by tapping his shoulder, signaling that you are in a precarious situation. But he doesn't stop; instead, you can sense his smirk against your neck as he continues to shower you with affectionate kisses. Your mind is in a whirlwind, torn between the arousal coursing through your body and the danger of your current position.

'Fuck, this is what he meant,'

He began thrusting his cock through the thick fabric of his pants, instantly blocking out all other thoughts. The rush of adrenaline from being on the edge of the roof and the powerful movements of his hips consumed your mind completely.

"Namjoon, oh fuck Joon.." you couldn't help but moan his name over and over again as he intensified his grinding, simultaneously sucking harder on your neck. Your stomach twisted with desire, and you instinctively clutched onto his blonde hair. His wet kisses trailed downwards, and then his sinful lips makes contact with your nipple, which was concealed beneath the fabric of your dress and his wet tongue playfully swirled around the sensitive bud. The pleasure was so intense that it forced a high-pitched moan to escape from deep within your throat.

Your mind felt numb, overwhelmed by the delicious stimulation. Each rhythmic thrust, his hard cock through his pants teasing your clothed core, and the skillful touch of his lips on your clothed nipple was an intoxicating combination. The fear of falling added an extra layer of excitement to the already electrifying atmosphere.

A distant ringing sound reached your ears, but you were too consumed by the moment to pay it any attention. You assumed it was just your ears playing tricks on you. However, the sound seemed oddly familiar. His lips and grinding abruptly stopped, causing you to whimper in disbelief. Your brow furrowed, eyes still closed, as his lips broke contact with your breast. Confusion washed over you as you tried to comprehend what was happening. The ringing sound persisted, growing louder, but it felt as if it was coming from a distance.

You opened your eyes, breathing heavily, desperate to understand why everything had suddenly come to a halt. The ringing continued to echo in your ears, resembling the buzzing of bees. And then, your gaze met his dark eyes.

"Your phone," he said, his voice deep and rough. But you couldn't comprehend his words. Confusion etched across your face, your eyebrow shooting up to touch your hairline.

"Huh?" you managed to utter, still lost in the haze of the moment.

"Someone's calling you," he repeated, directing his gaze towards your purse on the floor. And then it hit you, why the ringing had sounded so familiar. Your face flushed an even deeper shade of red, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

He gently places you down, and your heels wobble beneath you, but you manage to grab onto his shirt just in time to prevent yourself from falling to the ground. You glance at him apologetically, but he simply nods his head slightly, a faint smile forming on his lips, revealing the same dimple as before.

Releasing your grip on his shirt, you turn around and bend down to retrieve your purse from the floor.

You straighten up abruptly, when you sense him taking a deep breath. You run your hands over your dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. You reach for your phone, and notice that the screen is still illuminated with Lila's name. You choose not to answer the call, knowing that she's probably completely intoxicated. She has never called you this many times in her entire life, except when she's drunk.

You turn back to face him, and there he stands, looking like a model with his hands tucked into his pockets and a few strands of his blonde hair falling onto his forehead. You swallow nervously before offering him a cautious smile.

"My friend needs me," you inform him, raising your phone in the air to show him the screen, even though he didn't ask. He hums in response and retrieves his glasses from his pocket, placing them back on his face. You can see the muscles beneath his thick shirt flexing with each movement.

"I should go," you speak up when he remains silent, feeling the awkwardness fill the air. With your legs still feeling a bit unsteady, you begin to take slow steps towards the exit to the rooftop.

As you reached the door, a wave of sadness filled your heart knowing that he didn't try to stop you. But just as you were about to leave, he suddenly grabs your wrist, causing you to turn around in surprise. A wave of relief washes over you.

"Here, take this. Let's meet next time," he says softly, placing a card in your hand.

Leaning in close, his warm breath tickles your ear as he adds, "And then we'll continue our remainder session." His voice husky, barely audible, causing a shiver of excitement run through your whole body.

With that, he releases your wrist, and you hold onto the card tightly, a smile playing on your lips. Your once heavy heart now feels light and free.

You nod as he takes a step back, revealing a perfect dimple on his cheek. With admiration in your eyes, you take one last look at him before exiting the roof.

As you made your way off the roof, the sound of your footsteps echoed in your ears, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. The card in your hand felt like a precious treasure, a tangible reminder of the connection you had just shared.

As you descended the stairs, your mind began to wander, replaying the encounter over and over again. His words echoed in your mind, each syllable carrying a promise of something more. The thought of meeting again, of continuing the session that had been interrupted, filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

[sailoryooons]

Fang Daddy | knj (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x fledgling! F. reader

☾ Summary: Ever since Namjoon turned you into a vampire, there is only one thing that you crave more than blood. Good thing your sire is more than happy to indulge in his sweet little vampire fledgling. 

☾ Word Count: 3,801

☾ Genre: PWP, Supernatural, Vampires, Established Relationship

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, blood sharing, depictions of blood, feral fucking, vaginal fingering, nipple play, biting and a lot of teeth and spit and blood they’re vampires, a lot of carnal feelings, dom/sub themes, oral (f. receiving) cum eating, obnoxious use of the word daddy, subspace implications/descriptions, bodily fluids, a lot of feral thinking, explicit language, vaginal sex (reader on top), a bit rough, light degradation, reader is super needy, use of ‘good girl’ I think that’s it. 

☾ Published: October 12, 2023

☾ A/N: This is a pseudo-request because @kithtaehyung and I are unhinged and somehow this is where we ended up. I am not responsible for literally anything this might awaken inside of you because this is actually what Namjoon speaking/existing awakens inside of me - and I made it Halloweenie. This is just straight-up feral sex I don’t even know if it makes sense in parts. This is mostly unedited!

☾ A/N 2: Mildly inspired by this video

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests

“Everything okay, baby?” Namjoon’s rough voice comes through the phone. You squirm, feeling your stomach tighten. “Talk to me.”

Even the sound of his voice makes the air in the room feel thick. Heady. You can hear everything so clearly on his side of the phonecall: party noise, loud voices, the sounds of clicking champagne glasses and laughter. He tries to muffle the sound of the party, but your hearing is sharper now. Better.

You imagine Namjoon standing in the corner of the party, phone tucked to his ear, head bent down as he murmurs into the receiver. A shiver ripples through you and you can’t help but make a soft sound. The sheets in his bed are too hot against your skin, feeling staticky as you slide your legs open. You haven’t made a move to touch yourself but just the imagery of him makes your core ache.

Namjoon hears you, of course. His hearing is too sharp not to. He hums, almost a growl in the back of his throat. “Is that why you called me, baby?” 

“Yes.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

You stick your bottom lip out. A tingling sensation spreads over your skin from the tone of his voice. When he answered, he had sonded concerned. He’d only been gone for about two hours, nothing serious. But now, his voice has shifted. It’s darker, teasing. 

“What do you need?” 

“You.” 

It’s an honest answer. The only one that you ever have, these days. With the way your senses have been heightened since Namjoon has turned you, all you can think about his him. The smooth, warm skin of his neck. The spicy sent of his cologne and natural musk of his skin. His deep, throaty laugh as he lets you nuzzle into him, dig into him, do whatever you want. 

Blood lust keeps you from going to parties with him. You’re not ready. Not this early, and certainly not with Namjoon, who acts like a natural sparkplug for you. Even with him in the same room, your instincts and rational thought blur the line between beast and person. 

“Yeah?” he asks. Cocky. Assured. You roll to the side, hiding your face in the pillow. “Want me to come come and take care of you?”

You nod, but he can’t see you. He hums a question and you open your mouth, feeling the throbbing in your gums intensify at the thought of him coming home. “Please.”

“Okay. Give me twenty minutes, alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you… what?”

You feel the heat creep up your neck, a blooming inferno of pleasure and embarrassment and shyness all wrapped up into a smooth little cocktail. “Thank you, daddy.” 

“Anything for you baby.” Just as you go to hang up, Namjoon adds in a warning, “Don’t you dare touch yourself without me.” 

Even giddy from the threat, you listen to him. Instead of toeing the line of how far you can push him, you lay in bed like a good little fledging. Before you were turned, being stubborn with Namjoon was one of your favorite things to do. He’s not quick to anger, he has all the time in the world for your shenanigans, and he is more than happy to wait until you behave yourself. 

Wait is no longer in your vocabulary. Vampirism comes along with life-changing traits. Better hearing, smell, and site. You’re much faster and you don’t need sleep as much - and according to Namjoon, eventually won’t need it at all. You’re nearly invincible, and once you pass the blood phase, you can return to mixing in a normal diet with your A Positive drinks. 

But something you didn’t expect was sensation. Everything feels more. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Music moves through you differently, bringing you to tears as you hear notes and sounds you’ve never noticed before. Skin-to-skin touch drives you wild, like your outer layer of flesh has become a minefield of nerve receptors, sparking at the slightest touch. 

It is overwhelming and addicting, and you’ve learned right away that making Namjoon punish you for flirting with rebellion will drive you into hysterics faster than it will drive you to pleasure.

So you wait, just like he asked. 

Hot air clings to your skin. Temperature eventually won’t bother you, but you’re still a fledging. With each day, things that were normal as a human will fade. Some things - like the eating - will return. For now, you feel flustered and shaky, knowing Namoon is coming home. 

Your Namjoon. Your boyfriend. And sire. 

Namjoon explained the convoluted relationship between sire and fledging only once. You have barely listened, to fixate on the bass thumping beat of the pulse in his neck. It isn’t uncommon for fledglings to be attached to their sires, especially since the vampire’s blood flows through the veins of their newly turned companion.

Plus, it’s easier to drink from Namjoon than from a person. Blood bags work fine. Deer work better. But when Namjoon lets you sink your teeth into his tender flesh to taste his most recently meal is divine, driving you somewhere between hunger and lust, trying to straddle both. 

When the door to the loft opens, you sag in relief. Sweat beats on the back of your neck as you sit up a little in bed. Pillows prop you up. You’re in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and smelling like him, reaching to your mid-thigh. 

Seeing him ignites your instincts, gasoline to a flame. Your fangs prick at your gums, the ache intensifying as you feel them slide out gently, prodding your tongue lightly. Your breathing quickens and your eyes zero in on him, unable to tear your eyes away.

He looks good tonight. He looks good always, but the way the turtle neck hugs the wide frame of his body makes your mouth salivate, drool pooling on your tongue. His arms ripple under the dark fabric as he stands by the door, shuffling his shoes off. 

The dark shirt is tucked into perfectly tapered black dress pants, showing off his perfect waist. Namjoon’s dark hair is styled back and out of his face. The silver hoop in his right ear catches the moonlight when he turns to look at you, full lips spreading into a grin. 

Namjoon rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Your eyes dart to the smooth, tan ski no his forearms. You can already smell the blood pumping through him. It’s hot. Fresh. Your fingers grip the sheets as you sit up eagerly, realizing he must have fed just for you. To let you drink. 

His gait is smooth and casual. You say nothing as you stare at him. He crosses the spacious, warehouse-style loft until he’s standing in front of the bed, looking down at you, a pile in the sheets and blankets. 

Slowly, Namjoon dips his gaze down to the apex of your thighs, which are squeezed shut and shaking. Every hair stands up on the back of your neck as Namjoon puts a single knee onto the mattress. It sinks under his weight and he leans forward, hand brushing your knees to ease your legs open. 

Your legs slide against the fabric unde you smoothly, feeling like heavy. It flusters you, but not nearly as much as Namjoon looking at your dripping folds, nostrils flaring. He smirks and meets your gaze, his eyes dark as ever. 

“Let me see your hands.”

You untwist them from the sheets and hold them up. He leans forward more catching your fingers to twist them in the light. Your eyes flutter shut at the spark of his touch, pleasure rippling through you. It makes you go pliant. His tough fingertips turn your hands this way and that, every brush of them against your skin making you burn. 

“Good girl,” Namjoon croons. You open your eyes as he drops your hands. Belatedly, you realize he was checking to see if you’d touched yourself and left signs of stickiness on your fingertips. He crawls onto the bed properly, shuffling until he’s on his knees between your legs. “Does it ache?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Letting your head fall to the side, you close your eyes. Your pussy pulses between your legs, desire so raw for him that you have to clench your teeth to stop from crying. Namjoon’s hand skim up and down your thighs, each stroke sending you further into a pent up craze. Your heart thunders against your chest, louder and louder until you can hear your own blood rushing through your body, hunger spiking. 

When you open your eyes, you meet Namjoon’s. It’s quiet in the room. Your tongue runs over the tips of your fangs. They pinch tender flesh and you open your mouth a little, flashing Namjoon your pearly little incisors. 

Namjoon’s gentle hands turn to blunt nails scraping down your thighs. “What do you want?” 

“Daddy.”

“Need to be taken care of?” You nod, head starting to get cloudly with want. 

It’s hard like this. To figure out how to articulate. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and your gaze is trapped on his neck. The subtle pulse drags you in. You don’t think in words so much as images and feelings. Brief flashes of what you want to do as an idea more than a thought. 

Stuck between giving in to a primal instinct and being a thought-processing human leaves you in a stretch of grey that only Namjoon knows how to navigate for you. Because he knows you and what you need. Knows just what to do to get you through it.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He grips the bottom of your shirt - his shirt - and pulls upward. The scrape of the cotton against your skin is like fire. “You remember how to tell me when it’s too much?”

Too much is very likely to happen. It has before. When the thoughts, the feelings, and the sensations are so overwhelming that it suddenly feels like you will blink out of existence.

“Yes, daddy.” 

The nickname drips from your tongue like nectar. You don’t remember when you started calling him that, only that it feels good and that you like the way his mouth twitches upward when you say it. Like the way it makes him a little more feral. 

“Tell me.”

“Indigo.”

Cool air pebbles your nipples. You shiver, exposed, and splay out for him. His dark eyes drink you in. Twisting your fingers in the sheets, you watched with hooded eyes, feeling the arousal drip drip drip between your legs. 

Namjoon’s hands are like embers as he traces your skin. Up your legs, hips, stomach, fingers tracing under the swells of your breasts. His fingers stroke upward, dizzying touch circling your nipples gently. It hurts. The ache for him is deep, your mouth falling open to reveal your fangs as you hiss. 

His mouth twitches as he lowers himself down. The anticipation makes you suck in a sharp breath, holding it trapped until it comes out in a long, wined whine as Namjoon’s tongue flicks at your hardened nipple. 

Immediately your hands shoot up to his arms. He doesn’t mind, letting you dig your nails into his shirt as he sucks generously at your tit, sending you wild. The sensation is overpowering. You feel a ringing in your ears as you press your chest up into his mouth. 

More more more more. 

You don’t realize you’re babbling, saying the words out loud until he’s laughing, dark voice vibrating through your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. 

“More?” he asks. “You know how to ask.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his tongue apply the barest pressure imaginable. “Please, it hurts.”

Namjoon’s fangs scrape sensitive flesh. It makes you sing, squeezing your eyes shut as you pant through what is barely the beginning of intimacy. You’re already woozy and preening and light-headed and he knows it. Maybe takes a little pity on you. 

Normally, Namjoon likes to take his time. Now, he moves with more urgency. He dives in for your neck, plying your skin with wet, generous kisses as he does. You bare your neck for him, pliant and obedient, knowing that your artery is there for the taking if he wants to.

Blood sharing is intimate between vampires. Even sires rarely share blood with their fledglings the way Namjoon does. It’s only done between the most precious of partners, between two vampires ready to consume one another. To be one another. 

Anything less would be an act of cruelty or desperation, and this is neither.

Namjoon doesn’t bite down, though. He slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing against your sticky folds to relieve some of the tension. You whimper, nodding your head to unasked questions as his fingers lazily trace circles around your clit.

Pleasure ebbs and flows, your blood rushing. You can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he kisses his way up to your mouth, stealing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all tongue and fangs, the wet slide of his lips against yours messy and carnal and hungry.

Your hips roll into his hand as Namjoon plays with your cunt properly. You’re relentless, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand, pressing your swollen clit against him for friction. It’s a messy slide but it feels so good, brows pinched, mouth open as you pant. 

Namjoon sinks a finger into your throbbing entrance and you go mad. Your nails rake down his sleeves, tearing fabric as you go. Your legs shake, muscles squeezed tight as he fucks his fingers up into you, meeting your sloppy thrusts. 

It’s feral and heated, driven purely by the inferno burning in your stomach. Namjoon catches your earlobe between his fangs, dragging the sharp points across soft flesh. You let out a loud, wanton sound, unable to control yourself. 

Shaking. Sweaty.  Deteriorating. This is what he does to you with just his hands. His fingers press into your cunt, hitting your spot each time. It feels like pandemonium, walls clenching down on his fingers as you start to come loose around him. 

“Fuck you’re a mess,” he growls, nipping your jaw as you frantically chase an orgasm. The wet slap of his fingers is loud, backtracked by your shaky breathing. “Fucking my hand like a little whore.”

“Daddy,” you mumble, eyes rolled back. You know it’s depraved. You don’t care. You just want him. Anyway you can have him.

Namjoon knows. His mouth goes to your neck. Your breath hitches, waiting as the flat of his tongue laps against your pulse point. When he bites down, you unravel. 

