#leif x oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muddyorbsblr · 9 months

Text

slipping between future and past [SAS secret santa 2023]

View the full SAS Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader/OC Talia Williams

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, please leave I'm asking nicely); unprotected p in v sex; cunnilingus; magical restraints; language; possibly wonky interpretation of time travel & timeslipping; possibly wonky understanding of Yule [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; still written in 2nd Person POV like my other 'x Reader' stories, but this time Reader has a name and it's "Talia Williams"; this is a secret santa request for @acidcasualties

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "the feel of your hands being brought" and ends at "as he marked your skin"

It was uncharacteristically slow today in the bookstore, barely a handful of people walking in, browsing for a few minutes, and then promptly exiting when they see that you didn't carry the middle school dystopia book series all the kids were raving over. It was a colossal waste of their time and yours, considering there would have been less effort had they just taken even a cursory look at the sign by the door.

You didn't carry children's books. Classics, Myths, and Romance only.

Of the number of people that walked through the doors that you could count on your two hands, you could only count those that actually made a purchase with one. Half of one.

The sound of the door chimes brought your attention to the entrance again, seeing your friend Ariadne bounding into the front area of the store with a frantic look in her eye. "Talia," she panted, headed straight for you. "Babes, I need your help. Are you busy? You got a customer back there?"

"Nope. Just me," you called out, stepping out from behind the counter. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Okay so…you know that guy I'm seeing?"

"Uhh…I think so? Lee, right?"

"Leif. Think trees, Babes. Anyways, he wants me to meet his family and apparently they're super into the ancient Norse traditions, so I need a crash course on how they celebrate Christmas." She paced back and forth by the table that held the New York Times bestsellers that you did hold stock for, picking up a copy of the stalker dark romance duology. "His sister likes to read, you think she'll appreciate this?"

You immediately rushed over to her, grabbing the book and nearly slamming it back down on the stack. "You gotta let them crawl before they walk. Let alone sprint," you explained, giving her Beautiful Bastard instead. "This should be a good enough in between, just in case she's not into guns being shoved up anyone's vagina--"

Up where?! she shrieked, grabbing the first book again, along with the sequel and the book you were handing her. "Okay I'll take that for his sister, and these two for me."

"This is exactly why we're friends," you quipped, ringing up her order. "Now about that other thing…you do know that just because I own a bookshop, it doesn't mean that I know everything about everything, right?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, but I also know that you live for all these myths and folk tales, so I bet you know a thing or two about Viking Christmas."

"Alright fine. Find a chair and settle in," you said with an overly dramatic wave of your hand. "First things first, it's not called 'Viking Christmas', it's called 'Yule'. Immediately if you wanna get on his family's good side, you say Good Yule because it shows that you did at least a customary Google search before you stepped foot on their property." You handed her a small notepad and a pencil. "You're gonna wanna write this down."

When her scribbling down stopped, she perked up with a question. "Do they have a Santa Claus?"

"Yes and no," you answered her, prepping two cups of coffee and handing one over to her before plopping down on your own seat in the reading nook, your favorite one in the entire shop. "Santa Claus is what we call who the Brits refer to as 'Father Christmas'. The Brits got that from 'Yule Figure' from the Viking mythology and Mr Yule Figure himself is...Odin."

"Wait wait hold up." She shot up her hand like a kid asking questions in class. "So Odin is Santa? He goes around little Viking kiddies' neighborhoods and slides down the chimney to give them wooden axes and swords?"

"Hmmm not quite. The whole making a list and checking it twice to give the good little boys and girls presents on Christmas is...not quite how the Vikings do it. Instead they engage in something called the Wild Hunt, where Odin aka Big Yule Father Kahuna calls on his posse of gods and plays a game of non-consensual hide and seek with the living souls. So us being the 'living mortals', we have to find a safe enough hiding place that Odin and Thor and the rest of the Norse gods don't find us, because if they do…they drag us to the Underworld."

"Okay first of all, yikes." Ariadne made a big show of shuddering in her seat over what you just told her. "Can't it be something a little bit less morbid? Like if Thor finds you he drags you to his den of iniquity and has his wicked way with you?"

"I mean it's all myths and folklore anyway," you shot back with a small shrug as you finished off your coffee. "So maybe when the big girls are off in their own corner, we can smut it up and pretend that if someone other than Odin finds us, we can get some happy fun times." You both broke out into giggles at your wording. "And when we're telling the story to the smaller kiddos, we say that the gods only go after the naughty kids. Keep with the spirit of Christmas and all that." You wagged a finger in her direction, giving her another suggestion. "Or in the case of meeting Leif's family, just think which one's gonna have him more devastated, your soul getting dragged into the Underworld or your body getting dragged to Thor's man cave."

She wrote down some more notes on her little notepad before standing up, brimming with excitement. "Okay I think that's all I need. Hopefully…"

"Babes, you're there to meet the family, not get gatekeeper gamer boy levels of interrogated on what you know about Yule. As soon as you don't say 'Merry Viking Christmas', you're in the clear."

She squealed, rushing over to wrap her arms around you and give you a tight squeeze. "Thank you thank you! You just saved me from looking a total ditz meeting his family. I have a really good feeling about this one, you know?"

You gave her a squeeze back, happy that she was finally in a relationship that felt stable enough to start on that family she'd always wanted.

Maybe one day you could be so lucky with your own love life.

"I'm really happy for you, Aria. Let me know how it goes when you get back, okay?"

You worked on wrapping up the book she intended to gift Leif's sister as she asked you another question. "What about mistletoe? Do they have that in Yule?"

You scrunched her nose and shook your head at her question. "Yes and no again. Yes, they've assigned meaning to the plant but no, you don't kiss under it for fear of spending the next year all alone. They believe it to be a symbol for fertility, so it's been known for couples to hang it above their headboards so that their holiday fun times might lead to a child. It's also seen as a symbol for new life or resurrection because there's another folktale that says that Loki fashioned a weapon from the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur, and Frigga's tears turned the white berries red and resurrected her fallen son. Which if you ask me is a steaming pile of horse shit that's almost more ridiculous than how Siegfried was felled in the Nibelungenlied, but that's a story for another day."

"Hold up, but isn't Loki also a son of Frigga?"

