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shina913 · 2 years

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Intersect, Part 10 + Epilogue | KNJ

Intersect, Part 10 + Epilogue

Definition: To meet and cross at a point; To share a common area

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x fem!reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Office!AU; enemies to lovers; fluff; angst; smut; NSFW

Word count: 9K+ words

Warnings: office banter; so-much-freaking-angst; excessive cussing; pining; missed opportunities; bickering; emotional outbursts; crack; airport chase; vulnerable confessions; fluff; hints of long-distance relationship; smut; fingering; mutual self-pleasure; breast play; nipple play; unprotected sex (don't do this); hair-pulling; praise kink; dirty talk; riding; creampie

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. You were both fine staying in your own lanes–until you’re forced to work together on a make-or-break project for your company.

A/N: So...here it is! It's quite the ride! I cannot believe this is the end. I'd like to thank Dee @deepseavibez and my sister--who is my number one offline enabler! You've both been super supportive as I ran ideas past you and sent snippets. I so appreciate all of your feedback and helping me create such a fun and sexy AU. Thank you for allowing me to scream with you about--what's probably one of my favorite fics that I've written so far! 🥰

As you might be able to tell, I love all the guys but I'm an absolute hoe for NamKook. Please enjoy and as always, please leave me feedback! It will come in handy in my next fic 😉 And now--it's wine o'clock! 🍷

Term/acronym notes:

TSA: The Transportation Security Administration is an agency of the United States Department of Homeland Security that has authority over the security of transportation systems within, and connecting to the United States.

The Met: The Metropolitan Museum of Art of New York City, colloquially "the Met", is the largest art museum in the Western Hemisphere. Its permanent collection contains over two million works, divided among 17 curatorial departments.

In math, lines are defined as straight, one-dimensional figures that continue infinitely in opposite directions.

Lines often meet or cross each other at a single point or sometimes known as the point of intersection. After straight lines intersect, there is no way for them to cross each other at another point. They would just continue on, going their separate directions–never to meet again, unless you go past the unknown confines of the plot area and given other variables involved.

However, if one of those lines were curved, that curvilinear line may cross the other at two or more points, much like how a river crosses multiple state or regional borders.

An intersection curve consists of the common points of two transversal intersecting surfaces, meaning that at any common point the surface norms are not parallel. And although the lines would not cross that same first point, the fact remained–they would meet again at a different one.

******

“Are you sure you’ve got it?” You look at your brother pointedly after you run through all of your final reminders for the Nth time in the last couple days.

“Yes, Noona.” He rolls his eyes while sitting on your couch, playing his video game. Jungkook already had a few scheduled job interviews in the next two days. One was with a locally-based animation studio that produced internationally-acclaimed movies and the other with a social media conglomerate.

“Okay. Can you pause that and repeat everything that I just told you.” You called out from your kitchen. It was going to be the last few times you’d be cooking in this space–at least until you leave home for a year the following day. You check the oven for the bo ssam that you have been roasting since this morning.

Jungkook sighs in annoyance. “Rent is due every 30th of the month, unless it’s February. Call the building manager if the plumbing acts up again. No loud music, no parties, and…” he pauses while scrunching his nose to remember your final reminder.

You look up and turn around after you set the roasting pan on the counter.

“Jungkook–the last point is the most important.”

“Uhh…no girls?”

You sighed. “Nobody cares if you bring a harem here–as long as you clean up after yourself and stay safe.”

He grimaces. “Uhm…” You see his eyes wander while he racks his brain for the answer.

You groaned then pointed wryly to the exhaust fan above the stove.

“Ahh!” He finally remembers. “Always turn the fan on when cooking or the smoke alarm won’t shut up,” he grins proudly.

You nodded. “Good.”

He quits his game and walks over to the breakfast counter, leaning on it and watching you prepare the sides for your dinner. “You know I’ll be fine, right, Noona? I mean…I fended for myself at university for years. Just…trees and nature. What difference would the big city make?”

Since you’d only be gone for a year and your apartment was actually rent-controlled, you didn’t want to just let it go. So you managed to convince your brother to move into your place–to maintain the upkeep and to open himself up to opportunities in the city.

He decided to jump into the workforce and eventually enroll in grad school if the situation called for it–especially for career advancement.

You told him you’d pay the rent since you’d practically be making bank in a few months but Jungkook being who he is, said that once he got a full-time job, he’d take care of the bills. He’s always tried to be self-sufficient.

“I know you’ll be fine. I’m just–me, I guess. I worry about you all the time,” you admitted.

“Nothing to worry about,” he shrugs. “I have a new home for now–thanks to you. I’m also getting a job soon, hopefully. While you, on the other hand, will be jetting off around the world. If anything, I should worry about you, Noona.”

You chuckled. “I’ll be okay, Kookie. Besides, I’ll try to get home every fourth week–or every other month, at the very least. Haejin was completely fine with that.”

There was a palpable energy in the room. Many unspoken words and emotions still hung in the air–even after you had screamed and yelled out many of them at him this weekend. You wanted him to hear and feel your pain. In the end, you were none the wiser.

While you absently arranged the side-dishes, you felt your brother’s hands envelop you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder, sighing into your ear. He was much taller than you–and he reminded you of that often. But it was moments like this where he didn’t mind making himself small again.

“I’m sorry, Noona.” He wanted to make things better for you. He had been lighthearted about this whole situation–until you arrived back at your place.

Your palm patted his cheek lovingly. “It’s not your fault, Kookie.”

“I wished things had turned out differently,” he murmurs softly.

You touched your head closer to his. “Yeah...you and me both,” you smile sadly.

You stood like that for seconds until you felt one of his arms reach around you and spot it pinching a piece off the roast to shove it in his mouth. He hums enthusiastically in appreciation. “C’mon, Noona. Let’s kill this bo ssam before it gets too cold!”

He pulls away from you, gives you a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the heavy dish and bringing it to the dining table.

******

“Very good insights, Jimin. Not only are your recommendations on the preliminary findings strongly supported by your quantitative analysis but I really love how you tied it in with the organization’s mission and vision. I’d be shocked if the client didn’t seriously take any of these suggestions to heart to make changes to their program.”

Jimin gives a quick bow then smiles proudly. “Thank you, director-nim. I learned from the best,” he says with a sweet crinkle in his eyes.

Celina beams at how much your guidance has impacted your team’s research approach and writing. If you had stuck around longer, she could only dream about how many more junior staff you’d be able to mentor.

“I miss her, too, Jimin,” she says earnestly.

Jimin proceeds to take his seat as Mirai gives him a smile and reassuringly squeezes his shoulder. Celina runs through the rest of the agenda items for the next half hour before she dismisses everybody.

“Alright–great work, everyone, as always. And please, don’t forget that we have a couple new candidates for our philanthropic efforts area who are scheduled to come in for interviews next week.”

Jimin and Mirai’s heads shoot up at the sound of that. It’s only been a couple days and there are already a couple of nibbles after your position was posted publicly for applicants.

“I know that Jisoo sent everyone the seminar reminders so, please, please attend the job talk in-person, if you can. I’m opening it up to mid-level and junior staff this year so we can really get some good input from everyone. We want the best–or at least someone close to it,” she says in a semi-resigned tone.

Everyone murmurs in agreement before they start to file out of the conference room.

“Namjoon?”

He halts his steps and looks back at her after she calls out to him.

“A word, please?”

He nods and walks up to the head of the table where she remained seated. She prompts him to take the seat adjacent to her and waits until they are completely alone.

She looks up at him from her cat-eye rimmed glasses. “So…let’s talk about your presentation.”

He groans and sighs. “I apologize. I know that it sounded a bit…uninspired–”

“I think the terms you’re looking for are ‘robotic’ and/or ‘lifeless’.”

Namjoon grimaces then shifts uncomfortably. “Ah–honestly, I’ve just been tired and I was trying to put several fires out today–I just didn’t prepare enough. That’s my bad and I promise to fix that before the final run-through next week.”

Celina paused while regarding him intently. She then slides her glasses off, sets them on the table then sighs.

“Namjoon-ah, if I may?”

In many ways, he had looked up to Celina as a valuable mentor in the last few years and has learned many things about the business in their years of working together. For Celina, as much as Namjoon learned from her, she learned a few things from him as well. They both had mutual respect for the other.

“We’ve worked together a long time, correct?”

He nods.

“And after all these years, we’ve developed a certain level of trust, wouldn’t you agree?”

He nods again.

She turns and angles her chair to face Namjoon directly. She gave him a warm smile and a look–not as a superior to her subordinate but more of an older sister trying to have a conversation with a younger brother. She sighs softly before she begins. “Look…I know that we may not have the same relationship as you do with Hoseok but I’d like to think that you’d still listen to my advice, unsolicited or not.”

Namjoon knew what this was about. He was obviously dragging this weight around ever since he got back to the city from one of the shittiest weekends ever. He braced himself.

“You know…sometimes the best answers aren’t necessarily the most educated ones,” she looks at him pointedly.

He looks at her quizzically.

“And you don’t always have to go with the most logical, most sound decision,” she continues.

This was getting to be too much for him. He spent the rest of the weekend sulking–as if he hadn’t already received a good verbal lashing from you. “Celina–I know where you’re getting at.”

“No, Namjoon. You don’t. Because otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here in front of me right now.”

He scrunches his face in confusion. “Huh? I’m–we have a client briefing? Where else would I need to be?”

“I mean…you shouldn’t have given her up that easily.”

Namjoon sighs then hangs his head. “I…I tried, Celina. But–I think I was just too late,” he says quietly.

“Then you didn’t try hard enough,” she says sternly.

He shook his head. “She’s done with me, noona. And she’s leaving today. I can’t–-”

“Why would you do such a thing, Joon?”

He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath. “I did it because I didn’t want to be selfish. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Mayumi. I just kept doing what I wanted without asking her if it was what she actually wanted. With YN… you know, I’m ahead of the curve,” he shrugs. “I don’t have to make her wait around for years to realize that she could be doing something else.”

Celina furrows her brows. “Well, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Namjoon leans back on his chair, taken aback by his superior’s blunt language.

She nodded. “You heard me. And I bet you she told you the same thing–or something to that effect.”

He didn’t argue–because she was right. In an effort to keep history from repeating itself, he inadvertently brought it with him to the present instead. It wasn’t the outcome that he had intended.

“What have you always said, Namjoon-ah? You know, whenever you talk to new-hires or when you mentor younger staff–what do you tell them?”

“Don’t confine yourself to a box.”

“Don’t confine yourself to a box,” Celina echoes slowly.

He sighs then laughs humorlessly. “I just let her go–how is that confining her into a box?”

“We’re not talking about her,” she says gently before leaning back against her seat, her eyes glued to him.

He sits there, eyes wide, mouth hanging open before he chuckles. “Celina, I am not–”

She shuts down his protests. “All these years, you repeat it like a mantra and yet here you are–boxing yourself in. You’re haunted by your past, Namjoon. I get it. You hurt somebody that you loved before and now you want to punish yourself–thinking you don’t deserve another chance. You’re not being fair to yourself.”

He flexed his jaw. “I figured I could get by just fine–kind of like you. You’ve always been able to keep a straight face–after what happened to you and Yoongi before.”

She laughed out loud. “You make it seem as if it was a walk in the park!”

“Wasn’t it? I mean–doesn’t it get easier? Eventually?”

She groaned. Women were built differently than men were. Women experience more pain in their lifetime compared to men, especially during their reproductive years. It wasn’t just a sad fact of life but it was scientific as well. Studies have found that the female body has a more intense natural response to painful stimuli, indicating a difference between genders in the way pain systems function. Biologically, researchers have also pointed out that a greater nerve density present in women may cause them to feel pain more intensely than men.

“No, Namjoon. The pain dissipates but–it’s always there. Especially when that pain is–earth-shatteringly unforgettable.”

Namjoon’s eyes flick downwards.

“I tried–I really did. And I thought I was fine…until…he was back in my life again. All of a sudden I–I just couldn’t help but yearn for him again. And even though I kept trying to talk my brain out of it–my heart just kept pulling me back towards him.”

At that point, Namjoon wondered if Celina ever knew about your fling with Yoongi…or if he had ever told her. And perhaps, even if she knew, maybe she didn’t really care at that point any longer since she got him back in the end.

“Do you want to be with her?”

Namjoon buries his face in his hands. “Yes,” he finally says after a long pause.

“Then go and be with her!” she exclaims.

“But what if–”

“Deal with the what-ifs as they come, Namjoon. This isn’t like a program or code that you and Hobi run all the time that spits out a predictive pattern of what the next few days or years would look like. Love is unpredictable. There’s no pattern to it. It just is.”

Namjoon looks up at her with determination but a hint of uncertainty. “I…I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he says sullenly.

“Well–I’d start off by revisiting that generous benefits package that we gave to you when you got hired. You’ve been with us a while…When’s the last time you took a break?”

******

You give your brother a big hug before you go through the security line. It was a good three hours before your flight–a bit excessive, he thought, but he’d be damned if he ever tried to contradict you when it came to air travel logistics. “Thank you, Kookie.”

He hums into your shoulder. “You’re welcome. Please call me when you get there, okay?”

You nod and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you, butthead. And stay out of trouble!”

He snickers. “Love you, too, Noona.”

He watches while you make your way through the winding nylon-strapped barricades. Although it wasn’t too crowded by your standards, you always tried to get to the airport two hours before your flight to quell some pre-boarding jitters.

After the TSA agent checks your identification and boarding pass, he waves you past the barricade to get on a line to set your personal items and carry-on luggage onto a conveyor belt before walking through the body scanner.

“Please make sure that you empty your pockets. If you have large, electronic devices, put them in their own trays before pushing them through the machine to scan,” the TSA agent announces to all travelers.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You look around making sure that he wasn’t addressing anybody else. You look up at the agent and point to yourself. “Me?”

“Yes. Are you sure you want to hang on to that?”

You look at where his attention is directed at and find that you were still hanging on to your phone.

“Oh, oops!” You then turn it off and tuck it into your purse that was already in one of the trays headed to the conveyor belt. You murmur your apologies and the security staff gives you a small smile–it was a relatively normal occurrence.

******

“C’mon, YN…pick up. Pick up!” Namjoon mutters while he holds his phone to his ear as he paces back and forth in front of the office building, waiting for his rideshare.

His calls to you kept going straight to voicemail and he starts to panic thinking that he’s completely missed his chance. Before he headed downstairs, he asked Jimin and Mirai if they knew anything about your itinerary–and although each of them had their own reservations about him, they were honest with him and told him that they had no idea.

When the car finally arrives in front of him, he gets in, while dialing your number a few more times.

******

You stood behind a few people, with your socks on the questionably gray carpet. One traveler had apparently packed all of the liquids imaginable in his carry-on luggage. You rolled your eyes as you watched him empty out each container.

Just before this one, another person had brought, erm…some ‘special electronics’ that showed up prominently on the scan. Once the agents pulled their luggage out of the line to open it for inspection, they found that the items in question contained multiple, disposable lithium-ion batteries.

You were embarrassed for them, admittedly. On the other hand, you were glad that you had the presence of mind to check-in your own ‘special electronics’. If someone had to inspect your things, at least you wouldn’t be standing there with hundreds of people staring.

You finally walk through the body scanner. As you step off the platform, you wait a few seconds while they review the image. You are then waved off by the security staff to proceed and retrieve your things. After you put your shoes back on and sling your backpack and purse on your shoulder, you turn around once more and wave goodbye to your brother–who stands on the other side of the glass before you head off to your flight’s boarding gate.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Namjoon curses at his phone–then he suddenly gets an idea. He dials a number on his phone.

As Jungkook pivots and prepares to leave, his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and knits his brows as he makes out the caller ID. Principle compels him to reject the call. But empathy propelled him to push the green button to answer.

“Hyung?”

******

The gate was still empty when you arrived. You parked yourself by a counter and set up your laptop to check emails. Indeed, there were already a few from Haejin and KimCorp’s HR team welcoming you with some onboarding documents.

While you get lost in reviewing them, you didn’t even realize that you forgot to turn your phone back on.

******

“Yes, but–couldn’t we just reason with them and tell them I just need a few minutes?” Namjoon rambled.

He then turns to Jungkook. “Or, or–maybe we can tell her to come back out?”

Jungkook shakes his head slowly. “Oh, hyung–you’re talking about asking YN-noona to come out after she’s gone through that security line from hell?” He shudders, eyes laced with a tinge of fear.

Namjoon runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Any luck with her cell?”

Jungkook grimaces. “She must not have turned it back on after getting past security check,” he says as he attempts to dial your number again–which, to no surprise, goes straight to voicemail. Again.

Namjoon mutters to himself then turns his attention to the ticketing agent standing behind the counter. “Are there any more flights to New York City scheduled to leave within the next couple hours?”

“Sir–I’m really sorry, but those flights are sold out today. It's summertime so–it’s a bit of a busy season. Might I suggest a different flight?” The ticketing agent says apologetically.

Namjoon groans and buries his head into the crook of his elbow while he leaned onto the counter for support.

The ticketing agent takes pity on him. “We can get you a refundable ticket? If…if you just want to get in there?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift and he turns to Namjoon. “What do you say, hyung?”

He looks up. “Fine. Give me one ticket to whatever cheapest destination that you have.” He says as he pulls his wallet out.

“Just one? You hold me up at the airport and I don’t get to see how this plays out?” Jungkook says with a slight pout.

Namjoon sighs. “Two tickets, please.”

The agent types into her computer then looks up at both men after the results turn up on her screen. “I assume neither of you have your passports currently?”

Both men shook their heads.