Pain and pleasure unfurl, white-hot. You gush around his fingers, body convulsing. The warmth at your neck sedates you momentarily, knocking you into a state of bliss. Your head spins and it feels like you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, not even breathing. 

Namjoon takes long draughts. You feel his tongue pressed against your punctured skin. Feel the hot, slow bead of blood dripping down your neck to your shoulder. Every nerve is on fire and alive.

“Want,” you gasp. Namjoon removes his mouth from your neck. You feel the blood running, sticky. “Want want want want want.”

Namjoon kisses you. He tastes like blood, tongues tangling. You suck his tongue into your mouth generously, making him moan deep in his throat. The sound of him drives you further. You surge upward, seeking and hungry, hands tearing. He snarls when you rip off the shirt but he has others. Nothing is more important than him - than this.

Warm skin meets your hands. Vampires recently fed aren’t cold at all, their skin burning with fresh blood and heat trapped between you. Your fingers explore the taught muscles of his chest, the dips in his biceps and shoulders. Namjoon is a work of art, towering over you as he sits up to kick off his pants, movements blinding. 

Your hands don’t remain still, grabbing any part of him you can, mouth latching on. You suck at his wrist, forearm, bicep. Anything you can taste, your mouth is there, searching. You don’t bite, though. Not until he lets you. Not until you have his permission. 

Namjoon ducks between your legs. You gasp, feeling his tongue eagerly sliding up your folds. Your hands shoot to his hair, locking in his silky strands as he drinks you down.

It's feverish. Your feet kick out as Namjoon ravishes you, tongue plunging into your cunt, mouth sucking greedily on your clit. The stimulation is maddening, sending you shrieking toward another high.

He doesn't stop, smacking his lips together, licking, gasping, pressing his face further and further until he's shoving you up the bed, tongue buried inside of you.

Namjoon sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the swollen bud. You squeal and crash down, orgasm washing through you as you come into his mouth.

He devours, tongue lapping, mouth sucking. He leaves nothing spared, and when he finally pulls away, panting and shining with cum and blood, the bottom half of his face slick and eyes blown, you know that you'll never want someone else. Anything else.

The world spins when Namjoon lifts you. You blink and he’s under you, his thick cock leaking onto his stomach. Your mouth waters as he settles you in his lap, his back against the pillow. Namjoon looks like a dark god, his sweaty hair falling into his dark eyes, mouth kissed with crimson, tan skin glowing. 

Your hands go to his face, cradling his jaw. For a second, your touch is soft. Nestled in his lap, you trace the outline of his jaw, brushing your fingers to wet lips. He is yours. You are his. In body, soul, and blood. His gaze softens, as though he sees this too. 

“Mine,” you murmur, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. Your gaze meets his. “Right, Daddy?” 

“Yours,” he agrees, lifting your hips with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He settles you over the dark tip and you shiver, head tilting back. “And you are mine.”

In a single, fluid motion, Namjoon spears you on his shaft. You let out a shriek, pleasure bolting through you. You feel full, gasping as you’re fully seated in his lap. Namjoon doesn’t wait for you to adjust, pulling you in to lay against his chest as he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into you.

You go mute. Your body slides against his, your chest pressed against his, your face buried in his neck. You can smell the blood there, and hear the beating pulse like a siren’s call. Drink drink drink. 

You wait, completely distracted by the way Namjoon thrusts into you, jostling your frame into his. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, your knees digging into the bed. He gives and you just take, eyes rolling back in your head, blood running down your neck, mouth slack. 

Despite his ferocity, it’s intimate. You feel every breath Namjoon takes. Feel his thighs flex underneath you, feel the way your arousal slides down your legs onto his waist as he fucks you. It’s feral but it’s different, a tether of emotion that goes deeper than anything you could perceive as a human snapping between you. 

Namjoon slides down the bed a little. Changes the angle so that he’s hitting you deeper, harder. You clench your teeth, barely hanging on to your sanity as you wait for him to give you permission to bite him. Your mouth salivates at the thought, his blood roaring in your ears. 

You roll your hips into him. It’s a little disjointed but it works, sliding along his cock as he drives you closer and closer to the high roaring inside of you. It’s so close you can feel it burning, nova under your skin. Only Namjoon can do this to you, lighting you up until you’re burning so hot you can’t take it. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No thoughts trespass here. It is only the shivering pleasure as Namjoon relentlessly takes you, growing. You scoot your face toward his neck, nose pressed against hot skin. You’re trembling, completely at his fingertips. 

Waiting. Waiting.

“Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, fingers digging into the globes of your ass. “You’ve been so good.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible even to your sensitive ears. “Thank you.”

Finally, you indulge. You open your mouth against Namjoon’s neck, soft and tentative. Your tongue sweeps across salted, hot skin. You whine, feeling his pulse beating under the tender skin. Your fangs scrape against him and he moans, arms tightening around you.

And then you bite down. 

Namjoon moans. You lose yourself in the sweet taste immediately, like cherry wine rushing into your mouth. Rapture. You drink slowly. Soft. Gulping as your veins ignite. Every atom lights up along the way, until you’re a vibrating mass of energy. 

It’s like threads of awareness connect you. You feel Namjoon’s burning desire, his hunger for you. The deep-rooted adoration and love for you, a river that runs down to his marrow. You bathe in it, letting the connection wash over you. 

Blood sharing gives you glimpses to Namjoon that you normally don’t see. Flashes of the way he sees you, his heart fluttering. Snatches of seeing something at a store that reminds him of you. The way you taste to him, the way he wants to hold you and never let go. 

It’s so much. 

You don’t take much. You know your limit, and as your thoughts start to black out, you remove your mouth, gasping. Your head falls to Namjoon’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering. Your stomach coils on the edge of another orgasm so strong that you just let it happen. Let it slam into you, a rogue wave. 

The world blinks out of existence. There’s just the smell of Namjoon. The ghost of his mouth on your temple, and the softest feeling of floating. This is what you crave. The feeling of lightness with the accompanying touch of Namjoon. Because even in this space alone, there is a thread back down to him, a beacon to pull you back.

Slowly, you come back to him. You feel his heart beating against yours. You move your head, nuzzling into him. You feel flaky, dried blood but you don’t care, nuzzling into him. Your Namjoon. His arms are steady around you like a cocoon. 

You have never been safer. More loved.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice raspy. 

“Always.” 

You settle in comfortable silence, wrapped up in one another. Nothing will ever beat this. A thousand lifetimes with Namjoon is all you ever need to do this as many times as you want. 

“You okay?” you nod against him. Your fingers slide up his neck and face to card through his hair, playing with the strands. Your eyes are still closed, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat. “Good.” 

“A little needy.”

“You? Needy? Unheard of.” he teases.

You grin. The carnal desire from earlier washes away, fed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s really hot.” You hum, continuing to play with his hair but saying nothing. “I’m kind of like your fang daddy, huh?” 

Your hand pauses and you crack an eye open. Namjoon is grinning up at the ceiling, eyes turned to crescent moons as he tries not to laugh at his joke. Gone is the dark, powerful vampire, replaced by the sweet, boyish man that you love just as much. 

“Namjoon,” you chastise, tugging his hair a little.

He giggles. “How about fang father?” 

You sigh. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.” 

He kisses your temple and lets you fall asleep. 

[persphonesorchid]

Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ

Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

Warnings: Lots of anxiety on Namjoon's part, mentions of being stalked, Namjoon hurts himself more than anything bc he's clumsy. Smut (Minors begone.): Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, light spit play, Namjoon's daddy kink is a brief topic of interest lol. I think that's all, let me know if i missed any!

Word count: 13.4k

Genre: Idolverse, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :)) Smut

Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! This would have been out a whole lot sooner, but i've been dealing with life, stress, a breakup...more stress lol. But it's all good now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and please leave feedback, even if it's just a little smiley face in the comments! Have a good day!!

Masterlist

Namjoon is dressed casually enough, he thinks. Inconspicuously enough that he won’t be recognized, enough that he could become another face in the crowd; enough to blend in.

It’s early, but the city is bustling with people starting their day. He tries not to be suspicious, as much as he could. Tries to navigate a city he’s been in many times before like he’s lived there his whole life. He tries not to look over his shoulder too much, guard up, like he’s just waiting for someone to run up to him and demand his attention. The mask and hat he picked out before he sneaked out of his hotel room brought him little comfort. He hopes that no one would give him a second glance or look too closely.

To this day he’d never understand how his fans can tell him apart by the way he walks, or by his eyes alone. So, he keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, and tries not to think too much about his stride.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, what he’s doing out of his hotel room so early. He has no schedule today, free to do what he likes, and he just needed to get out for a minute or two. He wasn’t planning on straying too far, especially since he’s told no one that he was leaving. He found himself just walking, though, enjoying the sights and the people leading simple lives.

He finds a little café after walking some more, and stands outside it, out of the way of the door to avoid being an issue. It’s crowded inside, and anxiety curls in his stomach as he contemplates going in. He believes no one would recognize him, he hopes that no one would look too long, and he steps inside.

It’s a bit quieter than he expected, people talking in low murmurs amongst themselves. The loudest things being the sound of a coffee grinder running and a barista calling someone for their order. It’s a small café, more dining space than workspace, and Namjoon wanders over to the resister and orders without issue.

His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.

So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.

“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”

Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.

“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognize him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.

There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.

He relaxes when you continue to pretend he isn’t sitting in front of you, your eyes following the words on the page. There’s a tap of your fingers against the wooden tabletop, and a minute shake of your head before you close your eyes for a moment. You take an agitated breath, and Namjoon pauses the movement of him trying to get the straw underneath the bottom of his mask and watching you at the same time. He tries to peek at the cover of the book you’re reading, curious.

You shake your head again, muttering to yourself before going back to reading, your expression quickly blanks as you start back up again. Namjoon sips his coffee, for once feeling relaxed in a room full of strangers and lets his eyes trail elsewhere. Over to the little potted flowers that line the windows, or the people passing outside.

There’s a sudden squeak from you and Namjoon looks at you in time to catch the look of utter disbelief on your face. With frantic fingers you fish a bookmark from the back pages of the book before marking your spot and closing the book with a soft smack. Gently, with enough care that someone would think you’re handling glass, you place the book onto the table with a sigh and pick up your drink. You still don’t look his way, sipping at your drink with a frown and an irritated draw to your brows. Not that Namjoon is complaining, he swears he isn’t. It’s just...weird. He expected you to at least sneak a glance by now.

Curiosity should be a cardinal sin, as it’s gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, but Namjoon decides to dig his own grave anyway.

“What were you reading?” He asks, and it takes a moment, you’re clearly in your head, staring off at nothing and muttering into your drink. You look at him when his words finally break through.

“Huh? Oh...” You set your cup down, turning the book to him, “'The Desolation of Devil’s Acre'. It’s the last book of a series I’m following, and the main character is just...” You sigh through your nose, “He’s an idiot.”

You talk to him like any stranger, it almost made Namjoon think that you didn’t recognize him at all. He still sees it in your eyes, and as you’ve been adamant not to, he doesn’t address it either.

“I’d bet...” Namjoon chuckles, “If your reaction was anything to go by.”

There’s an embarrassed air about you now as you let out a soft laugh. Namjoon wants to smack himself though, he’d just told you that he’s been staring at you long enough to notice.

“Ah, yeah.” You wave a hand, “I bought it earlier...I was too excited and just got into it but Jacob is an idiot. He just makes me wanna reach in there and smack him silly.”

“Is it good?” Namjoon nods at the book, taking a moment to look at the cover. It’s black and white, a little girl sits on a black chair, a wall of photos is the backdrop, staring into the camera with big clear eyes and someone’s hand is tugging on the sleeve of the black and white chequered striped dress. It seems like a horror novel if Namjoon is being honest.

“I haven’t read much of this one yet, but the previous ones are amazing. Too bad the movie didn’t follow it correctly.” There’s an excitement in your eyes, and you seem perfectly content to rave about all the ways the movie went wrong and did the book absolutely no justice. Namjoon nods along, throwing questions at you about the books when he can, and by the time you’re done he’s laughing at something, and you are too. His iced Americano is now just an Americano that’s just slightly cold, more water than coffee, but Namjoon doesn’t mind and drinks it anyway. He still hasn’t removed his mask, but you don’t seem too bothered by it.

“It just would’ve been so much better if they’d followed the book correctly. I was so excited about the movie, and they just went and messed it up.” You sigh, taking a sip at your drink, Namjoon’s sure it’s cold by now. “You should give it a read, though...” You tilt your head at him, humming, and Namjoon tilts his head back, you can’t see it, but he smiles, the furrowing of his brows you do see.

“What?” Namjoon asks, a little amused by your sudden pause. You study him for a minute, but he’s comfortable enough in this space you’ve created that it doesn’t set off the usual alarm bells in his head. You’ve done wonders for treating him as just another person. Simply Kim Namjoon, who wandered into this small café and took the seat opposite you, and not RM of a globally recognized pop septet.

“You don’t strike me as a fantasy guy.” You say, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?”

He leans forward a bit, genuinely curious, unintentionally flirty. He does his best to reel himself in, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You take it in stride, though, despite the flush to your cheeks and the embarrassed air that lingers.

“Philosophy, poetry...maybe a bit of romance.” You finally say, smiling a bit.

Namjoon hums, leaning back into his chair, “You know a lot.” He says, but between the string of words lies the unspoken ‘You know me.’. He studies you as you study him, your face betraying no emotion.

You simply shrug, lifting your cup to your lips again, “Human decency.”

Namjoon quite likes your company, and he spends an hour more sitting opposite you, enjoying the sense of normalcy you provide. He wonders what you both look like to onlookers, like two friends who haven't seen each other in a while and are simply catching up. It feels that way for Namjoon.

He sits there until his coffee is finished and yours is too and you’ve tucked your book away and you're both talking again about anything that comes to mind. You don’t ask him about his work, but you ask about what he’s into these days, he recommends books and music he’s sure you’ve never heard of, and you do the same.

Time passes and then some more, and it's enough time for someone to realize that he’s missing. His phone vibrates against his leg right in the middle of him explaining why he thinks some things that happen in life can’t simply be chalked up to coincidences and he startles, leg jerking, knocking his knee against the underside of the table.

It rattles the empty cups topside with a dull thud and a sharp pain shooting up Namjoon’s leg, you wince with him, and he mutters a string of expletives. Rubbing a hand furiously against the offended spot, Namjoon fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, not bothering to check who’s calling before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Namjoon-ah, where are you?” Seokjin’s voice is a little far away and a little distracted. He suddenly yells a curse and Namjoon can only assume he’s spent his morning breaking in some new game he bought. “Sejin-nim was looking for – fuck, I hate this game – something about a briefing. You’re not in your room.”

“Ah, Hyung. I took a walk...I’m not far. Yeah – I'm coming back...Okay.” Namjoon glances at you as he pockets his phone again, smiling with his eyes.

You smile back, waving a hand, understanding as he picks up the empty take away cup and stands to leave. There’s no complaint from you, nothing in your eyes that tells of anything else. “It was nice meeting you.” You say softly, leaning forward a bit even though the chances of you being overheard by anyone else was slim.

“You too.” Namjoon says, and he means it. You’re like a diamond in a coal mine, as finding someone like you – being who he is - was rare. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Namjoon pauses in the step he makes, faltering at your side and you look up at him curious and confused. He wars with himself for a moment, he’s certain that he’s about to do something stupid.

Something he should never do because of how dangerous it could be not only for him but his groupmates. He stares at you for a moment, long enough that it warrants your concern, and you ask if he's okay.

“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified.

Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat.

You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”

For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS.

There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.

He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.

“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”

You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”

You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.

You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again before he was waving and making his way out the café door.

Namjoon tries his hardest to keep walking forward back down the street and not jog back over to the glass window to wave at you. That would be very weird of him.

Namjoon’s day goes on as normal, not like he was expecting anything different. A whirlwind of briefings and meetings and discussions on what would be done during his group’s free time. It's no different to any other time, but by the end of the day Namjoon’s brain feels like mush and he’s lying in bed, palms under his head as he gazes at the swirling patterns etched into the ceiling.

He sighs, it’s long, drawn out and tired. He blinks slowly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. The sun had long set and only the glow of the city lights penetrated the darkness of his hotel room through the large window.

He squints at the lights that are too far off to be anything but hovering blobs in the distance, and briefly, he wonders what you’re up to.

Oh, that’s right.

Namjoon fumbles through the mess of his sheets to find the phone he knows he tossed there somewhere. It’s nowhere near him and he stands, lifting the sheets to look. There’s a dull thud and a clatter, and with a sigh, Namjoon rounds the bed to find his phone on the floor.

He plops back on the bed, pressing the power button and inspecting the screen for cracks. There’s a flurry of notifications and emails and texts from his group mates and work, and Namjoon scrolls through his notification feed. At the bottom, he finds a text from you; a reply to the message he’d sent earlier.

‘Hi (:’

It’s cute in its simplicity, but Namjoon stares at the place where your contact information sits. Just your number and nothing else, and Namjoon comes to the realization that he didn’t ask you for your name at any point this morning.