You shrugged. "Who knows what's real and what's not at this point? These tales are thousands of years old. All we know right now is that Thor's real and he's friends with a billionaire that made a fancy iron suit and a soldier from the 40s that doesn't even look like he's hit his mid-20s. And that he dated an astrophysicist. Tell you what, if I ever meet him, I'll ask him myself. Maybe I'll even ask him what exactly goes down in the Wild Hunt if they still do it in this century."

"Ooh, if he walks into the store please text me?" You gave her a questioning look. "What? He's my hall pass. Leif knows all about it. Natasha Romanoff's his."

You handed her the gift-wrapped book. "Pinky promise, I'll tell you as soon as a 6'4 muscular Barbie looking dude from Asgard swinging a hammer and summoning thunder and lightning walks into my shop. Maybe I'll even text you if the Black Widow herself walks in so that Leif would owe a favor or two."

"Hey, it could happen," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at you like you were back in the sandbox. "We're in New York, after all. And Avengers Tower's just a ten minute walk away. You never know, you know?"

"Right," you breathed, waving her off as she neared the door. "Merry Yule."

"Merry Crisis," she shot back, blowing you a kiss as she stepped into the cold New York night.

You started cleaning the store so you could close up for the night when a new voice pierced through the quiet.

"I appreciate your refusal to believe that hokum about the mistletoe, darling. It warms my cold Jotun heart knowing that it's safe in your brilliant hands."

Large hands found themselves at your waist before your new visitor's arms wrapped around you from behind, your body going frigid at the action. "Who--?"

"Oh no..." He immediately released you from his hold, allowing you to come face to face with a towering man with onyx curls and a devastatingly handsome face that seemed vaguely familiar. "I must have gone back too far this time." He took a step toward you, his hands twitching in your direction as if he wanted to go back to where he was just a few seconds ago. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn't object. "Sweetheart, who am I to you?"

"What? This time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, confusion coating your words. "You trying to tell me we met before? Because trust me I'd remember meeting someone that looked like you."

"Who am I to you? What do you know of me?" he asked again, his brows upturned at the center of his forehead, his expression reminding you of a baby kitten pleading for affection.

"Not much," you admitted. "You look like the guy that tore up a hole in the sky and rode some space chariot while leading an alien army that laid waste on the city that I call home...and the guy that went up against Iron Man and his friends, including that big green scary monster looking dude."

He hung his head, looking down at the ground as he let out a long sigh. "I don't just look like that guy, darling, I--" He exhaled sharply before composing himself again. "I am that guy. Well, I was. And Banner's honestly not that terrifying once you get to know him." He looked at you again, seeing your hand and beginning to look emotionally deflated. "I went too far back."

"You know who else you look like?" you asked him, a smirk playing at your mouth as you reached for the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that hung in its center, closing the distance he put between you. "You look like my future husband."

The relief was written all over Loki's face as he eyed the ring he'd given you, a brilliant smile gracing his features when he pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours. You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself against him as the god's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

"My darling little mortal," he mumbled against your lips. "Somehow managing to fool a trickster god, for any amount of time, is a feat in and of itself." He kissed you again, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle when you put your arms over his shoulders.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm brilliant," you answered him back when you pulled away, your fiancée keeping your feet off the ground. He adjusted his hold on you to hold you up by a single arm, making you giggle when he started walking toward the front door and made your keys materialize in his now free hand. "What're you doing, Mischief?"

"You're finished here for the night," he stated simply, all the lights turning off, along with the doors locking closed, and the sign in front flipping to "Closed" to indicate you'd retired for the night, with a simple wave of his hand. "I'm taking you home, little mortal. Close your eyes."

A breeze flew by your face and the next thing you knew your back was pressed against the familiar wooden column of your kitchen area. Loki crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pressed your chests together, hands traveling down the sides of your body to wrap your legs around him.

The feel of your hands being brought above your head despite the god's hands still roaming and grasping at your thighs had your eyes snapping open, breaking the kiss with a little squeak from the back of your throat as you looked up. A thrill shot up your spine seeing a thick glowing ring of Loki's seiðr fastened around your wrists and keeping you tethered to the column behind you.

"I could not decide whether to reward you or punish you for getting the better of me earlier, my love," he rasped, latching his lips to your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. He smirked against you when you started whimpering and arching into his touch within seconds. "So I shall do both."

You let out a whiny sound that had him lightly grasping your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip to coax it into a pout. He kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. Then another ring of his seiðr appeared at your hips, keeping them flush against the column as both rings began to lift you up, your feet soon leaving the ground until he was eye level with your pelvis.

He made a motion with his hand and suddenly you felt a breeze all over your body as he bared you to him, your clothes disappearing in a flash of green.

"Loki…" you whined, squirming under his predatory gaze as another ring of seiðr went around each of your legs, just above your knee, and opened you to him.

"I've not been home in ages, my darling mortal," he rasped, not taking his eyes off of your arousal as he licked his lips. "And I am famished." He took a step closer to you, lightly running his fingers up your inner thigh.

"Let--Let me down, then," you said shakily, feeling your walls quivering and clenching around nothing as he traced up your inner thigh again, only this time with the tip of his nose before pressing a tender kiss to your skin. "I can fix us something to--"

"Oh no, sweet Talia." He kissed you right below your belly button, groaning into your skin. "I do not crave food, my love." He continued to press kisses to your stomach, faintly chuckling when you tried to close your legs and his restraints kept you from moving even an inch. "Your reward is that I will not deny you any ounce of pleasure tonight. I have longed for you too much to deny you much of anything."

He moved his head lower, and you let out an obscene moan of his name as he ran his tongue along the length of your slit before slowly circling your clit.

"Your punishment…" he breathed, pressing slow lingering kisses and laving his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "No touching."

"Loki, wait--Oh f-fuck!" The room filled with your moans as he proceeded to alternate between long licks at your entrance and close his lips over your clit for what felt like a blissfully torturous eternity. He kept his word on not denying you anything as he brought you over the edge over and over again.

Your throat was raw from your constant moans and screams of his name and various expletives, already having lost count of how many times you came for him when he slid two devastatingly long fingers inside you and curled up, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "One more, sweet girl," he mumbled around your clit, the vibrations from his voice already bringing you to the brink of orgasm yet again.

He moved your legs to rest your thighs on his shoulders, moaning against you when your entire body tensed as you came for him again, your pussy quivering against his mouth as he lapped at your release with languid strokes of his tongue. The restraints around your wrists and hips moved you down the column until your face was level with his, a weak whimper slipping from you when you saw how his lips glistened with your juices.