“Okay, but you have your driver’s license or a state-issued ID, right?”

Both men nodded.

“So...I have two tickets to Las Vegas.” She looks at them pointedly.

“Sounds like fun!” Jungkook says excitedly.

Namjoon gives Jungkook a wry look.

“I mean–you know–if we were actually going,” he mumbles to himself.

******

Seconds after they get through the security line, they run around haphazardly across the terminal.

“Jungkook-ah, do you remember which gate she was at?”

“Sorry, hyung–my memory is not very good under stress,” he winces. “I think–she said–A30?”

“Fuuuuckk–I forgot how many gates were in this terminal!” Namjoon barks as they run, then stop to look around each gate, trying to find out if you’d be there.

“...Or—was it B30?”

Namjoon freezes then whips his head around at Jungkook. “Did you say ‘B’? Jungkook–’B’ means she could be in the next terminal! Meaning we have to take a tram there!” He yells in a panic.

Jungkook flinches and Namjoon realizes that he was projecting his own frustration at the one person who was trying to help him.

“I–I’m sorry, Jungkookie. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just–”

“I know, hyung.”

Namjoon sinks down, his full weight sitting on his hamstrings. “I really fucked it up with her, didn’t I?”

Jungkook mirrors Namjoon’s position. “Hey–it ain’t over ‘til it’s over, hyung. When have you ever backed down when it came to her?”

He looks at the younger one in curiosity.

Jungkook chuckles. “For two years, I’ve listened to her bitch about you. Almost every night…without fail. ‘Namjoon this, Namjoon that–Fuck him!,’” he mocks your voice. “You were like a puzzle she couldn’t crack. It drove her absolutely nuts! Then–when I finally got to know you, I realized that,” he snickers, “You were basically the same…like lines running parallel against one another. All you needed was to…tilt a little bit to make contact.”

Namjoon lets his words sink in. He didn’t realize how deeply Jungkook felt. He knew at that moment that he had to try. It was a shot in the dark but he had to try. He had to.

Jungkook rises and stretches his hand out to help Namjoon up. “C’mon, hyung. It’s a good thing noona likes to get to the airport extra early. We could still catch her.”

Namjoon takes his hand and straightens up. “I guess. Otherwise, if this doesn’t work out, at least we’ll have flight vouchers to Vegas?”

Jungkook shrugs as they proceed to walk through the terminal, checking each subsequent gate they pass.

******

You had since moved to a corner of your boarding gate as a couple began to argue while you tried to work quietly on your laptop. You stuck your headphones in and continued to plug away at your emails that kept coming in.

“This is not gonna work, Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “I just saw on one of the monitors that one of the flights to New York City had just finished boarding–”

“Don’t lose faith, hyung–we’ll find her!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know–I’m just–I can’t think.” He looks up and sees that they are only halfway through the terminal and there are about 10 more gates down the line.

Jungkook sees him crumbling in frustration at the sight of how much further they have to go. In an act of desperation, Jungkook takes a deep breath…then screams at the top of his lungs.

“YN-noonaaaaaaaaa!!!”

Seconds later, several people peek out of a few gates to see what the commotion was about.

You faintly hear something that sounded like an alarm or a screech through your noise-canceling headphones but thought nothing of it until you saw some passengers from your boarding gate rush over to the center of the terminal aisle.

Thinking it was an emergency and coupled with your intense fear of missing out, you get up from your corner and walk towards where people started to crowd, craning your neck to take a look.

You gasped in horror as you spotted two knuckleheads standing in the middle of the terminal, blindly searching through the crowd.

You were mortified and seriously considered getting back into your corner and pretending that you did not know these people. But as soon as you lock eyes with your brother, you see him tug at Namjoon’s jacket to call his attention and murmur something to him.

“I think that worked out well, look!” He looks pleased with himself while he points right at you.

You cursed under your breath. “Why me?”

Namjoon turns around, along with hordes of other people, to see you standing at Gate A33, looking like daggers were about to shoot out of your eyes.

“Now it’s your turn, Namjoon-hyung,” he says while patting him on the shoulder as onlookers start to disperse.

******

Jungkook left you and Namjoon to talk in a quiet corner in a recently emptied gate. There was at least another hour before your flight was scheduled to begin boarding. You sat side by side, him facing you, while you looked straight ahead.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Namjoon.” You said under your breath.

You weren’t sure how you’d live this embarrassment down. Thankfully you were able to explain yourselves to airport security and made up an excuse saying that your brother had a rare illness that made him prone to sudden emotional outbursts. Once they were able to deduce that neither of you were armed nor had any questionable histories, they let you all off with a stern warning.

“Please–I just need you to listen for a minute. If you think I’m still full of shit, I will carry you to the boarding gate myself.”

You sighed deeply before you turned your head in his direction. After tense emotions from last weekend, you weren’t sure what else to expect from him. You were still feeling raw and emotional since your outburst. Truthfully, you were anxious about what he had to say. You weren’t sure how much more emotional trauma you could handle before a cross-country flight.

“YN, I fucked up. You were right…I saw all of the similar signs from last time and alarm bells just went off in my head. It freaked me out. I thought that I was trying to protect us both from getting hurt. After all that, we got hurt anyway.”

He looks up at you and seeing as he still holds your attention, he continues.

“Somebody knocked some sense into me–practically bashed me over the head with it…repeatedly.”

He sees a ghost of a smile on your face. That modest reaction from you already makes his heart swell tenfold. It propels him forward.

“I spend a lot of time trying to make smart decisions. Logical determinations. I use the same problem-solving approach as I do in all of my data analysis, and apply it to my real life. Many times, I get too caught up in the details and miss the big picture.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you. This same man who appreciated Georges Seurat’s paintings–would rather spend all of his energy examining a cluster of dots rather than stepping back to view the portrait as a whole.

“I’d be staring up at the trees–when I really should have been looking at the whole forest.”

Your eyes softened but you didn’t lower your guard completely. You were still hurt by what he did.

He rubs his moist palms onto his pant legs. “Sorry–I’m…I’m just nervous.” His lids flick downwards. You affected him just as much as he affected you.

“It’s okay. You can…keep talking to me about trees…or pictures,” you gently urged him.

He slowly peers up at you from between loose strands that lightly brushed over his eyelashes when he blinked. After a beat, he found the strength to hold your gaze. “I love you, YN.”

It took all of your energy not to slap him then–but at the same time you also wanted to grab his face and kiss him. Your breath hitched and you bit your lip at his declaration. You still loved him–you never really stopped. But you were in an incredibly difficult position.

“Namjoon–”

“I knew it right when I got on that plane to come see you. I’ve never done anything so impulsive in my life. You…make me feel all of these things and because of that, I can’t think straight.”

He leaned in closer to you. “But I don’t mind it all because…I’m crazy about you. Screw logic and practicality. You make me happy. And I know I hurt you–because I’m a huge idiot. But I promise to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

He was making an earnest plea and you could see that he meant every word. But the fact remained–you had a flight to catch and a new job that you had to learn.

“Namjoonie…you know this doesn’t change things just like that, right? I’m…I’m still leaving and taking this job. I’m going to be away for most of the year–”

“I know,” he replies.

Your eyebrows flick up at him. “So–you’d be okay with long-distance?”

“No,” he says simply.

Your face twisted in confusion. “Then…how would you make this up to me?”

“I’ll come with you.”

Now you were really confused. “H-how?”

“See, this is where Logical Namjoon comes in,” he says with a knowing smile.

“I put in my papers for a sabbatical–Celina suggested it.”

Your eyes widen at his revelation.

“I’m just waiting for HR to approve it–which they will. I just have to take a few weeks to make arrangements to cover my projects and–”

“Wait,” you interject. He had told you about how Mayumi resented him for holding her back from her ambitions and essentially feeling forced to move her life around.

“I–I don’t want you to make all of these changes for me. Because then I’d feel guilty about you trying to mold your life to fit mine.”

He shakes his head adamantly before reaching out tentatively to take your hand. “This is different. You didn’t ask me to do this. I made this choice. And I choose to be with you, YN.”

Your hand squeezes his in reaction. “Joonie, I…I don’t know what to say.” For once, in all your years of bickering with him, you were at a loss for words.

“Tell me you want to be with me, too? Otherwise, I’ll run out into the tarmac and just have one of those planes run me over,” he chuckles nervously.

You stared at him for a beat then smacked him on his chest. “God, of course, I want to be with you!”

He beams at you, both dimples in full display. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Then c’mere and kiss me then,” he says cheekily.

You respond to his sudden smugness with a cocked eyebrow and matching scowl.

He dropped his voice so only you could hear. “Keep looking at me like that and see what happens.”

Your face heated up under his gaze and you instinctively pressed your thighs together. Swallowing hard, you quickly glance over to where your brother stood–he was a fair distance away, distracted by his phone. “You wouldn’t dare–”

His brow quirks before his eyes dart over to the gender-neutral bathroom in the corner. “Wouldn’t I?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to refocus. “While that is incredibly tempting…” Your brows quirk up and your eyes flick over to where your brother was, still busy scrolling through on his phone.

Namjoon smiled. “I can hop on a plane in a couple days? Spend the weekend with you?”

You exhale sharply. “That’s all great, Joon. And believe me, there’s nothing that I want more than to be with you right this second…”

“But?” He asks carefully.

“But–I want to make sure that this is what you really want. We’ve…we’ve said words to each other before this. Words that we can’t take back,” you stare at him intently.

“I know. But it still doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Neither does it change how I feel,” you quickly added to assure him. “But like you said, you don’t want to make snap decisions. You have to carefully consider everything.”

He nods. “I have. And–every angle, every possibility I’ve thought of…still includes you.”

Your heart soars. Days ago, this same man brought you to tears. It pained you to still have some leftover doubts from how everything had gone down.

But he was here in front of you, breaking every self-preservation rule he’s ever set for himself. It counted for something—and you weren’t about to disregard that.

He smiles earnestly. “How ‘bout this? If you’re okay with it, I’ll book a flight…I’ll stay for a weekend–we can talk some more.” His thumb works circles around your hand that he still held. “I know that one conversation won’t fix everything–”

“But it’s a start,” you finish with a smile.

“Yes, it is,” he agrees. “We’ll take it slow–whatever’s comfortable–”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “Now you say you want to take it slow? You? Who basically just threatened me with a bathroom quickie minutes ago?”

He laughs heartily. That low, sexy rumble from within his chest that you missed. “Can’t blame me for being a romantic,” he teases.

Right then, you hear your flight being called to board on the loudspeaker.

******

After giving him a lecture about public embarrassment, you give your brother another hug goodbye before turning to your tall human, who cups your face in his hands and kisses you softly. When he pulls away, he sighs, then presses his forehead against yours.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say.

He groans. “Four days will be torture.”

You smiled cheekily while you rested your hands on his chest. “I’ll call you when I get to the condo.”

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Just…” you paused for a beat, thinking of what to say before you headed back to the boarding gate. “Hurry up and get back to me, okay?”

He smiles warmly. “I’ll be back in your arms before you know it.” The butterflies in your belly flutter while you watch his dimples sink deeper into his cheeks. “I love you.”

“Love you.” You gave him another quick peck before you backed away from him to walk closer to the entranceway to the jet bridge.

Unlike the last time that you walked away from him, this time held a bit more promise. There were still a lot of things that you had to feel out together. A lot of unknowns…a lot of possible unknown variables. But one thing was sure–was that you’d figure them out together.

******

Namjoon arrived after the end of a busy first week for you. Between the jet-lag and all of the new information that you had to learn, you just wanted to take it easy. You didn’t want Namjoon to feel like he had to stay with you, especially since he’d been talking about exploring the new collection from The Arts of Korea exhibit at The Met.

“I’m telling you, I’m perfectly fine staying in with you–as long as you don’t mind.”

You smiled while you were both sprawled on the couch in your sweats, with the TV on. You sat on one end with your head leaning back on the arm rest, your knees folded up comfortably against your chest while he was on the opposite end with his legs stretched over the ottoman.

You chuckled. “This must be killing your extravert energy.”

He laughs before taking both your ankles, stretching your legs and propping them on his thighs.

“I’m comfortable. That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Did you have a good day, at least?”

You nodded. It was a trying few days and at the end of each one, he called to check in with you, saying words of encouragement and reassuring you that this was just first-week jitters.

You hummed while he rubbed your tired legs soothingly. “I missed you,” you said softly as you leaned your head on the cushion to the side.

He smiled at you. “You did?” You nodded and closed your eyes as he kneaded your sore calves gently. “That feels nice,” you sighed.

Like clockwork, you feel a twitch by where your feet rested. Your eyes fly open to find him shifting uncomfortably.

You giggled and withdrew your feet from his lap while he readjusted himself.

“Uhm–are you okay?”

He sighs, glancing at his straining hardon, seemingly at a loss. “Sorry. Just need a minute.”

“Since when are you shy all of a sudden?” You teased.

“Since we talked about taking it slow,” he reminds you.

You sit for a few seconds in awkward silence, while you steal glances at him. “D-do you need help? Ice, maybe?” you suggest off-handedly.

“Nah, no–I’m…I’m fine,” he says as he pulls his legs off the ottoman to try and hide the distraction.

You leaned back on the couch, watching him intently while he kept his eyes glued to the TV screen.

A ghost of a smile plays at your lips and you shift from your position on the couch.

Somehow, Namjoon sees you out of the corner of his eye. “W-what are you doing?”

He watches while your hand is down past your waistband, moving subtly underneath the material.

“What do you think?” You answer his question with another, your voice already coated with surging arousal. Your hand moves in a pattern familiar only to you–circling, rubbing.

Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off you while your own eyes rolled to the back of your head, lolling from the pleasure from your own ministrations.

“I…I thought we were going to take it slow?” He says almost inaudibly.

You moaned softly. “We said nothing about touching ourselves.” Your breath hitches as you dip two of your fingers to your cunt, using your own slick to pleasure yourself further.

Before he knew it, he was pulling himself out from his own sweats, stroking himself. Your mouth started to water uncontrollably.

“You said you missed me,” he rasped.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly as you started to grind your hips against your palm.

“I missed you, too…a lot,” he gives the tip of his cock a squeeze. “I miss being inside you.”

You feel your panties soak through. You lift your hips and slide your sweats and panties off, tossing them wherever–you’d worry about it tomorrow.

“Fuck,” he hisses out while he watches you spread your thighs in front of him, picking up where you left off.

You clench your teeth while you continue to massage your clit while he looks on. You couldn’t pull your eyes off him either–watching the tip of his cock engulfed in his palm. The combination of rubbing and squeezing brought a flush to his face, while he groaned in pleasure. You pressed your thighs together as your free hand slid up your t-shirt to rub over your aching breasts.

Your legs relax and knees fall to your sides in a lewd way, giving him a full view.

“Is that what I do to you?” He asks.

You played coy even though you were absolutely hot for him at this moment. “Sometimes, yes.”

He smirked. “This is what you do to me–all the time.” He cupped his balls in one hand and his cock in the other. You salivated further at the visual.

You alternated sliding your fingers into your core, curling your fingers up, massaging that ache–wishing it was his dick instead.

Oddly, you found it intimate–as intimate as when he was inside you, maybe more so because you were both wide open and on display. Your pleasures reflected in each other.

“Fuck taking it slow,” you finally blurted out. You then moved quickly–almost at the speed of light to where he sat, to straddle his hips.

You caught his mouth in a lush, deep kiss. You pushed your fingers into his hair to hold him still while he kissed you back, his tongue sliding along yours.

Pulling away, you pull your shirt and bra off quickly while you watch him pull his own hoodie off and toss it away. You lift yourself slightly while your hand reaches below to line him up to your center. Slowly, you sank into him.

His head lolls to the back of the couch, his mouth goes slack while you take him in deeper. Once you took him to the hilt, you gripped his shoulders. Your hips moved off their own volition, instinct was taking over. Your thighs clench and release while you focus only on the moment–reclaiming his body…and his heart.

His arms banded around you possessively—holding you in place, halting your movements, taking you by surprise. He leans forward once more, until your lips touch.

Irritated and impatient, you gasped, “Why are you stopping—“

His expression hardens. He knew you wanted to cum, badly. “No, baby…we said, slow,” he says lazily against your mouth.

His voice commanded authority—the same voice he reserved to object or argue during meetings—it was a warning to others that it would be a tactical mistake to challenge him…which you frequently ignored. This time, you were all too willing to pay attention.

He hitched his hips, rubbing against you. The friction of his thickness surging and grinding into you was too much for you to stay still for too long. You bucked your hips in perfect sync with his leisurely movements. Your senses fully spiked with arousal.

He worked you with his cock, exploiting friction, changing angles and depth of penetration. The nuances of his skill were evident whenever he watched you writhe beneath him. For now, he was only focused on the sensations he stoked in your body. You were definitely feeling him now.

He was always so attuned to your body despite all of that time that passed when you were apart. A whimper escaped your lips, mouth suddenly parched at the promise of an orgasm while he fucked you slowly and raw.

“That’s it,” he murmured, “Keep rubbing your cunt against me like that.”

“Fuck…Joon…” Your hands were gliding all over his chest and shoulders, your body arching and grinding into his.

“Oh, shit–you’re close…I can feel it.” His breathing, equally becoming labored as he feels your walls clench repeatedly around him.

Damn him for being so familiar with how your body worked.

You came again with a long and drawn-out moan, the tension breaking in a rush of relief.

His mouth covered yours, drinking in the sounds that you made as you jerked on top of him. You clutched his hair, kissing him hard while you rode out the rest of your high.

Somewhere between catching your breath and coming out of your orgasmic haze, you felt yourself lift off the couch. Were you flying? What was going on?

