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Collateral 🗡️ POV: Namjoon

Namjoon is tired. He is tired of waiting to hear from Yoongi. He is tired of allowing his exhaustion to continue pushing you away.

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Namjoon x Female Reader x Yoongi

🗡️ word count: 7.3k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: mention of Jeongguk & reader doing drugs (mdma, coke), drinking champagne, and getting sexy (oral) - all off screen; Namjoon reminiscing about the day Yoongi almost got married; oral sex (allusion to squirting); discussion of blood & head wounds; worry and anxiety.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 2nd person (you/your) pronouns for this chapter since she appears more than just in passing!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @neoneunnajimin - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally dec. 2023 | read on ao3

As soon as Namjoon wakes up, he feels a swell of anxiety begin at the center of his chest and work its way through his limbs. He rolls from his right side onto his back and breathes slow and deep, attempting to center himself and quash the feelings of discontent.

He hates it when Yoongi goes silent.

No matter how many times Yoongi swears that he is never going to fall back into old habits, Namjoon cannot help but worry, especially after the recent incident in Paris. More than once, he has found the man he loves with one foot in the grave. He cannot do it again.

He also hates the way distance has begun to build between the two of you. And he knows that it is all a product of his own insecurity—that the walls climb high as the heavens whenever he is scared out of his fucking mind and does not know whether he can turn to others. But he cannot bring himself to tell you all of his fears.

How could he? How can he look you in the eyes and admit that he is terrified of losing the man both of you love so much?

Namjoon groans as he stretches, raising his arms high over his head. He slept well for the first time in weeks, and although he feels a little guilty for feeling like he has to get out of Yoongi's mansion in order to accomplish his momentary peace, he is glad to know that you have found a distraction, as dangerous of a distraction as it may be.

The sights and smells of his home are strange to Namjoon after spending so much time in Yoongi's bed, storing things in Yoongi's closet, and cleaning off the stress and grime from his days in Yoongi's shower. But it also feels nice to have a place to get away and center himself.

As soon as he walked through his door last night, Namjoon let out a sigh of relief mixed with worry. For days, he has wondered if leaving the mansion and essentially shutting you out completely could do more harm than good. But after several nights of horrible sleep, compounded with days of being in a stressed, shitty mood, he decided that for his sake and for yours, a night away would be best.

Of course, you had to wake up and notice he was gone. And, of course, you had to run off to the one maniac who could potentially cause you even greater physical and emotional turmoil.

Namjoon still has no idea why Yoongi and Taehyung think it is a good idea for you and Jeongguk to get along so well, but he also does not object enough to ask you not to. Due mostly to the fact that he feels he does not have any place asking you not to spend time with him.

He has no issue with sharing you, and as long as Yoongi is happy, he is happy. But Jeongguk is a loose cannon, and Namjoon just knows that the two of you together could be absolutely volatile, much like Jeongguk and Ryujin were all those years ago.

With a final stretch and yawn, Namjoon rolls over and picks up his phone. As always, he is awake around fifteen minutes before his 7:00 AM alarm, and he is surprised to find several text messages from Jeongguk.

Gguk: Hey, hyung! Don't be mad, but I gave our buttercup molly. And coke. And champagne. She's fine physically, but she's not having a great time emotionally. What antidepressant is she taking? Probably should have asked her that before I suggested we roll.

Gguk: Any word from Yoongi? I have a feeling his absence is really wearing her down. Although…I'm sure you already know that. I don't mean to assume you don't.

Gguk: Also, hello, good morning, I hope you are doing well!

Namjoon rolls his eyes and chuckles, shaking his head. Jeongguk is already a handful, but on MDMA, the poor guy tends to spiral. In fact, Namjoon is shocked that none of the messages contain an I love you or an I miss you or a Do you hate me?

Namjoon: Oh, boy, what have you kids been getting into??? ;) I can check on the antidepressant when I return to Yoon's place. Is she feeling any better?

Namjoon: I haven't heard anything from Yoon in a couple of days. Thinking about making a trip to Hong Kong, though. Think you can hold down the fort? I don't really want to ask Seokjin.

Namjoon wears only a pair of blue boxer shorts, and he tosses aside his forest green comforter to place his feet down onto a matching forest green area rug, then walks to his closet. With Yoongi away, he has been dressing more comfortably in jeans and sweaters, refraining from wearing any black.