You barely registered the sound of the zipper as he kissed along your chest, biting and sucking more bruises into your skin. He lined himself up at your entrance, sliding into you in a single effortless thrust and eliciting a staggered sigh of relief from the god. "I've m-missed this," he whimpered between thrusts. "Missed you." Thrust. "My precious mortal." Thrust. "My wife." Thrust.

He threw his head back, letting out a decadent moan when you clenched around him after what he'd just called you. It had you desperately longing for your wedding day. Desperately aching to touch him. Just desperate for him.

"Please…" you whimpered, feebly fighting against the restraints again. When the rings holding you to the column finally disappeared, you could only let out a sharp exhale, your hand immediately clawing into your fiancée's back, the other weaving into his onyx curls.

Loki pressed you harder against the column, driving himself deeper inside you, his hands roaming and grasping wherever he could, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Couldn't touch you enough. He slanted his mouth over yours, moaning into the kiss when your tongues tangled together and you could taste your release on him. He adjusted his hold on you, letting out another muffled obscene sound into each other's mouths when the motion caused you to bounce on his cock.

Once he held you securely in his arms he started walking you further into your home, each step making you bounce on him and further weakening you in his embrace. He eased you down onto your bed, breaking the kiss and rendering you completely speechless watching his clothes melt away and baring his godly physique to you.

All you could do was breathe his name as he moved to hover over you again, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace. He wrapped his hand around your knee, raising your leg to wrap it around his waist so he could drive into you harder. When you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, the only sound that came out of you was a sharp moan, your body weakly arching against his hand before squeaking out, "I can't--"

"Just one more, dear heart. For me," he grunted, latching his lips onto that spot between your neck and shoulder as he kept on rubbing tight circles on the over-sensitized nub. Your legs shook and your walls convulsed around him, bring him to his own release as he marked your skin.

Once you both came down from your high, you felt his seiðr wash over you as he pulled you into his arms, putting the covers over you both with another wave of his hand. "I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, that felt a little pent up," you exhaled, a tiny part of you finding it unfair that he'd already resumed his regular breathing as if he didn't just fuck you senseless.

Damn Asgardian endurance.

"Because it was, precious mortal," he told you simply, tracing his finger along your cheek. "How long has it been since last you saw me?"

"Three months…give or take a week?" You braced yourself, already dreading what he'd say next.

"I have not seen you for over a year, my love," he confessed, pressing another kiss to your lips. "At least not like this. Every time I had seen you, you were yet to know me. There were worlds where you even outright feared me, scurrying away once you'd realized where you recognized me from. When I got to your shop earlier, I nearly believed I landed in another iteration of that world."

Suddenly your 'prank' from earlier left a sinking feeling in your stomach. "Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't know." You wrapped your arm around him, pressing yourself even closer to him if that were even possible, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just thought it'd be a bit of fun--"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before softly kissing the spot. "But I have missed you terribly. Getting to hold you, to love you. To simply be here with you and enjoy a moment with my wife."

"Future wife," you pouted. "We're still in the planning phase, sadly. I take it the last time you saw me was sometime in our…future? I'm sorry this still gets confusing for me." He nodded his answer, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Well then the timelines better fucking behave because I refuse to let you go anywhere. I get that you're a big powerful hero now, and knowing that you're out there making sure that everyone's safe and gets to come home to their families? I couldn't be prouder. But you should get to come home, too." You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "Preferably for longer than a quickie with your fiancé."

His brows furrowed, shaking his head at your sentiment before pulling you to lay on top of him, chests pressed together with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "I've come from a time where we were married and I called you my wife. Regardless of our pending ceremony, that is what you are to me now and what I will call you moving forward. No more of those semantics."

You nudged his chin with your nose, a giggle escaping you when he pulled you up to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Tell me about it. The future…"

"When I found you, you were a force to be reckoned with. Planning your friend Aria's wedding--"

"Ah, so she and Leif really are headed for the fairytale happy ever after?"

"No no, you were planning the wedding in Asgard." You eyes widened at the new information. "She was set to marry Thor."

"Wait she what?!"

A/N: I'm so excited to participate in this year's Secret Santa again! This has been so much fun to write for both times around, and hopefully the story did justice to the request 🥹💖

The request from @acidcasualties:

secret santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes #sas secret santa 2023

194 notes · View notes

magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Aphrodite (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You and Namjoon consider all the reasons you shouldn’t be together.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, some angst, some smut

Word count: 7.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, fingering, allusions to sex

A/N: Wrote this in a word coma. Set over a period of three months, beginning a week after Voice of an Angel. Can be read standalone.

Special thanks to this anon who casually dropped this idea in my inbox and bounced, leaving me to be plagued with heart-stoppingly beautiful scenarios that I wrote on my phone in a full-day seminar because I was incapable of thinking about anything else. Well played, anon.

(The song rec is also one I've been waiting to use and one of Daniel Ricciardo's biggest contributions to my life; apropos in these turbulent times)

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “wake up with you” by emerson leif

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

The first reason is brought up on the last night.

Seoul shouldn’t be this empty this time of night, thinks Namjoon. But they’re near the suburbs now, the apartment building mostly with families, so maybe it’s always like this? Either way, he should count himself lucky, for if Kaya’s last night here was punctuated with camera phones being secretly pointed at him and his manager hissing at him to be careful, he might have thrown something.

As it is, it’s peaceful. Their fingers linger next to each other as they walk back to her aunt’s house; Namjoon doesn’t know if she expects him to take her hand. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but after what they’ve just done at his penthouse, is this really where the line needs to be drawn?

“Good call to walk.” Kaya turns to him slightly and raises her eyebrows. “Instead of taking a car.”

“The weather’s too nice for it,” he lies, noting how his shirt is already sticking to his shoulders slightly and how she’s swept her long hair off her neck and tied it up, despite the light sundress she’s wearing.

It’s embarrassing to think that the reason he’d proposed to walk was so he’d have a little more time with her before she left forever. He feels ridiculous for even thinking this way - when did he become so dramatic?

“It is,” she agrees. “It's nicer than Amsterdam.”

Namjoon’s stomach settles slightly. At least he’s not the only one lying through his teeth.

“Do you need to pack tonight?” he asks hopefully, wondering if they can take another detour before he drops her back.