Next thing you knew, your back hit the plush covers on your bed.

He sits back on his heels and watches you for a moment, waiting for you to come back to your senses. You blink up a couple of times at him.

He then taps on your knees gently. “Open up,” he ordered.

Your pulse quickened as you obeyed him, allowing your thighs to fall open. The feeling of vulnerability under his piercing gaze was so intense. You were absolutely entranced.

He stroked a finger through your folds, gliding teasingly over your clit. “You like that?” he asked softly.

Your belly quivered at the rasp in his voice. You shivered as the tip of his finger circled the clenching opening. “Hmm…yes.”

Eyes dancing with delight, he slid a finger ever-so-slowly inside. He made a low purring noise and caught his lower lip between his teeth, a purely erotic look as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

The pleasure of his touch spread, tightening that familiar knot in your stomach and hardening your nipples. You clutched your bare breasts in your hands, squeezing them as they swelled.

His finger went deeper. Heat swept over your skin like a fever. Hovering over you, he placed one hand on the mattress and lowered his mouth to yours. His thumb pressed against your clit and rubbed expertly, massaging you inside and out.

He nipped at your jaw, then moved to your chest, nudging your hands aside with his lips. He claimed your nipple in a gentle bite, his mouth surrounding the tender peak and sucking softly. The ache he created within you was so sharp.

“More, please” you gasped, needing his pleasure as much as your own.

“Always so greedy, huh,” he murmured, his mouth curving in a wicked smile against my skin.

You groaned in frustration. “I want your cock inside me, now.”

“As you should.” He dragged his mouth across your chest and curled his tongue around your other nipple, flickering teasingly over it until it ached for suction.

Your body writhed as you rode his finger shamelessly. He added two more and you dug your heels in, arching up to meet his thrusts. “Joon, please…I want you.”

He sat up again, and you finally got a full view of him in all his glory. You were slightly disappointed when he only allowed you to ogle at him for a few seconds before crawling up to you to push his cock deep within you.

Then in one swift move, he rolls you both over until you were on top once more.

“C’mon, YN…you wanted it so badly…ride it.” He was throwing the gauntlet–which you were all-too-willing to pick up this time.

Rolling your hips, you relished the feel of him filling you so perfectly. No shame, no regrets as you worked yourself into a frenzy on his cock, adjusting the angle so that tip rubbed right where you needed it. He sits up, also unable to just lay back and watch.

“You’re so beautiful. Mine,” He gripped the back of your neck in one hand and your hips in the other, arching his hips to push a little deeper. Squeezing and plumping your flesh.

“Yes, yours,” you rasped.

He drags his lips from the crook of your neck then up to your mouth, catching your ragged breaths and exchanging them with his own.

“Ahh…fuck. Don’t stop, baby…don’t stop,” he groaned into your mouth.

You didn’t think you could. Your thighs burned but you kept at it, his own thrusts meeting yours, coaxing each other’s climaxes to break through the surface.

His pleasure meant so much to you, because it was real and raw. Before you got together, he always struck you as somebody controlled and methodical especially when he dealt with you. Now, he couldn’t hold back with you any longer because he wanted you beyond reason. Weeks without you and he was understandably undone.

You felt him throbbing within you. A ragged sound tore from his throat, signaling how close he was.

And, boy—was he close. His face flushed and his lips parted with gasping breaths. Sweat misted his brow. Your excitement mounted along with his. He was completely at your mercy, all logic and reason out the door, replaced with the visceral need to cum, uttering dirty, sexy things in your ear about what he was going to do to you the next time he fucked you.

You whimpered as everything tightened, the tension building up from the deep, rhythmic strokes. You were panting and frantic, pumping your hips. Reaching between your legs, he rubbed your clit with the pads of his fingers, hastening your climax.

He gasped, his head thrown back in pleasure, his neck straining. “I feel you getting ready to cum. You’re getting so fucking tight…”

His words and his voice pushed you over the edge. You gasped when the first couple of tremors hit you…then cried out loudly as the rest of your orgasm rippled through your body, your core spasming violently around Namjoon.

Teeth grinding audibly, he held on until your clenching began to fade. Afterwards, he clutched your hips and pumped upward into you.

“Fuck,” he cried out. His neck arched, his breath exploding from his lungs.

He came just as aggressively and hard as you did. You felt the thick, hot spurts burst from him in a rush. He growled your name, his hips pumping upward, emptying himself into you.

“This was not what I had in mind when I said we should stay in,” he managed to choke out before placing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You curled into him, beyond grateful to have him in your arms again. “Want to go to The Met tomorrow? I mean, you know–after I relearn how to walk?”

His laugh was husky from his orgasm. He held you for a while, his fingers sifting through your hair and gliding gently down your arm.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. I just want to be with you,” you said softly before you nuzzled your nose to his.

It was tough to find a balance. Long-distance was no joke but you worked through it in the most logical, practical way that only you and Namjoon could orchestrate. On scheduled breaks, you’d fly back to him, come visit your family or his. Other times, he would fly to your location.

Eventually, he did take that sabbatical. Six months into your travels, he filed his papers and took a six-month paid leave to be closer to you. It got slightly easier then–coming home to him after a long day.

Some days, he shadowed you during your meetings. Sabbaticals were also meant to be a time to learn new things–and he did. He had always wanted to see how Foundations and Philanthropic groups worked. He had a front-row seat through the whole process. It was a win for both of you.

Not to say that there weren’t difficult days. You still bickered and he still hates mint-chocolate ice cream. But sometimes, you just agree to disagree. Sometimes, you compromise–meet at a certain point. Sometimes, you would just completely miss each other. And that was okay. It was what made you stronger.

******

Epilogue

A year flew by quickly, and you were finally back in one place–feet firmly on the ground. Clothes hanging in an actual closet instead of a suitcase. Any other scheduled travel for you was spaced out by months or a proxy went in your stead if something more urgent was required of the Foundation.

You had that great support staff that Haejin promised you. Your trusted deputy was leading today’s contractor briefing while you took a backseat–silently observing, listening.

Your deputy was essentially a mini-you. Challenging the contractor’s findings and confirming each result.

“We ran these numbers several times and this is the real deal. Our lead programmers, Jung Hoseok and Kim Taehyung have been very diligent in monitoring the surveys. The data is solid,” Mirai says firmly.

You stifle a smile. She was still as sassy as ever.

“Right. The grantees are also incredibly satisfied with the service and the qualitative feedback has been very constructive and helpful. We’re going to have lots of good content for the quarterly report,” Jimin states.

“Great–that’s what we like to hear. And feedback is incredibly valuable to us, as you know. We want to know what we’re doing right and make that better. And on the other hand, we’d like to find out what our shortcomings are and fill that gap,” your deputy says.

“I think that answers most of our queries…unless I missed anything, YN?” Your deputy turns to you.

“Thanks, Lee. You just about covered it,” you smiled. Before Lee moves to adjourn the meeting, you sneak one more comment in. “However–I would like a brief word with the project lead. I have some feedback on his methods. Then we can reconvene for our meeting in my office later?”

Lee’s eyes flick over to the imposing male who sat quietly in the corner. “Sure thing. Thanks again for a great report, everyone. Looking forward to reading the first draft in a couple weeks.”

You stand from your seat as Jimin and Mirai pass you and you exchange brief hugs, promising to meet up for drinks this weekend.

As the room emptied out, Lee shuts the door, leaving you and the project lead alone.

“Surprised you didn’t have any objections to the data,” he begins while he watches you saunter across the room where he stood.

“How could I? I taught them well after all,” you smiled as you propped yourself up on the table.

“Need I remind you that I’ve been overseeing this team for months, too? Can’t take all of the credit.”

“I knew you’d say that,” you chuckled, your shoulders slouching in humor.

He took a couple of steps closer to you until he was closely slotted between your legs. “Was there anything else that you needed to discuss with me, Miss YN?”

His hand brushed your bare knee and slowly snakes up your inner thigh. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you looked up at him and held eye contact until he reached the edge.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he rasped, discovering that you decided to forego panties this morning.

“Something to think about until tonight,” You grasped his wrist and gently withdrew his hand from under your skirt. You smiled devilishly before hopping off the table and kissing that dimple on his cheek. “Love you, Joon,” you giggled as you strutted away from him.

“So–you’re just going to leave me like this?” he asks while looking down at the sizable bump in his pants.

“I’ll tell Lee you need a few minutes to digest my feedback,” you called past your shoulder.

“Love you, too.” He says loudly. You blew a kiss at him before finally walking out the door.

He would definitely make you pay for that when you got home later.#

You've reach the end! Thank you so much for reading!

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abadvibez · 2 years

Text

𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝗼𝗮𝗿𝗱 — 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀

↳ 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 | 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊 𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

↳ 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 | 𝚗𝚊𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎

↳ 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 | 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎

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sakuraahoney · 3 months

Text

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ravenempress101 · 2 years

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🖤He can take a bite out of me any day 🖤

#bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #beautiful #love #vampire #vampire jungkook #bts #run bts #bts angst #rap monster #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #bts park jimin #bts jimin #kim taehyung #v bts lockscreens #bts jung hoseok #jung hoseok #hobipalooza

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lu-zifera · 2 years

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Auch der Teufel fürchtet mich.

Kimon - F.T.B

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dyaz-stories · 4 months

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your imprint's on my soul || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: When Hyun-Su's monster shows up at your door, he teases you and implies that Hyun-Su wants more with you than what you've shared before so, when Hyun-Su wakes up, you decide to act on that.

word count: 4.1k

warnings & tags: canon-typical angst, fluff, smut, explicit consent, dry-humping, thigh-riding if you squint, handjob (male receiving), they're both virgins and are both painfully awkward, this is very soft tbh

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: sooo, we've reached the first smutty installment for this series, though this feels so tame and so soft I don't even know if it deserves that name. It's what felt right to me for the development of their relationship and what I think makes sense for their characters! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Hyun-Su always knocks. It doesn’t matter that you’ve told him he didn’t have to anymore, doesn’t matter that you’ve offered to give him a key. He still knocks, a soft rap against your door that you’ve learned to recognize from anywhere you are in the house — it’s probably the first time ever that you are truly thankful for the terrible soundproofing in there. When Hyun-Su isn’t there, you spend your time waiting to hear it again, whether consciously or not.

So when you hear something brutally hitting your door, the sound echoing through your silent house, it doesn’t cross your mind that it could be him.

You stumble through the house to grab your bat, heart beating so fast it’s threatening to fall out of your chest. Whether it’s a monster or a desperate survivor trying to get in, you need to be ready to defend yourself.

You’re slowly approaching the door when whoever — or whatever — is outside hits the door twice more.

“C’mon now, I haven’t got all day.”

You still. You recognize the voice instantly, of course you do, but what you don’t recognize is the tone, or even how loud it is, for that matter.

“Hyun-Su?” you call out quietly.

It’s not the smartest decision, because if it’s not him, it lets whatever’s out there know you’re here, but you can’t see yourself leaving him outside.

“You could say that,” the voice answers, and it’s still obviously Hyun-Su, and it’s still wrong, somehow.

But, after a couple seconds of further hesitation, you decide to open the door anyway. You’ve heard it before, that tone, you think, even if it’s blurry now. Plus, you cannot bear the thought of letting Hyun-Su out there, if it really is him. You tighten your hold on your bat, and carefully open the door.

The second you do, Hyun-Su walks in like he owns the place. It is so unlike him that you get ready to swing, but he spots you and grabs it from your hand easily, using his pull on it to get you closer to him, his other hand coming to your waist to stabilize you with a gentleness that contrasts with the abruptness of his movement. Once he does, he shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

“All that for me?” he asks, glancing at the bat.

You don’t bother to answer him. You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms. You curse the monstrous part of him under your breath, but you know, deep down, that it’s less about that and more about the fact that he’s leaving you with your whole body practically vibrating with feelings and desires you’ve been having more and more as of late.

Your relationship with Hyun-Su is good. It’s great. It makes you happy, so much happier than you thought would ever be possible after the world ended.

But you’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been a— yearning, a longing for more. Something you haven’t put precise words on, something that is almost fully new to you, because though you had fooled around with the boyfriend you briefly had at the beginning of college, the two of you had never gotten really far. You suspect it’s even more foreign to Hyun-Su.

You do know you have an effect on him, you’re not blind. You know how he can get when he loses himself in you, when he finally lets go of all the weight he carries on his shoulders. You, however, also know how embarrassed he gets when his body reacts to you in ways he can’t fully control. You’re just not sure he’s ready for taking the relationship further and, if you’re being honest, the fear of rejection has kept you from bringing up the subject.

Except that after this conversation, the monster’s words are swirling in your mind, and you can no longer pretend that the desire that makes your pulse quicken isn’t there.

Now’s not the time for that, though. You do your best to carry Hyun-Su to the couch, something you doubt you could have done before the Apocalypse forced you to put on some muscle, cover him with a blanket, just in case, because his sweater is starting to have more holes than fabric, and sit by his side so his head rests on your lap. All that’s left to do now, is to wait for him to wake up.

It’s fine, though.

You’re used to waiting for him.

Hyun-Su opens his eyes, and at first, he just feels warm and good and safe. For once in his life, nothing hurts. Your hand’s in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp pleasantly every now and then and—

And he doesn’t remember coming to your place or seeing you.

He jumps up, eyes surveying the apartment, which looks the same it always does, then you when he turns around. All he sees there is mild confusion.

“Did you have a bad dream?” you ask.

“Did you see him?” he asks in reply.

You frown for a second, before understanding passes on your face, and Hyun-Su feels the blood draining from his face.

Last time, the monster had been with you for a couple minutes, at most. This time…

He hadn’t thought he would come here. He’d been far away, when the group of humans had gotten attacked. Intervening had been the right thing to do, he’d thought — until he’d started getting shot at. The words they’d hurled at him, he’d all heard before, during a time of his life he wished he could forget. With his attention split between the monsters still trying to get past him on one side, and the arrows and bullets coming from the other side, the monster had managed to take over.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fought it as hard as he should have.

He had never thought you’d get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Are you— Are you—”

Hurt. Angry. Disgusted.

“I’m fine,” you answer him. You don’t hesitate to reach out to gently touch his face, and your smile is so sincere it’s almost blinding. “Nothing happened.”

He leans into your touch, unable to stop himself, and though he still feels the need to protest, it gets easier to believe you each time you reassure him you don’t despise him.

“It didn’t do anything to you?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

You shake your head, but he can’t miss the way you glance away briefly, avoiding his eyes at first.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you tell him, and he can tell it’s true, but—

“What did it do?” There’s urgency in his voice, panic even. He grabs your arms to look into your eyes, the window to the soul, they say, but he cannot read into you, no matter how much he searches.

“Nothing,” you say, but again, he can tell that there’s more to it, and he doesn’t let go, until you cave in. “He just said something.”

“What did he say?” Hyun-Su presses on. Fear is invading his every bone, wrapping its vines around his heart and squeezing it.

“Nothing important,” you insist, but it only makes him more desperate, because if you don’t want to tell him, it must be something bad, must be something deep and dark and twisted, must be something that could make you hate him. When he doesn’t let up, you sigh. “He just said to ask you something.”

Hyun-Su’s mind goes quiet.

“Ask me what?”

His mouth is dry, his lips move painfully.

“Just— He said, I should ask you what you want to— to do to me.”

It’s like a bomb just went off.

Hyun-Su lets go of you. It feels as if his whole face is burning. Shame and embarrassment overtake him, and suddenly he can’t look at you anymore, just wants to run out the door, but his body is refusing to move. He’s stuck in place like a rabbit in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, whipping his head in the other direction, since that all he can do.

“So, you, um, you… are thinking about it?” you ask, your voice piercing straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, no, I’m, uh—”

You grab his hand, scooting closer to him on the couch, until your knees touch his. And it grounds him. Slowly, reason starts to creep back up from under all the thoughts, and he hears the eagerness in your question.

“J-just so we’re on the same page,” you say, as he slowly turns his head to look at you once more, “you’re thinking about… having sex. With me.”

It’s precious, how you lower your voice to say ‘sex’, and then frown in annoyance at yourself. Hyun-Su still wants to tear his hand from yours, run away before you can tell him how much of a freak, of a monster you think he is. But he can’t.

He thinks he’d rather you rip his heart out, as long as you do it with your bare hands, than to live without your touch ever again.

Slowly, he nods. His face and ears are tingling, and he’s sure he’s bright red by now.

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles. You’ve given him so much already. So much he hadn’t dared to hope for in years. He shouldn’t ask for even more. He doesn’t deserve more.

But your hands tighten around his. Your mouth opens, closes, your tongue comes out to wet your lips as you hesitate and fidget nervously.

“No, you, uh, you should,” you stutter before catching yourself, closing your eyes like you don’t want to see what’s in front of you before you take a leap of faith. “I mean— I think about it. About you.”

A light buzz starts again in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” you keep mumbling. “I mean, I wasn’t sure that you—” Your gaze goes from his hand to the floor, everywhere so you don’t have to look at him. “That you wanted me. So I’m— It’s, uh, it’s good to know.”

“I want you,” Hyun-Su blurts out without thinking, and of course then you look at him, with wide, pretty eyes, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now. His face could burst into flames any second. “I hate that I can’t—” His eyes fall on your legs, with the dress you’re wearing riding up on your thighs. “—touch you.” If he wasn’t so scared, if he was braver… “I just…” A whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say patiently. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. “You’re so— fragile. If I lost control for a second…”

He sees you hesitate. He expects you to tell him, again, that he wouldn’t lose control, maybe that the monster inside him wouldn’t hurt you. Thing is, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter how unlikely it is. That’s not a risk he can take.