You had responded hours ago, and had sent nothing else, and with some embarrassment, Namjoon types out a message.

Namjoon: Hey, sorry I missed your text! Busy day, you know?

He frowns at the message when it goes through, at the time stamp that reads a little past midnight. You’re probably asleep and the timing seems a little less than ordeal, a little inappropriate given the hour, but Namjoon lets out a surprised hum when the bubbles appear at the bottom.

Unknown: Hey! No worries, it’s totally okay.

Namjoon: You’re up late...

Namjoon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, was that a weird thing to mention? He can’t help but feel like he’s blowing this somehow. Is there a right way to text someone you barely know? He shakes his head, deciding not to think too much on it.

Namjoon: Sorry, but I didn’t ask your name earlier.

Unknown: Haha, that’s okay. It’s Y/n. And yeah, I was just finishing up some work.

Namjoon contemplates his next question, nerves running amok in his tummy.

Namjoon: Can I call you? Is that okay?

The bubbles appear and disappear for a moment and Namjoon thinks he’s overstepped. It’s pushing one in the morning and Namjoon’s aware of how it may look to you, how it may look to anyone else for that matter.

Y/n: Sure, we can do that.

Namjoon sighs, looking out the window, away from his phone to give himself a moment. You too – he’s mindful of himself, of course. He taps on the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

The line rings for a couple seconds, and Namjoon thinks that maybe you’ve stepped away for a minute or perhaps this was the wrong move and he shouldn’t have asked, but you pick up before another ring could sound. It’s quiet for a second and then he hears you inhale softly.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds a little different over the phone, or maybe it's just the time and Namjoon’s mind is trying to go places it shouldn’t. You’re as calm as you were this morning in the cafe, nothing in your voice betrays your emotion.

“Hey.” Namjoon can’t help the smile, and he’s sure you heard it in his voice. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. I had a coffee so I’ll be awake for a while again.”

Despite your words your voice sounds tired and Namjoon feels guilty, laying back against the headboard with a soft sigh.

He asks about the book you’re reading and he listens to your rambles about the chapter you finished. Then you both talk about anything that comes to mind.

“How’d your day go? You don’t have to be too specific or anything, just in general.” You murmur softly, when Namjoon’s laying down fighting to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want to hang up yet.

“Hectic.” He answers honestly, he can hear you shuffle around, getting comfortable in your sheets. “You?”

“It was alright, I spent half the morning freaking out, really. Today felt a little dream-like. If you hadn’t texted, I probably would’ve convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing.” You chuckle, and then there was a small pause, “Sorry, I’ve been so chill about it this whole time.”

“You’re fine. Handling it better than most.” Namjoon says, “I’m glad you didn’t freak out when you met me though.”

“Human decency.” You repeat your words from earlier, and Namjoon feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You’ve probably had enough of that to last you a lifetime.”

“It’s not too bad, sometimes anyway.” He says softly, halfway asleep and he’s sure you are too. Your voice is getting quieter, and Namjoon can’t keep his eyes open.

When Namjoon wakes it’s to the sun shining into his eyes and his phone is still in his palm. It’s a little after eight am when he checks, and the call had already been disconnected sometime around seven. There’s a message wishing him a good morning from you, there’s a flutter in his tummy at the little yellow heart that ends the text, and he thinks it may be a little too early for that kind of response. He can’t help it though, and he lays in bed for another few minutes and stares at it with a stupid smile on his face.

He wonders what to do with his day, now with more than enough free time on his hands to do whatever he likes and then he wonders what you were doing today. There’s an all-consuming longing for the sense of normalcy you provided within the day he’s known you, and he knows that isn’t much time to find comfort in a person, but he guesses that’s just how it is when you live like he does. However, he doesn’t want to scare you away with his need to feel something that was long lost to him, so he puts off asking you anything.

He has a few things lined up on his personal itinerary: Museum crawls and sightseeing, all of which he would do alone and hopefully without any troubles along the way. He finally decides to bite the bullet when he’s done with his breakfast and sitting at the small table in his hotel room, fiddling with his phone and his bottom lip between his teeth. You hadn’t replied to his responding text from earlier and Namjoon can only assume you’re busy, but he texts anyway.

Namjoon: Are you busy today?

He locks his phone and cleans up the table, snatching his phone up when it chimes softly, smiling already.

Y/n: Not particularly…why?

Namjoon could never distinguish tone from texts, so he’s not sure if you’re suspicious or teasing, so he replies carefully.

Namjoon: I’m doing a thing today…some sightseeing or I might go to a museum…wanna come with?

The bubbles disappear and reappear and then you’re calling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel obligated to either.” Is the first thing he says when he answers, just to be certain.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’d love to. I just need to know if it’s okay.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, a certain type of worry.

Namjoon is quick to ease, “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, Y/n.” He says with a chuckle.

“Ah, okay.” You laugh a little, “Oh but what about...do I have to sign an NDA?”

Namjoon pauses, he’s forgotten about that. He runs a hand through his hair, “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” There’s a smile in your words and Namjoon can’t help but smile back. “Where do I meet you?”

Namjoon sat across from his manager, Sejin, in his hotel room. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous about what he was going to ask.

“Sejin,” Namjoon begins, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sejin, always attentive to Namjoon’s needs, leaned forward. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Namjoon?”

Namjoon hesitated for a moment before continuing, “There’s a friend I met recently, and I was hoping to bring her along with me when I go to the museum today.”

Sejin raises an eyebrow, his protective instincts kicking in. “A friend? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Namjoon? You know how public spaces can get, especially with a girl by your side.”

Namjoon nods, understanding Sejin’s concern. He’s well aware of how things can get, being who he is, especially in the eyes of some of his fans. “I know, Sejin. She's a good friend of mine, she won’t cause any trouble.”

Of course, Namjoon doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s willing to take the risk, and Sejin doesn't need to know he'd only met you yesterday; what he doesn't know won't kill him. One thing he’s certain of is that you’re different, and that’s something he can bet on.

Sejin contemplates for a moment, silent as he thinks before sighing. “Alright, Namjoon. I trust your judgement. But we need to take some precautions. We’ll have her sign a non-disclosure agreement to ensure our privacy and safety.”

Namjoon smiles, relieved that Sejin was willing to accommodate him. “Thank you.”

Namjoon paces in the hotel lobby an hour later, nerves making him unable to stand still for too long. He had met you just a day ago, but there’s something about you that intrigued him deeply. The way you’ve treated him like a regular person, not as the famous musician he was, is perhaps the biggest factor. He found that both fascinating and endearing.

Moments later, you walk into the lobby, looking a bit nervous yourself. You smile when you spot him, lifting your hand in a little wave. Your smile immediately puts Namjoon at ease. You’re wearing a simple dress, a backpack slung over one shoulder, walking over to him in quick steps.

“Hey.” You stop once you’re close enough, still smiling.

Namjoon smiles back, feeling a sense of relief. “Hey, Y/n Thanks for coming.”

You wave him off with a hand, looking around at the large lobby, the lights sparkling in your eyes.

Sejin is waiting at a table near the reception desk, and stands to shake your hand when Namjoon leads you over.

You take a seat and go through the formalities with him, and sign the NDA without complaint. Namjoon can’t help but feel a little worried, like he’s turning your life on its head by knowing him personally.

Namjoon watches the scenery pass by through the tinted glass of the car Sejin rented, the small talk died down as he pulled into the carpark of the museum. He leads you through the private entrance, where the manager meets you both with an enthusiastic greeting.

The museum is empty, and Namjoon catches the wonder in your eyes when he looks at you. “You rented out the whole place?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, I normally do. It’s more so for safety than anything else.”

You hum, nodding in understanding as you trail next to him. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve never been in one while it’s empty before.”

The private tour begins, and Namjoon’s knowledge and passion for art shines through as he explains the significance of each piece, trying his best to keep you entertained. You listen intently, genuine interest evident, even asking questions in between his rambling.

“You know,” You say, staring at a painting of abstract colours, “This is not at all how I imagined this to go.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s long stopped paying attention to the art that lined the walls, admiring you, mostly. “Oh? What did you imagine?”

You shrug, turning your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, I expected bodyguards, and a bit of running around. This is nice, though.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, I would usually have someone close by, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You frown a bit, “Isn’t that dangerous though? You should have someone nearby regardless.”

“Your comfort is important.” Namjoon says, trying to keep you from worrying too much.

“Your safety is too, you know.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s right outside?” Namjoon smiles, he could see you’re ready to debunk his words with the way your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, someone’s near, just not as near as they would be normally.”

You stare at him for a quiet moment longer, “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

As the both of you continued your tour, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly. Namjoon took the moment he had to know more about you. Asking about your dreams, how far you’ve gotten in that book of yours, and the places you wanted to travel to. He found you easy to talk to, allowing himself to open up to you in a way he hadn’t with many people.

Something in the back of his mind, a learned warning echoed. He really shouldn’t be, considering everything. He chooses to ignore it for now, as you ask him about his favourite pieces of art.

By the time the tour was over and Namjoon actually remembered to take photos of the art, the sun was at its zenith. He tries not to take too long touring, so the museum can at least open to the public for the rest of the day.

You’re scrolling through your phone, looking at the photos you took of the pieces that caught your attention.

“Wanna get some food? There’s a good place nearby.” Namjoon asks, tucking his phone into his jeans.

You nod, smiling, “I can eat.”

Namjoon drives you both to a diner he’d visited once or twice when he was last in this city. The diner was packed for the lunch rush and Namjoon contemplates his next move in the car.

“Oh, that’s...” You glance between him and the view of the people in the diner, “I’ll go, whatchu want?”

“I can go...” You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and leaning down to rummage through your backpack. You find your purse with a soft ‘a-ah!’, smiling at him as you right yourself and turn to him again.

“It’s alright. It’s pretty crowded... you might not be so lucky this time.” You say, “Want anything specific?”

Namjoon smiles at you, shaking his head with a small laugh, “Anything’s fine.”

You nod, opening the door, there’s a rush of warm air that disturbs the AC, and Namjoon is stopping you. “Hang on...”

He sees you shake your head as he reaches for his wallet, and you step out before he can hand you his card.

“You can get it next time.” With that you’re off, and Namjoon watches a little slack jawed as you go.

Something in his chest flips and crawls up his throat, “...next time?”

You come out of the cafe, balancing two cups of something colourful in a cardboard holder and two brown paper bags a good five minutes later. Namjoon leans over to the passenger seat to pop the door open for you, extending his arm to take the holder.

“I got you a smoothie if that’s okay,” You say once you settle, passing him one of the paper bags, “Ham, egg and cheese sandwich.”

“Smoothies are good, thank you,” The smoothie is a mix of some fruit and another he can’t put his finger on. He hums at the sweet taste, “Oh, that’s good.”

For a moment, you both quietly eat, “Thanks for inviting me to come with you. I had fun.”

“Sure you weren’t bored out of your mind?” Namjoon teases, smiling when you reach over to smack his arm lightly.

“I was not!” Your giggle rings like a bell, “I mean it.”

As the days go by and his time in this city draws nearer to an end, Namjoon tries his best to spend as much time with you as he could. He’d text and call when he can and when your time allows it, learning more about you as he went along and liking you more as he did. He felt strange for the most part, as his two-week break comes to an end and he’s packing his things away and double checking that he doesn’t forget anything or pack something that isn’t his. His phone is propped up against the bedpost, distracted from folding his clothes by the view of you coming back into the frame.

“You’ll be busy once you get back, right?” You ask, sipping juice through the straw of a juice box.

Namjoon sighs, “Yeah, I’ll try my best to keep up with you, though.”

“You don’t have to.” You wave him off with a hand, “You’re a busy guy.”

“Would you miss me?” Namjoon asks, curious, because he’ll miss you. Is it normal to feel this way about someone you’ve known for only a short while?

“Nah.”

“Ow.”

“I’m kidding.”

Namjoon rolls his suitcase behind him, taking a moment to wave at the paparazzi and the fans that litter the terminal. He grips his phone tightly in his free hand, smiling at the cameras. He’s slept a little on the plane over, and even though he’s wide awake now he knows he’ll crash later. His phone buzzes in his hold and he briefly glances at it, he texted you right before he landed, and was eagerly awaiting your response.

He waits until he’s seated in the car at the entrance, he waves one last time through the window before he rolls it right up and settles into the leather seat of the car. The silence is soothing and Namjoon watches as the people outside filter away now that he’s inside.

Y/n: Hope your flight went okay!

Namjoon studies the text for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was a little worried, honestly. He likes you, a lot, really, but what if it was simply in passing? A fleeting moment of interest? What if it all amounts to nothing in the end all because you’re you and he’s him? It’s easier to date within your own circle, to be with people who understand the complications and compromises that come with being with someone like him. He feels as though now, with an ocean between you both, everything will simply fade away. He’s known you barely two weeks, and even though he’s let you in, and you him, Namjoon can’t help his growing anxiety at the thought. Funny it occurs to him now that he’s back home.

Namjoon: It did!

He stares out the window for a bit, watching the familiar streets zoom by and shakes his head. When was the last time he actually felt like this? Meeting people is hard enough, and meeting someone like you is even harder. He’s seen and met a lot of people over the years, over his time as RM of BTS, a lot of fans who he thought beautiful and never pursued. He knows what comes of relationships between an idol and a fan, he’s seen it happen and it’s always a disappointment to be used like that. But he doesn’t want to put you in that box, he has no right to when you’ve shown him differently. Though, he’s in his right mind to keep an eye out for tabloids and articles of the things he’s shared with you and he also feels guilty that he does. He’s only known you for a short time, something he constantly has to remind himself of when he’s thinking too hard, but that level of trust is something he’s willing to work towards with you.

Namjoon’s days blur together into the weeks as they would when he’s too busy to do anything else but what’s required of him. Meetings here and there, album preparations; work. As he promised, he tried his best to keep up with you, and even on the days where all he could do when he comes home is pass out wherever he sets himself, you text or call to make sure he’s doing okay with it all. Sometimes it’s too early for you to consider being awake or it’s late at night and you’re too tired to keep your eyes open and Namjoon could barely understand what’s coming out of your mouth.

As the weeks meld into months you both found a routine that works best, and Namjoon finds things to do with you when you’re both free at decent times. Maybe you’ll watch a movie or play games together or simply catch up on things you’ve missed.

Namjoon never really has much to tell, most of his days are filled with work and despite his reputation for spoilers, he’s trying his best to keep things under wraps. You do most of the talking, you never seem to mind it much – smiling with a certain understanding – and Namjoon is always happy to listen about what you did that day or your workplace gossip.

He’s found it impossible to get you out of his head and focus more often, thoughts of you invading his mind more than anything else.

Even now as he tries to focus on putting a track together, he’s barely with it, phone propped up against a speaker and waiting for you to get back from getting some things done. He moved from the living room to his home studio a while ago, determined to get some work done and now just sits and stares at the tracks with a frustrated frown. He squints at the screen, moving some things around and playing the same track over and over.

“Where’re your glasses?”

Namjoon glances at his phone to see you just settling back on your couch, a glass bowl of cereal in your hand. You look cute in blue jellyfish printed pajamas he hasn’t seen you in before, hair pulled up and away from your face and even through the phone screen Namjoon can see it’s still damp.

“They’re…” He thinks for a moment, “…somewhere…”

You chuckle, “You should get those thingies kids and old people put on their glasses so they won’t lose them.”

“Trying to say something?”

“I’m just saying…you either lose them or break them and you can just avoid both by getting the thing. I know contacts are annoying.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass.” He sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk to spin around and stretch his fingers. “Isn’t it late for you?”

You put another spoonful of cereal in your mouth, turning your hand to look at your watch and hum, “It’s not that late…trying to get rid of me?”

“Never.” Namjoon smiles at your teasing tone, “Sleep is important, though.”

“Says you.” You point a finger at him, “You texted me at three am two days ago.”

“You were awake though, so…you’re losing this argument.” Namjoon laughs as you snap your mouth shut.

You point your spoon at him, “I’ll win next time.”

“Are those new? The pyjamas.” Namjoon asks, propping his chin on his hand, resigning himself to not getting any work done this morning.

“I’ve had these a while, aren’t they cute? There’s a really big jellyfish printed on the back.” You say, setting your bowl down with a soft clink of the glass against the wood of your coffee table.

“Yeah they’re…” Namjoon feels the words stall in his throat as you stand up, the bottoms of the pajamas aren’t long legged pants as he expected them to be. They end just above the middle of your thighs, and you’re giving him quite the show when you turn and come back down. The sight of the cartoonish jellyfish on the back of the top knocks Namjoon back where he’s supposed to be and he pinches the back of his hand.

When you right yourself, sitting back on the couch, Namjoon can’t stop thinking about the rest of you he can’t see.

“What’s with that look?” You ask after a moment of him just staring.

“What look?” Namjoon asks back, and for a second you simply watch him before you huff out a laugh and look away.

“You’re looking at me like you…” You start, eyes moving back to the camera before they flit away again, “Oh, my mum’s calling. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

Namjoon laughs a bit, nodding as he waves you goodbye, “Sleep well.”