“A little,” she admits, “but mostly I just need to close out some stuff for work that’s due the day after tomorrow.”

Namjoon frowns. “Because… you’re preparing for jet lag?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a really long flight,” she adds, groaning softly in anticipation.

The sound makes his stomach flip and he tries not to think about the same sounds an hour ago, in his bed, against his skin.

“Tell me about it.” It occurs to Namjoon that unlike him, she won’t be flying business class. “Can’t blame you for not visiting more often. Jieun, I mean,” he adds quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Kaya gives him a small, knowing smile as they reach the building. “It’s also really expensive,” she says, turning around to face him.

“It is.” He swallows and puts his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been dreading this moment; nothing he wants to say would be appropriate for saying goodbye to a week-long summer fling.

She touches his elbow, holding the newspaper-wrapped package in the same hand. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a book, she’d joked when he’d given it to her and asked her not to open it until he left.

“Namjoon.” Her voice is soft, the foreign accent making his name sound so special. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t visit that often.”

He presses his tongue into his chin and nods, hating that she’s right. It’s too far and it’s too expensive, so maybe a week-long summer fling was already the bonus that fate had given them. It takes him a moment but he takes a deep breath and looks up at her, thinking once again that she has such Disney princess eyes.

He silently steps forward to hug her for the last time.

—

The second reason is brought up nearly a month later, in the middle of the night in Amsterdam.

Kaya groans at the sound of her alarm, feeling distinctly as though she just fell asleep. She reaches for her phone and frowns when she sees the time: she did just fall asleep. It’s also not her alarm, but her phone ringing.

The call is from Namjoon, though; it makes her slightly less annoyed at being woken up. She clears her throat and answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” He sounds hurried, as though he’s on his way somewhere. “I’m so glad you answered.”

“Okay?” Kaya can hear her voice sound thick with sleep. “Uh… why?”

“Because of last night. Because - wait, were you asleep?”

“Was,” she can’t resist saying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold onto some remaining sleep. Tomorrow’s schedule is chock-full of classes. “It’s two am, Namjoon.”

“It’s -” There’s a shuffle. “Did I calculate the time difference wrong? Why did I think I was ten hours ahead?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles into her pillow. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologise,” he says, sounding incredibly guilty. “For last night. I… I kind of fell asleep.”

Nothing he’s said makes any sense to Kaya. Sighing, she turns over slightly and frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier,” he clarifies. “In the evening for you, I guess. We were talking and I…”

“You fell asleep.” She remembers now.

Despite parting in Seoul on a bittersweet note, with the mutual but unsaid knowledge of their dalliance ending, they hadn’t been able to cut ties fully. Namjoon had messaged her late the next day asking if she’d landed safely, she’d sent him a picture from her cab in response, and the conversation never ended.

It was still restrained, for the most part. Kaya, at least, was aware that an emotional connect had been built in Seoul - but they’d said goodbye and gone back to their lives. Anything further should be nothing more than friendly, like pen pals who kept each other updated on their lives.

Earlier this evening, they’d been talking on the phone about something extremely mundane. Kaya was in a pub with her friends, but knowing that Namjoon probably didn’t have a lot of time, she excused herself for a few minutes and went to a spot away from the music, near the washrooms. She was leaning back against the wooden wall and talking about her thesis but every time she tried to change the topic to something less boring, he asked her to continue, sounding genuinely interested in a very operational aspect of her work.

He was tired - that much she could hear. He still kept the conversation going, at first with questions and eventually progressing to occasional exclamations, until suddenly, he went completely silent. Kaya guessed he may have fallen asleep; a quick calculation reminded her it was three am in Seoul, so on some level she was actually glad he was finally resting.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, brushing her hair off her face. “It was really late for you.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve said good night,” he points out. “Sorry about that. And… I’m sorry about waking you up right now,” he adds, audibly wincing. “For some reason I thought I was ten hours ahead.”

She chuckles sleepily. “Happens to the best of us. Timezones are always a pain.”

“Not something we need to worry about, right?” Namjoon says after a moment, and she thinks his half-chuckle sounds a little forced.

“Nope. Good thing we quit while we were ahead.”

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds while Kaya, in her half-asleep state, imagines what it might be like to fall asleep with him in person. She’d almost considered it on her last night in Seoul; they’d been under the covers, naked and talking about nothing in particular when he’d softly offered for her to stay the night.

Had she been a more impulsive person, she may have said yes, but it seemed too intimate to do with a person she’d technically known for a little more than a week. Now, she wonders idly if she’d been too hasty with her decision.

“You should sleep,” he says after a moment, still sounding a bit guilty.

“You woke me up, you put me back to sleep,” she retorts softly.

“Yeah? You want a bedtime story?”

“Sure, why not?”

Namjoon laughs, and the sound makes her toes curl inside her blanket. “Wait, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She pulls her covers up to her chin and curls up into a comfortable position. “Hit it, music producer.”

He chuckles a little disbelievingly. “Um, okay? Here goes nothing.” He takes a deep breath and starts, barely getting four words out before she interrupts him.

“Wait. Joon… you know I don’t understand Korean, right?”

The nickname is a first for her, and it sounds as though he’s picked up on it, too. “Yeah, I know. But you want to be put to sleep and I thought it might actually help.”

It’s genius. Kaya grins to herself, knowing somewhere deep down that she’s just setting herself up for heartbreak someday. She should stop this, quit while they’re ahead.

Instead, she hears herself tell him to continue.

—

The next reason comes up the day Namjoon learns about Damien Herjavec.

He’d made the executive decision to give Kaya his private Instagram handle a few days after she’d left Seoul. She’d never brought up following each other on social media until he did because despite how much he liked her, giving her access to something this personal required thought. It wasn’t until he went back to the bookstore where they’d bumped into each other for the first time, and he realised he wanted her to know that without him having to actually tell her, that he decided to do it.

He searched her name on Instagram and followed her, trying to restrain himself from checking if she’d followed him back. She did eventually, a couple of hours later, and to a genuinely embarrassing amount of delight, she commented on his picture: Careful in the English section.

Kaya didn’t seem to use Instagram very often other than to put up very random pictures on her story of ordinary city shots: a street outside her campus, her own legs in faded jeans, a unicycle in the park in the distance. It was whimsical and cute, but also highlighted the few times she did post something else - such as a picture of her and three other people, sitting at a table with name cards in front of them and smiling into the camera.