“Okay,” you say instead. “Okay. But what if— what if I was the one touching you?”

He almost wishes you hadn’t said it, with how badly he immediately wants it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. His throat is dry. His whole body is aching for you.

“And if I want to?” You tilt your head, all pretty, and oh, how can he deny you anything?

“Please,” he whispers.

Your lips part and your breath seems to stutter, before you lean in and kiss him, and it’s like he’s finally come home. It starts off soft, slow, no different from any kiss the two of you have shared in the past weeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Hyun-Su melts. He parts his lips to welcome in your tongue, lets you take the lead and set the pace for the kiss without thinking about it twice.

Then he feels you move. It’s barely there at first, your hand that’s not on his face coming to rest on his shoulder, and all that is known territory. Even if your fingers actually touch his skin there, because of the numerous holes in his clothing, he can handle that.

His eyes snap open again, though, when you move your leg over his so you can come sit in his lap, straddling him. You notice immediately.

“Is that okay? We can stop—”

“No, I—”

He doesn’t want you to stop. He wants more with you, so bad, and though he would never say it out loud, he’s desperate for you to show him that you’re not disgusted in him. Every time you kiss him, every time you touch him, every time you take his hand and lead him in bed with you, he comes closer to truly believing it.

But, ah, with this last conversation, even if it’s not the first time he’s had you in his lap, he feels— heated. He can feel himself growing hard, and he’s still embarrassed at the thought that you can feel him. Despite what he said, his hands are on your waist, holding tight. He doesn’t remember if he chose to do that.

After all, his desire for you aligns with what the monster wants so closely that he’s— scared. He’s so scared of losing control. But you’re looking at him so lovingly, and he wants you so bad… Can he be selfish? Just this once?

“Don’t stop,” he almost begs, and seeing how eagerly you nod in reply is like an explosion of warmth in his chest.

Your lips crash against his again, harder, with more purpose. Your fingers card through his hair, and the feeling of your light pull on them goes straight to his core, more enjoyable than he thinks it should be, though he’s in no position to linger on it, not when the next thing you do is to experimentally roll your hips on top of him.

From your perspective, it’s a clumsy movement, one you’re unsure of. From his, it’s a rush of pure pleasure when you rub against his hard cock, one that makes him openly moan, his mouth falling open enough that he breaks the kiss. The second he realizes what kind of noise came out of him, he raises his hand to cover his mouth, cheeks turning crimson.

He’s not daring to look at you, not at first anyway, until he feels your lips brushing against his fingers, pressing soft kisses against his hand.

“Still good?” you ask.

And he is, but he’s not trusting his voice all that much for now, so he just nods. A smile dances on your lips as you kiss down his jaw.

“Also,” you add, “I’m not— I don’t have much— experience, in all, uh, that. So you should— you should let me know. What feels good. What doesn’t.”

“That felt good,” he admits quietly, and your smile turns into a grin against his skin.

“I could tell.”

What you don’t say is how hot you found both the sound and the thought that you could affect him like that, how badly you want to press your legs together so you can alleviate the ache you’re feeling down there, how you’re worried you actually want him even more than he wants you.

Instead of saying all that — it would make you feel so naked and so vulnerable, and disarm you completely, which doesn’t seem like a good idea for now —, you start trailing your kisses down his neck. There’s one spot there that makes him whimper, more discreetly than before, but you latch onto it all the same, tongue coming out to flick against the skin, pulling on it softly between your teeth. He writhes and whines under you, and when his cock rubs against you just right, you gasp against him.

You’re delighted to see reddish skin when you pull away. He’ll heal, and there will be no trace of it by morning, but there’s something satisfying about it — and the glassy look he gives you, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess on the back of the couch, with that proud mark right above his collarbone… is purely sinful.

Your fingers hook in his hoodie.

“Can I?” you ask.

He’d go to the moon and back for you.

He nods.

You pull it over his head, struggle a little when it gets caught in his hair, then manage to pull him free and kiss him again with a giggle. It’s sweet. You’re still wearing your dress, but it’s the first time he feels your hands directly on his skin all the same, and even if his body’s burning up, your touch sets him ablaze.

You explore his body with hungry eyes and hands, follow the shape of his pectorals, then move down to his abs. You trace the muscles, slowly, and as you move down, closer to his crotch, he can no longer suppress a shiver. You still for a second, and he watches you with wide eyes, waiting for you to keep moving, so badly wanting you to keep going. Finally, your fingers brush against the button of his jeans. Silently, meeting his eyes, you ask for his permission. He swallows, nods again.

He’s nervous, almost painfully so, but he notices that your fingers are shaking as you have to try three times to get it open, and it reassures him, in some ways. It reminds him that, for all the issues he has, this is new for the both of you. There are no expectations to meet, just the two of you discovering, together, what works for you.

Once the button isn’t in the way, you, very carefully, move your hand under his jeans, but over his boxers. The second he feels your hand hesitantly closing over his cock, even through the fabric, he throws his head back, trying his best not to moan again and only half-succeeding.

You watch his reactions closely as you keep touching him, slipping your hand under the boxers after a few seconds. This time he does moan, a high-pitched noise that you take to mean you’re doing something right — even if you have no idea what you’re doing. How tight should your grip be? How fast should you move? Should you be saying something? Should he be saying something?

His cock is rock hard between your fingers, harder than you’d have expected; larger, too. It seems to have been that way for a while, maybe since you’ve started kissing, based on how wet with precum it is. You tighten your grip around it a little, then slide your hand down, slowly, down to the base. He moans again, and you feel him twitch between your fingers.

“Um,” you mumble, “I, uh, I don’t really know— is that— is there anything I should—”

Hyun-Su’s looks up at you, flushed and panting. One of his hands comes to your thigh, and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. You don’t think he even notices though. You’re dripping wet yourself, but for now you just want to make him feel good. If things go well, if he stays open to this sort of things, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with that… later. At the moment, all you want is to show him that pleasure doesn’t have to lead to anything negative.

“J-just, keep going,” he mumbles. “You can, ah, you can go a little faster, if you…”

The rest of his words gets lost in the next moan as you follow his advice, moving your hand up and down his cock, the wetness helping the movement. Despite yourself, you rock your hips against his leg, the pressure of it between your legs feeling so delicious, you can’t deny it to yourself at the moment.

Under you, Hyun-Su is lost in pleasure. Your rhythm is hesitant, you’re not holding him quite as tight as he’d like, but oh, your hand is soft and gentle, and it still feels so much better than his own. The fact that you’re all pressed against him, your breath against his neck, your scent filling him, it’s all much more than what he had imagined — because, yes, in shameful moments, he’d pictured this kind of scenes, but they had never felt as good, pleasure running through his veins and flooding his body.

Any time he indulged in them, though, he came faster than usual, and now, with the real thing, he realizes too late how quickly he is approaching his climax.

“Wait,” he hears himself mumble, “I’ll—”

But he’s already coming, and the strength of the orgasm leaves him breathless as he humps against your hand, trying to make it last longer.

“Oh,” is all you comment, and even through the haze, embarrassment spreads through him as he realizes that there’s cum on your hand and on his stomach. At least he cannot turn any redder now.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “sorry, I—”

“No, I— I thought that was pretty hot, actually,” you say, giving him a smile, and thank fuck you’ve taken his hand off him, because he wouldn’t want to have to explain why that’s making him twitch again. “I’ll just— you probably want to get cleaned up.”

“I’m— Yeah, but—” He glances down at your body. He felt you rocking against him earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly in the right mind to say something about it. “Don’t you— Don’t you want to, uh…”

“Ah, I’m fine, I just— I just wanted to make you feel good for now.”

And just as he thought his heart rate might go back to normal at some point, there it is, spiking again.

“We can do that— some other time. If you’d like to.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t give to you.

“I would. I would like that.”

Your smile is a promise for more, your kiss is sweet, and for the first time in forever, Hyun-Su forgets about the monster.

He’s in your arms, and it’s all that matters.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put here. i already feel like i’m kinda begging for comment on my posts, which i don’t like doing, but i figured i’d try to explain at least once what i’ve been feeling lately — plus i'm starting a new job on Monday and i don't know how much time i'll have to write after that. truth is, the lack of interactions i’ve been getting on here, on these stories, has been kind of depressing to me. i know people are reading them, considering the amount of notes, and it’s hard not to question whether it’s my writing that’s not good enough to make people want to leave a comment, or if it's just how fandom is now and in that case it just might not be for me anymore. i mean, i write for myself first, but i post because i want to share with others, i want to see their reactions, know how my writing makes them feel… and lately it just feels like i’m screaming in the void and nothing else. it’s been hard to stay motivated honestly. so, yeah. you don’t have to leave a comment, especially if you didn’t like it, i get it, i’m not trying to guilt-trip you. i just. feel the need to explain this at least once, in case it changes someone’s mind, and if it doesn't, i'll know i tried. if you've ever commented, reblogged with tags, sent an ask, know that i'm so thankful for you and you truly keep me going.

next one-shot

#sweet home #hyun su #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su x reader #hyun su x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home season 2 #sweet home 2 #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home smut #cha hyun su smut #hyun su smut #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #my writing

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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may i request for an angst to fluff fic where y/n's family arranges and forces her to marry into the house of targaryen just to rid of her in a way that it is beneficial to them. she's heard rumors about her soon to be husband, Aemond, and is scared of their family in general but all of that was just thrown out of the window when she finally meets them and sees how he is around his mother and sister thinking she'd rather be a part of this family than her own <3 (smut or no smut, it doesnt matter, as long as we are loved)

Under The Bridge

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Your parents described your betrothed as a troll, a gremlin, a monster, the perfect candidate for their wretched, useless, stubborn, first born child. Finally, they said, their daughter would be good put to good use.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of domestic violence, big bro!aemond my love, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: ok i think im going to get carried away writing this [update] yep i got carried away Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

I thought it quite fitting for the day to be wretched. After all, it was the day I would be sent away to be married to a man I did not know to please my parents; my father, that pulled his hair out every time I bested my potential matches, and my mother, who slapped me in an attempt to correct my impetuous behavior.

Yes, finally I would find my use and help my family regain prestige and wealth.

Neither cared to escort me to the carriage out of our decaying estate. The storm had been too strong and the mud puddles too many.

I had my one bag gripped tightly in my arms and cared little for the skirts that were soaking up brown water beneath me. I shouted over the sound of thunder and rain when I ran over to the hooded man, "greetings, my lord, I-"

"I am the envoy of your prince here to pick you up, my lady," he calls under the darkness of his cloak. I could not see his face.

"I see," I say, not at all disappointed that it was not my betrothed that was picking me up, "what is your name?"

He does not respond and so I repeat my question, louder, "what is your name, ser?!"

"Charon," he calls.

I pull my head back, "are you here to take me into the underworld?"

He does not react, so I assume he does not understand my joke. He only pulls back and opens the carriage door for me.

I sigh and hastily get in, slumping down, pulling my heavy skirt, wet with rain and mud, closer to me. He shuts the door with a thud. A few moments later the carriage begins to move.

I busy myself with reading on the way. It was all that I packed, my books. My mother thought she managed to throw them away, but I switched the contents of my bag with my clothing with my books before she could. Anyway, I never cared for my ugly dresses. I figured since I was marrying a prince, he could get me at least one dress to change into. That was more than enough.

The ride was pleasant on my part; I could read in silence, with no interruption, no father to scream at me, no mother to chase me around, and yet as we passed a hump, I was shaken into reality, a reality that the driver, Charon, was manning the carriage outside in the rain.

This was why, when we rain cleared, I knocked on the closed window by the driver's seat and called out for him.

He does not respond.

I rap my knuckles harder, "Charon?"

I am slightly startled when the opening is slid open. He does not say anything. I huff and reach for the sandwich in my bag, sticking it out to the window, "it has gone cold but it should still taste nice. It will help to keep you warm, eating something."

I await as the man twists in his place.

He does not respond still, and so I push my arm out further, "if you would like another, I can give you the one I packed myself. I ate a lot before leaving," as a final act of deviance.

He takes a moment to think of my offer it seems. He finally takes it and I feel his callused hand on mine. I do not miss the bandages on his fingers and palm. I wonder how he got injured.

I vaguely hear him thank me. I mutter again for good measure, "just knock if you want the other."

I start when the knock comes, dropping the book I was finishing onto my lap. I shift in my place and move to reopen the closed area, grabbing my sandwich as I did. I however turn to my side when I the carriage door opens.

I am suddenly faced with a dark haired knight. He bows to me, offering a hand out as he greets me in regard. He proceeds to introduce himself, "Ser Criston Cole, at your service."

"An honor," I nod, straightening myself up, "ser Cole."

He surveys the carriage then turns back to me, "allow me to help you down, my lady."

I place my things back in my bag and take his hand, hopping down next to him, causing mud to splatter on his uniform. We both still when it happens. The shrill chastising of my parents replay in my mind.

"I-"

"An honest mistake, your majesty."

My lips part, "I am not you ma-"

"You are to be wed to my prince in a fortnight," he says, reaching out to my bag as he continues, "you will be soon enough." Criston adds. Once he has my things, he shuts the door, then looks at me, "allow me to escort you to your room."

I nod, sneaking a look past him, looking for the man that brought me here, "where did Charon go?"

"Charon?"

"The driver," I turn back to him, "I meant to give him my sandwich," I say, reaching for the said thing in my bag.

Criston turns from my sandwich to me, brows furrowing, "the... driver has gone to finish his other duties."

I nod, unwrapping the food, "do you want it?"

His lips form a small smile, "a generous offer, but I have already eaten."

I purse my lips, rewrapping the thing, placing it back in my bag. Criston offers his arm out to me. I link arms with him and pull my shoes out of the mud along with my crusty skirt that was getting dirty all over again.

When we reach the entrance, Criston pulls away from me, insisting I walk in first.

Once we are inside, he walks a foot away from me, silently leading me off to my room. I sniffle as I take in the ambiance of the place.

Criston turns to me and I turn to him as he says, "I will have a bath prepared for you."

"Thank you," I smile, "could you have them lend me a dress as well?"

He furrows his brows and I do not wait for him to ask, "I only packed my books, you see."

He turns to my bag as he says this, "ah," he turns back to me, "I thought your clothes were merely stiff."

I snort, breaking into a laugh.

I notice how Criston's shoulders relax and how his nostrils flare slightly.

We take a left to a well-lit corridor. Criston opens the door for me once we reach the room. He places my things on a table as I make my way towards a vanity, seeing just how disheveled and wet I was.

"The servants will come to attend to you soon."

"Than-"

"Thank you, ser Criston," a commanding voice calls, startling me in the process. A red haired woman walks towards me, nodding to the knight in regard. Criston returns the sentiment before offering me the same thing and walking off.

"Apologies for startling you," the woman says, hands clasped in front of her.

I bow, eyes downturned.

You are not too look any of them in the eye if you wish to live, do you understand?

"Not at all, queen mother," I speak as I hear my pulse quicken in my ribcage.

The woman walks over to me, the Hightower colors are bright in her dress. I gulp, knowing what would come next. I hold myself back from stepping away.

"Let me look at you," she announced, reaching out for me.

I suck in a breath and catch her gaze when he takes my cold face in her warm hands. Her brown eyes are wide as she takes me in, the curve on her cheeks and jaw resemble none of the vicious remarks my father told me about her. Her pursed lips barely move when she speaks, "my, your mother was just in her musings of your beauty."

I clench my jaw.

"Surely then, I expect you to be as astute as she makes you out to be," she utters, pulling her hands away, "prince Aemond is truly a fair match for you."

I nibble on my lower lip, recalling the disgusting words my father had to offer about the said prince, "I am honored by your regard, Queen Alicent."

"Yes," she sighs, "well, you must hurry and get cleaned up." .

The moment she speaks this, it is as though the servants were summoned, and not that it was a happy coincidence.

I turn my eyes back to the floor as I bow again.

"My son said that he would wait for you in the gardens."

I nod, "I will head there the moment I am ready, your grace."

"Very good," she speaks one last time before heading off. Once she is gone and it is only me and the servants, I release the breath I held out of instinct.

The point between my bath and my going to the gardens was blurred by the vivid recount of my dreadful parent's words against the family I was marrying into.

Just close your eyes if his face is too much to bare. Turn your face away when you are coupling. The smart head you like claim to have will do you no good there. Just be silent and obedient and you will keep your head.

I snap into reality when I hear the sound of laughter once I reach the open space. I see two heads of light blonde hair just past a few shrubs. That must be the witch-sister my father was talking about.

I could not hear what they were conversing over, but it was clear that they were having a moment. It would be most improper to barge in on them.

And yet as I stood in my place, I thought of what would be the consequence if I did not show myself.

I gulp in air and walk over to them, "your majesties."

I hold my breath when they turn to me. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting a smiling, eye-patched prince and a beaming princess with a flower in her hair.

The next happening came to be all too quickly.

"Would you like to see my spider?" the woman calls, dashing over to me with a large black spider in her hand.

I recoil at her words, and before I could turn her down, she places the long legged thing onto my shoulder, making my eyes grow wide and my body to freeze into a brick. It took everything in me not to smack the insect away. What would happen if I kill the princess's spider?

I clench my jaw and my fists tightly, gulping the lump in my throat.

Perhaps it could kill me first.

"Helaena!" the man calls, dashing forward, grabbing the insect on my body, handing it back to her sister. I shiver and step back once I am free of the creepy-crawly.

Helaena looks up at her brother and knits her brows. He begins to tell her something in a foreign tongue and whatever it is makes the woman's face dampen. She turns to me, bowing with a pout, "apologies, my lady."