“Ah, fuck.” Namjoon grunts, the muscles of his arm strains and he tilts his head back, sweat trailing down his neck. He brings his arm up and then back down slowly, letting a breath out through his nose, “Shit.”

The music playing through his Bluetooth headphones suddenly fades out, the specific ringtone he set for you plays softly. Namjoon sets the dumbbell down on the floor, pressing a finger against the touchpad of one of the earbuds and answers.

“Hey Princess, what’s up?” He pulls at the end of his tee, fanning the cool ac air against his warm skin.

“Joon, it’s a video call.”

“Oh.” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket, waving at you with a smile, “Hi.” He gets off the bench he’s sitting on, propping his phone somewhere safe and sits again.

“Hi…are you – damn give me a warning, won’t you?”

Namjoon looks up at you just in time to catch you looking away, not missing the motion of you biting your bottom lip. He smirks, whether you’re aware of it or not; this is payback. He had a hard time not thinking of you in those short pyjama pants for two days, and even though this was completely unintentional, it was worth your reaction.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Namjoon smiles innocently.

You shake your head, “Anyway…guess what.” He hears the excitement in your voice rather than see as you’ve stepped out of frame and then quickly back in with a bottle of water in hand. There’s a big bright smile on your lips and you seem to be bouncing a bit in place.

“Well someone’s excited.” Namjoon chuckles and you wave at him frantically, “Okay, okay. What?”

You pout, “It’s no fun if you don’t even attempt to guess, you know?”

“There’s like, so many possibilities of my guess being wrong.” Namjoon says and you sigh dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, the action playful, “I’ll be in your area around this time next week.”

It takes a full minute for Namjoon to process and he almost drops the dumbbell on his foot, “Eh?”

“Hyung…I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon whines, flopping back into the couch in Genius Lab. Seokjin pats his back as Yoongi swivels around in his chair to face him, plucking his headphones out his ears.

“That’s a good thing.” Yoongi says, standing to stretch with a groan, “But also…don’t think about it too much. Overthinking doesn’t do you any good.”

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, “I think it’s good that she’s coming here. It’s a good way to connect, you know?”

“I know, but…”

“It’s different here, right?” Yoongi supplies, sitting back into his chair but he doesn’t turn away, “Feels like you have to run around in secret. And on top of that she isn’t in ‘our circle’, things can get overwhelming for both of you, especially her.”

Yoongi is right, as he usually was. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and the circumstances of it be too much for you to take. Namjoon told the guys about you once or twice, just in case things between you both became more serious than it is now, he didn’t want them out of the loop and have to explain later.

“I don’t want that to get in the way of a relationship should it happen…” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Alright Joonie, Hyung is gonna explain something so listen carefully.” Seokjin lays a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and Yoongi makes a face at the tone he uses.

“Why do you sound like you’re gonna talk to him about safe sex?”

Seokjin ignores Yoongi, turning Namjoon to face him with his other hand on the other shoulder, looking serious. “Namjoon. You’re more than your celebrity status. You’re a person with feelings and desires, just like anyone else. If you like this girl, don’t let fame be a barrier. If things get hard, do what all the other adults do; sit and talk about it.”

Namjoon nods, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Hyung.”

“Now, imagine if I wasn’t here to look after you guys.” Seokjin pats Namjoon’s shoulder, one of his rare deep chuckles filling the brief silence. “Just take her to see all the good places, have fun and you can worry about the rest after.”

It’s a day after you arrive in Korea that Namjoon sees you.

He’s meeting you a block away from the place you’re renting for the two weeks you’ll be here. There’s a slight chill in the air as the tail-end of summer pulls the beginning of autumn, and you’ve unintentionally matched him with your dark clothes and hat. You both had been texting the night before and Namjoon promised to take you somewhere nice while you were free.

“Hi!” your greeting is cheerful, and Namjoon returns it, smiling.

“Settling in okay?” Namjoon asks as he pulls off the curb.

He is determined to make the most of every moment you both spent together, showing you all his favourite spots. You both wandered through bustling markets, sampled street food, and visited historic temples.

When the sun painted the sky with lilac and indigo and the moon chased it away, Namjoon parked his car in the carpark of an observatory. The observatory is closed of course, but there’s an event that Namjoon booked tickets for the moment he saw it. You expressed your love for the cosmos many times before, and Namjoon was more than willing to indulge you. At times he would sit and listen to you ramble on for ages, telling him any and everything.

He flashes you a dimpled smile, making sure his black mask and hat were secured before leading you to the park located at the back of the observatory. The park was a large space with sparse trees and shrubbery dotting the field, the trees are wrapped in fairy lights, which are usually on at night time but are off to allow the best view of the night sky. There are winding paths of gravel that goes every which way, and Namjoon picks the one where less people linger, leading you down it with your hand in his.

He leads you through the winding trails and the other people here for the event until he finds a clear spot where you both can sit comfortably without disturbance.

It’s a clear night, the stars twinkling in the sky above. It’s quiet between you for a moment, where you watch the sky and he’s looking at you. His heart pounds in his ears and he doesn’t know what else to do but look away when you suddenly turn.

“What?” You laugh, leaning slightly to nudge his shoulder with yours.

Namjoon laughs softly, knowing he’s definitely been caught and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

You sigh softly, wrapping your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. He wonders how you both seem to people that may glance a little longer, perhaps like a pair of lovers simply enjoying the night in each other’s company.

Namjoon enters the code for his apartment door, the beep and the sound of the door unlocking is loud in the quiet hallway. He lets you enter first, sliding you a pair of house slippers before he leads you further in.

“Ah, don’t mind the mess...it’s not usually like this...” Namjoon scratches his cheek, eyes caught on the mess that is his coffee table. There’re wads of balled up paper strewn about it, lyrics he started and decided there was nothing he could do with them, his journal left open and his little green cactus pen abandoned. A stack of books on the floor that’s yet to be read.

He quickly walks over to tidy it, picking up the stray pieces of paper.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say, and Namjoon realises you’re not even paying mind to it. Attention fully stolen by the various art pieces he has hung on walls and settled into corners.

The living room of his apartment is large, and in an attempt to make it look less empty, it’s his usual place to put whatever catches his eye. Most of them are paintings, canvases filled with colours and scenery, a book shelf that holds none, instead, a display for finely crafted pottery, potted house plants and a tiny brass horse Taehyung gifted him some time ago. There are picture frames of his family, the boys and other abstract things he took himself filling the emptier spaces on the shelf.

Glass pane windows take up most of the wall on the other side of the room, giving a beautiful view of Hannam in all its glittering glory.

Namjoon makes his way into the kitchen, paper balls clutched in his hands and he asks if you want anything. You’ve wandered over to the shelf, looking at all the different pieces, telling him that water would be fine.

“These are really pretty,” you say, turning to him with genuine admiration. “Are all of them authentic?”

“Some of them are.” He says, getting a glass from his cupboard, and then quietly: “Most of those are from small local ceramists, some of them from charity auctions and things like that.”

There’s something surreal in having you a room away, and not making jokes with him through a phone screen. Namjoon finds himself a little at a loss, a lot clumsier than usual as he knocks his shin against the leg of an island stool. There’s a searing heat that climbs its way from the collar of his shirt to flush the skin of his neck and ears.

He sees the smile that curls the corner of your mouth when you glance at him, “Are you okay?”

Namjoon nudges the stool closer to the lip of the island counter – glaring at it as though it walked into his path just to spite him; he forgot it out this morning, it’s his fault really – and nods. “I’m good.”

He reaches you in three strides, passing you the glass of chilled water. You take small sips of it, and Namjoon tracks the motion of your throat as you swallow.

He gives you a little tour, telling you about the art and any little thing you ask after. Namjoon’s thrilled to share this part of his life with you.

When it got a little later, Namjoon stands in the kitchen, watching water boil because it’s the only thing you let him do. He feels a little embarrassed as you stand somewhere behind him, donned in an apron he barely uses. He’d suggested ordering in and in very you fashion, you’d asked when was the last time he had a home cooked meal. Honestly, it was a while ago, when he visited home.

You’d shook your head, listing the times he would call you while he was eating dinner and you eating breakfast and it would always be some sort of take-out.

You gracefully allow him to crack the pasta and put it in the pot, but that was the most of it.

“I won’t be explaining to anyone how you hurt yourself in here.” You say, lowering the heat under steaming tomato sauce. You’re making pasta, he thinks, as you’ve told him that your knowledge on Korean cuisine isn’t enough for you to try your hand at it.

“You wouldn’t have to, I hurt myself all the time.” Namjoon chuckles, “Can I at least help you cut those?” he motions at the small bowl of washed onions, not waiting for an answer, he pulls a knife from the holder at the corner of the island. He knows how to hold a knife without too much trouble, at least.

As you skilfully prepare dinner, the conversation between you both flow naturally. Talking about whatever comes to mind, anything and everything and laughing over stories. You both settle to eat afterwards, and Namjoon can’t stop singing your praises, he’d go halfway to say that you cook better than Seokjin…Maybe he’s just biassed.

After Namjoon washed the dishes – he swore he wouldn’t let you do anything more – you both took your drinks of bottled beers to the living room. Sitting on the couch, and a movie playing on the mounted tv that neither of you pay attention to, far too engrossed in talking to each other; the well of topics never seems to run dry. Namjoon thinks that’s nice, there’s always something to talk about with you, even if you’re just telling him workplace gossip from two weeks ago, or rambling on about a shell you found on a beach when you were nine.

“Oh shoot-” You turn your wrist to look at your watch, the glass face catching the overhead lights. You squint at the time, something Namjoon once made fun of you for, because who has analogue watches anymore? He doesn’t find it in him to laugh at you now though, as the realisation dawns on him before you can say: “It’s really late…”

He checks his own watch without much reason – thirty minutes past midnight – and he frowns, he’s kept you way later than he intended. “Shit yeah, my bad. Sorry I kept you.”

You wave a hand, smiling at him, “No, it’s okay!” You place the half empty bottle of beer on the little black coaster on the coffee table. You stare out at the city for a quiet moment, “How hard is it to catch a taxi from here?” you ask, and then, quietly to yourself: “Maybe I should call an uber…”

It takes Namjoon a fraction of a second for his mind to fumble, trying to grasp at the words uselessly before they tumble out into the air. His mouth moves faster, though, “Or you could just stay here?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, the words hanging in the air long enough that Namjoon wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him, never to spit him out again. He stumbles with his words, dropping them as though the gears of his mind are grinding to a halt, coating in rust. “Um-If th…uh…you don…”

Then, you smile, your cheeks squishing your eyes. “Only if that’s okay.”

“More than.” Namjoon can’t help his smile back; grateful you didn’t mention him tripping over himself. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Twenty minutes later, Namjoon is digging through his drawers for something for you to wear for the night, the blush that had flushed his cheeks earlier had returned with a vengeance as he thought about the fact that you’re staying the night and would be wearing his clothes. He’s still beside himself, not too sure what to do, because this is so far beyond the two of you being friends and talking through calls and texts.

He settles on a long-sleeved tee shirt and black sweatpants and meets you back in the living room, where you stand at the window watching the lights twinkle down below and in the distance. When he announces his return, you turn, looking a little worried and Namjoon once again wonders if he’s crossed a line somewhere. You smile softly, taking the bundle of clothes from his arms.

“Thank you…” You say, and then, softer: “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Namjoon plants his hands on your shoulder, squeezing gently before he leads you back the way he came, following your steps closely with his own. He stops you right outside the bathroom door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Namjoon lays awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. You’re sleeping in the room across from him, well, he assumes you’re asleep by now. The clock at his bedside blinks sleepily, but Namjoon finds it hard to let his mind settle.

When you’d come out of the bathroom earlier, a little over thirty minutes ago, you were practically drowning in his clothes. You’d rolled the legs of the pants a few times but it still swam around your ankles and the tee was at least three times your size.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in oversized clothing before. It’s simply the fact that it’s his. It’s been a good few months since he’s met you in that cafe, and a good few weeks since he’s realised he liked you.

It may have happened when you went off on one of your many rambles about something or the other. He’s not quite certain. After spending the entire day with you, Namjoon likes you in his space. Not once have you given him the need to run in the opposite direction, not once have you broken his trust.

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, kicking his feet under the blanket. Making up his mind, he gets out of bed and marches confidently to his door. He pulls it open and the edge of the door hits his toe. He stands for a moment, with his eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain and a hand over his mouth keeping the pained yelp trapped. “...Ow.”

He takes the five steps across the hallway, raises a hand to knock, takes a breath and turns on his heel. He walks a little ways up the hall.

“Okay. C’mon, it’s not that hard.” He mutters to himself, and then looks back at the door, “This is very hard.”

He’s not sure. He’s sure of himself, and his feelings, but...what if you’re not in the same place he is?

“Joon?” You poke your head out the door, and Namjoon startles. “You good?”

You didn’t look like you went to sleep and he woke you up, though your hair is a bit tousled and Namjoon would like to hope that you’d been just as restless as he was.

“Yeah...”

You give him a look that says you aren’t too convinced, “I heard a thud.”

“Oh...” The ache in his toe rings with a dull echo, and he looks down at his feet and then back at you, “Door...I jammed it against my toe.”

Your eyes flicker downward, and even in the dimly lit hallway he could see your amusement. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, happens all the time.”

“I’m concerned at the fact that you think accidentally hurting yourself this often is normal.” You laugh and Namjoon makes his way over to you but stops short and stares up at the ceiling. You’ve ditched the pants he gave you.

“What are we looking at?”

He glances at you and you’re also looking at the ceiling.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

You must’ve caught yourself, because there’s a soft gasp and the shuffling of your feet. When Namjoon brings his gaze back down you’re peeking at him from behind the door.

“Sorry!” You squeak out, “Sleeping in long pants is uncomfy.”

“It’s okay, I sleep naked sometimes so...” Namjoon couldn’t stop the words before they hit the air, and for a moment they simply hang there as you both stare at each other.

“Not that you should sleep naked...I mean – you can if you want to, really, doesn’t bug me at all...” He’s really trying to reign it in here. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping like that. As long as you’re comfortable!”

“Relax,” You laugh, sticking your hand out through the gap in the door and the frame to wave him down, “I’m not sleeping naked. I get cold fast.”

“There’s a solution for that.” Another pause, and Namjoon realises how his words sounded as you raise a brow at him, “The heater. There’s a heater in there. I wasn’t suggesting that I could...”

Namjoon sighs, he really does put his foot right in his mouth. So he does what’s best for everyone and just closes it.

Just when he was beginning to think that this moment would be at the top of his 'Awkward situations you’ve created' list, the gap widens just a bit and there’s something shy about your small smile and the way your eyes stay glued to the floor.

“I wouldn’t mind...” Your words are soft and Namjoon wonders for a moment if he misheard. This is the most shy he’s seen you in a while, looking up at him through your eyelashes, fingers caught in the hem of your borrowed tee-shirt; wringing the life out of the piece you hold.

“Yeah?” His voice is equally as soft, giving you room to change your mind if you so wished. You nod mutely and Namjoon gives you a second more to think carefully, only stepping forward when you step back and pull the door with you.

You leave the door open a crack, so that the light from the hallway bleeds into the darkness, and Namjoon watches as you walk over to the bed and crawl under the blankets.

There really isn’t much to this room, equipped with the essentials and a few nick-knacks and a bookshelf he’d put his other books on because there was no space on his other ones. There was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard, something he put there to give the room a bit more personality.

You’re peeking at him from the blankets, the soft mounds of material hiding most of your face from view. It’s a lot cooler here than his room, though the floor is cold under his bare feet and he briefly wondered if you need socks.

He walks soundlessly over and out of habit, he’s already pulling his tee-shirt over his head but pauses when it hangs on the length of his arms. “Shit – sorry.” He pokes his head back through the neck of the tee, “I run hot so I don’t usually sleep with a shirt on.”

“Is that why you sleep naked, too?”

Namjoon is grateful for the dark as heat runs up his neck. He takes it in stride, though, “Yeah. Clothes are constricting sometimes.”

There’s something else in your voice when you giggle, and there’s a shifting of the blankets. “You can keep it off if you want.”

Namjoon hums, “Are you okay with that?”

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

“Your comfort matters, too.” It’s not as though you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before; you shaded video calls during his workout sessions. Even though most of those are spent with you trying not to look at him – Namjoon’s caught you staring more times than he could count. This is different, though, he reminds himself; you’re no longer oceans away.

“I’m comfortable with it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon pulls his shirt off and folds it neatly, placing it on the nightstand before he climbs into bed next to you.

His side of the bed is cold, but he could feel your warmth just inches away. He turns to face you, lying on his side, finding your eyes in the dark.

“Hi.” You’re already facing him and in the darkness, Namjoon smiles.

“Hi.”

Your toes brush his under the covers and Namjoon hisses softly, “Are you cold?”

“A little...”

“Want me to get closer?” Namjoon whispers, and to his surprise, you move over first.

There’s a slight chill to your skin as you settle, resting your head where Namjoon extended his arm and then, close enough that your legs tangle with his and the ghost of your breath tickles his chest. You smell like him, like watermelon and mint; He’s once again grateful for the darkness.