Namjoon doesn’t immediately register the male in the picture. His focus is on Kaya, in a blazer and slinky black trousers and beige heels, her long hair straight and framing her face as she smiles. His heart skips a beat at the thought of her like this earlier today, in real-time, and he suddenly feels closer to her than he has in weeks. It stays all day, the lingering feeling, as though she’s finally in reach and he hasn’t been imagining her all this time, that he realises it's longing. He’s missing her, and the discovery immediately terrifies him.

He decides it’s officially time to end this transatlantic pseudo-fling and resolves not to call her or text her anymore, knowing they need to phase this out of their lives for both their good. It lasts a whole five hours until she texts him, with nothing more than a Hey.

Namjoon swallows and closes his eyes, knowing he’s in so much trouble. Hey, his fingers type out, as though of their own accord.

I think God sent me an angel today.

Yeah? Wings and everything?

Chinos and Vans, but I’ll take it. As long as he gives me an extra set of hands on this research project, I’ll worship whoever sent him to me.

Oh, your professor finally brought in someone else? That’s great!

Yess, it is. Maybe now I’ll remember to eat a meal and get more than a couple hours of sleep. Oh, and focus on my actual job.

I get that. I’m happy for you. You should be getting more sleep.

I know, right? Damien might just be the answer to my problems. Even staying up late in the conference room and checking survey results is better now because at least I’m not alone. I shouldn’t be complaining to you though - I know you have a worse workload.

Not true. I was in the studio till dawn but at least it has a comfortable couch.

You’re right. I have it worse.

Not now that you have Damien. The reply is out and sent before Namjoon can stop himself and he immediately cringes.

Yeah, well. I don’t know how long he’s going to be around for. Once this project is over, maybe I’ll refer him to Professor Llyod so he doesn’t keep tapping me to grade his papers.

Sounds like a plan. I’m sure Professor Lloyd will be happy.

His happiness isn’t really my concern, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t mind if Damien stays. He actually has more than a few braincells and - get this - showers.

Namjoon stares at his phone for a second. He sounds like the complete package.

You joke, but it’s a serious epidemic on a college campus. Having a colleague who smells good is a bigger bonus than you think.

How long do you think this project will be?

A couple of months? Hopefully? I don’t know - the professor heading it keeps adding problem statements constantly so it feels endless. I’m just really really tired.

Namjoon wants to offer words of comfort but he can’t think of any. In fact, all he can think about is how he, too, has a ridiculously long day ahead of photoshoots ahead of him tomorrow, where he won’t be allowed to eat much or drink any water, followed by filming.

He remembers about how he’s been thinking about her all day and knows he needs to at least try to nip this in the bud.

You know the worst thing about being a workaholic?

What?

Dating somebody who’s also a workaholic.

Kaya’s reply takes a few moments. Haha, point taken. Good thing that’s not a problem for us.

—

The next few reasons come up around the same time, and some of them are just downright silly.

Despite his best intentions to keep a distance, the moment he finds out he’s needed in Amsterdam for a collaboration, Namjoon not only says yes instantly but he also works his schedule to plan leaves and invent meetings around the same time, eventually extending his total trip to ten days.

He knows he’ll be working for some of that time; it’s the only reason he doesn’t feel desperate and clingy when he informs Kaya of the trip, asking as calmly as possible if she’d like to meet.

Kaya, for her part, feels like her heart might explode. It takes every bit of her willpower to suppress the smile on her face during the mid-term she’s invigilating; the undergrads, barely younger than her, don’t need to know anything about her personal life.

Oh, that’s great. Sure, we should catch up.

He’s coming for work and she already has a lot of it on her plate, but somehow it still feels as though every moment that can be squeezed out from their schedules is spent with each other. A lot of the deliberate distance that they tried to maintain while apart seems to have also gradually evaporated.

It starts on his first night with dinner at a riverside cafe, where they greet each other with a casual hug like they’re classmates from high school. They walk back to her apartment with a respectful distance between them where she invites him for a cup of horrid instant coffee, like it’s the end of a blind date.

It’s only when they’re actually indoors and alone and it’s dark because Kaya hasn’t even switched on the light yet that some of the pretence is dropped. She sees his tall silhouette come closer and smells his cologne; her hands go up automatically to rest on his shoulders as he kisses her, his hands large around her waist as he gently backs her up against the door.

They hang out in her apartment when they’re not outside; Namjoon says he’s sick of hotels and she can imagine (and she secretly doesn’t want him to leave), so she doesn’t mind much. Her apartment is small but the location is convenient and the sight of him in it, casual and comfortable, is something she feels she can’t get enough of.

“It’s an amazing view,” he says one morning, sitting sideways on the bench in her balcony. He’s got his glasses on and is sitting with a book, having woken up almost an hour before her. “I can even see the river from here.”

“It’s pretty great,” she admits, coming over and sitting next to him, leaning back against his legs. “The rent also takes a decent chunk out of my paycheck,” she adds dryly, shrugging, “but it’s worth it.”

“Don’t you get a place on campus? I thought all students do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So why didn’t you take it? Wouldn’t you save a lot?” he asks curiously.

Kaya bites her lip, still looking at the view. “I don’t like living on campus.”

“Really? You’d live right there - you’d probably save a ton of time on commute and everything, no? Plus, it would be safer than returning in the middle of the -”

“It’s not really my thing,” she interrupts him. “Do you want to go to Stedelijk today? If you do, we should leave soon.”

Namjoon nods and she smiles, patting his leg and going back inside. They leave in an hour; it’s a Sunday and it’s beautiful outside. The museum is just as incredible as she remembers from the first time she visited it, except now Namjoon is here, too, his fingers lingering right next to hers and brushing them every few seconds.

They’ve had sex several times, they’ve fallen asleep together, they’ve even showered together once, but this - holding hands - still feels too soon. It feels like admitting something, something she knows by now that they’re both trying to deny because it just makes more sense that way. They can’t hold hands, for that’s the beginning of a very slippery slope.

“Hey, your view is so much better than mine,” says Kaya after a while, when they’re having lunch at a cafe near the museum. She’s looking at a picture on his phone of his gigantic window, the Han river flowing majestically outside it. “The river from my balcony is a speck in the distance.”