I shudder then suck in a sharp breath, "I..." I feel my chest tighten when she removes the flower in her hair. She was like me, rebuked for something she liked.

I force a confidence voice after gulping heavily, "I am honored to meet your spider," my breath hitches, "but I do not like spiders."

"What a shame," she says rather dejectedly.

"Perhaps it be best if you go back to your chambers," her brother mutters as the spider begins to crawl up her arm.

I step back at the sight of it.

She nods, "perhaps."

I move farther when she passes me, mostly because her shoulder near me was where the spider was perched on.

I watch as she leaves. I sigh at the sight of her fluttering hair.

When I turn to the prince, I reel back when I find him stood so close to me. Upon seeing my reaction, he does me the courtesy of stepping back as well.

I heave from my mouth then bow, "prince Aemond."

He watches me as I rise then offers me a quick nod. He sighs, placing his hands behind him, "I am thankful you did not squash her spider."

I cringe at the thought, "I'd have squashed it on my skin," I shake my head rapidly, "that would be no good."

For a moment, he only looks at me. I only manage a few seconds before needing to turn away from his gaze. I only turn back when he raises his hand out, "care to walk with me?"

I reach for his hand, and it is only then that I realized that he had bandages on. I turn to our joined palms then back to his face.

He catches how I observe him and this grip on me tightens as he visibly stiffens, "a riding injury."

I debate his words, wondering how he would get injured like that.

He proceeds to answer me as if he heard my thought, "my dragon, Vhagar, was flying fiercely upward. It was hard to keep hold. I had blisters for days."

I pull back when he releases my hand. I turn to his arm when he offers it to me instead. I place my palm on his bicep as we continue to walk off.

The next moment, I suddenly realize why the bandages on his hands were striking to me.

"You," I turn to him, "are Charon."

He keeps his gaze upfront.

I cannot help but smile in amusement over his obvious reaction to my words-- not reacting. I allow my lips to release a chuckle, "you were gauging me."

"..."

"Worry not," I look out to some flowers by the side, "I too am scared to get married."

I feel him turn to me, but I do not feel like returning his look.

"Is it marriage," he calls, "or me that you are scared of?"

I take a moment before turning back to him; his one eye is expectant and I swear I see his covered one twitch. "Both," I utter simply, "but at least now that I know that we're both scared, I have found a semblance of solace."

We continue walking in silence after my admission.

I await for him to burn my words, to wholeheartedly disagree with my verdict, much like all the other men that I was jostled into, lest they find themselves caught agreeing with a stupid woman. I am surprised that he does nothing and merely continues walking with me in silence.

He catches my shocked reaction, it seems, and raises his nose, "I was concerned."

I softly snort in humour, "as one would be."

His lips curve slightly into a smile but he does a good job of making it unobvious, "I was concerned you would be haughty, vain, irritating."

"And you decided I was not in the silence of our travels?"

He ignores this, "I am aware your parents are eager for the alliance because your coin has run low."

"That," I tilt my head, "amongst other things."

Aemond narrows his eye, "like what?"

"Well for one, they are overjoyed to rid of me," I pull a smile before breaking into a smile.

I catch the expression that twists onto his face. He does not believe me. He furrows his brows in challenge, "you mother speaks nothing but exaggerated ideations of you."

I shake my head as I chuckle, "and I am glad that it has landed me a husband who cares for his sister."

He stops upon hearing this. I turn to him when he does. He pulls away from me to place his hand behind his back again. I watch him as he looks off and sucks in a deep breath.

"I will not ask much of you," he mutters, slowly turning back to me, "I wish to only fulfil my duties; I require of you to do the same is all."

Aemond's face is sincere, or at the very least he looks and sounds as though he is in that moment. I nod at his words, placing my own hands behind my back, "indeed I am glad my mother could at least do this one thing for me."

He raises his chin, hands falling to his sides. He shifts on his leg as a breeze blows past his blonde hair. He nods, "come, there is more to see in the gardens."

#aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x you

1K notes · View notes

riaarivic · 5 months

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2020💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was one.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

A Battleground.

The room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

Right after the briefing ended he had dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

He was a sound man now. Not the youg man almost teenager that would have rushed into conclusions. First he needed to make his own research.

Have a few conversations with people.

Because he would never outlive the embarrasment if he was wrong.

But, all Namjoon could find was that Hana was your daughter and not your husband's.

And now you were alone for the first time in Three years, the silence was deafening, the unspoken history between you threatening to consume the room.

In the past, when you were alone with him, confessions of love had been whispered like forbidden promises against your lips in a conference room.

Just like the one you were in.

Today, his gaze was intense, his movements calculated, as if he were dissecting the reality before him. The little girl playing outside in your office seemed like a mirage, a cruel joke that fate had played on both of you.

Namjoon's stare bore into you, and the atmosphere crackled with the spark of four years of unsaid words. Finally, the tension shattered like glass as he spat out,

"Is she mine?"

His voice, sharp and accusatory, slashed through the heavy air.

A small, bitter part of you considered lying, but the futility of it hung in the air.

He knew, yet he chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," your voice strained, attempting to retain a semblance of control. "Her name is Hana Lee."

Two heartbeats passed, revealing a Namjoon you no longer recognized.

The man before you had become a diplomat, his mind working to carefully choose his words, concealing emotions you once knew he wore on his sleeve.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that, long ago when you worked with them.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

Another heartbeat passed and a spark of genuine emotion broke through when the reality of his daughter's existence sank in.

"Lee?"

His voice began to fill with an anger simmering beneath the surface, like molten lava fighting its way to the top of a volcano. "My husband’s last name," you retorted, your tone flat, a facade of control slipping away.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you expected to.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. “Did you expect a wedding invite?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.” he growled the last sentence through his teeth.

So much for calm and collected.

"Oh, but I tried," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. Only to be warmly welcomed by your mother and Sejin with an envelope full of money and the threat to take her from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember. Let me refresh your memory, shall we?" Bitterness laced your words. "You sent your mother and your manager to tell me that having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' that you were so very sorry and told me to disappear"

He was about to speak but you didn't let him. All the things you have wanted to say for four years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Anger surged within you. "Riding the horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

You didn't know when you started to shout and now you couldn't stop. You wanted him to hurt as much as you were. "You told them to tell me all that. Because you didn't have the balls to say it right to my face"

"Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "“That didn’t… I didn’t... I would never have done that."

“You didn't do what?” You turned away, unable to look at him. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon. She's so smart and kind. Even when she feels like there's a missing part from her"

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as his finger touched your wrist, sending electric shockwaves through your body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore.” Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. 'I hope you understand,” you said, mocking his voice.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away?" He was shouting now too.

And he was close, too close to you now. You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close to him you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't breaking for him.

That you didn't miss his eyes.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand" your voice cracked filled with sadness.

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

In a heartbeat anger left his body, and he was filled with the weight of a shared past. Everything was too much, this was too much and again his mask fell just for you.

He lifted his hand to grab your wrist, the small contact of his skin with yours felt like fire runnig trough your veins.

"I loved you, and I always have," he confessed.

The room hung in tumultuous silence, the weight of past wounds and the rawness of the present colliding in a clash of emotions.

You were about to respond when a small knock echoed through the room.

The knock on the door startled both of you, a temporary interruption to the emotional storm that raged in the room. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy?" Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident "Mr. Rapmonster. why are you here?". You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, and she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend, and we were talking" you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. "Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

"When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello there! First of all I am so, SO grateful for all the love this story is getting. It really means the world to me. Sincerely Thank you. With that beign said I want to leave a few notes for context and clarification. 1. This is a work of fiction, even if it is inspired by real events and real people. I will take creative licenses to make the storyline make sense. So, some things will be different as it happened IRL.

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2021 'The present'

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

250 notes · View notes

taevbears · 5 months

Text

To Be Loved - 03

Please be our guest

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader (a bit of reader x jungkook) ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.3k ⤑ warnings: hybrids are seen as sub-human, brief descriptions of abuse throughout the chapter, a bit of angst, the boys are very guarded and kind of mean toward the reader, reader is stress lol ⤑ note: sorry for the delay in this chapter, it's been really hectic these past few weeks being sick and super busy. i'm curious what your thoughts are and what you guys think namjoon is! also, i hope you all have a safe and warm holiday full of delicious food!

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

Dinner is served.

Laid out across the table is a small feast consisting of homegrown vegetables from their garden, hand-picked fruits of the season, grilled fish caught from a nearby river, roasted poultry and cooked eggs, and homemade brew that’s been aging in their cellar. Food that’s clearly been hunted and gathered from around the manor.

“You two are our guests,” Rap Monster says to you and Jungkook from the head of the table, sitting directly across from you. “Please feel free to help yourselves.”

He glances over at the wolf hybrid and gives him a tiny nod. The eldest among the pack picks up his utensils and begins to put food on his plate, and the others soon follow suit, reaching for whatever appeals to their appetites. Even Jungkook begins to pile up on the food he’s been eyeing since they’ve been set down before him, and then passes the dish to you, starving after everything you’ve both been through since you’ve ventured off the main roads.

“This is seriously so good!” Jungkook praises between bites. His eyebrows are furrowed together, as if he’s angry at how incredibly tasty everything is.

“You’re just hungry,” the leopard hybrid remarks, shoulders raising a bit as he puts some fish on his plate.

“Thank you for cooking,” you add softly, though you’re not really sure who to direct it to. Jimin had mentioned that someone named Seokjin and someone named Yoongi prepared tonight’s meal. The deer hybrid only stares at you with a frown, the leopard hybrid doesn’t even bother to make eye-contact with you, and the wolf hybrid merely nods his head without saying anything back.

The table is relatively quiet, but you can tell that it’s a level of silence they’re not used to. Although the pack of hybrids try not to make it too obvious, you can tell they’re all observing you closely.

It starts to make you feel self-conscious as you bite into an apple, not really tasting the food but going through the motions of it.

You hate attention. You’ve always had.

The pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, watching your every move, and judging your every word and action makes your skin crawl, constricts your breath, and knots your stomach. Whenever you’re forced into the spotlight – Kangdae dangling you around like a pretty thing to envy – you keep your gaze on the ground. Your voice starts to tremble. You hear people asking what’s wrong with you.

As your eyes burn on the plate, you realize that’s what’s happening now. The hybrids are making you as nervous as you’re probably making them.

Humans, after all, are the most dangerous threat to them.

“My name is Jimin.”

To your right, opposite of Jungkook, the swan hybrid speaks. He seems to sense your uneasiness and then gestures for the others to follow.

Next to him, the bear hybrid grunts, “Taehyung.”

“Seokjin,” says the wolf hybrid, gnawing on a bone.

“I’m Hoseok,” the deer hybrid pipes up from the other side of the table, across the wolf.

“Yoongi,” the leopard hybrid calls himself, sitting between Hoseok and Jungkook.

Across from you, at the other end of the table, the one you know as Rap Monster merely smiles. The dimples on his cheeks are deep as he looks at his pack fondly before his colorful eyes meet your gaze. “I don’t go by Rap Monster anymore, so you can call me by my real name. It’s Namjoon.”

Namjoon.

Finally, you have the name of the mysterious rapper.

You tell them your name, and Jungkook finishes the round of introductions with his. With one question answered, another one pops up. This time, from you. “How do you all know each other?”

The air shifts with a sudden tension, and you instantly regret the words leaving your mouth. It feels like you’ve come across a taboo topic. Information that, perhaps, none of them feel comfortable sharing with a human. You can see, by some of the emotions that cross their faces, that it hadn’t been easy for them to get here.

“The short story is that I took them all in,” Namjoon explains lightly. “Society isn’t exactly kind to creatures like us. Humans only see us as abominations. A lot of them can be unnecessarily cruel to the things they’re afraid of. To the things they don’t understand. I found them and I offered them a place in my home.”

“Which brings us to question,” Seokjin interrupts, his yellow eyes practically glowing when he looks at you, “what brought you into our territory?”

It’s a question they all seem to be wondering. Even before the car accident in the woods.

The words get stuck in your throat.

Taehyung crosses his arms. He looks broader when he does that. More intimidating. “We don’t allow humans to come anywhere near this place.”

“But she’s not like other humans!” Jungkook speaks up on your behalf, eyes wide as if that would help convince them of his plight. “She’s really nice, and she’s my friend.”

“Jungkook,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You want to stop him. To tell him that he doesn’t need to defend you. That you understand their hostility, and that you swear you’ll be gone as soon as the storm stops.

His ear twitches toward you, showing that he’s heard you, but he decides to ignore you.

“I was in bad shape when I met her, but she helped me. She treated my wounds after my owner nearly…” He shudders, unable to finish his sentence. Given the bruises and cuts on his face, and the welts and scars on his body, it’s not hard to imagine what could’ve happened. Or how far his owner would’ve gone to hurt him. “She fed me too. And bought me ice cream and banana milk.”

Seokjin snorts at that. For a brief second, Hoseok and Taehyung look a little amused by his last comment. Whereas Yoongi and Jimin visibly frown as they look more closely at Jungkook’s wounds. Namjoon’s eyes meet yours for a moment, and you feel your heart flutter before he turns to Jungkook and gives him a nod, encouraging him to go on.

“And she’s been trying to find a safe place to take me to,” he continues, turning to look at you. There’s gratitude in his eyes when he does. “We were trying to take a shortcut through the woods, but it was raining so hard and we could barely see where we were going. We’re both just trying to get away from our bad humans.”

By the silence that follows, you’re not entirely sure if they believe you’re a good person yet. That, despite Jungkook trying to defend your honor, there’s still a bit of skepticism over a human helping a hybrid out of the goodness from their heart. After everything they must have gone through by the hands of those who try to control them, you can’t blame them at all for feeling jaded.

“I believe it,” is all Namjoon says. His gaze is fixed on you now, and again, you start to feel nervous at the attention. But… not in an entirely unwanted way. “You were kind to me once before, too.”

For years, the old manor has been something straight out of a storybook. A beautiful, old home, stuck in time, untouched by humans. Deep in the woods and hard to find unless you know your way to it. Forgotten, but with a timeless and enchanting charm.

It begins with Namjoon, who discovers it. And then Yoongi, who helps him rebuild and restore it. Then, they find Hoseok, and for a while, it’s just the three of them. But that all changes when they meet Jimin and Taehyung and take them in at the same time. And finally, Seokjin joins their pack.

One by one, the hybrids have contributed and worked together to make this abandoned place their own. You see the way they protect each other, how they take care of each other. Humans haven’t stepped near their secret haven for years, and yet, here you are – an intruding threat to their sanctuary. A walking reminder of what they’ve run away from.

Yoongi, captured and thrown into a cage, about to be sent overseas in cargo to be auctioned off had he not managed to escape from his captives.

Hoseok, left for dead by the hands of hunters, antlers forcibly cut by the time Namjoon and Yoongi find him barely breathing.

Jimin and Taehyung running away from a shelter that was abusing the hybrids, starving them out, depriving them of basic essentials, and throwing them into tiny, cramped spaces before they’re next in line to be euthanized.

And Seokjin, forced to become a lone wolf after violently losing his home, family, and everything he knows to the greed of humans until he finally found the others.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask,” Namjoon assures you, clearing the plates away from dinner to wash. “I want you to feel comfortable while you’re here.”

“I appreciate it, Namjoon. Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. He grins at you, practically beaming as his name rolls off your tongue. You can’t help but smile back at him, although shyly.

It’s strange how flustered you feel around him.

“Can we look around?” Jungkook asks, coming up between you and Namjoon. He looks at him curiously as the two of you finally look away from each other.

“Of course. Jimin? Mind showing them around?” Namjoon asks the swan hybrid, who just finishes up wiping down the table.

He looks a bit surprised, but nods his head. “Oh. Sure. Let me finish this up and I’ll be right with you guys.”

“I’ll go with you guys,” Taehyung offers, glancing at you for a brief moment before he finishes up sweeping.

“What about you?” you ask. Not that you don’t mind Jimin. He’s been nice to you. Taehyung as well, though out of obligation.

You were just hoping to spend more time with Namjoon.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he promises as he looks at the other hybrids, all pretending they aren’t listening to the conversation. “I need to make sure no one else followed you here.”

As requested, Jimin and Taehyung show you and Jungkook around the manor.

The east wing is where you’ll be staying. The room that you woke up in is yours, and Jungkook has his own room near you. Dinner is at the same time every evening, and it is expected that the two of you will join the rest of the pack. There are many rooms that make this place feel like a modern castle: a ballroom with a grand piano, a lounge room with board games, puzzles, a pool table, and old gaming consoles, a conservatory with curtainless windows, table tennis, a seating area, and a greenhouse.

You can see that Jungkook is fascinated with the manor as much as you are. Maybe even more so. His eyes practically sparkle with excitement when he sees a familiar game that he played as a child, or that cheeky smile on his face when he asks if you can dance or play any instruments in the ballroom. You see Jimin and Taehyung eager to show him the cool stuff around the manor too, and you suspect that at one point, they’ve forgotten you’re on this tour as well.

Still, it’s so nice to see Jungkook smiling and laughing. Despite everything he’s been through, there’s still an endearing, childlike innocence to him. A shy, friendly aura that makes him so approachable and well-liked.

You can see him being very happy here. Even if you’re not in the picture.

“What’s over there?” Jungkook asks, curious as he nods toward the west wing.

“Oh, that place is off-limits,” Taehyung explains without giving it a second glance. “No one is allowed to go there.”

You’re a bit surprised by that. The west wing looks completely normal from where you stand. “Why not?”