Namjoon lets his other arm rest in the dip where the softness of your stomach meets your waist. It’s quiet when you both stop shuffling about, and your breaths are a tad nervous on the inhale.

“Okay?” Namjoon tries his best not to disturb the quiet, speaking softly. He feels you nod, and a slow flow of warm air as you sigh.

“You’re really warm.”

Namjoon chuckles, and silently, holds you tighter. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, your hair tickles his nose. It smells faintly of his shampoo – he’s never loved it more. He wants to stay there forever, wrapped in the sweet, gentle scent of honeysuckle, melon and something uniquely you.

Namjoon wonders – and he knows, there’s no point in dwelling on the thought – what would’ve happened if he’d walked out of the cafe that day. Held captive by his responsibilities and his duty to keep his group and their image as spotless as possible. It would’ve been different had you not been the way you are.

He calls your name softly, and he wonders if you can feel the rapid pace of his heart beneath the warmth of your palm. It kicks against his sternum like he’s been running, and he takes a breath. There’s something unspoken here, in this darkened room where only the walls are listening.

Somewhere along the way, during the days that dragged the weeks into months – somewhere – a line was blurred.

Sleep wraps around your tired hum like a warm blanket, the sound of the sheets shifting further shattering the quiet as you lean back a little to look at him.

He lets his hand find the warmth of your cheek, moving until his thumb is resting against the front of your ear and his fingers are nestled in the softness of your hair.

“Wanna ask you something.” He says.

“What’s it?”

Distractedly, Namjoon’s fingers rub tentative circles in your scalp and catches the way your eyes flutter at the feeling.

He smiles when your eyes open and meet his, with the dark he grows confident, and softly: “Can I kiss you?”

His words hang in the air, heavy with desire and affection. In that moment, the weight of his request carries with it a profound realisation.

It’s not just a simple act of physical connection he seeks, but rather a deeper, more profound expression of love. His request bears the weight of all the emotions, vulnerabilities, and hopes he has placed upon this relationship.

The answer now rests in your hands, and Namjoon waits with bated breath for your response.

“Please.” Your answer dances between you both, and Namjoon angles your head upward slightly, and closes the gap with a tentative kiss. Your lips are soft and taste of mint when he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth. He doesn’t ask for much more, gentle in the way that he pulls you closer, fingers tangling in the soft hair at your nape.

In this moment, there is no need for words. The brush of your skin against his, the sweet taste of your kiss, and the way your bodies gravitate towards each other speak volumes.

Namjoon cherishes every second, every breath shared, as he grows more intoxicated by you.

His heart pounding in his chest, all thoughts of caution and restraint fade away. Giving in completely to his desire and lust, he pulls you close, not wanting this moment to end. The kiss is now an embrace, with both of you giving in fully.

His lips caress yours, his touch slowly becoming more and more intimate. His tongue finds yours, and Namjoon swallows the sound you make.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, you both take in a deep breath. It’s like everything around you becomes blurred, with only the two of you visible.

He runs his hands through your hair, looking into your eyes. He draws closer again, resting his forehead against yours.

He’s quiet, still for a moment, simply watching you in the dark. Your fingers tap softly against his chest, confusion and worry sit on the furrow of your brow.

“What wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your eyes each and then your forehead where he lingers. “It’s nothing... it’s just...”

“I want you to understand...” He continues softly after a breath, “My life can be overwhelming, it’s hard even for me some days. There’s times when I feel like I’ve worked hard only to get myself trapped in a bottle. Dangling above the view of millions who think I should live my life their way.

It isn’t easy. There’s always a risk that maybe one of us would slip up or something else. Privacy is something hard won and I’d hate for anything to happen that puts you in a position that you’ll regret.”

Namjoon lays his worries bare like cards going all in, focusing on the texture of your hair between his fingers. He allows you a moment to absorb his words, to really think.

The life of an idol isn’t for everyone; so many have cracked under the pressure of it. The life of an idol’s partner does not come any easier. Your relationship would be kept buried like a dirty secret to feed into the delusions of a certain variety of ‘fans’, all for the safety of the people involved.

If by some miracle, or a stroke of good luck, you choose to continue onward despite the challenges it would bring, Namjoon would be eternally grateful and he would spend his days making sure you never regret that choice.

“Joon...” Your hand meets his wrist, curling at his pulse. “I’ve known from the beginning what it would be like. You’ve got fans all over the world who adore you, and who would do just about anything to get close to you. It’s not easy to live a life like that, to be constantly watched and judged.

“But I knew that going in,” you continue. “I may not have expected to fall in love with you, but now that it’s happened, nothing else matters. I know what it’s like to have eyes always on you, and I’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

“You...you love me?” Namjoon's mind feels as though it blanked, though somewhere in the back among the cogs grinding to a halt your words have registered. Right now, he could only tunnel focus on that one thing.

“Oh god.” There’s a smile blooming on Namjoon’s lips as you groan an embarrassed sound, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, leaning back to catch your gaze but you evade him, bringing your hands up to cover your face instead.

Namjoon briefly wonders if this is what a moon orbiting a planet feels like. Ganymede does not question the gravity of Jupiter. It simply orbits the planet, accepting its fate. And Namjoon accepts his fate of being drawn to you. He is not swept up by your presence, but rather firmly grounded, and held in place. His feelings for you are as natural as the pull of gravity, as certain as the rotation of the Earth.

In your presence, everything shifts, and nothing else becomes important. Your gravity becomes his universe, and he is perfectly content to reside in it.

“I love you too.”

You peek at him through your fingers, and Namjoon doesn’t let the moment pass, prying your hands gently away from your face. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, there’s nothing gentle about it this time – all teeth and tongue and quiet sounds that Namjoon swallows. He eases you onto your back with a gentle hand, slotting himself between your legs.

He trails his kisses down your neck, catching the skin with his teeth and sucking to leave his mark. He trails his hand down the length of your thigh, over the band of your underwear and under the soft cotton tee-shirt. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your hip, feeling the warmth of your skin and the way you tremble beneath his touch. He travels further still, up your ribcage to your breasts, feeling the soft curves and the way your nipples harden beneath his caress.

He feels the goosebumps that erupted at his touch, feels the hitch of your breath in your chest. Namjoon sucks a mark against your collarbone, he shifts so that he’s at your side, giving his hand more room.

He traces feather light touches along the expanse of your stomach and you giggle into his kiss. His fingers glide just above the waistband of your underwear, teasing until you whine his name.

Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, “Can I?”

Words seem like more than you can manage and you nod. Namjoon gives a fleeting kiss, as his fingers dip lower, pushing aside your underwear to find your heat. The arousal clinging to your panties cools rapidly against the back of his hand, and Namjoon dips a finger into the warmth of you.

He keeps his eyes on your face as he does, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. He nudges his nose against your cheek and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He’s barely touching you, keeping his fingers just shy of where he knows you want them the most.

It’s a while of teasing you this way, and Namjoon likes the way frustration bleeds into your soft, breathless moans when he circles your clit with his slick fingers and pulls away. He gives your neck and chest most of his attention, with gentle squeezes and his tongue tracing abstract patterns, drawing your nipples into his mouth with soft tugs of his teeth.

When the next whine of his name comes with teary eyes, Namjoon takes pity on you. The wet, tightness of you makes him groan and he pulls a hissing breath through his teeth, pressing his erection against your hip where he ruts in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He curls them upward, your back bows and he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He kisses your cheek when your fingers wrap around his wrist, “I got you, baby.”

You gasp, your pleasure mounting until you can’t take it anymore. You writhe beneath his touch as you reach the peak of pleasure, calling out his name as you fall over the edge.

Namjoon gives you a moment to breathe, running his hand along your thighs and tummy. He takes your face in his hands once your breaths evened out, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing in your scent. His lips find yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.

“Good?”

“Fuck – yeah.” Your fingers tug at his hair and Namjoon groans.

“Want me to go on?” He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple and then, almost jumps right out of his skin when your other hand squeezes at his cock in his sweats. He lets out a chuckle that gets muddled by a moan that rumbles in his chest. “Baby.”

Namjoon sees the smile that curls in your lips, the innocent way you blink at him. You hum softly when he mouths at your jaw, a shudder runs through him and he can’t stop himself chasing the friction with a buck of his hips.

“You wan’it?” Namjoon’s drunk on you and you’ve barely done anything. You’re tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groans, letting his forehead rest against your chest when your hand wraps around his cock and tugs upward. “Ah, Fuck.”

He feels your hand against his chest and lies back when you push gently. He watches as you tug his tee-shirt and your underwear off, and he quickly follows to take his sweats off.

He slides his hands up your thighs when you settle on his. A breath catches in his throat when you wrap both hands around the width of his cock. His fingers gripping where your thighs meet your hips, and he watches with heavy lidded eyes as you lean forward slightly and spit. The dollop of saliva lands deftly on the head of his cock and Namjoon’s eyes roll back as you focus there.

You’re twisting your wrists, the slick sound of it and Namjoon’s harsh breaths are the only sounds in the quiet room. When he feels his lower stomach clench he grabs your wrist and still your movement.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of literally anything else, “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”

Your giggle rings like a bell and Namjoon smiles at the sound. Sitting up he pulls you forward, trapping his throbbing cock between his stomach and the heat of your cunt. He groans at how wet you are, blunt teeth nipping at your jaw. “Wanna ride it?” He breathes, “Hm? Wanna fuck me?”

He feels your nod, feels the shuddering breath you release against his hair. “Words, Princess.”

“Yeah, wanna fuck you.”

Namjoon helps you balance, guiding his cock – slick with your juices – to your entrance. He sucks on your tongue as you come down slowly, and Namjoon swears he’s seeing the pearly gates behind his tightly shut eyes when your walls flutter.

He lies back, giving you a moment and short, shallow thrusts. You look so beautiful above him, your hair a rumpled mess, throat and chest covered in bruises of his own making. He gives a single thrust, a hand sliding up your sweat slicked skin to palm at your breast, his other hand landing a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeak out a moan and Namjoon chuckles, doing it again, “C’mon, baby girl. Fuck me.”

Your hands press against his tummy, hips rising slowly and coming back down. He lets you set the pace, content to lie back and take what you give. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips.

He plants his feet flat on the bed, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. He pulls you down with a hand behind your neck, when your chest meets his he wraps his other arm around your waist and sets a brutal pace.

“Feels so fucking good.” Namjoon groans, “Pussy’s so good—fuck.”

You’re moaning right in his ear, whining, breathless sounds that makes him fuck you harder. Without warning, your thighs squeeze at his sides and you tremble above him. Your orgasm pools in his groin in a gush of warmth, your moans pitching an octave with his name and Namjoon swears, fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Namjoon groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He slows his thrusts and gently eases you off him, he settles behind you when you’re on your stomach, lifting your hips to meet his.

Your moans are muffled by the sheets when he thrusts forward. He holds you steady with a hand gripping your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He focuses his thrusts on the spot that makes your walls tighten and drip.

He looks down to watch his cock disappear inside you, and the way your ass jiggles from the force of his thrusts. “Fuc—M’gonna cum. Where you want it?”

You meet his thrusts halfway, “Inside.”

“You sure?” Namjoon pants, slowing down just a bit.

“Yeah—wanna feel you. Please, daddy.”

Lightning shoots down his spine, curses in his mother tongue trapped behind his teeth as he spills his release inside you. He holds you pressed against him, balls deep, moaning at every throb of his cock.

He pulls you closer when he lays down, peppering kisses all over your face and wherever he could reach. When you’ve both caught your breaths, you finally speak, chin propped on your hand on his chest.

“Daddy, huh? That does it for you?” You’re giggling and Namjoon throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Shut up.” He can’t help his smile, “You’re the one who said it, so I think it’s the other way around actually.”

“We’re both gonna lose if we go there.”

A half hour later, after the sheets in the guest bedroom were stripped and you and him are settled for the night in his room, Namjoon wouldn’t change a thing if he had the power to. He’d go into that cafe and sit at your table every time.

Ganymede has no choice in the matter, he would orbit Jupiter as long as she allows it.

Tagging (Bold means i couldn't tag ):) : @xpeachesncream @luaspersona @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @eren-fall @blog-name-idk @idkreallys-blog @thvunaise @menialthoughts

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprout | knj | mini series masterlist

Summary: You love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate. 

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 

AUs: neighbors au, gardening au → strangers to enemies to friends to lovers 

Genres: slice of life, smut, humor

Rating: explicit

Word count: 20.7K

Status: completed

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings: will be tagged for each individual chapter, but overall it includes the following: reader is just a really mean brat on a warpath. That entails pranks and vandalism and overall pettiness 👀 Namjoon has a driver’s license in this (this is a warning yes 😂), (somewhat) rough smut; degrading name calling (bitch), hair pulling, spanking, very brief anal fingering, some cockwarming, throat fucking, breast and nipple play, sexual tension, stupid innuendos, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (please don’t be stupid), praise kink, begging, exhibitionism, slight dom/sub themes 👀 big dick Joonie, creampie, aftercare — I think that’s it!

🌱 Chapter 1 - Greenhouse | word count: 3.7K | Read → chapter one

🌱 Chapter 2 - To snap a twig | word count: 3.8K | Read → chapter two

🌱 Chapter 3 - Bloom | word count: 5K | Read → chapter three

🌱 Chapter 4 - Housewarming party | word count: 8.2K | Read → chapter four [FIN]

[joonsmagicshop]

Friend or Fuck

Summary: A drunken night leads to a good morning.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader. Jungkook and reader are friends, All the boys are mentioned.

Word Count: 8k

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: Drinking, mentions of throwing up, drunk talk, smut, fingering, dirty talk, someone is a cock blocker, cum eating, Namjoon's back

Author Note: um hi! It has been a while since I've written fanfiction but this idea would not leave me alone so here we are! If you enjoy let me know and there mayyyy be a part two

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The party was in full swing by the time Jungkook had pulled up to Jimin's house in his sleek black car. Of course, Jimin seemed to invite the whole neighborhood so Jungkook circled around the subdivision until he found a parking spot two blocks down from the giant house and loud music.

You let out a small sigh as Jungkook put the car into park and flipped his visor down to check his hair one more time, his tongue darting out to lick at his lip ring, something he did when he was excited...or nervous.

You looked out the window and wrapped your arms around yourself staring out into the dark October night. You certainly didn't dress to walk this many blocks, you instantly regretted the choice of a little black dress and heels.

“Y/N no getting cold feet now, you promised.” Your friend reminded you as he flipped the visor up and stared you down, his dark eyes gleaming in the glow of the overhead street lights and sending a small reassuring smile your way. He knew you didn't really want to go to this party but you had promised you'd go to the next one months ago and regretted it when Jungkook reminded you of that promise a couple nights prior.

The air was bitingly cold and Jungkook shucked off his leather jacket to give to you. You wrapped it around your body as you made your way up the street inhaling his spicy cologne.

“Come on it's going to be fun! We haven't been to a party in ages!” He said trying to hype you up as you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be skipping down the street in excitement and you shook your head.

“What do you mean we? Kook, you were partying with the guys last weekend. I would know, I got the call from Jin at one in the morning.” You teased with a smile as Jungkook flashed you an embarrassed grin

“Okay smarty pants well you haven't been to a party in a while, I miss hanging with you at these things and I know the boys miss you too.” He replied with a shy smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold.

Before you can argue he speaks again.

“You have been so stressed with work and life...I just want you to have a fun night that's all.”

You smiled. Jungkook was your best friend and knew you better than most people. Sure a party was not your way to unwind and relax but it would be nice to see everyone again, and it did feel nice to dress up. Your dress had been sitting in your closet for far too long without being worn, and even though you weren't wearing the most comfortable heels you did feel beautiful.

“Will I even see you with all your fan girls around?” You tease bumping into him playfully on the sidewalk as Jungkook blushes and shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes.

Without fail, at almost every party a group of girls take him away from you. Jungkook is too polite to say no and usually will shake them off within an hour or so, sometimes he's less successful and you won't see him for most of the night.

“You know Taehyung is going to be there” He teases back as you roll your eyes.

“Kook.” You warn.

“Come on!”

“No. We aren't having this conversation.”

“He's a good guy”

“I know.”

“And it's been what? Two years.”

“Kook...drop it.”

“And we both heard the stories about him. His fingers. His mouth.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim as you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment as he chuckles beside you. You reach out to smack his arm which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay okay, so maybe not Taehyung but it has been two years. You can date whenever you are ready I just want you to be happy that's all! A party full of people, possibly single people. Might be good for you, you know?”

You pondered over his words as Jimin's house came into view.

“I am happy Jungkook. I have a good job and good friends. I'm all good. Super good.” You answer trying to avoid his gaze.

This wasn't the time or place for this conversation. Sure you were a good enough liar, telling everyone that you were too busy focusing on yourself and your job to date. Sure, most of the time you did love being single but there were those times when you were in a crowd or around coupled-up people and you realized how alone you truly were. It had been two years since you dated someone since you were intimate with someone. It was a messy breakup and you convinced yourself you were better off single.

Jungkook steps in front of you and lightly grabs your arms stopping you in your tracks.