Sometimes it feels nice to just be Kim Namjoon, and ignore the rest of the titles that come with the name. Sometimes he likes to pretend he isn't The Dragon.

He picks out a soft medium-blue sweater and loose-fit blue jeans. He does not style his hair, nor does he put on jewelry or a watch. When his phone vibrates in his pocket just moments after he slips it in, he hesitates before pulling it out. In his heart, he knows that it is not Yoongi, which only makes the thought of checking the message sting a little more.

The stress Namjoon feels while torturing a man within an inch of his life pales in comparison to that he experiences when Yoongi is avoidant.

Namjoon does not bother to make his bed. He leaves his closet, takes a left, and goes into his large ensuite bathroom. All of the cabinets and furnishings are handcrafted from driftwood with ceramic knobs and handles. The tile is a neutral tan, and Namjoon chuckles softly when he sees the room that feels far more like home than the black and gold Yoongi loves so much.

If only Yoongi would allow him to redecorate. Namjoon thinks maybe Yoongi enjoys shit being so gloomy, to a fault.

He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then after he is patted dry and ready to return to the mansion, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He considers shooting you a text to ask whether you are hungry and interested in joining him for breakfast when he sees Jeongguk's message.

Gguk: Of course, of course. I can keep an eye on shit while you leave. Also, I'm going to bring buttercup back to you soon. She misses you a lot. Are you at the mansion or your place?

Namjoon: My place, but heading to the mansion now. Have you eaten?

Gguk: Well, I got to eat but she didn't…;)

Namjoon leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the hall toward the stairs, thumbs lingering over his keyboard as he laughs and reads over Jeongguk's message.

Namjoon: Bragging about eating my girlfriend's pussy? You know, I've killed men for less.

Hanging in Namjoon's hallway are photos from over the years of him and the family men, but most of them are photos of himself and Yoongi. Although he does not stop to look at most of them anymore, he feels the presence of their nostalgia every time he walks by, and he does lift his eyes to glance at a particular photo at the top of the stairs that is much larger than all the others.

In the photo, Namjoon is looking at the camera, holding onto a big, colorful bouquet of flowers. His hair is shorter and lightened blond with a lavender tint, and he wears a black turtleneck, black slacks, and a black trench coat. Yoongi teased him earlier that day for coming to his wedding dressed for a funeral, but in a way, that was what it felt like.

What had already begun as a tumultuous day with the man he loves promised to get married had turned extremely sour when news of the father of the bride-to-be's betrayal spread like wildfire. Namjoon still remembers the look of fear on Ryujin's face when whispers reached the back of the church as she was walking down the aisle.

The bouquet Namjoon holds in the photo is the one she dropped before running out. And in this particular photo, Namjoon and Yoongi are standing side by side.

Yoongi does not look at the camera, however. Yoongi looks at Namjoon.

He stands in his tailored black suit and bow tie, dark hair cut shorter than Namjoon has seen it in years, and he looks up at Namjoon with an expression that is so soft and so loving that seven years later, it still takes his breath away.

The feeling in Namjoon's heart that day was a strange one.

On the one hand, he remembers feeling an immense amount of relief. For a while things with Ryujin had been strained and weird, and he had really been struggling to figure out where he fit at Yoongi's side.

Leading up to the wedding, there had been insinuations that once the two of them were married, Namjoon would have to take a step back and end whatever was going on between him and Yoongi. Because of this, he had been feeling a deep sense of grief that was impacting his ability to think clearly and be there for the family as Yoongi's right hand.

But then, with her out of the picture, he felt lighter. Like a weight had lifted from his shoulders and the sun was shining for him once more.

He also remembers feeling kind of guilty. Yoongi was unreadable as always and none of the other guys were giving him a chance to fully process what had happened.

Rather, they all seemed intent on dragging him around the property and making him pose for photos as if the wedding had never been called off. They reasoned it didn't make sense to let the photographer's skills go to waste. After all, everyone was dressed to impress and looking dapper.

Yoongi seemed to be masking whatever he felt with shyness, keeping his eyes on his feet while the photographer positioned him in front of the various installations of his parents' gardens. Of his gardens.

"Mister Kim?" the photographer said at one point, making Namjoon perk up and ask, "Hmm?"

She looked at Namjoon as if waiting for him to return to earth and join the rest of his friends, and it only then occurred to him that the six of them were standing in front of one the archways, watching Namjoon impatiently.

"Oh," Namjoon muttered, stepping forward to get into line with the others.