“I do have a good view,” he says fairly, taking back the phone. “But I mostly use my balcony for company. It feels too depressing otherwise. But yours honestly just feels like a bedroom with no roof,” he points out, something she’d never considered. “It has the mattress, the lights, the coasters. It’s like a haven in the middle of the city.”

“Really?” She’s both proud and slightly confused. “My mum’s been pestering me to get some plants in there but I just know I’m going to make a mess and forget about them and then they’ll eventually die. But, hey, who needs plants when I’ve got a whole haven?”

Namjoon grins. “You want me to help you pick out some plants? I have a ton.”

She pauses mid-bite, a little disbelieving at how he continues to surprise her. “Seriously? You - you plant stuff?”

“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”

“Oh, it’s not -” She doesn’t know how to say that she can’t quite reconcile the posters of him that Jae-lin has shown her and the music videos she’s watched here and there of him rapping in oversized clothes, with someone who could tend to a garden. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“I plant a lot of things,” he informs her, cutting his steak and dipping it in the sauce. “For example, right now, I’ve just planted an idea in your head.” He smiles, his dimple popping. “So? Want to go plant shopping with me?”

Kaya watches him wince as the piece of steak breaks and falls in the bowl of sauce and he fishes it out, swearing under his breath. This is about the plants, she decides, trying to subtly place her hand over her mouth and cover her smile. He’s perfect but he’s not hers, and that’s the way it should be.

“Sure. I’ll go plant shopping with you.”

They look up the closest nursery and head there after lunch, pulling their caps over their heads in the afternoon sun. The desire to slip her hand into his is getting stronger; she imagines how big it would be around her own, the pressure both comforting and playful. To save herself from the temptation, she hooks her fingers around the strap of her sling bag and settles for just feeling his bicep brush against her shoulder.

The nursery is quaint and unbelievably colourful, looking like a kaleidoscope on the side of the road. They step into the shade and begin examining the small pots, reading the description underneath each.

“Definitely the tabebuia, if I may suggest it,” says Namjoon, pointing to a pretty pink plant. “It blossoms in the summer and it’s just gorgeous. It’ll be the highlight of your balcony.”

“Duly noted. What about its support acts?”

“Well -” He walks slowly towards her and points at another sapling. “The poppy is always nice. And - oh, dude, they have orchids here,” he adds in wonder, peering at the card underneath it. “I have one just like it - hang on -” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping on it.

Kaya surveys a few more saplings and turns to him slightly. “What about this one? It says it’s conducive to warm weather and grows even in harsh conditions such as -” She sees a movement out of the corner of her eye and looks to see Namjoon turning around and walking away. For a moment she thinks he’s going towards another plant but he just keeps walking until he’s passed the nursery, head still bent low over his phone.

Something stings in her heart, insulted at being cut off mid-sentence and ignored. She’s about to call his name when she hears the gasps.

“It’s RM!”

There are two or three voices, accents foreign. Kaya freezes and turns away slightly, her mind working out why he abruptly walked away the way he did.

“I think it was him!”

“RM? Are you sure?”

“We can check…”

There’s some scuffling and words in a language Kaya can’t place in the moment, taken too off guard by the sudden interruption. She tries to breathe, willing the annoyance in her chest to go away. From a little way away, she spots what looks like a family with two teenage girls and a third one slightly older, gravitating towards the direction in which Namjoon left.

She tries to look casually; he’s much further away by now, ducking into a coffee shop. The girls, in their minor confusion, seem to have lost sight of him. As they trudge away, disappointment evident in their voices, Kaya begins walking in the same direction, passing by the coffee shop as well. She texts him and continues down the path, stopping after a few minutes and waiting for him in a less crowded area.

She spots him sooner than expected. Even from a distance, she can see his lips pursed and his forehead creased, looking apologetic.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps softly when he’s within earshot. “It’s RM.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, coming over and wrapping his arms around her waist before kissing her softly.

“M-hm.”

“I didn’t want them to see you. That’s all.” He takes a small step back and tilts his head. “All it takes is one picture on the internet and then…”

“I know,” she says finally, patting his arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?”

Kaya nods. “It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m sure it would be way worse for your girlfriend. You know, if… whenever…”

It’s his turn to nod knowingly, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. So you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Not about you, not about your fans,” she lists as they resume walking. “Not about your girlfriend… none of it.”

“Good.” Namjoon bumps her shoulder gently.

She doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she slips her hand into his.

Later that night, Kaya’s forgotten all about it, the only coherent thoughts in her mind being the feel of her sheets underneath her, Namjoon’s lips at her neck and his fingers inside her, moving right at her g-spot.

“F-fuck,” she stutters, knowing she’s close. Namjoon is a wizard with his fingers, she’s discovered. They are long, slender and move with a grace she hadn’t expected, and his hands find ways to elicit pleasure that even she hasn’t been able to unearth yet.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he murmurs in her ear, his deep voice making her moan softly. He nips gently at her earlobe. “Open your legs wider for me, baby?”

Kaya obeys; she can’t imagine not doing so. Her head is starting to spin. “I - I can’t,” she breathes, panting. “Oh, my God…”

“You want me to stop?” he asks, slowing down slightly.

“No!” she exclaims, eyes snapping open. “I just - oh, God - I can’t take this on a regular basis,” she explains tightly, fists clenching around the sheets. “I think I might die…” She flashes a dreamy smile, eyes fluttering shut. “Good thing you’re not my boyfriend, huh?”

Namjoon nods, coming up slightly and moving his fingers slightly faster. “Uh-huh. Lucky you,” he says, brushing his lips lightly over her nipple.

Kaya moans loudly at that; she’s got seconds before she probably passes out from the intensity of what he’s doing. At this very inopportune moment where it’s just her, him and their clammy, naked bodies against each other, her phone pings.

Namjoon swears softly in Korean but thankfully doesn’t stop. “Ignore it,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t care what it is.”

“What if it’s something important?” he murmurs calmly, pressing kisses down her jaw. “You sure you don’t want to answer it?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, biting down on her lip now. “It’s probably just - just Damien texting to confirm if - oh, God!” Her mind goes blank the moment he flattens his hand and rubs his palm over her clit. “Oh, God, baby - don’t stop, don’t - oh, my -”

Unable to form words any longer, Kaya drops her head back on the pillow and moans loudly as her orgasm hits her, her back arching on the bed as Namjoon whispers low words of praise, voice so deep she can feel it in her stomach.