“It just is,” Taehyung cuts in a little harshly as he glares at you. Your mouth immediately snaps shut, a bit hurt and taken aback by the outburst.

“You’re free to go anywhere else in the manor,” Jimin adds, trying to drop the topic. His voice is gentler as he shoots his companion a warning glance. “Just not the west wing. Understand?”

You merely nod your head, not trusting your voice at this point.

While the hybrids like Jungkook, it’s clear that they don’t feel the same about you. And you’re not certain they ever will.

As the tour continues, you can’t help but notice the other hybrids’ reactions when you come within their personal spaces in the manor. Yoongi stares at you from the high wooden beams on the ceiling. His spotted tail slowly swishes back and forth in distrust as his glaring, feline eyes never leave yours. Hoseok hides from you whenever he hears you approaching. He’s so scared, he’s trembling as you catch his wide-eyed, petrified gaze, and the guilt of almost hurting him weighs more heavily on you. Seokjin covers his mouth to hold back a low growl when you come near his room. His body is tense and his lips are curled back into a snarl. Even Taehyung is only accompanying you to make sure that Jimin is safe. That you won’t harm his dear friend.

Rain continues to heavily pour outside. You wish that the storm would die down already. Clearly, you’re not welcomed here.

A hand touches the small of your back, and you raise your head to see Jungkook giving you a tiny, comforting smile. Just like at the motel stop with the scary men, he subtly assures you that he has your back.

You give him a wry smile back, squeezing his arm in appreciation. It’s a silent exchange that doesn’t go unnoticed by the other two hybrids with you.

“This is our last stop,” Jimin announces as he and Taehyung open the double-doors. Your eyes widen in awe at the sight before you.

A library.

There are two levels, and both have standing shelves full of books. Art pieces that look like they belong in museums decorate the room as well, from busts of philosophers to exquisite paintings hung on the walls. In the center is a large couch that looks cozy enough to sink into, curled up with a good book. It’s a place much bigger and prettier than the tiny book nook in your town.

“Wow…” You step inside, mood instantly lifting as you marvel at the sight before you. You could spend months here, just trying to read through the massive collection. “This is amazing!”

Jungkook looks surprised. “You think so?”

“Is it okay if I look around?”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange looks with each other, but they nod their heads. You disappear into the nearest aisle, browsing around. Your fingers run across the spines of books and their printed titles before landing on the ones that catch your interest. Things that were in your to-read list, things that you’ve just discovered now, things that you fondly remember reading before.

To the two residential hybrids, it’s probably one of the more boring parts of the manor, yet you’re absolutely enthralled by the room.

“Are there any comics?” Jungkook shyly asks, and Taehyung’s eyes brighten a bit as he takes his wrist and shows him where they are. The two leave Jimin alone as he watches you with curiosity.

“That’s funny,” he says to himself before he follows after the other hybrids. “This is his favorite room too.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you. Not tonight, at least.

After everything you’ve been through – running away from Kangdae, being on the road for days, looking for the perfect home for Jungkook, being careful to cover your tracks and not get caught, and finally ending up here – you’d think you would’ve been knocked out by now, exhausted from everything.

But as you turn to face the window, the relentless storm outside seems to reflect the turmoil you feel.

The storm won’t last forever. You’ll probably be here for two or three nights. Maybe a week at most. Then, as soon as the rainy days clear up, you’ll be out of here.

But Jungkook should stay.

As you toured around the manor with Jimin and Taehyung, it’s so clear to you that this place could be exactly what you two were hoping to find for him. A place to call home.

The hybrids provide for each other. They take care of each other. And they’ve clearly taken a liking to Jungkook. He’ll have his meals, a warm bed in his own room, plenty of fun things to do, friends to talk to. He’ll be happy here with them.

You turn to face the ceiling, already dreading the inevitable conversation you’ll have to have with him. He’s become your friend, and someone you care a lot about. You just hope he won’t be so stubborn and make it harder for you to let him go.

Especially since the other hybrids don’t like you as much. Or rather, at all. In fact, you’re pretty sure they’re eager for the storm to pass as much as you are so that you can leave their secret haven.

The mean looks some of them give you. The way they snarl and hiss and tremble at your presence. It feels like there isn’t anything you can do about it. Even if Namjoon allows you to stay, even if Jungkook is there to vouch for you, they’ll just hate you no matter what, simply because you’re human.

You sigh. You can’t force them to like you, of course, and you don’t blame them for being weary of you. But the bigger problem seems to be how you’re going to get out of the woods without a car. With your face all over the news. With Kangdae’s family exhausting all their efforts to look for you.

And as you roll to face the door, you think about Namjoon.

He’s as much of a mystery to you now as he was back then. He has a charisma that commands the room, that makes it obvious that he’s the leader of the pack. That alone has all the hybrids respect him and look up to him. And to top it off, he’s also so kind for letting you and Jungkook in, for making you both feel comfortable in his home.

You can’t remember the last time Kangdae treated you as nicely. He was always so selfish and cruel, and you feel foolish to think that’s what love was.

When in reality, ever since you finally left him, you realize you know nothing about love at all. You thought, if you stayed with him long enough, you could learn to love him. That you could learn how to be loved back.

But the pitiful ache in your heart only makes you realize that, at least with Kangdae, there was never any love at all.

And yet, Namjoon…

With a finality, you throw the covers off of you. Since you can’t sleep, you decide to do something else to force your thoughts away.

You try your best to avoid the creaks on the floor as you quietly sneak out of the room. The halls of the east wing are dark, but luckily, you aren’t met with any grumpy hybrids just yet. As quietly as possible, you shut the door to your room and try to navigate through the shadowy hall, trying to remember where exactly the library is located in the huge manor.

However, your endeavor is halted when you hear voices at the end of the hall.

“You could be a little nicer to her,” Jimin begins, standing near a window where the moonlight illuminates his face. The tone in his voice sounds like he’s disappointed.

Standing before him is no one other than Taehyung. “She’s human.”

“She could be—” Jimin starts, but lowers his voice. You barely hear him as he tells Taehyung, “I think she’s it.”

His eyes widen a little, seeming to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You think she’s—” An abrupt silence follows when they sense they’re not alone. Both of them turn to you. Even in the darkness, you think they can still see you. Then, Taehyung confirms they can when he asks, “Little human, where do you think you’re going?”

“I can’t sleep,” you reply honestly. On cue, the rumble of thunder ominously rolls in, sounding like the roar of a beast. You’re vaguely reminded of the sound that spooked Jungkook right before the accident, and you wonder if whatever it was is still out there.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” Jimin asks with a tilt of his head.

“It’s not that.” You don’t mind the rain or the sound of thunder, especially if you can stay safe and cozy indoors, sheltered from the bad weather. Under other circumstances, you might even enjoy the ambiance it brings in the background of a good book. “I think I just want to read something before I go to bed.”

“Are you afraid of us?” Taehyung suddenly asks you. His eyes glowering as he waits for your response.

But you look confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think we’re monsters?”

“Taehyung,” Jimin warns with a frown. He turns back to you, opening his mouth as if he’s about to tell you to just forget about his friend’s question.

“You’re not monsters,” you tell him seriously, without hesitation, without looking away. Your answer surprises not just the two hybrids before you, but also the ones in the shadows, listening in. “None of you are.”

You love books.

From the stories that your parents would read you to sleep, to the short stories full of childlike adventure and wonder, and later opening up to genres of drama, horror, fantasy, and romance. Even now, you love immersing yourself in the worlds of writers, escaping and overcoming trails that aren’t your own, and imagining yourself as the main character with every page you turn. It’s something that you can’t get enough of.

You love the weight of a book in your hand, the smooth texture of paper beneath your fingertips, and the earthy, musty smell of aged and worn pages that’ve been sitting on their shelves. You love being so captured by a story, you forget everything else around you, hung to every inked word across the page until the final conclusion.

Entering the library for the first time, surrounded by one of your favorite things, brings you a comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Kangdae never understood your fascination with books. He couldn’t relate to that interest at all, finding it boring and a waste of time. It got harder to indulge in reading when you were with him. There were always chores to do after a long day at work that he never bothered to help with, or spontaneous trips and outings that he’d drag you to just so he can ignore you for his friends and other pretty women throughout the night. Even the books you do own, Kangdae never respected them – he never did with any of your belongings – throwing them when he was mad until the pages were bent and torn from the bindings, or using them as coasters or to spill his drinks on.

Finding yourself in a place like this brings you back to a time before you ever met Kangdae. Where no one really knew you, and you could quietly indulge yourself in the stories you’ve always loved.

Of all the books in the library, one of them catches your eye.

It’s your favorite one. The one about a far-off place with daring sword fights and a prince in disguise.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you hold the book in your hands, flipping through the pages. It’s been well-kept, as have all the other books here. Unlike the copy you had at your home, ruined beyond repair. As you skim through the pages, the story immediately jumps out at you. The descriptions make it easy to imagine, and the flow of words make it hard to put the book down.

Even though you’ve read this story countless times, it never gets old. Because within the pages, entwined with all the action, adventure, and drama, is a love story.

To be loved and to be loved in return.

You’ve always wished for something like that for yourself.

All you’ve ever known about love is from Kangdae. The misery, the arguments, the fear, the anger. You think that’s just the reality of what love is supposed to be. But at least in this story, love seems nice. Even if it’s only fiction.

“That’s a good one.”

You’re startled when Namjoon appears beside you, looking at the book that you have in your hands. He looks wet, as if he’s been outside. Water drips from his soaked clothes, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.

You smile at him sheepishly and admit, “It’s actually my favorite.”

He returns your smile. Those deep dimples pop up on his cheeks as he offers, “If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Oh! Thank you, I appreciate it, but I really can’t,” you decline, although very touched and almost tempted by the gift. “I don’t know how I can repay you for letting us stay here until the storm passes.”

“You don’t need to repay me anything,” he assures you sincerely. Perhaps to him, he’s just returning the favor you did for him years ago.

“I should at least give you money or something.” You don’t have much on you, though. Just whatever is left of what you’ve been secretly saving up.

Namjoon seems to consider it, but then, almost a bit shyly, he asks, “What about a date instead?”

You’re not entirely sure what Namjoon is thinking when he asks you on a date.

It’s still raining outside. Thunder, lightning, strong winds, and all. Even if you could leave the old manor, there isn’t anywhere to go. You’re surrounded by a thick forest in the middle of nowhere.

Still, Namjoon has you close your eyes.

His big, strong, and incredibly warm hands take yours in his, as he guides you to wherever he plans to take you. He smells like rain, and his clothes are still slightly damp from patrolling outside.

Your footsteps echo together in the quiet manor as he leads you out of the library. You can feel his gaze on your face, making sure you don’t ruin his surprise, and taking in all your features up close. And you bite back a giggle when you hear him bump into things every now and then before quickly assuring you that he’s okay and reminding you not to open your eyes yet.

“Watch your step,” he warns as he takes you somewhere colder. You clumsily stumble over the step anyway, nearly falling if it isn’t for his hands steadying you.

“Namjoon, where—?”

“Okay,” he says with a baited breath. “Open your eyes.”

Connected to the curtainless sunroom with the tennis table and the comfortable seating area is a greenhouse. You noticed it when Jimin and Taehyung showed you around earlier, but you didn’t have a chance to look inside. Namjoon smiles eagerly as he shows you his private, indoor garden: the bonsai trees that are starting to bloom with flowers, monstera plants standing tall with giant leaves, and bundles of flowers like roses, snapdragons, and lilies.

“Wow, Namjoon,” you say in awe, looking around. It feels like walking into the library for the first time, marveling at the magic the room brings. “These are beautiful.”

“I grew them myself,” Namjoon proudly states, rubbing his neck shyly. “They’re nothing compared to Hoseok and Jimin’s garden, but I thought I should still show you this place. I like coming here when I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can see why,” you remark. It’s nice here. All the flowers and plants look like they’re well-taken care of, healthy and thriving despite the ominous weather conditions. You come across a flower that you’ve never seen before. It looks like a cross between a lily and a rose, iridescent in color but with a thing of blue and purple. Their leaves and stems shine green like emeralds. “What are these?”

“Pretty, right? I call them smeraldo flowers,” he explains. His eyes light up with the way you admire them. “In the language of flowers, they mean non potevo dire la verità – the truth that couldn’t be told.”

“I’ve never seen anything like them.” You carefully touch the soft, delicate petal of the flower. They almost look like they’re made of magic.

“They’re beautiful like you.”

You look up at Namjoon just then, a bit surprised by the compliment. He seems a bit embarrassed, trying to hide his face as if he hadn’t meant to say those words out loud.

You’ve been called beautiful before. Sometimes, you think your natural beauty is all that Kangdae sees in you. It’s the only reason he ever tried to pursue you. But hearing it from Namjoon, who seems sincere with his words and intentions, it feels different.

It feels nice.

“I don’t know about that. These are very beautiful flowers,” you reply with a shy smile. “But thank you, Namjoon. You’re really kind.”

“I know the other guys are having a… difficult time adjusting to you. We haven’t had a guest here in a long time, especially a human one,” Namjoon tries to justify on their behalf. “They’re not bad, though. None of us are. So, you don’t need to be afraid while you’re here. But if you ever feel lost or scared, you can always come here. This place, these flowers, they bring me comfort. I hope they do the same for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon,” you repeat with a small smile. He really is so kind to you. “And I get it. Don’t worry. I don’t know what any of them have been through, but I don’t blame them for being cautious of me.”

Although you haven’t had many encounters with hybrids before, you know of the mistreatment they’ve endured from humans. How they’re treated like outcasts, and are constantly on the threat of being enslaved as laborers, entertainers, or pets. You see them protesting for their rights, and how laws constantly change to their disadvantage.

But if you’ve learned anything while being with Jungkook, it’s that he isn’t too different from you. He likes to sing and dance to music while you’re driving, he snores in his sleep, he loves the taste of banana milk and ice cream.

It hurts a little, but you understand why they’re weary of you. Why the hybrids aren’t able to easily trust you the way they can trust Jungkook, even though he’s just as much of a stranger to them as you are.

“You really are different from other humans,” Namjoon states with intrigue. The look in his colorful eyes is full of warmth and sincerity.

“I don’t think I’m doing anything different than what any decent person would do.”

“It’s because not a lot of humans treat us like decent people,” Namjoon explains again with a sad smile. “You know, you humans are so fascinating to me. You build grand cities with tall skyscrapers, you create beautiful art pieces that evoke feelings and different interpretations to your work, you write countless moving stories of wisdom, fantasy, and poetry. I wanted to be a rapper because I felt like I needed my voice to be heard in this world. All the anger I felt about being born a hybrid, all the sadness and loneliness I felt from being shunned away, all the fear of never being able to be heard or accepted. I went to the underground to prove that I can be as good as the humans are. That my voice is just as worthy to be heard as theirs.”

“It is worthy,” you tell him firmly. “I still remember the night I saw you perform so clearly. You were the best one out of all of them. Even better than some professional rappers in the industry these days.”

He looks away bashfully, but quietly replies, “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

“After the incident,” you start, both of you recalling that night when people discovered that he was a hybrid, “I was hoping that I’d see you again.”

“I had hoped to see you too.”

The confession is soft, but you still hear it over the sound of rain and thunder. In the greenhouse, standing in the garden where loneliness is in full bloom, you feel something stir inside you. Something warm. Something real.

You can’t place your finger on why. But you start to think about the meaning of love.

And you have to wonder, has Namjoon been thinking about you this whole time? Does he remember that night he met you as clearly as you do? Is that why he’s so welcoming to bring you into his home? Is that why he’s been so kind to you?

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

His eyes are so mesmerizing, you don’t realize the rain has stopped. That the roars of thunder and flashes of lightning have suddenly died down. That all you can hear is your own heartbeat in your chest as you look up at the handsome man before you.

“What kind of hybrid are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

For the other hybrids, it’s obvious what they are: Seokjin is a wolf, Yoongi is a leopard, Hoseok is a deer, Jimin is a swan, Taehyung is a bear, and Jungkook is a bunny. But Namjoon, who mostly looks human, you have a hard time figuring out what he could be.

“I’m a beast. A miserable, ugly beast.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “I don’t think you’re—”

“But I am,” he interrupts with a frown. He looks at you seriously. “Trust me. You don’t want to see me in that form. You’ll be scared.”

You want to disagree. But you can tell that he doesn’t want to talk about the side of himself that he seems to hate so much, so you drop it. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew you’d be curious.” He sighs and rubs his neck again, seeming a bit torn with himself. A clash of thunder sounds from the distance, as if the storm is about to pick up again. As if the anger and sadness in the skies reflect Namjoon himself. “It’s just… if I had it my way, you’d never have to see it. You’ll always remember me the way that you see me now.”

You nod your head in understanding. Perhaps that’s why you’re also forbidden to go into the west wing. Maybe the truth of what kind of beast he is lies in that area.

Your gaze turns back to the smeraldo flowers. Under the moonlight, they almost look like they’re glowing with an ethereal and tragic beauty Flowers that mean an untold truth. Somehow, that makes you feel a little sad.

“Whether you’re a beast or a human, you’re not a monster, Namjoon.”

He smiles at you sadly. “I wish I could believe that. But thank you.”

The spontaneous “date” comes to an end, and like a gentleman, Namjoon walks you up to the east wing and stops in front of your bedroom.

Before you go inside, you turn to face him. “I had a nice time, Namjoon.”

You mean it, too. Quiet nights in, looking at beautiful flowers in the garden, sharing book recommendations in the library. It’s the perfect night for you.

“You don’t have to go after the storm ends,” Namjoon suddenly tells you. “You can stay here if you want. Both you and Jungkook.”