Despite there being space between Yoongi and Jeongguk, Namjoon began to shuffle down to the far right of the group. But Jimin took him by the sleeve, muttering, "Get by his side," forcing Namjoon to stop in his tracks and course-correct. All he had ever wanted was to be beside Yoongi at all times…he just wasn't sure that it was where he belonged.

It was palpable the way Yoongi relaxed as soon as Namjoon took his place by his side and instinctively lifted an arm around his thin waist. In an instant, Namjoon felt shy, and he struggled to look into the camera, only lifting his gaze and smile when he was told to.

But little by little everyone let loose, and they dragged the kind photographer all over the estate, climbing the statues and shrubberies to pose for photos. He could almost hear the worried sound of Yoongi's mother scolding them for being so reckless, making him miss her dearly. She would have loved to see her son dressed in a tuxedo.

"Anyone wanna pose as the bride?" the photographer asked near the end of their impromptu session. "I grabbed the bouquet just in case."

Namjoon hadn't noticed the bouquet that Ryujin dropped hanging from the strap of the photographer's camera bag, but there it was. Wildflowers and roses hand-picked from the very gardens they posed in—the gardens that Yoongi's mother tended for years—gathered in a beautiful arrangement with white satin and lace. The photographer held it out toward the group, delighted when Jimin swiped it.

Briefly, Namjoon thought Jimin would look beautiful next to Yoongi—that those would be fun photos to look back at once the dust had settled and Yoongi had a chance to cope. But then Jimin shoved the bouquet into Namjoon's chest, making him gasp and stumble awkwardly, gripping onto the satin-covered stems.

"Jimin what are you—"

"Don't be stupid," Jimin interrupted quickly, taking Namjoon by the shoulders and forcing him to rotate and walk backward to be at Yoongi's side once more.

All of the guys knew about Yoongi and Namjoon—Yoongi had never been interested in keeping it a secret. But he still couldn't help but wonder at the time if all of it might have been too much for Yoongi.

"Joon," Yoongi said quietly, kicking butterflies in his tummy and making it hard for him to breathe. "You good?"

And although Namjoon nodded and said, "Yeah, of course," he could only glance at Yoongi standing by his side, feeling all too aware of how they must have looked: like a couple. Like a married couple.

Namjoon swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, then he finally turned to the man he loved so dearly and offered a smile. "You look really handsome today," he said, watching as Yoongi regarded him with a soft, wide-eyed stare.

Shyly, Namjoon turned to the camera, bouquet held against his chest, and smiled. He hoped that his face was not as red hot as it felt, suddenly a bit claustrophobic in his turtleneck and long jacket.

"Perfect," the photographer said, looking over the viewfinder before taking a step back and lining up another shot. "Can I get both of you to look at me?"

Namjoon continued to smile into the camera while Yoongi shifted beside him, and the warmth of Yoongi's arm against his made him relax a little more. They took several more shots this way, and Namjoon almost lamented it coming to an end.

But the photographer convinced them to do some funny poses in several more spots around the garden, and with the cheering of their friends, the two of them really got into their roles. Namjoon carried Yoongi bridal style for various shots, and Yoongi surprised him with how playful he became, holding out the bouquet and kicking his feet out the way a bride might have.

When the day wrapped up and the photographer bowed to take her leave, Namjoon felt happier than he had in years. If only he could tell Yoongi. If only he could ask whether Yoongi felt the same.

With both of Yoongi's parents gone and the responsibility of all of the operations being thrust into his lap with no guidance, Namjoon knew then that the lightness they shared that day would likely never return. What he would have given for things between them to just be simple.

"We look like a married couple," Yoongi joked when they got the photo back, and in that moment, Namjoon knew he had to frame it and put it on display in his home.

Often, over the years, Namjoon has considered what it would be like for the two of them to actually be a married couple. Namjoon has always thought he would trade absolutely everything to make it happen, if only he could. He feels that way now, looking at the photo with a heaviness in his chest.

Namjoon's phone vibrates in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts, and he lifts it to check the notification without unlocking the device. It takes a moment for him to remember what his last message said—that he has killed a man for less than bragging about sexually pleasing his girlfriend.

Gguk: Big deal, so have I!

With a scoff, Namjoon slides his phone back into his pocket and begins to devise a plan. Foremost, he needs to get in touch with Yoongi's chef. He should have arrived at the mansion several hours ago, and Namjoon is craving eggs benedict.