His fingers slide out slowly, her ears still ringing slightly. Her heart is going a mile a minute and she drops her head to the side into his neck as she tries to breathe normally before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

Namjoon brushes her bangs off her face affectionately, his dimple appearing faintly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You were saying?”

But she shakes her head. “I don’t remember,” she mutters, heart skipping a beat at his satisfied grin.

—

The next day, three days before Namjoon is to leave, they decide to plant her saplings.

“Somehow, I expected this to be more technical.” Kaya steps back and tilts her head, observing her handiwork. She’s still potting the tabebuia, while Namjoon seems to have already finished two and is working on his third.

“What do you mean?” he asks, gently picking up the poppy plant and lowering it into the pot. He steadies it on the low ledge where five newly purchased pots sit, soil littered around them.

“Just.” She tosses a loose lock of hair out of her face, her hands muddy with dark soil. “You always see people with a ton of gardening tools and gloves and… you know. Outfits,” she adds.

“We’re just potting plants,” he points out. “Your outfit is cute.”

“It’s pajamas.”

“What’s your point?”

Kaya smiles but then groans. “I suck at this, though. All your plants look perfect and mine looks like something that got trampled by a herd of cows.”

Namjoon snickers, neatly finishing with his plant. “It’s always messy at first, but it’s worth it at the end.” He gathers the spilt soil into a small mound and moves it to the corner before coming up to her. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m holding the plant wrong or something because it keeps falling over,” she mutters, bending slightly to examine it. “Look, I think it’s - oh.” She breaks off when she suddenly feels his torso against her back and sees his arms come up in front of her, reaching for the tabebuia plant.

“Okay, so you need to hold it here,” he says calmly, as though the casual intimacy of their position isn’t causing explosions in his stomach like it is for her. “And then -” He pours a handful of soil into the pot. “- it stays still. Here, try it.”

If he notices her hands shaking, he doesn’t say anything. He takes them in his and places them in the correct position and they quietly pot the plant, the pale pink buds peeking through the leaves. Once they’re done, they stay there, and Kaya feels her chest start to contract, like she might suddenly cry.

She’s falling for him.

From behind her, Namjoon rests his hands on the ledge, encasing her. He gently bumps her head with his chin. “Should we name them?”

She nods like this was obvious, exhaling. “That one’s Fitzwilliam,” she declares, pointing to the one at the end.

“I’m sorry - what?”

“Fitzwilliam,” she repeats. “Like Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look at him - he’s right in the corner, not even on the same ledge as the others.”

“Yeah… because there’s no more space on this one.”

“It’s also the only plant that’s not a flower.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Fitzwilliam.”

“Fine. You freak,” he mutters, bumping her head again. “What about that one?”

They name the next three together, teasing each other with each one. Finally, they get to the tabebuia.

Kaya strokes one of the leaves. “This one’s easy. She’s Aphrodite.”

Namjoon nods. “I get that. A heavy name to live up to, though.”

“It makes complete sense. She’s the prettiest one here.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s probably a good thing we’re not together,” he says finally. “I don’t think I could handle not seeing her every day.”

Kaya swallows. Despite her heart feeling heavy again, she leans back against him, memorising his strong chest behind her. She wonders if she’s imagining his heartbeat. “You’re talking about…”

“Aphrodite,” he murmurs, partly against her hair. “Who else?”

She can feel his nose press against the side of her head. Don’t do it, she thinks desperately. Don’t do it, don’t do it. It would open up a pit of emotions she doesn’t want to face.

“Maybe we can share custody,” she suggests half-heartedly.

She can feel him smile slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Don’t do it. But it doesn’t work; he takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to her hair, and the dread settles deep in her stomach.

—

Kaya knew this day would come. After all, the only reason they even got this week was because Namjoon had work in Amsterdam. If it weren’t for that, this would’ve ended in Seoul.

The last two days were spent largely apart; Namjoon had to fulfil his actual professional obligations and despite wanting to make the best of his time here, Kaya was glad to have some space for she wasn’t sure she was doing a good job hiding how she felt about his impending departure.

But the morning of his flight, she’s finally forced to face it.

It’s early, and Kaya has a class in two hours. She can’t think about that, though - which is worrying, because she always thinks about work. She sits on one of the dining chairs, the same one she sat on the first night he’d spent here, feet up and hugging her knees as she watches him speak to someone on the phone. In his hand is a shopping bag, half-filled with stuff he’s left here over the week.

“Yeah, okay,” he says vaguely, nodding. The phone is tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he ties his shoelaces. He replies in Korean before hanging up and slipping the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“My cab will be at the hotel in an hour,” he tells her.

“Okay.” Now that his attention is on her, she finds she can’t look at him. It occurs to her that she might be sulking; it’s just another embarrassment on top of the stupidity at feeling this horrible about Namjoon leaving. “Sure you have everything?”

“Yeah.” When she still doesn’t look at him, focusing intently on a pattern on her tablecloth, he sighs. “Kaya? Are you okay?”

No. But she’d rather die than admit that.

“Yeah.” She swallows and forces herself to look at him. “This just… really sucks. That’s all.”

Namjoon nods, and she wonders if he really knows how much. It would be too good to be true if they actually ever see each other again. The reasons not to are plenty and they’ve been laid out, several times, but all that’s needed is a single distraction in one of their lives, and they will be strangers again. Her heart shouldn’t hurt this much over someone who’s going to be a stranger.

He clears his throat. “Imagine if we were -”

“Yeah. I know.” She holds his gaze this time until he looks away. “Good thing we’re not.”

His phone pings then and they’re snapped out of the moment. “I need to go,” says Namjoon in a low voice. “Can I…”

Kaya nods, because of course he can, and gets up from the chair to walk over to him. He looks a little relieved that she came at all and gives her a small smile.

One kiss. That’s all. She steels herself, determined not to go beyond a quick, nice kiss that would be appropriate for a one-week fling that turned into two weeks. Namjoon tilts her chin up slightly and presses his lips to hers, their mouths opening together for a simple last kiss.

But then her hand goes up to his face and his arm comes around her waist and before they know it, they’re locked together in her living room, desperate to keep the moment going a little longer.

—

Namjoon loves London. It reminds him of his favourite weather in Seoul; the rain, the grey tint, the cloudy sky. It’s thoughtful, inspiring and romantic, and he honestly doesn’t understand why everyone complains about it so much.