“There were too many goods in that sentence for me to believe you. I'm going to drop it because we don't need sad faces before we go to this party I want you to have fun. Promise me you will have some fun tonight. Please.” He says staring you down.

You nod.

“And if you fuck someone please wear protection I'm not ready to be an honorary uncle.”

You smack his arm again as you both walk up the driveway and can already hear the music thumping from inside.

You hand him back his jacket at the door as he knocks and Jimin opens it with a big grin and open arms.

Your jaw drops as you take in Jimin's house. The entrance is huge with high ceilings and a large staircase leading upstairs. People are everywhere and the music is so loud you can feel the vibrations throughout your body

“Nice huh?” Jimin teases as a couple of girls come up, not even noticing you as they hug Jungkook and practically drag him away. He shoots you an apologetic look over his shoulder as he is dragged into the crowd and within an instant disappears among all the people.

You grit your teeth. Not only did you not want to go to this party you now lost Jungkook for who knows how long. Luckily Jimin was still hanging by your side.

“New record I think? What was that like three seconds?” You ask Jimin as he throws back his head and laughs.

He loops an arm around you and gives you the house tour. He shows you the massive kitchen where it seems like most of the alcohol is located, spread out on the kitchen table and counters. People are mulling about and a giant stack of red solo cups sits right in the center of the table which looks sticky with spilled drinks.

Jimin shows you the dining room and the living room where Jungkook is already seated on a squishy-looking couch surrounded by some girls who seem to look at him like he hung the stars. There are two girls on each side of him and one at his feet. You chuckle as he makes eye contact with you and mouths a “sorry” You just shake your head and wave him off. You knew this would happen away.

Jimin leads you to a corner where Jungkook's friends are hanging out. You knew them all fairly well and greeted them with a smile as Jimin brought you over and gave you a little twirl as an entrance.

“Y/N long time no see!” Jin exclaims as he wraps you in a tight hug with has you gasping for breath. His eyes are gleaming as he throws an arm around your shoulders and you take in the other guys in front of you.

Namjoon is standing there keeping an eye on everyone, as usual, Yoongi shoots you a small smile before going back to his phone. You lock eyes with Taehyung and feel yourself blush. He does look good tonight wearing all black and his dark hair is fluffy and falling in front of his eyes.

He shoots you a boxy grin and you smile back as you break eye contact and scan the crowd for familiar faces.

“Where's Jungkook?” Namjoon asks as he scans the crowd as well.

You start looking around for Jungkook through the crowd so you miss Namjoon's eyes on you, taking in your short black dress and heels.

“The girls got him three seconds!” Jimin teases as he shakes his head and the other boys laugh. You feel yourself lighten up with them around and join in on their laughter as you explain how the two of you hardly got through the door before he was dragged away.

“He dragged you to this party and didn't even get you a drink. We have to teach him manners.” Tae says catching your gaze as his eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Come on Y/N let's get you something.” Jimin offers as he takes your arm and Tae follows the both of you into the kitchen.

Before you know it you are handed a red cup, not even bothering to see what was in it, you take a drink. The alcohol burns your throat but there is a fruity aftertaste that makes it tolerable. You see some people you recognize and start to talk to them, just catching up on life. Jimin excuses himself as the doorbell rings but Taehyung stays by your side as you catch up with some old friends.

-------------------------

The night goes on and you start to feel better...a lot better. All the anxiety about the party has dissolved, instead, it is replaced with a soft fuzzy almost giddy feeling. Or maybe that was the booze.

Taehyung had made sure your cup was always filled and kept you close most of the night. He was your saving grace honestly because Jungkook had not reappeared after the girls had dragged him away and even though you had scanned the crowd multiple times you still couldn't spot him anywhere.

You were now seated at a tall bar stool in the kitchen talking to some girls you had just met tonight when you realized your cup was empty. You frowned. All night it had not been empty and now it was? You looked up and scanned the room for Taehyung, your bartender for the night but you couldn't find him. He was just gone? When did he leave? How long had you not noticed?

Everything felt blurry and kind of fuzzy as you continued to look through the crowd, which at this point was more a blur of color than real people. Since when did the kitchen get so crowded? And where was Tae?

You decided to walk around the party to see if you could find him or any of the guys. You put the cup down on the island next to you and tried to slide off the stool but in your drunken state, you stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn't for a strong set of arms holding you steady.

At first, you thought it was Taehyung, who had finally come to find you but as you looked up you realized you were looking at Namjoon. He held you close and had an unwavering stare that made you nervous. His dark hair was falling into his eyes and he looped an arm around your waist to hold you steady, his hands hot on your side.

You fumbled and finally got your feet on the floor as he practically hoisted you up. You leaned on him for support and tried to thank him but you were having a hard time with words at the moment and you frowned, your cup was still empty.

“Y/N You okay.” He asked as you nodded, knowing if you spoke it would give away how not okay you were at the moment. God, how many drinks did Tae give you? You had lost count but then again after the second one you stopped counting anyway.

“Yeah, I just. Bathroom-need-the yeah. Bathroom.” You stammered as you felt hot under his piercing gaze. You broke from his grip and searched the house for a bathroom, stumbling along and bumping into people. You wondered if the amount of people doubled since the start of the party as it felt harder to navigate.

You vaguely remember Jimin showing you a bathroom that was right off the kitchen but as you opened the door it turned out to be a pantry.

God, how drunk were you?

You continued to navigate through the party eventually finding a bathroom up the stairs and down a hallway. Once inside you locked the door and placed your hands on the cold sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror which was slightly swaying and you brought your face close to the mirror inspecting yourself.

You thought about the events of the night that led you here. How Jungkook still had not returned to your side, how Taehyung had stayed with you the whole night, told you you had looked pretty, kept your cup filled, how he took care of you.

You thought about what Jungkook had said on the walk to the house. His words rang in your ears louder than the music that was still blaring downstairs.

“Just promise me you will have some fun tonight”

And you did. You had a lot of fun tonight. You felt giddy and happy and slightly tipsy.

“I'm gonna fuck Tae.” You said to your reflection earning a giggle to spill from your lips as you stared at yourself.

It only made sense. Out of all the girls he could have talked to tonight, he chose you. You could trust him. Jungkook told you to have fun and that would be fun. Sure you never ever had sex with someone at a party but you also never partied and here you were in Jimin's bathroom feeling the happiest and lightest you had felt in weeks.

He could break your dry spell. He could be good for you. So good for you and good to you. Of course, you had heard the stories, even his friends had. Tae never denied it saying he didn't kiss and tell. You could be his secret.

Suddenly you couldn't stop thinking about him. His fluffy brown hair, his boxy smile. The way he laughed when Yoongi told a funny story. How he nearly took J-Hope down while giving him a hug when he finally showed up to the party, fashionably late of course. The best part was, he was as drunk as you were. So if the sex was bad it didn't matter. You doubted either of you would remember. It was perfect.

You ruffled your hair and tried to fix your mascara nearly poking yourself in the eye in the process. You pulled down your dress to go for more of a sultry look and as you opened the door you were met with a broad chest.

You almost ran right into it and when you looked up you were eye to eye with Namjoon, who had a worried look on his face. He must have followed you to the bathroom. Classic Namjoon looking out for everyone.

“Joonie!” You squealed as you pulled him in for a hug, taking in his spicy cologne and your head spun, the room spun, everything was kind of spinning at the moment.

He embraced you and held you still as you nearly tripped on your feet.

“Joonie Guess what!?” You said brightly as you watched his lips twitch into a smile at the cute nickname you gave him.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Are you okay?” He asked all serious and you threw back your head and laughed. Poor Namjoon always so serious. He needed to lighten up. You wanted him to feel how you felt. Light as a feather...or a nice pretty cloud. Besides all the spinning.

“Doesn't matter. Namjoon do you know where Taehyung is? I need him. It's so so important.” You slur, tilting your head and trying to look as cute as possible so he would help you. You had seen Jungkook try that with him many times and it always worked. You tried to imitate Jungkook's pouty smile.

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow and stares you down. His body is blocking the exit to the bathroom caging you in.

He didn't seem to want to help you.

Well,

Fine.

“Joonie move over I need to find Tae.” You whine as you place both hands on his chest and try to move him. His body is warm under your hands and he doesn't move at all as you push your force into him.

“What do you need him for?” Namjoon asks tilting his head.

“None of your business.” You tease. You didn't know why he had to be so serious all the time. It was ruining your plans.

“How about this? You tell me and I let you leave.” He says smiling at you, dimple poking out.

“For your information Joon. I'm going to fuck him.” You say crossing your arms and puffing out your chest to make yourself look bigger.

Namjoon puts his hands on either side of the bathroom threshold caging you in further.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Seriously. You aren't yourself right now.” He says staring you down as you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I don't know. I didn't bother counting because that's stupid! Taehyung gave me drinks and I drank them. It was polite! Jungkook told me to have fun and I was having fun till you showed up.” You shot back feeling annoyed.

Namjoon let out a low chuckle which only annoyed you further.

“I didn't want to come here in the first place but I guess I made a promise to Jungkook. I hate these parties but I sucked it up and came. Now I'm happy and having fun and you're trapping me in this bathroom. You are the worst Namjoon. Either help me find him or move over and I'll find him myself.” You bite out staring him down with the same hard stare he is giving you.

“I'm not letting you do something stupid because you are drunk Y/N,” Namjoon explains slowly as if he is talking to a child. It makes your blood boil even more.

“Fine! I won't have sex with Tae.”

“Good.”

“I'll fuck someone else. Jin sure is handsome.” You snap out trying to get under his skin some more. You weren't sure why you were pushing this issue so much. However, once you started you felt like you couldn't stop. Namjoon was going to ruin your fun so you were going to be a brat.

Namjoon's jaw goes slack before he composes himself.

“Y/N how about we get you some water? I think you need to sober up first. Then I will take you home before you do something stupid that you will regret.” He replies as you shoot him a death glare and are about to spit out some snarky response when you feel funny, and not the good giddy kind of funny you had been feeling.

In a split second, you are spinning around and throwing yourself at the toilet throwing up everything you drank. You hear the door close and your head spins thinking how badly you fucked up for Namjoon to see you get sick and just leave you there all by yourself.

You are surprised when you feel hands grab your hair and hold it back as another wave of nausea hits you and you throw up again.

-------------------------

The first thing you notice when you wake up is a water bottle sitting on a nightstand with a pill bottle next to it.

Pain killers

For your hangover

which you are definitely feeling right now.

You buried your face into the pillow and closed your eyes, smiling. Jungkook sure didn't know how to take care of you. This was why he was your best friend. He was always so good to you.

However

Something felt off

Because Jungkook didn't have that color of nightstand, and these sheets certainly didn't smell like the cologne you knew he always wore.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked around.

You were in someone's bedroom. A very unfamiliar bedroom.

Panic seized your body as you sat fully up and felt the room spin. You closed your eyes and counted backward from ten waiting for the spinning to stop.

Once it felt safe you cracked open your eyes and took in your surroundings.

The room was very spacious, with hardwood floors and white walls where random art pieces hung. Books were scattered on the floor in an organized kind of way. There were floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall and the curtains were drawn, you could see sunlight peaking out from the bottom of the curtains and you rubbed your eyes wondering what time it even was.

You tried to piece together the events of last night

Going to the party with Jungkook

Hanging out with his friends

Hanging out with Taehyung

Having drinks

Losing Taehyung in the crowd

Then...

Then?

You shook your head.

You couldn't remember the rest.

All you knew was you were in a stranger's bed and you needed to figure this out. NOW

Your hands shook as you peeled off the covers and looked down. You were most definitely not wearing the black dress you wore to the party. Instead, you were wearing an oversized men's shirt that was a soft gray and by the feeling of it, it was very well worn. The tee shirt was long enough to be a dress and you for sure weren't wearing pants but you still had underwear on.

You felt sick

Not because of the hangover but because you could not remember what the heck happened.

You spotted the bathroom door and stood on shaky legs to get yourself there.

Your reflection in the mirror was pretty rough, dark circles under your eyes and your skin was paler than normal and when you peered closer you realized all the makeup you wore last night was gone. Someone had taken it off and put you to bed.

Your stomach lurched

But who did this?

You had never been this confused in your life.

Suddenly a knock on the door shook you from your thoughts. You froze hands still on the sink and a shocked expression on your face, whoever it was, you were about to find out.

“Y/N... you okay?” came a soft deep voice that you recognized.

Namjoon.

Namjoon took you home and took care of you.

But why?

You didn't remember even talking to him last night except for when Jimin brought you over at the start of the party.

“Y/N?” He repeated.

“Yes, I'm! I'm okay.” You answer back cringing at how scratchy your voice sounds.

Namjoon didn't bother answering but you could hear his soft footsteps walk away from the door and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You knew you couldn't hide in the bathroom forever so you splashed some water on your face and dried it off. You pulled his shirt down further and slowly ambled out of the bathroom. Your eyebrows shot up as he was sitting on the edge of the bed swiping through his phone. He looked cozy wearing black sweats and a dark green sweater.

You suddenly felt awkward and way too exposed as he looked up and shot you a shy smile.

“Um. Hey?” You mumbled as you made your way over to the bed and got back under the covers feeling like a little kid that was about to be scolded.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?” He asked as he pocketed his phone and stared you down.

“Good.. um...I mean... honestly confused.” You say with a small laugh trying to dispel the tension you were feeling. Why was this so awkward? Why were you so awkward?

“Okay, so how much of last night do you remember, or want to remember?” He asks with a grin as he adjusts his glasses and shifts so he's sitting at the end of the bed facing you.

“Oh god.” You reply covering your face with your hands feeling embarrassment seep through your entire body.

“How bad was it?” You ask needing the answer but also fearing it.

Namjoon let out a small chuckle as he motioned to the water and the medication sitting on the nightstand.

You took a drink and swallowed the pill under his watchful gaze.

“I mean it wasn't bad bad. You didn't do anything embarrassing in front of the whole party or anything. You just had a lot of drinks and had a hidden agenda that I didn't let you...um...accomplish? You threw up and finally let me convince you that I should take you home.”

He paused and you winced. There was more.

“Um, Jimin helped me get you into the car, don't worry we smuggled you down the back staircase so no one saw. You were... pretty drunk and saying...things.”

This was the moment you wished the bed and floor would swallow you whole. You burned red as Namjoon kept speaking.

“Then it was raining and I finally got you to Jimin's car. You thought-” He smiled and his dimple appeared “You thought it would be fun to run in the rain. Jimin had to chase you and got soaked.”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned.

“Want me to keep going?” Namjoon asked as you peeked through your fingers.

“How bad is the rest?” You asked feeling dread pool in your stomach.

“Jimin drove you and I stayed in the backseat with you in case you got sick again. Don't worry he told Yoongi to keep an eye on things and said he left to get more water for the party anyway. Um, you didn't want to go home. You wanted to...um... not be alone? So I told Jimin just to take you to my place, and uh. Here we are.” He said not making eye contact with you as you grabbed the nearest pillow to cover your face with.

How embarrassing.

“Then you kind of just walked in and found my bedroom on your own and you shucked off your clothes grabbed my shirt from the desk chair, put it on, and passed out. I took off your makeup because you were soaked from the rain and I didn't want you to sleep with it on.” He admitted looking up at you with a shy smile.

Shame burned through your body as you kept the pillow over your face and threw yourself back so you were lying down, white hot embarrassment coursing through you.

You still didn't know how many drinks Tae had given you and you wished you had been more responsible so you wouldn't be in this situation. Fricken Taehyung.

“Jungkook?” You asked suddenly alarmed that he wasn't a part of this. He didn't know you were taken from the party and he was going to flip.

“Jimin let him know you were staying with me. Everything was taken care of Y/N.” Namjoon said smoothly.

“I- Namjoon I'm so sorry I'm so embarrassed. This is, super embarrassing,” You admit as you remove the pillow from your face and sit up taking him in. He locks eyes with you and smiles softly.

“Y/N believe me... sure you said some stuff but this is not the most embarrassing drunk story I have been a part of. Remind me one time to tell you about Jin and the lawn decorations,” he says with a laugh that has you smiling

“Do I? Do I want to know what I said?” You ask timidly fearing the answer.

Namjoon broke your gaze and you saw a pink blush rise over his cheeks and ears.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Um well remember when I said you had a hidden agenda. Do you... remember what that was.” He said suddenly very interested in the blue checkered duvet.

Your mouth went dry and you shook your head.

“Um, well you wanted to have sex with Taehyung. Something about him breaking your dry spell. You were very upset when I was blocking the door. Then you mentioned wanting to fuck Jin. Called him handsome. He'd love nothing more than to hear that.” Namjoon teased as you grit your teeth and once again hid your face.

Your heart was racing and you thought you would die from embarrassment. No way did you tell Namjoon that you wanted to fuck his best friend. I mean sure you had joked about it with Jungkook but that was different. So, so different.

“On the way down the stairs, you told Jimin about your...dry spell and how it didn't need to be one of Jungkook's friends, it could be anyone at the party. Then you started to mumble some random words and we eventually got you outside.” He said playing with his fingers and still not looking at you.

“I'm never going to live this down am I?” You ask with burning shame.