Next, he needs to get in touch with someone in Hong Kong. Yoongi may not be responding, but he knows Uiseok or Wonjin will talk.

He just needs to go to Hong Kong and assure himself that Yoongi is safe. From there, he hardly cares what comes next. In fact, he could use some time away from Seoul and all of the responsibilities that come with being here. If Yoongi wants to stay in Hong Kong, Namjoon does not object, he just does not want Yoongi to be there alone at a time like this.

Namjoon slides his feet into a pair of sneakers and groans as he bends to tie the laces. Although he is in the best shape of his life, he feels worn down lately. His body aches, and he feels tired all the time. Not to mention, his recent workouts with Jeongguk have been wearing him the fuck out.

Christopher calls Namjoon's recent mood and exhaustion depression and often recommends he try to medicate it, but he is disinterested in the prospect. New medications can dull one's senses and Namjoon having his senses dulled could cost someone their life.

Once he is outside, walking down his stone steps onto gravel and dirt, he pulls his phone out and calls the chef. He asks if the chef wouldn't mind prepping for eggs benedict, and then he hangs up and gets to work on task number two.

Being that it is an hour earlier in Hong Kong, Namjoon is not concerned with Uiseok and Yoongi being together this early, so he places a call. The phone rings and rings and Namjoon nearly prepares himself for what he might say in a voicemail when it stops ringing and he hears a groggy, "Hyung?"

"Uiseok," Namjoon responds, walking along the path where trees obstruct its view from the road. "I hope you weren't sleeping."

"Nah, I've been up," Uiseok responds with a droopy lilt that suggests he was definitely asleep a moment ago.

Namjoon swallows thickly, unsure how to proceed before saying, "Look, I don't want to involve you in our shit, but Yoongi hasn't been responding to any of our calls or texts, and we have some business to iron out. I was thinking about making a trip out if that isn't an inconvenience to you."

Uiseok hums, then says, "Nah, man, come on by! Mi casa is your casa."

"Alright, thanks," Namjoon responds, eyes on the gravel that he kicks at with his toe as he walks. He hesitates asking after Yoongi, but finds he can't help it. "Is he…I mean, everything is good, right?"

"Yoongi?" Uiseok asks as if shocked by the question. "Yeah, man he's great! Everything is running according to plan. Copasetic. No sweat, no sweat."

"Hmm," Namjoon mutters, coming out of the clearing of trees and squinting up at the morning sky.

He does not fully believe what Uiseok says, but not because he thinks the man is being dishonest. He just knows Yoongi's affinity for bottling shit up and wearing a mask of nonchalance—one of the key lessons his father taught him about running a city. "Well I'm glad to hear that. I wonder if it would be better for me to surprise him with my visit."

"A surprise could be fun," Uiseok responds chipperly, taking the bait. Namjoon does not want to come out and say don't tell him I'm coming. "We got nothing happening this week, but if something comes up, one of the guys will be around at all times. You know how it is."

"I do," Namjoon mutters as he approaches the front steps and begins letting himself into the mansion. Now that he is at his second home, and he at least has some confirmation that Yoongi is alright, Namjoon feels eager to get off the phone. "Cool, cool. Well, I'll let you know when I am on my way.

"Sounds good, man. Sounds real good. Can't wait to shoot the shit again. Travel safe."

Namjoon mutters, "Thanks," under his breath while pulling the phone from his face and ending the call. Something just does not feel right and he can not figure out what it is. Probably, he just needs to see Yoongi and assuage his doubts.

Once he is inside the mansion, sneakers kicked aside and feet slid into a pair of Yoongi's comfy slippers, he takes in his surroundings and smiles. He meanders over to Yoongi's large blue velvet chair and groans as he slowly sits on it, closing his eyes as the familiar smell of home greets him. If he tries, he can detect hints of Yoongi's musk, but he thinks he may also just be imagining it out of desperation.

Beside the chair there is a small black marble table with gold furnishings, on top of which sits a beautifully decorated Tiffany lamp adorned with stained glass dragonflies and an intricately designed bronze base.

Namjoon always marvels at the furnishings which Yoongi opted to keep versus getting rid of. The black and gold all came in after his father died, replacing all the rich mahogany that the old man loved so much, with the exception of the dining rooms.