Today, however, the weather has been worrying him. Throughout their interview, the radio show, the live performance and the retakes, he’s had one eye on the window, hoping the rain will ease up so Kaya’s flight can finally land.

It feels like a miracle that she even said yes to coming. Ever since he’d left Amsterdam, he thought he could feel her becoming a bit distant. He wasn’t sure what it was; they still spoke, but topics stayed neutral and casual. She texted more than she called and one of their few common timeslots - her night and his morning - no longer worked because she said she was working late more often now. He tried not to think about it as Damien Herjavec stealing his time with Kaya away from him.

Maybe Namjoon was imagining it, or maybe it was everything he’d been dreading and they were finally, finally drifting apart. It hurt more than he expected it to and he was surprised at his reluctance to accept the fact, persevering in his efforts to stay in touch.

She didn’t even confirm this trip immediately, citing her calendar and other conflicts, the entire time leaving Namjoon to imagine every possible reason on earth that she wouldn’t want to meet him. Finally, after nearly a week, she agreed out of the blue.

Let’s do it, had been her message, curt and to the point.

“For God’s sake,” says Yoongi dryly, his eyes not leaving the television in their shared hotel room, “just call her and ask her where she is.”

It’s a thought and an obvious one at that, but Namjoon has his reasons for not doing so. Her shortened replies and guarded conversations continued even after she accepted his invite; it’s confusing and worrying all at once, for now he has no idea what to expect when she finally arrives.

Kaya’s been texting him en route, though, so he knows her plane landed a couple of hours late, after which it took her a long time to get a cab, followed by a ridiculous amount of traffic throughout London. Namjoon taps his foot impatiently on the floor until Hoseok stares at him from across the room, and he relents.

Not bothering to change or tell his manager where he’s going, Namjoon takes the elevator downstairs and jogs out of the lobby and outside the hotel. It’s almost ten pm and this particular street seems to be largely empty. He’s glad; he’s still in the suit he was wearing all day and the last thing he needs right now is to worry about being recognised.

Kaya hasn’t responded to his last message; he tries not to worry, for she’d told him that her phone would probably die soon. It’s cold - freezing, actually - but the anxiety is superseding it to the point where his hands are actually feeling clammy.

Namjoon doesn’t want to think about the other reason she could be pulling away. Ever since Amsterdam, their conversations have started including more and more mentions of Damien, Kaya’s research partner. They’re random and harmless on the surface, but the name jumps out at Namjoon each time.

He doesn’t know if it’s just that she’s working more with Damien now or if she’s doing it on purpose, trying to hint at a development and giving him a kind way out of this. Or maybe he’s overthinking it; from all accounts, Damien seems to have made her life easier and is a good colleague, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her to bring him up.

Then again, the possibility of it being something more is enormous. Kaya is beautiful and intelligent and thoughtful; Namjoon can’t imagine that if she were to send even the smallest signal, that she would remain single for long.

One night, with his self-respect somewhere around his ankles, Namjoon resorted to looking up Damien on Facebook (he wasn’t on Instagram), huddled in the dark under his blanket. Damien seemed to be in his late twenties at best, with reddish blond hair and a tall, lanky frame. The stalking exercise didn’t result in anything conclusive, except that Namjoon now had a face to put to the name of this individual who seemed likely to steal his girl.

His stomach twists. He hates how much he cares, hates how much mind space it’s taking up for him. But mostly, he hates that it might be true.

When Kaya had agreed to come to London, his nerves had eased slightly. But the curtness of her response still stayed in his mind, as though she had suddenly decided to do something. It’s occurred to him more than once that she might be coming just to end this in person. It doesn’t seem like something she would do, but he’s also been forced to admit that he doesn’t know her well enough to be sure of that.

The traffic is crazy.

Namjoon exhales shakily at her text and is about to reply when another message pops up.

Should be about twenty minutes now.

Damn there’s a road closure.

Might be quicker to walk.

Okay, I’m walking.

See you in a few.

The messages appear in rapid succession and Namjoon scans them quickly, realising that she’d probably lost signal somewhere along the way. Based on the time stamps, she should be arriving any minute now.

His head snaps up to look in both directions in front of the hotel. It’s started to drizzle now; Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and feels the hairspray having faded away, leaving damp strands of hair to fall on his forehead. He exhales; if she’s coming to end this, he’s not ready. If she isn’t, then he knows, finally, what he’s going to do.

It’s only about two minutes later, but it feels like a lifetime that he’s been waiting to see Kaya again. He spots her at the end of the street, dressed in jeans and a slim, grey blazer. Her boots splash softly in the tiny puddles as she walks and her head is tilted up at the buildings across the street, as though looking for a landmark. Behind her is a compact suitcase being pulled on wheels, rolling smoothly on the concrete.

Namjoon’s heart leaps at the sight of her. She’s frowning, though; he hopes it’s out of concentration and tiredness. As she gets closer, he notices her long hair slightly wavy, as though wet in the drizzle. She must be cold; he makes a mental note to offer a hot shower as soon as they go inside.

Kaya looks straight ahead then - and her face breaks into a smile. It lights up and Namjoon knows he isn’t imagining it. He tries to ignore the hope igniting inside of him and tugs at his tie to loosen it. It’s now or never; he can’t risk feeling like this for a moment longer or he’s afraid it might kill him.

Four feet away from him, she pauses momentarily to straighten her suitcase and let go of it, continuing her stride towards him. The smile has faded and her expression is blazing, Disney princess eyes locking onto his. She looks more determined than ever and all other thoughts leave Namjoon’s mind.

“Please tell me you’re not dating this Damien person,” he blurts out desperately, noting how she flashes him a breathless smile.

“No,” she answers, a moment before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Namjoon’s arms go around her automatically, memorising her exact shape and feel against him. It takes him a moment to remember to be relieved; it’s just her lips and her hair and her beautiful, familiar, incredible form back in his arms and in his life.

Kaya pulls away first, panting a bit and tossing her long hair out of her eyes, her arms still around him. “Why? You want to date me instead?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. His heart skips a beat at that smile again, almost blinding him, and he takes it. “Yes,” he repeats, bringing one hand to her face and kissing her again, murmuring the same word against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes…”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #bangtanbathhouse #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork

66 notes · View notes