“Don't worry this whole thing is our secret. I don't think Jimin and I could survive if Jin knew you thought he was handsome and Tae knew drunk you wanted to have sex with him. They already have big enough egos, and having someone as beautiful as you want them? I'd never hear the end of it.” Namjoon teases which causes the tension to dispel and you let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I mean drunk me has good taste. Almost went after Mr World Wide Handsome himself” You tease back as Namjoon lets out a belly laugh and shakes his head smiling wide.

“Now, what about sober you?” He asks with a cock of an eyebrow which causes your laugh to be cut short as you stare him down, your mood changing from silly to serious with one sentence.

“Uh, I'm not sure. Sober me is a lot smarter than drunk me and would probably make better decisions.” You admit, your eyes not leaving his.

What was he getting at?

“Well, you went on and on about a dry spell and wouldn't let it go. I'm here for whatever you need. A friend, a fuck. Just saying. I mean, I do think you are beautiful and I'm so surprised someone hasn't made you theirs yet, two years can be a long time without a proper fuck.” Namjoon boldly states as your jaw drops and he pats your knee through the covers.

“I'm going to make some coffee, come join me if you like.” He says with a wink, leaving the bed and heading toward the door not bothering to look back.

What the fuck just happened?

Did he just offer to?

You weren't sure what was going on all you knew was Namjoon had offered to have sex with you and you felt like you got whiplash. Where did this even come from? Sure you had talked to him at parties and sure he was one of Jungkook's friends but this side of him you had never seen.

He was always so responsible, looking out for everyone, taking care of everyone sure he was a guy so he had needs but you never thought of him in this way. However, he planted the seed and now you can't stop thinking about it.

How tall he was and how he looked so good last night in his black silk shirt and dress pants. How he stood silently sipping a drink and staring everyone down. Tall, silent, sexy.

You felt heat pool in your stomach and felt your pussy throb at the thought of him under you, or on top of you. It had been two years, and Namjoon had offered, and it would be rude to reject him. Right. Right?

You slowly got out of bed and padded to the door to crack it open. Your eyes widened as you saw him in the kitchen, he had taken off his sweater and instead was wearing a white tank top which showed off his back muscles and his arm muscles. You internally groaned. He looked so good.

You timidly walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his body, pressing your face into his back. He stilled his movements and just let you stand there and hug him as the morning sun shone through the window and cast beams on the dark wood floors.

His scent filled your nose as your hands climbed up his firm chest. You felt a laugh rumble out of him as your hands ran along his chest and up to his collarbones before sliding down, down, down until you were at the hem of his sweatpants.

You could hear his breath hitch and he froze on the spot. For a moment you thought you had read the whole thing wrong and embarrassed yourself again when his big hands laced through yours and brought them down to wear you felt his cock, hard and straining against his sweatpants.

You let out an audible gasp as he turned around and stared you down, his eyes darkening and his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

Your eyes were blown wide taking him in like this.

“Please tell me you want this?” He asked in a rough voice, eyes scanning yours.

“I just, I never thought, I didn't even think you noticed me.” You confessed softly, eyes not leaving his.

“God Y/N how could I not. You are so beautiful and I mean, I don't want to sound like a creep. I didn't take you back here just for this. I took you back as a friend because I was concerned about you. If you want this we can. If not we can go back to being friends. I don't want you to feel obligated. Or like you have to. That's not how I imagined this going down.” He admits with a shy blush.

“You imagined this?” You say softly with a teasing grin.

Before he can respond you wrap your arms around him and bring him in for a searing kiss. His arms immediately wrap around you as he lifts you up on the island and your legs part for him to stand in between. You wrap your legs around his hips bringing him closer as you deepen the kiss.

His kisses are strong and firm as his hands rub up and down your thighs. You are melting into him and feeling heat pool in your body and expand outwards to your fingers and toes.

His tongue darts out to lick at your lips and you moan which lets his tongue explore your mouth. Your hands are gripping the front of his shirt for dear life as he pushes into you harder, pouring out all the days and weeks of wanting you into this kiss.

Your hands travel down and you cup him through his sweatpants. He breaks the kiss and throws back his head with a grunt as you palm him, eyes sparking with mischief as you see how affected he is.

His hands continue to rub at your thighs as you rub him through his sweats, you can feel how hot and hard he is, his length impressive in the confines of his pants and you want nothing more than to suck him off and watch him fall apart under you.

Namjoon lets another groan leave his lips as in one swoop he lifts you off the counter and carries you to the bedroom, you throw your head back and laugh at his impatience as he finally gets you in the room and hastily throws you on the bed.

The giggles that were bubbling out of you had been cut off when you finally stared at him and you knew you are in for it.

His eyes are narrowed and dark as he takes you in. Lying in just his shirt, in his bed.  

Oh. Right.

His eyes roam your body and settle between your legs which you are sure is slick with want. Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the very edge of the bed which causes you to gasp and fist the sheets below.

He slowly teases your legs open and you cry out when he presses soft kisses to your ankle, then slowly, too slowly, moving his way up your leg.

You let out a frustrated noise which has him chuckling against your skin as you watch him continue his path of kisses.

Your calf, your knee, your thigh, your upper thigh.

You feel your core ache with need and wonder how you are even going to survive this. Namjoon hadn't even touched you yet and you felt positively soaked.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and rucked it up so he could get a view of your underwear and he pressed his face into your upper thigh groaning as he took in your soaked core and how wide you spread your legs for him.

Namjoon's hands hooked into your underwear and pulled it down and watched as strings of arousal stuck to the fabric.

“Fuck that's so hot.” He groaned out as he tossed them somewhere in the room.

You suddenly felt shy and tried to close your legs to hide just how turned on you were but Namjoon's hands were strong and fast on your knees, prying your legs open and making you show him.

“Nuh uh, no hiding now baby girl. I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm going to savor it.” He promises with a wink, which has your stomach twisting and turning in anticipation.

One finger lightly drags up your folds which has you arching off the bed and moans spilling from your lips. You try desperately to keep them in but can't help it as Namjoon repeats the motion.

“Sensitive.” He teases with a grin as he places another kiss on your inner thigh which has you bucking your hips up. Desperate for him to touch you or taste you.

“If it's too much let me know.” He says with a serious tone which has your eyebrows raising in wonder.

He smirks at you and sucks a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit and making you ache for him, your body a live wire needing to be touched before you lose your mind.

Namjoon keeps eye contact with you as he swirls the digit around his tongue. His hair is a mess and his eyes are blown wide and you want nothing more than to stare at him for a lifetime. He just looks so good between your legs.

You grow impatient at every pass of his tongue and you decide to move this along as your hand comes down to touch yourself if he isn't going to do it himself.

His free hand swats you away and he stares at you with a wicked grin.

“Impatient huh?” He asks as he finally pulls the digit out of his mouth and you whine and bring your hips up to him once more, desperate for him to do something. Anything.

“I mean I did say it was a dry spell of two years you know?” You snap as he chuckles and once again prods his finger at your entrance. Finally pushing it slowly, which has you arching off the bed and staring up at the ceiling, sweet moans spilling from your lips.

Sure you had fingered yourself before but Namjoon's fingers were large. It was a delicious stretch you had come to miss from someone else's hands and you ground down on it which caused another sweet laugh to fall from Namjoon's mouth.

“Namjoon, please, move.” You beg as his finger is still inside of you annoyingly unmoving.

“God baby you're tight gonna have to stretch you out good to take my cock.” He growls as he starts pumping his finger inside you slowly.

You can feel the easy glide of his finger against your walls and the movement alone had your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you grind down on them to get more pleasure.

“Yeah, baby you like fucking your pussy on my fingers? So dirty.” Namjoon praises as he adds another finger and you grip the sheets tighter as you chase your high.

You are embarrassingly close already and Namjoon must know because his other hand swipes at your wetness and brings it up to your clit circling the small bud which has you crying out in his name.

He continues to finger you and rub at your clit and you can feel your muscles grow taut and your stomach clench as you chase your high. You are so close you can feel Namjoon speed up his actions to bring you there.

His fingers begin to curl up against your G spot and you thrash on the bed as you are taken over by pleasure.

“Cum for me baby. Cum on my fingers so I can taste.” Namjoon pleads and those words alone are what set you off.

Your body arches off the bed as you chase your high and fall right over the precipice, your orgasm washing over you and walls throbbing around his fingers. You let Namjoon work you through it as you continue to moan and arch up, his fingers almost becoming too much as you whine and pull away from him, your heart racing and your whole body alight with post-orgasm bliss.

You let your heart rate slow down before you open your eyes and see him kneeling between your legs, his eyes locked on yours and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

You stare at him in absolute disbelief as his gaze breaks from yours and he looks down at his fingers which are drenched in your wetness.

He cocks an eyebrow and right as he is about to bring them to his mouth and hopefully fuck you into the mattress later, the doorbell rings.

You quickly sit up in bed as Namjoon whips his head around to stare at the closed bedroom door.

With his free hand, he takes out his phone and fumbles around before he frowns, checking the door camera.

“Jungkook.” He says, panicked eyes meeting yours.

“What do you mean? Jungkook? Here? Why?” You mutter scrambling to put yourself together after what you just went through.

The doorbell rings again and kicks Namjoon into gear. He slowly gets up from the floor and winces when he finally stands tall and stretches out. You're still on the bed half naked staring at him wondering what the fuck to do.

He locks eyes with you and puts his fingers in his mouth which causes a groan to slip from your lips. Even though your friend is waiting at the door Namjoon takes his time cleaning off his fingers keeping his dark gaze locked on yours.

This time there are impatient knocks at the door as Namjoon pops his fingers out of his mouth and wipes the rest of it on his sweats.

He heads towards the door without saying anything to you so you do the first thing you can think of and pretend to be asleep. You scramble up the bed and throw the covers over yourself closing your eyes tight and trying to forget the image of him licking your arousal off his long thick fingers.

You heard the door being answered, Namjoon was polite as always as if he didn't just give you the orgasm of your life. You wonder if he washed his hands or if Jungkook could smell your arousal on them and if Jungkook would even know what went down.

“She's okay Kook really. She's been sleeping all morning I was actually just about to make food then wake her.” You hear Namjoon say and you bite back a laugh. You could hardly sleep now after what he did to you. How hard he made you cum. How desperate you were for him to do it again.

Even though you already came you can still feel the thrumming need of desire coursing through you. If Jungkook didn't interrupt would you be taking his cock right now? Would he take his time with you or completely ravish you? Was he soft and sweet in bed or an absolute animal?

You tried to rid your mind of those ideas as you could still hear Jungkook and Namjoon talking in the kitchen.

“Kookie it's fine. She threw up so I took her here because she kept saying how she didn't want to be alone. She took the bed I took the couch.” Namjoon explained as you felt your cheeks burn. You never bothered to ask him where he slept as you drowned in the embarrassment of his retelling of your night.

“Namjoon you are a lifesaver, when Jimin told me, I mean, it could have been anyone. I'm glad she was with you. She's in good hands with you.” Jungkook explains as you hear a chair squeaking along the floor.

“She is in very good hands with me. She was taken care of.” He responds and you almost shake your head as you can imagine the look on his face and what that sentence suggested. Jungkook had no idea but you were very well taken care of.

“You said you were going to make food? How about I do that so we don't have an injury and you go wake her yeah? I owe her an apology for ditching and food makes everything better. Especially if you're hungover.” You hear Jungkook explain.

“Of course, you know where everything is,” Namjoon says as you hear footsteps approaching the bedroom door. You clench your legs together still feeling arousal pool as he opens the door and slowly slips inside.

“Wakey Wakey sleepy head,” Namjoon says loud enough for Jungkook to hear as you bite back a laugh and sit up.

Namjoon is staring at you eyes wide and smiling.

“God I love seeing you in my bed. It's every fantasy come true.” He mumbles low enough for only you to hear.

You bite your lip at his words and slowly remove the covers to get out of bed.

Namjoon comes around the bed quickly and stops you. His eyes scan your face and you feel small under his gaze.

He leans down and quickly kisses you. His body presses into yours and you can still feel his erection on your bare thigh.

“I do mean what I said before Y/N. I'm here if you need a friend or a fuck. We're already friends so I guess I owe you a rain check for a proper fuck and just so you know. I always keep my promises.” He whispers which causes goosebumps to appear on your skin and you shiver under him.

“Now come on, breakfast.” He says switching into the soft smiley Namjoon you know so well as he once again pops his fingers into his mouth which has your jaw-dropping, he shoots you a wink and leaves the bedroom leaving you speechless and once again wondering what the fuck just happened

Thank you for reading!!

[uarmymoonlight]

after the afterparty

pairing: nerd!namjoon X ex-mean girl!reader 

genre: frenemies (? sorta) to lovers, rivals to lovers, college!au, one-shot, angsty, smut,

summary: after a night of partying with your (now ex-)classmates, namjoon finds you alone in the kitchen and unspoken feelings and desires come rushing to the surface 

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, reader’s a bit of an asshole, namjoon kinda idolizes her, lots of untold backstory for the #angst, tit/nipple play, biting (lightly)

words: a little over 4.8k

taglist: @kyglover @luaspersona

crossposted on AO3: here.

image by @/chimigraphic on twitter

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You finally take a deep breath of the cold night air. Eyes closed, beer in hand, hip leaned in against the kitchen counter. Another deep breath. 

This night took a real toll on you: 2 hours of pre-game plus 4 of partying and an unbelievable  2 and a half more of after-partying, all in the name of socialization and redemption. But it’s over now. 

You let the silence embrace and erase you. The outdoor lights paint the room with a faint blue and the only sound is a car passing by and the sink leaking. It’s just you there. The rest have gone to bed –  their own or someone else’s - or back to their own airbnbs. But, as tired as you are, you stay there in the kitchen. This last moment of silence before you leave this place for good. And these long nearly 9 hours of today won’t matter. The people at the party won’t matter. Not even that award-stealing, headache-inducing, infuriating, dimpled assh–

A noise stops your thoughts. You turn to your right to see Namjoon kneeling down to catch the water bottle he’d dropped.

“Namjoon.”

“Hey”, he licks his lips “I...I thought everyone else was gone or sleeping.” 

“So did I.” 

A beat of silence goes by and then another, a longer one. You could almost laugh at the silence that sets between the two of you. Had this happened a while back, you would’ve already told him to fuck off and probably insulted him somehow. Then again, had this been back then, he would’ve been vexing you endlessly by refusing to let the silence just be, doing that nervous back-and-forth on his heels he used to do all the time and talking your ear off. 

This isn’t back then, however. So now, you’re just looking at each other. 

Alright. You said you’d change your attitude, didn’t you? Here’s a test for you to prove you did. Your chance to do something to Namjoon you’ve never done before: be nice. 

“Congratulations.”

He scoffs, incredulous.

“You’re congratulating me?”

You can’t say you’re surprised he asked. There was a time you’d rather have eaten your own two feet before ever complimenting Namjoon to his face, a time you’d have done anything to not stay in the same room as him. Let alone just the two of you together. 

“Well, I did tell you I would, when you deserved it” you remind him “You won the academic decathlon, graduated top of the class, and you got the girl. You deserve it now, so there you go: congratulations.” you raise your glass slightly to him. 

He hesitates. 

“I got a girl.” 

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. You keep staring at him with those piercing eyes of yours. He hates them. Hates how much he’s always been so aware of them. Hates how much he’s always been so desperate to understand the emotions behind them. But, most of all, he hates how beautiful he finds them, how much they make him feel so on the spotlight, so special. 

He watches you open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. You’re speechless? Now here’s one for the history books, he thinks. You’re probably debating whether you should ask him or not about what he meant by that. And God, he hopes you do. He wants you to ask him, he so desperately does. He needs you to want to know what he means. He needs this opening to tell you exactly why Seulgi isn’t the girl, he needs this one chance to tell you what he’s been holding in for so long, the feelings that are always on the tip of his tongue. 

Namjoon waits for you to ask. But you don’t. You look away. 

You can’t ask him, because that question leads to things you’ve already shut the door of, a long time ago. And he should know better than to try and get it out of you. But he’s Namjoon. Namjoon, always the hopeful idealist, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And you, always the scoffing pessimist, the egotistical cold bitch. So, you take the coward’s route and when you look back at him all you say is:

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” So there’s no point in talking about any of this, is what you don’t say.

“I know.” 

Again, neither of you talk for a while. In silence, you simply look at each other. The air between you is tense with something neither could name exactly. Namjoon breaks the silence this time. 

“Dance with me?” he extends his left hand to you. 

“There’s no music.”

He shrugs and insists “Dance with me.”

You look at his still stretched hand towards you and it’s almost a perfect flashback of that one night so many nights ago. When he had also reached out for you, in ways more than just physical. When Namjoon had laid out so much of himself for you and all you did was spit it back at him. 

“You owe me this one”, he says. Maybe he’s an ass for insisting on this, but God knows you actually do owe him at least this one. You do, and you know it. “You didn’t even talk to me at my party earlier”, he adds. 

And it’s just another time that you realize he really is a much better person than you are for using the party as leverage, and not…Well, everything else you’ve done. It’s something you’re not sure you would’ve done for him. 