But the lamps and all the velvet furnishings were Yoongi's mother's. The chair Namjoon sits on and the couch that accompanies it used to be up in her room at the far left end of the mezzanine, collecting dust until Yoongi insisted on bringing them downstairs.

Whenever the mansion is cold and empty, Namjoon misses Yoongi's mother the most. He misses her soft, knowing smiles, and her warm, kind hugs. Most of all, he misses Yoongi having someone to confide in. Although Yoongi tries to be an open book with those he loves, nobody really got to his heart the way his mother did.

Namjoon sighs as he reaches for the little marble side table and pulls out a small drawer on its front. Inside is a silver cigarette case with a dragon carved on the front of it—a gift Yoongi gave to Namjoon for his sixteenth birthday. Namjoon pulls it out and clicks a little button on the side, and although the spring mechanism is worn with age, the lid pops open to reveal three perfectly rolled joints and a small green rectangular box of matches.

The mornings are becoming cooler, but it is still rather nice outside, so Namjoon considers sitting out in one of the gardens to smoke. But then his phone dings, filling the silent room with a loud, single chime, and without reading the notification, Namjoon decides to change his plan.

He slides one of the joints and the little book of matches out of the case, then snaps the case shut and returns it to the drawer, slowly pressing it tightly closed. Instinct tells him that you and Jeongguk will be on your way back soon, so he makes his way back toward the front door. He would rather greet you out there than have you come to the garden, to him. Although he has no idea what type of mood you will be in, he is eager to put his best foot forward, despite feeling the overwhelming need to be a little stoned in order to face the day.

The saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, blips into Namjoon's mind, and he shakes his head and laughs to himself. Having a little time away from you has certainly helped him miss you, and has made him eager to see you.

Absence from Yoongi, on the other hand…

Namjoon groans once more as he bends to slide on his sneakers, then he reaches for the door knob. He steps outside, turning to slowly close the door behind him, which he wedges open with a random boot. Then he slides out his phone to check it, holding the matchbook in his palm beneath the device while cradling the joint between two fingers.

Gguk: Heading your way! See you soon, hyung.

With a smile, Namjoon slides the phone back into his pocket, lifts the joint and matches, and begins to slide the tiny green box open to retrieve one of the few remaining matchsticks. He lets out a deep breath as he strikes the stick to the side of the box, igniting a small flame, and then he lights the joint with a deep inhale.

This box of matches comes from a hotel he and Yoongi stayed in several years back in New York. The trip was meant to be one of sight seeing and trying American food, but they barely left the hotel suite, holing up and fucking all week, living off of room service and the fancy hotel bar.

The memory brings back a flood of others with Yoongi—of trips to Japan and Amsterdam and Paris and Taiwan, and anywhere in the world Yoongi has wanted to go, which Namjoon has agreed to without hesitation.

A bittersweet rush of anxiety and adoration swells in Namjoon's chest, and he is pulled from his thoughts only when he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, coming from the path that leads to Jeongguk's home. He smiles, listening for faint voices and is surprised when he hears none.

The thought of you being quiet is one thing, but Jeongguk almost always has something to say. He wonders if Jeongguk has finally gotten over his phase of needing to impress you and is beginning to get a little more comfortable.

Namjoon smokes his joint a little too fast. His nerves are going haywire and he is becoming increasingly paranoid over the prospect of seeing you again. Jeongguk says you miss him, and he does not doubt that could be true, but he is more than well aware of how distant he has been, lately.

However, when he looks up and sees the two of you coming onto the driveway—you slung over Jeongguk's back, wearing a set of Jeongguk's hoodie and matching joggers—all he can do is smile like a maniac. Love makes his heart pound rather than trepidation.

As you slide off Jeongguk's back, Namjoon holds his arms out, inviting you for a hug, and he is pleased when you run into his arms, slamming against his chest hard enough that it nearly makes him cough. He considers offering Jeongguk what is left of the joint but notices the youngest keeping his distance.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon says, taking a deep inhale of Jeongguk's unmistakable lavender body wash, "did the two of you have fun?"

When you look up and smile, saying, "Yes," it feels like the sun itself is shining from within Namjoon's heart.

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you say, turning in Namjoon's hold, which he loosens to give you range of motion, and to puff back what is left of his joint.

Jeongguk seems distant, which is worrying, but he could also be tired. Either way, calling attention to it and putting him on the spot does not seem like a good idea. There is a chance you both are still feeling the effects of the MDMA, and Namjoon does not want to push anyone's emotional buttons.

"Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface," Jeongguk finally says with an unconvincing wink as he waves the two of you off, spins around, and makes his way back home.

"You two are so cute," Namjoon mutters, feeling like he has found himself caught in the middle of a rather sweet crush, even if he is worried about the two of you together.

You spin and wrap Namjoon in a tight hug, asking, "Is that so?" and although it seems innocent enough, the playfulness in your voice lights a spark in Namjoon that he has to attempt to ignore. At least until after breakfast. So, instead, he simply hums and then decides to change the topic.

"I spoke to Yoongi," he lies, and you gasp and step back, eyes wide and eager. Finally, the weed seems to be taking hold and making Namjoon relax a little more, and he continues. "What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?"

You nod so fast—so eagerly—that Namjoon actually worries you might get a headache. Feeling hunger pangs and a bit of lightheadedness take over, Namjoon takes one last puff of his joint and flicks it into the driveway.

"He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person," Namjoon continues, instantly regretting letting his mouth run. Of course, he knows this to be the way Yoongi operates, but he is still making shit up. He feels desperate to calm your worries in some way, adding, "Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away."

Even as the words leave Namjoon's lips, he fears they could be false. What if the injury to his face was the last straw, and Yoongi no longer feels safe with the two of you. Namjoon can still imagine the horrible feeling as you yanked on his arm and the blade that the two of you held onto caught on Yoongi's face.

Judging by your eyes, you are just as doubtful, but you smile anyway, and that is enough to get Namjoon out of his spiral.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, eager once more to change the topic.

"Starving!" you respond cutely, and the two of you enter the mansion, kicking out of your footwear and closing the door tightly behind you.

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so I had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce," Namjoon says as they make their way through the main hall. "Does that sound good to you?”

He is not sure what he expected you to say in response, and is shocked when you come back with, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon is quick to turn and begin tickling you, digging his fingertips behind your ribs in a dance that he knows makes you crazy. You squeal as he shouts, "Yah! I am not that bad of a cook!"

"I submit!" you shout, lifting your hands in the air and nearly punching Namjoon in the face. "You're an amazing cook!"

Although Namjoon is unconvinced, he decides the chivalrous thing to do would be to stop. He is also too damn hungry to continue torturing you, and he slots an arm around your waist when you seem to teeter in place.

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" Namjoon feels compelled to ask, tugging at the fabric near your side, feeling his heart pound behind his ribs when you look up with a wide smile and nod.

Something in the way the two are now, as if you seem to be back to how you were before, sparks desire deep in Namjoon. The moment the two of you finish breakfast, Namjoon wants to savor you for dessert.

And he does.

The way your entire body trembles—legs draped over his shoulders and thighs squeezing the sides of his head only urges Namjoon on more. It has been weeks since he has been able to make you cum so much; weeks since you have not been suddenly interrupted by a horrendous flashback the moment you let your guard down; weeks since the last time Namjoon has felt thankful for a waterproof mattress pad.

Namjoon's nose, cheeks, and chin are soaked, and he eats you in broad, greedy strokes, moaning against you unabashedly, eager for you to know that he feels so much pleasure just from getting you off.

"Daddy," you whine, drawing out the syllables as your thighs clench and release and clench again. He has slowed his fingers inside you but your release continues to squelch and dribble around his hand.

Namjoon merely hums in response, dragging his tongue over your soaked pussy, tasting your lightly sweet, lightly tangy release—a flavor that makes him insane with lust. He is certain that he could eat you out for hours.

"Too much," you cry, but Namjoon merely slows down, releasing your clit from his lips with a loud smack as he groans, "That isn't your safeword, baby."

You moan in response, legs falling spread and quaking as Namjoon continues languid swipes of his tongue. The high from the weed he smoked earlier has all but dissipated, replaced with a high from you. And he almost, almost forgets how worried he is about Yoongi.

But then he is plagued with it once more—the image of beautiful Yoongi with blood pouring down his face—seeping between his fingers. Namjoon’s jaw quivers and he swallows thickly, overwhelmed with the urge to vomit or cry or both.

“Hmm?” he hears you hum, and he glances up to find you propped up on your elbows, watching him with concern.

Namjoon can’t help but chuckle. “How are you so observant?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows and wiping his face on the back of his hand.

Although you look sweaty and fucked out, still seemingly trying to catch your breath, your gaze is razor sharp and focused, lips in a half smile.