“I don’t know, Namjoon. Your pack—”

“I’ll talk to them. I’m sure they’ll come around to the idea,” he starts, looking like he wants to add more to it. Because, for some reason, you’re very special to him.

“It’s not just that.”

He’s already done so much for you already. There’s no way you’ll be able to repay him.

“How about we make a deal?”

You pause, looking at him with hesitance. “What kind of deal?”

“I don’t want your money, or do anything that you won’t feel comfortable with,” he quickly assures you. “The woods are dangerous, and the storm isn’t going to stop anytime soon. At least here, you’ll be safe. You’ll have your own room, you can have dinner with us, you’re free to wander the east wing and use the common rooms. All I ask is that you go on another date with me tomorrow night. And the night after, if you still decide to stay.”

You think about it. It seems like the best option for now.

You’ll still be hidden from Kangdae and the people looking for you. You’ll be safe from the wolves and other predators lurking in the deep, dark woods. You won’t have to say goodbye to Jungkook so soon, and you can spend another night like this with Namjoon.

“Why would you want me to stay when I’m human?” you ask him.

“Humans are fascinating. You’re fascinating,” Namjoon admits with a shy smile. “I just want to get to know you more.”

“I don’t think I’m that interesting of a human.” You can’t build skyscrapers, you can’t create masterpieces, and you can’t write stories the way your favorite authors do. “You’ll be disappointed.”

“I won’t. Because you’re you.” He seems so sure of that.

You smile a little at that.

“I’ll consider it,” you decide, heart fluttering as you half-joke, “I feel like you’re trying to make me fall in love with you.”

“You won’t,” Namjoon softly says, also just as sure. The way he looks at you makes your heart ache. “Why would someone as beautiful as you ever love a beast like me?”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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#to be loved #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #hybrid namjoon #hybrid namjoon x reader #hybrid namjoon x you #hybrid bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader

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tryingtoremembermyname · 8 months

Text

namjoon details

other members :

yoongi

hoseok

jungkook

jimin

taehyung

seokjin

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 9 months

Text

— The Archer | R. Targaryen *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Comfort

▹ Words: ~3.7k

▹ Summary: All of Rhaenyra's enemies started as friends and she's terrified you'll be next.

▹ Note: Your Honor, I'm gay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There'd been a shift in your relationship with Rhaenyra.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had happened or the exact reason for it. But something had changed. No longer did she freely show her affections in the privacy of her chambers, nor did she reach out to hold your hand in hers. Cold and distant, Rhaenyra didn't call on you as much as she previously had.

Paranoia had you in its claws; had you done something wrong? Did she find someone else to fall in love with? Perhaps someone she could be with so publicly, not a lowly handmaiden she could only ever have in the quiet of the night.

Your heart hammered with anxiety and suspense; tossing and turning, sleep had evaded you as you began to keep tally of how many times Rhaenyra called on your aid. The most in one day had been three, and she used to call on you double that amount just to be in your presence. Something was wrong; you just didn't know what.

She wouldn't even meet your gaze anymore.

It made you squirm when in her presence, where once you had been at complete ease. Doubt made your sunny skies turn gray as insecurities gnawed on you. Did she rekindle her friendship with Queen Alicent and leave you in the dust? Or was it Daemon Targaryen who captured her attention from you? Perhaps someone new to the court you hadn't even realized was a threat.

There was nothing to do; you were helpless, unable to act as the woman you loved drifted further away. Goodbye was screaming in the silence between the two of you.

Hands shaking and breathing unsteady, your footsteps echoed in the dark halls, its flickering candles casting monsters in the corner of your vision. Your fingers gripped the serving tray in your hand so tight that all circulation had been cut off as your knuckles turned white. The decanter of wine shook, and its sound called out just how terrified you were.

The princess had requested red wine as she prepared for bed, and you were terribly anxious this would be the night she'd officially end the relationship the two of you shared. But you didn't want that; you didn't want to face the harsh reality that everything was crumbling around you. You'd take awkward silence over definite endings.

All too soon, you reached her chambers, the doors looming over you in a mocking manner. Carefully, you raised a single fist to the door and knocked, the rap of your fist almost as loud as the beat of your heart. A lump was caught in your throat as you waited.

"Come in." The walls muffled Rhaenyra's voice, but you'd heard them well enough, always too aware of anything related to Rhaenyra. And maybe that was where you went wrong. Blinded by the princess, you took her words as an oath and not the petty dalliance she probably viewed it as.

Carefully, hands still shaking, you opened the door. The sweat on your palm nearly made it stick to the cool metal of the knob.

The room was dimly lit by half-melted candles and candelabras spread throughout the large chamber. The duvet on her large bed was pulled back, inviting her to sink into the plush mattress of cloud-like pillows. Rhaenyra sat in front of her vanity, hair loose and unbraided, dressed in a night dress and a silk robe. She turned her head as you entered, purple eyes carefully watching you with an unreadable expression.

She used to look at you with warmth and vibrant affection, every emotion she felt visible on her face. Now it was like looking at a statue, harsh and emotionless. The pit in your stomach burrowed deeper, and your heart got caught in your throat. Where did it all go wrong?

Your eyes darted from her, unable to stare any longer without bursting into tears. The walls were closing in on you as the ability to breathe was taken from you. Like a rat, you hurried to the other side of the room, setting the tray on a small table.

You opened the decanter, pouring the red wine into the glass. You took your time to avoid spilling anything. You needed to be out of the room as soon as possible. The weight of Rhaenyra's eyes on you was equivalent to the ceiling collapsing onto you. A scenario you would've preferred over this one; at least then death would be quicker than this slow burn.

There was a soft clank as you set down the crystal decanter. With the glass of wine in hand, you turned and walked towards Rhaenyra. Eyes lowered to the floor, and counting each step taken, you set the glass on the vanity, a few inches from Rhaenyra's hand, that tightly gripped the wood's edge.

You didn't mutter a word, simply lowering into a slight curtsey before turning and exiting the room. Except you hadn't made it that far, only crossing half of the room before Rhaenyra spoke.

"Wait."

You stopped in your tracks, the hammer of your heart so loud you wouldn't be surprised if all of Dragonstone heard it.

"Come here."

Your eyes fluttered shut, unsure whether you should be relieved or terrified. She would either take you in her arms as she had nearly every night the past year, or she'd fully sever the thread that tied the two of you together.

Deeply you inhaled, held it for a moment, then exhaled, opening your eyes. You turned, eyes still on the floor, as you returned to where Rhaenyra sat. You waited for her to speak, terrified of what she may say. So silent you could've blended into the walls; things had never been this way between you. Rhaenyra had always been more of a friend than a superior and then a friend that became a lover.

But now she would become a stranger again.

"Would you brush my hair and plait it for bed?" She spoke to you as if you were a stranger, even-toned and perfectly polite. But perhaps if you'd been looking anywhere other than your feet, you'd have noticed the storm of emotions reflected in her eyes.

Wordlessly you nodded, grabbing the hair brush and meticulously brushing out any knots and tangles. You made quick work of it but refrained from seeming too eager to finish the task. The last thing you needed was to potentially anger Rhaenyra, something you'd never been afraid of. But nothing was as it once was.

Her hair was like silk threads between your fingers as you wove each strand into one braid that fell down the middle of her back. While your eyes focused solely on her hair and the task at hand, Rhaenyra's were on you.

A soft smile curled at the edges of her lips, heart heavy with anxiety and fear she didn't dare speak into existence. It wasn't that she wanted to push you away. But as paranoia and fear took root within her mind, rotting away her faith and belief that there were good things out there, distancing herself was better than watching you twist into someone who hated her.

Yet even as she resolved herself to do such, creating an armor of ice to encase herself with, the sting of heartbreak hit her heart. While she would self-soothe with reassurances that it was only raw for now, that soon the ache would dull, she wasn't convinced. In the loneliness of the night, her bed was entirely too big. You should've been in the space beside her, greeting her with sleepy smiles and bleary eyes that sparkled like stars.

Rhaenyra was sure that she'd be getting over you her whole life. Yet missing you wasn't the worst of it.

Never a player of the Great Game the nobles busied themselves with, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was evident the hurt you bore from her sudden withdrawal. Shockwaves of trembling hands and unsteady breaths plagued you, eyes not as bright as they once had been. She noticed it all, and it was like a dagger to the heart every time she did. She never wanted to hurt you; she never wanted you to hate her.

Yet the fear of you twisting the dagger embedded in her chest from past betrayal made her rash. It made her paranoid, visions of treachery riddling her with madness. Alone in the dark, twisting in her sheets, Rhaenyra's doubts spiraled out of control.

But in the solitude of her room, Rhaenyra could feel her walls weakening as your nimble fingers brushed through her hair.

You continued your work on Rhaenyra's hair, nearly finished as you reached the end. Before Rhaenyra could return the mask of indifference to her face, you were tying her braid with a cord, eyes moving from her head to meet her eyes in the mirror. Reflected in her eyes was the same pain and longing in yours. It made a lump return to your throat, a small sliver of hope like dawn coming after night.

Neither of you spoke, your hands still tangled in the ends of her hair. Time had stopped, the both of you screaming a million things with your eyes. Yet neither of you could understand the other, leading to more confusion as your heart continued to break. She nearly reached out and snatched your hands; in fact, she was lifting her hand, fingers outstretched--

The sudden rumble of thunder broke the silence as you jumped back from Rhaenyra, hands falling to your side, and Rhaenyra mourned the loss of your touch. She realized how much she truly missed it.

"Will that be all, my lady?" You lowered your head, eyes once again on your feet.

Rhaenyra hesitated. She'd wanted you to stay, to pull you into her arms and make you swear you'd never leave her. She wanted you to leave kisses on her face, punctuating each one with a promise of undying fealty, not as an heir to the Iron Throne but as the woman you loved. So close within her grasp, she could have reached out and captured your hand, holding it so tight she wouldn't feel a thing. Everything she wanted stood before her, patiently waiting for her to speak.

And yet Rhaenyra found herself tongue-tied, fighting a war no one else knew was waging. Could she take the leap, put her faith, trust, and everything sacred to her in you, and just simply hope you wouldn't turn your back on her? Could she fully bare her soul, grant you her heart, and pray you wouldn't crush it? Love involved a leap of faith that Rhaenyra was hesitant to take.

How could she open up after so much betrayal from the ones she least expected it from?

But at the same time, all she was feeling was pain that she had inflicted on herself. Was she some sort of masochist, content with being hurt so long as she could wield when and who it came from?

"Princess?" Your voice pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts as she refocused on her surroundings. You were looking at her, a hint of concern in the cracks of your neutral expression.

It only made Rhaenyra's heart twist. You should be cursing her name, swearing up and down the halls Rhaenyra Targaryen was a cheat and a liar. And yet...

You still cared; it shone in how you watched her, eyes too keen and all-knowing. But if you were all-knowing, why couldn't you see the paranoid propaganda she was feeding herself? She wished, more than anything, you were the mind reader she often joked you were.

Time seemed to slow, unknown words forming on her tongue and falling from her mouth.

"Stay with me."

For a moment you stared at her, entirely sure you'd heard her wrong. Yet even as you replayed her answer over and over again, it hadn't changed. She wanted you to stay. Yet even as you lit up with newfound optimism, you crushed it before it could blossom. You didn't want to be let down.

You then nodded, unable to stifle the small smile on your lips. "Of course, princess. What is it you require of me?"

Rhaenyra picked up the glass of wine that had remained untouched up until that moment, and she stood from the vanity. She tipped the glass back, welcoming the bitter taste of it.

"Have a drink with me."

You nodded, following Rhaenyra as she walked towards the table where you had placed the decanter of wine. You moved to pour the glass, but Rhaenyra beat you to it, filling a second glass she presented before topping off her own.

"Thank you," you muttered, taking the glass and tentatively sipping. It was all so familiar, like a sense of deja-vu from when the two of you would sip wine and explore fantasies that could never be. Yet the air was never this thick with tension.

Rhaenyra sat at the table, motioning with her head for you to follow suit, which you did. Your fingers drummed on the wood, nerves making you restless. It felt as though you were awaiting trial for crimes against the crown.

Unspoken words hovered in the atmosphere, tangible yet elusive. Rhaenyra drank the wine like water while you hardly touched yours. Your stomach was so twisted that the thought of drinking anything made you nauseous.

The only indication that any time had passed was the dwindling wine and the storm that continued to rage outside. After her third glass had been drained, Rhaenyra set down the cup, pushing it away to indicate she was finished.

Only then did her eyes find yours, expression severe and austere. There were small lines along her forehead from the furrow of her brows and creases from the frown on her lips. You wanted to smooth them all and kiss away whatever made her so cold, yet that wasn't your place anymore.

"Do you love me?" She spoke softly, yet a sharp edge to her words carried the weight of an unspoken accusation. She judged you guilty of crimes you never even committed, put you in a cell, and destroyed the key without so much of a trial.

Yet you could do nothing but answer her earnestly because no matter the number of cuts in your skin from her sudden distance, your heart would always belong to her and only her.

"Yes."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightens, and in the flicker of the candles, you see the quiver of her lip and the slight shake of her form. She was crumbling, ash to the fire you radiated. Any resolve to preserve her heart in the act of self-sabotage was destroyed.

"Say it." The words were strained, Rhaenyra's eyes shut so tight the skin might rip. Tears pricked in her eyes, and Rhaenyra did her best to keep them at bay.

"I love you." You said it with such conviction and sincerity, Rhaenyra nearly believed it. Her eyes remained shut, but her body slackened and sunk into her chair. However, you leaned forward, eyes narrowed as everything clicked into place.

"Is that why you have been so distant and different? Did you believe I did not love you?" You asked, hands finding Rhaenyra's. You gripped them tightly as if to force Rhaenyra to truly see you.

"It is silly," she laughed, the sounds hollow and empty. She refused to look at you, knowing the burning passion in your eyes would make her fully give in. But she needed to maintain the walls around her heart, even if you kept tearing them down as she put them into place. She wouldn't be hurt by anyone ever again.

"It is not," you argued, squeezing her hand. "Look at me." She didn't heed your request, stubbornly turning her head away. You stood, the wood of your chair scraping against the stone floor, and you kneeled before Rhaenyra, pulling one of her hands into yours, elbows resting atop her knees.

"Rhaenyra, look at me." Still, she refused. With your free hand, you forced her head to face you. "'Nyra, please." With your final plea, her eyes fluttered open, purple iris' glossy from unshed tears. Diamonds under her eyes glistened, carving a path down her cheek as a few stray tears fell.

"I love you. I have loved you since the day I laid my eyes upon you. I need you to know that to understand the way I feel will never change."

"You don't know that. You cannot predict how you will feel in the future." She was stubbornly arguing, clinging to the last bit of fight she had. Your touch was burning her skin from her humiliation at appearing so weak.

"No, I may not be able to see the future, but I know how I feel for you, and I know that won't change."

"I can't be hurt again. All my enemies were once friends, and I cannot bear to see the same happen to you. I cannot lose you." Her hand ghosted over your cheek, her hand that was in your grasp interlocking with your fingers.

"And you will not. I won't betray you as Queen Alicent of Ser Criston or any of the others that left scars on you. What must I do to make you see that?"

Sharply Rhaenyra inhaled, choked sobs raking through her body. "I do not know how to stop it. I am terrified, so terrified. I do not want to be disappointed, not again."

You swallowed thickly, allowing her words to process as your thumbs stroked the palm of her hand. Like the weather outside, you were a tempest of emotions. A blend of sadness, desperation to comfort Rhaenyra, and burning anger towards those at King's Landing who had created these wounds.

Rhaenyra always had to maintain a strong facade as the heir to the throne, especially with her claim constantly being questioned. But for now, you would be the source of strength she had to be for so many people.

Rhaenyra continued to cry as you all but cradled her against you.

"Then I promise to do my best to never let that happen, and if it does, and one of us is let down by the other, I'll do my damndest to ensure I am the one that gets hurt."

Rhaenyra was too stunned to speak, the passion behind your words taking her aback. She pulled her head back from your chest to give you a wide-eyed stare.

You were truly in love with her; you'd meant every sleepy promise and quiet confession. The words you spoke hadn't been hasty or impulsive. They were an oath sworn under a canopy of stars with the gods as your witness. Rhaenyra had been a fool to not realize it before.

"I love you."

It was all she uttered before her lips were on yours. The kiss was salty from the tears falling from Rhaenyra's eyes, but you didn't mind, more than content to be pulled beneath the waves of her waters.

This kiss felt different from all the others you'd shared, a show of affection and relief that the cold war waging between you was over. There would be peace, and Rhaenyra could return to her home in your arms.

It was also more than that; it was also a declaration of devotion between the two of you, as sacred as any wedding. The waters would be rough, and the two of you could never truly be together anywhere other than the privacy of these four walls. Yet it was everything you'd wanted.

Rhaenyra was everything you wanted.

You returned her fervor, determined to make her feel every word you hadn't spoken. Gently, your tongue slipped past her lips, and you swallowed the small gasp she let out. One hand was on the nape of her neck, keeping her close while the other traced patterns along the curve of her cheek. She tasted like wine and imported berries from the Reach, an intoxicating blend that made your mind grow hazy.

She pulled back first, only centimeters separating the two of you. Eye to eye, her forehead resting on yours, she breathed in. The tip of her nose brushed against yours as you panted.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. How could you possibly forgive me," Rhaenyra spoke with as much reverence as a Sept reciting sacred prayers.

"Because I love you," you spoke, lips brushing over hers. "I love you, and I will continue to do so until the end of my days."