You softly put down your beer on the counter, looking at it while you do so. Anything to not look at him just yet. You need those extra few seconds to…You don’t know what for. To prepare? To breathe? It isn’t to think, surely. Maybe that’s it. You need to not think about what you’re going to do. When the can touches the counter, you spin it a couple times, staring at the label. 

With your peripheral vision, you can see Namjoon’s offering hand still out. Again, you remember another moment, a long time ago, when he offered his hand too. You had refused it. God, you suck at this not thinking thing. Andnd you suck at not being a coward.

You finally peel away from the counter and walk quietly to namjoon. You stare at his hand and, taking your time, you slide yours in it. Feeling every inch of his skin until both of your hands are completely touching, and when that happens, you feel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding come out. You feel a bit pathetic for it. The worst part is you hear Namjoon doing the same thing. 

Namjoon is smart, you know that. You and everyone who saw him beat you at everything academic-related year after year after year. He’s smart. But he’s not truly smart. If he were truly smart, you think, he’d pull away right now. If he were, he’d turn his back away from you for good. 

He doesn’t. He slides his hand from yours to your elbow, caressing your forearm on his way and pulls you in. His fingers on his right hand brush against you, starting with your fingers and going up until he settles it on your waist, pulling you in even more. Not letting go of your elbow, he places your hand on his chest and you complete the action by sliding both your arms around his neck. 

You still haven’t looked in his eyes, focusing on his shirt. Actually, his chest. You’d rather not think about that.

You feel his presence all around you, feel him on your skin even though very few parts of you are really touching the other. You feel his head close to yours, your feet almost touching. The two of you stand locked in place.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?” His voice is little more than a breath. 

“Move.” 

You hear him scoff lightly and get brave enough to glance at him through your eyelashes. Only a shadow of a smile rests on his lips, so his famous dimples are nowhere in sight. 

As he begins to lead you, that quivering bravery you felt moments ago vanishes. You go back to staring at his shirt while embarrassingly hoping you don’t step on his toes. You'd count your steps, instead of just hoping you're doing it right. That is if you knew how to do that. Shouldn't there be music in order to properly count the steps? Isn't that how it works? You count by following the beat of the song, right? But, then again, there's supposed to be music when you dance regardless of the counting. God, what a stupid idea. Why did you agree to this anyway?

Namjoon pulls you even closer, joining your chests and your thighs together as you draw in a surprised breath and let out a sigh. Now, your nose brushes against his lips. 

Ah, right. That is why.

You really can't do this not-thinking thing. Product of years over worrying about your social status and over analyzing every interaction you had to make sure you came out on top. It’s actually a lot of hard work being the main top bitch in the area.

Briefly, you wonder what people would think if they saw you right now in his arms. You wonder what Namjoon thinks of this whole scene. 

And what an interesting scene it is: the dim lights covering you like a blanket while you quietly embrace, a dance that is little more than just swaying softly to a soundtrack of whispers and wind. You can see your pale reflections on the window. The image akin to that of ghost lovers lost to time, only united by the sound of emptiness when time is frozen. Maybe is because of that image of emptiness and stillness, and because you already decided to leave that you tell him:

"I'm sorry.” It's said so softly, so hopelessly, that Namjoon nearly misses it.

There’s so much he could say to that and yet…He puts a hand on your chin and pulls you away just enough to look at your face. With your eyebrows frowning and your beautiful eyes wide scanning him, you look as scared as Namjoon feels. Namjoon traces your face with his thumb: eyebrow to temple to cheek to your lips. This last caress makes your lips part a little, enough for only a thread of air to pass, and eyes flutter. 

There’s so much he could say, but there's only one thing he wants. 

Your lips touch in a strong kiss. A kiss that is like that first leap of courage into a cold pool. You know the water will be cold at first, but you also know that if you don't jump, you'll never get into the pool. And just like in a pool, neither of you breathe for a while. Just like in a pool, Namjoon is terrified of that first splash of water, scared you'll push him away. 

The kiss ends and you catch your breaths. Not for long, though. You grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him in again and relock your lips. Now, you make sure it's a proper kiss, you take your time learning how to kiss him and how you two fit. After a swirl of your tongue, you feel his hand on your lower back put more pressure and pin you closer. Your legs open slightly and he puts one of his legs a little in between yours, his crotch rubbing against yours as you kiss. As you sink your finger deeper into his jacket, Namjoon firmly grabs the back of your neck and presses his hold. The shivers all over your body and your moan encourage him. 

A surprised gasp leaves you when Namjoon, with one hand grabbing your neck and the other around your waist, moves you until your back is against a wall. The cold surface touching your back provides a small break from the hot and heavy air between you and him. A small part of you - the part that isn’t busy kissing him - is a little shocked at how strong he got. When you first met him, he was all height and bones. You’d heard he’d started going to the gym some semesters ago, but you sorta refused to really acknowledge it and, when your eyes and body acknowledged that independently, your brain made a conscious choice to ignore it. At the moment, you don’t have much brainpower to make any choice besides making out with him. 

Namjoon likes to think he's self aware enough to not be an arrogant prick, but he can't stop the feeling of pride taking over him as you touch him with such clear appreciation of his new physique. He responds to it with his own devotion, intoxicated by your trademark perfume, the same lingering scent that would always tempt him whenever you left a room. 

You feel his toned chest and your hands travel along his strong shoulders. And you feel a bit stupid, a bit clichè, because you put your hands on his upper arms and squeeze his biceps. Kinda like in those stupid movies where the sweet bimbo cheerleader fakes coyness as she fawns over the totally not humble quarterback’s muscles. Okay, so, yeah, maybe it’s a bit eye-rolling worthy, but God! his biceps! If his biceps weren’t enough…his thighs! His thighs are huge and strong and you think you’re not really ashamed of how you gladly let him put one of them between your legs. Also, you don’t care that you two are unabashedly dry humping each other, like two horny inexperienced teenagers. Well, suppose that goes with the cheerleader-quarterback thing. Besides, Namjoon certainly doesn’t seem to mind, guiding and motivating your movements by stroking your ass. 

Jesus, dry humping someone should not feel this good. You keep going, more, more and more, feeling yourself get wetter with each move, feeling Namjoon get harder each time you feel his dick brushing against your lower belly. He lifts your leg and repositions himself at a better angle so it isn’t just the friction that’s doing it for you, but the hard pressure of his dick too making you nearly lose your mind in need of him - and he's barely touched you. How come you're affected by him like this? 

You open your eyes to see him leaving messy kisses along your skin, making his way down your neck past your collarbones. When he reaches your cleavage he makes it a point to maintain eye contact and lazily kisses the space between your breasts. Again, Namjoon isn't particularly conceited, still, he shows a boastful smirk at your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues his way down your body, his hands trailing its contours and feeling the soft silk of your dress he wished you weren’t wearing. 

To him, you’re beautiful like a queen: proud, imposing, and powerful. You’ve always been. He thinks it’s your sharp, intelligent eyes, your intent look, but it’s also your straight and confident posture. Looking at you at the moment, though he can still see that spark of intelligence, your eyes are heavy-lidded. Your posture is not insecure, it’s solicitous, fully ready to give in to him. But you’re still you and because you’re still you that there’s still a hint of royal impatience in the way you press yourself against his body, demanding more out of him. 

The vision of him going down past your belly button makes you take a breath and arch your back in anticipation. You'd sooner kill yourself before saying you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you do feel something. It takes all your little sense of self control to not grab his hair and lead him straight to where you want him. You don’t have a chance to actually do this since he’s already dipping even lower, eyeing you with malice and desire and nearly driving you crazy with need. You feel your nipples harden when he strokes your folds through your panties with his thumb before pushing the clothing aside. 

“Namjoon”, you moan. 

He lets out a low growling sound at that and begins exploring your pussy. Fingers and tongue take turns touching and tasting you. His fingers open and stretch you while his mouth sucks on your clit. You think you mumble something along the lines of “yes” and “there” a few times. Your fingers curl in response and your hips move following his rhythm. He licks and sucks and tastes and touches and strokes and you feel yourself closer to cumming with each movement. 

Once more, you catch a glimpse of yourselves in a window. The sight is one of pure depravation. You see how dishelved you look, your lips swollen from the kisses and hair an entangled mess on your head, dress hiked up as one of your legs is proped up on Namjoon’s shoulder, a hand of his squeezing your thigh.You’re a bit impressed at how he’s still at it, when your last few hook-ups seemed to want to eat you out as quickly as possible only to say they did it. You’ve never really seen a man who seems so happy to eat pussy like Namjoon. You watch your reflection for a little bit longer while he continues edging you.

Enough. You need all of him now.

“Namjoon”, you say breathlessly. It was a command, but your mind can only think about his tongue on your pussy. You try again. You forcefully pull his head back “Namjoon.” 

He hisses a bit due to the force of you pulling his hair. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” you squint your eyes in annoyance hearing the mocking nickname he gave you so long ago. You hated the nickname, because you knew it wasn’t a compliment, just a veiled insult of his. However, hearing it while he’s on his knees for you…not bad, you think, not bad at all. Especially when his already deep voice sounds deeper and raspy, the words coming out with a drawl.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’s up in a second, leading you upstairs. The way up is confusing and chaotic, with the two of you nearly running but barely letting go of each other, hot and lewd kisses exchanged while you walk. You have no idea how Namjoon finds the right door. He stops kissing you only to open the bedroom’s door, which you quickly shut behind you. He tries to put you against it, but you flip him and press him to the door instead. 

For a moment, you only look at him. Spreading your hands on his muscular chest, you listen to your heavy breathing. 

“Y/N.” 

You kiss him again. You put your lips on his neck and take your time there, busying your hands with taking off his jacket and then unbottuning his shirt. When you finish, you stroke his bulge through his pants. Namjoon lets out a hungry hiss that has you rubbing your thighs together. The point of stroking him was to tease Namjoon, you wanted to see if you could get him so worked up as he’d done to you. Unfortunately for you, you find out that that’s a double edged sword and it’s sharper end is pointed towards you, because the more you touch him the more you feel yourself get hotter. Having him in your hand only makes your mouth water. 

There’s only one thing you can think of right now. You pull his member out of his pants, stroking the full length once before you turn him and push him down on the bed. Namjoon watches you crawl onto the bed and fully take off his pants and underwear. It’s not slow and sweet or careful. Every motion of yours is aggressive and fast, eyes gleaming with a hungry determination Namjoon is sure is mirrored in his own eyes. You’re beautiful, so so beautiful. On all fours over him like a fucking lioness ready for her meal. Just looking at you like this makes him even harder. 

Maybe the gentlemanly thing would be to stop and tell  you there’s no need to repay the favor of earlier. But, well, maybe Namjoon isn’t a gentleman, after all. And he’d surely never deny you of anything, not when you so clearly want him. The idea of you wanting him just a fraction of how much he wants you is the best feeling in the world. Or rather, the second best. Because the first is definitely the feeling of your mouth on him. 

You take his full length in your mouth, coating his dick with your saliva. Namjoon watches as you alternate between teasing kitten licks on his cockhead and properly sucking him off, your hands griping the base of his cock. God, you’re not simply beautiful, you’re gorgeous. He fights against the urge to roll back in his eyes in order to watch you going down on him. Your hair is thrown around, some of it tickling his thigh while your head keeps bobbing up and down, your makeup is smeared and your dress is a crumpled mess. And you’re gorgeous.

You make eye contact with him with your lips still wrapped around him and he thinks he’s gonna die. Or cum. Probably both. Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he thinks he’d die happy right now. 

“Tell me what you like”, you tell him. 

“You.”

The immediate blurted out answer shocks you a bit. You scoff. 

“You really can’t keep it in.”

In the split second you don’t move, Namjoon starts to deflate. He ruined everything. He waits for you to get up and leave. 

You don’t. 

You lean forwards and kiss him. The kiss is nothing more than just the press of your lips together. You ignore the still lingering doubt in Namjoon’s eyes. Reaching past him, you go through the drawers on the nightstand. As you look for condoms, your tits are hanging above Namjoon’s head and he peppers kisses on them. After a few seconds, you get the condom out the drawer. 

Namjoon tries taking it out of your hands.

“Give me, I can do it.”

“No”, you stop him. “It’s fine.”

You kiss him lightly on the cheek. Namjoon has to stop for a bit. You’d never been so…soft with him before. Not even in those few months long ago when you had been something akin to friends. 

Not wasting any time, you put the condom on his cock. You quickly take your panties off and guide his lenght to where you want it. You two stare at each other as you sink yourself on his cock. Moaning at how he stretches you out. You love how full he makes you feel. He’s so big, his cock makes you feel so good. Having him in your mouth was one thing, having him inside you was heavenly. You place a hand on Namjoon’s chest. 

“Lay down.”

Because you personally believe feminism is about having a buff hot nerdy guy under you while you get yourself off. 

Head on the pillows, he watches you move your hips, leading him in a slow sensual rhythm. Moaning, your head rolls back in pleasure, mouth open to help you breathe better. The two of you pick up the pace, you bouncing on his cock a little then reverting back to grinding. 

“Y/N, your dress. Please.”

Understanding what he means, you pull your dress above your head and toss it to the side. With both hands holding your hips, he only gives your tits a dazed glare. He keeps watching when you take your own hand and play with your tits. Namjoon growls and thrusts his hips upwards harder when you lick two of your fingers and use them to play with your nipples, caressing and pinching them, your palms massaging the rest of the soft flesh. 

“Like that?” 

The raspiness of your voice, that sparkle of meanness in your eyes, that one raised eyebrow on your face…it’s all almost too much for Namjoon. You are gorgeuous. And he’s so impossibly hard. 

“Yeah.” 

The word almost doesn’t come out. You shake your head and giggle at him. Only you. Only you could be bouncing on a guy’s cock, suck him off, have him eat you out, and, with just a little giggle, make the guy blush. Still, if feels so good to make you laugh. Even if it’s at him. So good. 

Almost beats being inside of you. Almost.

Namjoon flips you and lays you down on the bed. Immediately after you hit the mattress, he’s already on you, mouth licking and sucking on you tit. His pace gets faster, more franctic, more desperate. Hitting deeper and deeper. When he hits a sweet spot, you moan louder. 

“Yeah, there. More. More. Yes. Yeah,” you repeat the words like a mantra. 

“So beautiful”, he tells you. “Almost there, baby.”

God, the pet name. “Can’t take it anymore”, you say.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can take it all.”

He knows you can. You - open wide for him, hair spread on the pillows like a halo, nipples hardened for him, pussy clenching around him - can take it. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

On top of you, Namjoon looks like a fucking beast, in the best way possible. Eyebrows furrowed and barring his teeth, his honey skin sprinkled with sweat. A drop of it slips from his forehead and falls on your cheek and you finally cum. Moaning his name over and over. He put his mouth again on your tit, gritting your nipple between his front teeth. With a final moan out of you, Namjoon empties himself inside the condom. 

For a few seconds, you don’t move, just listen to each other breathing. Namjoon feels himself getting softer inside you and, on the back of his mind, he dreads the moment he pulls out from you. Dreads the moment you realise whatever you were doing was over, and so was your business with him. 

Still, he can’t stay inside you forever. He pulls out. 

He busies himself with taking the condom off him and throwing it away while he notices you get tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up. He mentally kicks himself for not doing it for you, but then again, maybe you don’t want him doing this for you. That’s another kind of intimacy you haven’t given him the greenlight to do. Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

You put your dress back on and his heart aches. “First door to the right. Hey, uh - “ he begins before you leave “I’ll go get water. Do you want some?” 

You shake your head and leave the room. 

Silently, he puts his underwear and pants back on and goes to the kitchen, trying all the way down to not think of you. 

He stays a little bit longer than needed in the kitchen. Even after everything, he still can’t feel sure of anything with you. There’s still that ugly feeling of inadequacy whispering in his head that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Tonight was just a fluke. 

Namjoon goes back to the bedroom expecting you to not be there anymore. He imagines you jumping out of the bathroom window to escape him or sneaking off through the roof. If he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for what you two could’ve been, he’d probably laugh at the scenarios he made up. 

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he finds you there. Curled up under the sheets on one side of the bed. Your eyes are closed and your face is serene. He hesitates. 

“You’re not gonna sleep?” 

You ask without opening your eyes. Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he climbs onto bed behind you. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close enough that you feel his warmth beside you and his breathing on your neck. 

A while of silence goes by. He’s not sure if you’re already asleep. However, there’s one more thing he needs to say to you, even if you don’t hear it. Something he was too much of a coward to say before.

“Stay.”

You open your eyes. You’re careful to make no move to alert him you’re still up. 

You think about his request. Stay. Part of you wants to, part of you - a very small and recent part of you that is hopeful, a part that is only there because Namjoon coaxed it out of you - says you could stay. Stay. You could stay with him. Stay in his bed. In this city. Stay… 

Like you said, though, that is a very small part of you. The biggest one is a coward. 

When Namjoon wakes up to an empty side of the bed the next day, he instantly knows what happened. 

You left. 

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author’s note: my first attempt at writing smut (at least full on smut, star to finish), hope it doesn’t suck :DDDD  any and all feedback/comments are appreciated