“I’m obsessed with you,” you mutter cutely, smile growing. “It’s easy to be tuned in to you.”

Namjoon sighs and smiles, but he feels a hint of worry. He has been trying so hard to protect you from his thoughts, but he wonders if it would not be better for you to be let in. That is part of loving someone, after all.

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill the mood,” Namjoon groans, feeling that the mood is already dead.

You chuckle and shake your head, saying, “Never.” Sitting up further, you open your arms and say, “Come here, Joonbug.”

Namjoon gets onto his hands and begins to crawl, caging your hips and then ribs. And then he gently falls forward, taking you down with him in a tangle of arms and giggles.

“I keep having flashbacks too,” Namjoon mutters, closing his eyes tight. Yoongi continues to bleed in his mind, but as your hands begin to play with his hair, he melts, pushing the image out. How could he have been so cold when your warmth is so healing?

He swallows again and continues, “I keep seeing Yoongi with his hands and cheek covered in blood. Head wounds…fuck, they bleed so much.” Your hands stop momentarily and then begin to move again. “So much more than you might expect. When Taehyung was stitching him up, it looked like a river had flowed down his chin and neck. I’m sorry for telling you this.”

You say nothing, making Namjoon nervous. “We’re both at fault for what happened,” he adds quietly, chest heavy with remorse. “So please don’t take all the blame. Don’t carry the full burden, okay?”

“Okay,” you utter softly at the same time your chest quakes.

Namjoon knows before his eyes can lift in confirmation that you are crying. “Sweetheart—“ he begins, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you half-whisper, tears flowing down your pretty cheeks. “That had to have been so scary.”

A humorless scoff works through Namjoon's chest. "To be honest, I was numb at the time. I go into a protection mode where, until I am sure that someone is okay, I do not react emotionally to the situation. It wasn't until we got home and I brought Yoongi up to shower while we contemplated coming to get you that everything became too much to bear. I completely fucking lost it."

"Why didn't you come get me?" you ask, and Namjoon loves you for it. He loves the way you challenge him, and how you do not leave any detail unaddressed. He turns his cheek to the side and buries it against your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart while your hands sooth his head, neck, and shoulders.

"Believe it or not, we were only home for about two hours before Taehyung came to bring you home, and as soon as we arrived, men started filing in for an emergency meeting that Yoongi had called; we didn't get to sleep at all. At that hour…when we first arrived to Taehyung's place…it took a little while for any staff to arrive to the property, and Yoongi insisted he tended to Jimin before him. We were in that fluorescent basement all fucking morning. I helped apply pressure to a rag against his face and dissociated quite a bit."

"I would have helped," you mutter, but Namjoon knows it is more for your own benefit than his. Even in the face of terror, you tend to put yourself before others, which is precisely why he prefers to keep you at a safe distance when possible.

"How can I win your forgiveness?" Namjoon blurts, making an attempt to lift his head and torso enough to look at you.

But you hold him in place, making your hands and arms heavy against his head and shoulders, sending a clear message that you already have him right where you want him. Your chest shakes and he imagines that you are quietly laughing, but he wishes he could see your face.

"Joonbug," you sigh, smile evident in your tone while your nails scratch against his scalp. "There is nothing to forgive. While I hate to be left out, all I needed was an explanation."

Namjoon feels guilty for his recent silence and all the space he created, thinking it was just as much for your own benefit as for his. He laments not just telling you how he feels.

"I shut you out after Yoongi left," Namjoon mutters, staring at the dark blue curtains that hang against the wall, tracing over the rise and dip of each crease where they are bunched close. Although he feels at a loss for words, he attempts to at least get some of his thoughts out. "I didn't mean to, I'm just…I don't know. I'm not always good at all of this."

Blunt nails scratch just hard enough that Namjoon has to suppress a groan, fluttering his eyes closed.

"At all of what?" you ask.

"Being open, I suppose," Namjoon says, although he knows you are going to refute it.

"I don't believe that to be true," you respond, proving him right.

Namjoon chuckles, feeling affection swell behind his ribs. On the nightstand, his phone dings, indicating a message has come in, but he decides that whoever it is can wait just a minute longer. He wants to stay in this moment and consider his next words thoughtfully.

But then his phone dings again, and he thinks that maybe it could be Yoongi. And again it dings, and he worries that it could be Yoongi and that something could be wrong.

"You gonna get that?" you ask, finally loosening your hold and removing your fingers from where they tangle in Namjoon's hair, and he lets out a sigh of frustration. The audacity of having to move his body when it is perfectly comfortable here in bed with you.

"Alright, alright," he grumbles, rolling out of your hold and onto his back, which makes you groan and complain when all his weight is momentarily shifted onto one side of your body. You sit up as if anticipating whatever could be on his screen, pulling the comforter close to your chest, which makes him feel a bit more anxious than before.

Namjoon shifts onto his knees and crawls the rest of the way over to the bedside table, where his phone rests facedown. As he reaches his right arm out, his left arm trembles under his weight—or, perhaps, under the weight of this entire situation. Namjoon turns the phone over and halts his breathing at the sight of three messages from Yoongi waiting for him.

Yoongi: I think Uiseok accidentally blew your spot. He was high as a kite and muttering something about Namjoonie-hyung sliding by for a visit.

Yoongi: I can still act surprised when you arrive, though… ;]

Yoongi: Please hurry? I miss you two like crazy.

Namjoon's heart goes wild in his chest and he begins to panic, unsure which task he should complete first. "Pack a bag," he mutters to you without lifting his gaze, thumbs shaking over the screen, unable to type a response because his mind races too quickly.

"Is it Yoongi?" you ask, voice laced with worry, and Namjoon finally tears his eyes to you, which only makes his heart speed even more quickly.

Your eyes, lined with heavy bags from lack of sleep, are downturned and so beautiful. He traces the shape of your sweat-slick neck and shoulder, then nods quickly, eyes welling with tears. "I think we should leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Oh?" you ask, sitting forward quickly.

"Nothing is wrong!" Namjoon adds, realizing he must be worrying you with his lack of information, only now able to form a coherent enough thought to text Yoongi back. "He just wants to see us as soon as possible, is all."

In a rush, you scoot close to Namjoon, leave a wet smack of a kiss to his cheek, then slide off the edge of the large bed and take off running for your room in the nude. Namjoon chuckles as he watches you, then he gets to work.

First, he calls the pilot, who says he can be at the airport in fifteen minutes with a plane ready in around an hour and a half. Then he calls Hoseok to set up a ride for the airport. And finally, he responds to Yoongi.

Namjoon: We can be there by dinnertime.

Namjoon takes his time stretching his limbs then he pads over to Yoongi's closet, which has a bunch of his own clothes inside. He finds one of Yoongi's black suitcases shoved in the back of the space and lifts it on top of the center island to unzip and begin packing.

Somewhat listlessly, Namjoon packs blacks—sweatpants and sweaters, tees, slacks, a cardigan. Black socks, black briefs, and black and silver face Rolex. Then he changes into his standard uniform of all blacks, layering a tee tucked into slacks with a fuzzy sweater that he borrows from Yoongi.

As soon as the shirt is pulled over Namjoon's torso, snug around his muscles despite being a size too big for its rightful owner, he lifts his sweater paws to his face and takes a deep inhale of the detergent that lingers. It misses too much nuance to fully be Yoongi, but it is a piece of him, and that makes Namjoon choke back a sob.

Soon. He can see Yoongi soon.

He thinks back to the portrait hanging at the top of his staircase and pictures the look on Yoongi's face, imagining that the wedding that day could have been theirs. In all the years he has known and loved Yoongi, nothing has ever been simple. All he wants is for things to be simple. And he thinks about how nicely you would fit in a picture like that, too.

The sounds of wheels rolling into the room and feet running in time with them makes Namjoon quirk a smile, and he turns in time to watch you come into view wearing one of your many floral sun dresses. You have what appears to be a soft light blue sweater draped over your arm, and you have managed to pack surprisingly fast.

"Do I need anything fancy?" you ask as you release the suitcase handle and begin to pull the sweater over your head.

"We can go shopping if you do," Namjoon responds, eager to get to the airport as quickly as possible.

"Alright," you respond with a bright smile that warms Namjoon's chest and settles his worries. In that moment, two honks of a car horn beam through the open window, signaling Hoseok's arrival. "Let's go get our kitten."

alright alright, this is the final chapter i have to offer that was already written. believe it or not, i actually have 22 mostly done. will we get a main update soon??? god, i hope so. thank you for your patience in this trying time! 💜💜💜 Yoongi's pov is also on the way!!!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one! if you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!!!

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theharrowing · 6 days

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hello, hello!!! i come with one more pov! 💐 je t'aime!

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