"I do not deserve you."

You cupped her cheek in such a soft and delicate fashion. She was a work of art, and you'd handle her with the care she deserved.

"You deserve so much more than you've been given, 'Nyra. I cannot give you much, but I will give you all my love; I can promise you that. I will never betray you, I will never leave you, and I will never, ever stop loving you."

She breathed out a laugh, a sweet smile on her swollen lips that were bruised from the kiss you'd shared. "And I promise you that when I am named Queen, I will make a new order and marry you, proprietary be damned. I want you, and I will have you. No court, army, or god could stop me."

There was a glow on your face, her words making you feel as high as the heavens. The smile on your face would never be wiped off. Truth rang in Rhaenyra's words, and you knew they weren't pretty promises to make you feel all light and giggly.

"Do not start a war for me," you muttered in a playful tone, undoing the plait you had done so you could card your fingers through her hair.

"I would burn down the entire world for you." She spoke with such devotion it made your cheeks flush pink.

"Perhaps we start with you kissing me again."

And Rhaenyra complied with your request, over and over again, determined to make up for the hurt she inflicted.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #house targaryen #hotd #queen rhaenyra #angst and comfort #taylor swift inspired

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Intersect, Part 9 | KNJ

Intersect, Part 9

Definition: To meet and cross at a point; To share a common area

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x fem!reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Office!AU; enemies to lovers; fluff; angst; smut; NSFW

Word count: 5.5K+ words

Warnings: office banter; excessive cussing; office romance; sexually explicit conversations; dirty talk; bed-sharing; oral (F-receiving); fingering; clit-play; un/intentional voyeurism; vulnerable confessions; life-altering decisions (not sure if that's a legitimate warning); so much angst

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. You were both fine staying in your own lanes–until you’re forced to work together on a make-or-break project for your company.

A/N: Incoming angst!

The trip home was long, to say the least. You’ve taken this flight many times and five hours typically zip by for you–now, it feels considerably slower.

You wrapped up your conversation with Haejin asking for some time to think about her offer. If you were being honest, it was a very attractive offer. And you had a week to give her an answer.

You spent the entire flight weighing the pros and cons.

If you accepted the offer:

Onboarding would start immediately, jetting off to New York City first

You’d learn on the job, right next to Haejin for the first month then you're off on your own

You would travel around the world, under the banner of the Moonstone Foundation

You would have a larger team and call the shots

You’d get paid a lot of $$$

You would be working your dream job

If you turned down the offer:

You would remain close to home, close to your family

You would still have a great job that you love, in a company that equally respects your work

You wouldn’t have to make any huge adjustments in your life

And who else was in your life?

Namjoon.

Where would your tall, sweet human fit in all this?

Would he be supportive? You thought he would be. Namjoon was just as career-driven as you were. In the two years that you’ve worked with him, you don’t remember him ever taking any time off—and his team could vouch for that.

Except that one time. When he flew across the country to see you. One whole day, that he chose to spend with you.

If you took this job—would he wait for you? It seemed like a lot to ask of somebody who declared his commitment to you mere weeks ago.

Was it a declaration of commitment? He hadn’t said the words…and neither have you.

But you were absolutely sure about how you felt. That one day cemented that.

Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and be sure to stow away your tray tables. We are starting to make our initial descent.

As the familiar city lights twinkle thousands of feet beneath you, you think of how you couldn’t wait to get home.

When you walk out of the arrivals area, you catch a glimpse of it. A little over six-feet tall, beanie, hoodie, and jeans—with the sexiest smile and those dimples that never fail to reel you in.

“Welcome home, baby.”

******

This was not going to be an easy conversation, by any means. He had barely rolled your luggage in and was on you in an instant.

“Joon…we…we need to talk.” You manage to say in between pants as he continues to ravish you by your doorway.

“Can it wait? I missed you so much and I pretty much counted the minutes at the office until I had to take the train to the airport to come pick you up,” he says in between kisses.

“I missed you, too,” you reply, cupping his face in your hands, kissing him just as eagerly.

He reaches his hand up your jean shorts, the truncated in-seam providing him easy-access. You gasp out loudly when slips beneath the layers.

“So wet already?” he purrs.

“Hmm–only for you,” you sighed, your tongue darting out to lick his lower lip while he worked the bundle of nerves you had built up on the flight back.

He slides two fingers in your cunt. “You want me in there? Hm?”

“Yes” you mewled while your walls clench around his digits. “I want you in me, now.” Your teeth graze his chin.

You were so lost in the moment that both of you flinched when your phone started going off. You groan in frustration, trying to dig it out of your pocket to silence it until you get a glimpse of the caller ID.

“Fuck, it’s just Yoongi. I’ll just let it go to voicemail,” you said.

Namjoon looks you square in the eyes. “Answer it.”

His suggestion catches you by surprise.

“You heard me,” he commands while his fingers continue to pump slowly inside of you. “Better hurry up before it stops ringing.”

Before you know it, you tap the green button on your screen to pick up.

“H-hello?” You try to control your ragged breaths

“Hi, YN. I wasn’t sure if you were going to pick up–”

“I just got home from the airport, what’s up?” Namjoon pulls his fingers out of you and puts them to his mouth and sucks on them.

It turns you on to the point of no return. What a fucking prick.

“Mirai and I were supposed to have a check-in tomorrow morning about the data analysis for the ACF project. I just wondered if I could add you to the meeting invite?”

Namjoon smirks at you before he drops down to his knees, undoing the button and zipper to your bottoms, pulling it down along with your panties in one swift move.

You gasp softly at the abrupt action. “Uh–c-couldn’t you have just emailed this to me, Yoongi?”

You look down and watch him hook your right leg up to his shoulder, your free hand clinging onto a bookshelf that you were so glad that Jungkook bolted to the wall.

“I was but uhm–the meeting’s at 8AM and I didn’t want to surprise you—“

“A-hah,” you yelped at the feel of his velvety tongue licking one long stripe over your clit.

“YN? Are you—alright?”

You bit back a moan as the tip of his skilled tongue teases the sensitive bud.

“Sorry, I—I was just writing some notes from my trip and remembered something,” you lied.

“Anyway–are you free tomorrow morning? I know you try to block off 8AM for emails and general office stuff but since you just met with them, I think it would be really helpful to get some fresh input.”

“Yeesss,” you say a little breathily. “I mean, yes, that’s fine.”

Namjoon was really working you now. You look down at him, his eyes up at you, fully cognizant of what he was doing.

His palms were on your ass, pushing you closer to his mouth to torture you further–tonguing your clit while three relentless fingers, massaged and curled around your insides. Your thighs started to quake–your orgasm would hit you any minute now and Yoongi was going to be on the other line to hear you fall apart.

“Yeah, I was thinking, it would also be great to–”

“Hmmphh…shit,” your hand flies to your mouth to stifle a high-pitched moan while Namjoon’s fingers hasten.

“Sorry–Say that again? I didn’t catch that,” Yoongi says, confused.

“Nothing! I’m–I’m–c-close…close to a breakthrough here,” you managed to say before he sucked on the extremely sensitive flesh. You were seconds away from freefalling.

“Aah–just-send-the-invite-see-you-tomorrow-bye,” you say in a rush before you frantically fumble to end the call, moments before your body starts to jerk, followed by a loud, lingering sigh.

Namjoon rises to his feet, eyes wide open with a big smile on his face. His lips and chin, coated in your arousal. “Fuck, that was so hot!”

You grimaced. “I think he might be traumatized. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep a straight face tomorrow.”

He waves you off, “He’ll be fine,” then leans in to give you a kiss. Just then, that tent he had in his pants pokes you in your belly.

You giggled before you palmed him through his jeans. “Now let’s take care of you.”

******

The morning was shaping up to be hectic. You grabbed a medium, triple-shot mocha from the cafe around the corner from the office to help brace for all of your meetings. The days after a business trip are always frenzied–expense reports, meeting notes, client debriefs, follow-ups…and worst of all, catching up on all of the other work that you missed out on while you were away.

Yoongi tried his best to act professional during your meeting. You knew that he knew what you were doing on the phone–or at least had a pretty good idea of it.

But you didn’t let it faze you. You were composed and gave him all of the information that he needed to move his project along.

After he thanked you for all of the helpful input that you provided, scurried off to his office and mentioned something about a new opportunity that he had to discuss with Celina.

Your next meeting was a huddle with Jimin and Mirai, who filled you in on the latest information on the baseline survey responses. You were happy to know that Namjoon kept everything moving smoothly, resolving any internal issue while keeping you informed of any high-level decisions that you needed to make.

The day was waning and you barely had a chance to catch Namjoon apart from smiles down the hallway and quick work chat messages to check in.

You were so inundated with work that you almost missed the new piece of decor hanging in your office—a small replica of Seurat’s The Lighthouse at Honfleur. It was the painting that you spent time admiring at the museum.

You couldn’t help but smile.

******

“Hey, I have something to tell you. You think we can talk later?” You poke your head into his office after taking a chance when you see his door ajar.

“Of course. Everything okay?” He beckons you to come in while he stands by his bookshelf, trying to search for some reference materials.

Since last night’s attempt was unsuccessful on account of a few…’distractions,’ you were more determined to have this conversation sooner rather than later.

You shut the door as soon as you step in. “Yeah, everything’s great. I just wanted to run something by you—can you come over tonight?”

“Sure. I have a code review with Hobi and Tae at 5. It was the only open time we had on our calendars today,” he grimaces. “So–I probably won’t get in ‘til after 6:30?”

“That’s totally fine,” you smiled. “Just come by when you’re done–whatever time that is.”

“Okay. I have my key,” he says proudly.

It’s only been a couple months but since you both frequented the other’s place, you thought it made sense to give each other keys the week before you left for your business trip. Logical.

He figured he could also revive your dying house plants while you were away–and he was right. Practical.

“Perfect. I’ll make you dinner,” you said.

He beams back at you. “Can’t wait.” He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he excuses himself to walk over to his next meeting.

******

Namjoon gets in a bit later than expected and looks a bit frazzled when he walks through the door. His meeting with Hobi and Taehyung had run over. A routine code review turned into a troubleshooting session. Namjoon’s team inherited the program from a previous contractor and, needless to say, their quality control was little to nonexistent. When Namjoon left the office, they had barely gotten the program into a stable mode so Hobi and Taehyung elected to stay a bit longer to monitor it in case it crashed again.

You welcome him with a piping hot bowl of jjajangmyeon. “Woah—this is so good, baby. What would I do without you?”

You take in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. From what? You’re not exactly sure why. Maybe it was the fact that a lucrative job offer had just landed on your lap not so long ago–and you were wrestling with the thought of taking it and asking the man that you loved to cool his heels while you lived your dream.

You were both accomplished in your own rights. Namjoon had charted his own path and you did the same. He was already reaping the benefits of hitting a major career milestone while you were just beginning to make strides in yours.

You were ambitious and driven. You had all but mapped out the next five years for yourself–but you never factored him in. He was a variable. Now, you had to determine whether he was the independent or dependent kind.

“So, I ran into Kim Haejin on my last day.”

“Oh! That’s…random.”

“It was. She’s doing some lobbying for Moonstone.”

He nods. He’s been to Capitol Hill a handful of times and seen special interest groups trying to round up legislators, competing for their attention to push their agenda. Some had genuine and sincere intentions while a few…just wanted to pay a few digits less on their tax returns.

“Anyway, we met up after our meetings at the Capitol and I found out that she’s also been in contact with the children and families committees up there—really trying to push forth this one piece of legislation that a few people in congress are sponsoring.”

He hums. “I gotta hand it to her. Running a family corporation, a charitable foundation, and juggling motherhood on top of all that? I don’t know how she manages it.”

This was it. You braced yourself while you broached the topic.

“Well—that’s the thing. She thinks she’s stretched too thin because of all of these responsibilities. So…she’s looking into handing off the Foundation.”

He slows his chewing.

“Oh. So…what does that mean for grantees? And uh…contractors? For us?”

You slowed your pace. “She’s not quite handing it off in a sense that she’s ending the Foundation. She wants someone to take over for her—to oversee the program.”

“Okay…”

You felt your heart start to beat out of your chest.

“She asked…me…if I could do it.”

His eyes bulge out of their sockets and he almost chokes on his food. “Baby—that’s…that’s great! What did you tell her? Oh shit. But you’d have to leave the company…ah—what the heck? This is your dream, YN! This is fucking amazing!” He was beaming with pride.

You smiled back at him, feeling some relief as he looked so happy for you.

“I mean…I, I told her I’d think about it first.”

“Aish, c’mon, YN! What’s there to think about?” He says it as if it was a no-brainer. This fueled your confidence.

“Well—for starters, I’d have to embark on a ‘tour’ of sorts,” you gestured with air quotations. “You know, to promote the Foundation, expand partnerships internationally—“

“A tour?” He looks puzzled.

“Y-yeah. The tentative schedule on the calendar is for a year—possibly longer—Asia, Africa, Latin America...The organization is growing rapidly. I also have to make sure that Jungkook is settled. Plus, our relationship is—“ You stop your babbling when you see his face falter.

“Y-you’ll be gone for a year?” he whispers.

Your heartbeat lurches. “A year, maybe more,” you say hesitantly.

In an instant, his expression turns despondent. Although his eyes were downcast, you could see his jaw ticking.

You rest your palms on either side, cupping his face, trying to tilt it upwards to look into his eyes.

“Joon, look at me—“ He does, and you wished that he hadn’t. He had a smile on his lips but his eyes were pained.

Tears started to sting your eyes. “Baby—“

His hands rest over yours, assuaging you. “Hey—You should take the job.”

You take in a shallow breath. “Well, see, the reason I haven’t taken it is because…I was thinking about us. It’s going to be so hard being away from you. And I–Namjoon, I…” you paused for a beat. This wasn’t exactly how you pictured it but you had to let him know–and you had to know if he felt the same. “I lo–”

You are interrupted by his phone blaring on your dining room table. He glances at the caller ID. “Shit, it’s Taehyungie. Hold on.”

However sweet you thought Taehyung was when you worked together, you wanted to strangle him through the phone for his shitty timing.

“What?” Namjoon groans into the phone. “Fuck. I thought we cleaned up the duplicates?” Another groan. “And the patch didn’t work?” Taehyung murmurs something unintelligible which elicits a low growl from Namjoon while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright. Just…hang tight. Uh–tell Hobi to run the validation script manually to hold off the errors. I’ll head back now.”

He hangs up.

“Sorry–YN, I uh–”

You nodded. “It-it’s fine…”

He hurriedly gathers his wallet and building pass off the table then wordlessly heads to the door to put his shoes on.

You followed right behind him. “Uhm, do you want me to pack some food for you? Maybe bring some for Hobi and Tae? They could be hungry.”

He pauses then turns around abruptly. “N-no, that won’t be necessary,” he replies.

“Uh…okay. Are we–” You blink then shake your head. “Let’s pick this up again tomorrow? I really need–”

“S-sure, yeah. Listen, I–I really have to go.”

You nodded, looking up at him expectantly. When he doesn’t move, you take it upon yourself to close in on him yourself. You tilt your chin up to him and give him a kiss. You move your lips against his, coaxing his mouth open to slip your tongue in. He moans softly, lifting his hand to cradle your nape. Deepening the kiss, responding to your languid strokes with his own licks.

He pulls away first, pressing his forehead to yours–bearing that same pained expression in his eyes when you asked him to look up at you.

“Let me know when you get home?”

After giving you a small nod, he’s out the door.

******

You must have been dreaming. The last thing you remember is Namjoon leaving your apartment–he seemed off after you told him about the job offer. Did you miss his text or call?

You feel your mattress sink, you get a whiff of a combination of your body wash and faint traces of men’s cologne. Moments later, warmth envelops you. You were half asleep when you glanced over your shoulder to see Namjoon burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Is it really you?” You croaked out.

He chuckles softly, his warm breath fanning your ear. “Who else would it be?”

You roll over to face him. “I thought you went home?”

“I thought I did.”

You smile languidly. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He kisses your forehead and moves down to give you a peck on your lips before he pulls you in closer to his chest. In an instant, you drift right back to sleep.

******

“Okay so, I have like, four tickets to the actual ceremony but only two for the baccalaureate. I was thinking maybe you and mom can come because–with dad and his sleep apnea–he’ll be snoring up a storm and I really don’t–”

“Kookie–it’s fine,” you chuckled. “You don’t have to explain. He can stay and nap at the hotel until the ceremony starts in the afternoon.”

“Have you asked Namjoon-hyung to find out if he can make it?”

“I’m sure he can move some things around but I wouldn’t–wouldn’t get my hopes up. He’s been struggling with one of his programs and working nights and weekends to try and fix that.”

“Oh,” he pouts a little and looks dejected on screen.

“I’m sorry–is your ultra-supportive noona’s presence not enough to put a smile on your face on your graduation day?”

He does his big-bunny smile. “Of course it is–I just thought maybe he’d come with you. Because we’ve grown close, I think. He's kind of like the big brother I never had,” he says sheepishly.

“Then why don’t you text him yourself and ask? Like you said–the worse he’ll say is ‘no.’”

He nods. “Speaking of answers–have you responded to that CEO’s job offer yet?”

You sighed. “I–haven’t. I have ‘til the end of the week to let her know. I, uh–talked to Namjoon about it.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for you!”

You made a face and your brother picks up on your uncertainty immediately. “Was he not,” he asks slowly.

You inhaled sharply. “I don’t know how to describe his reaction, exactly. It was–mixed? He was enthusiastic at first and then when I told him about the year-long tour, it was as if someone walked into the room and killed the lights.”

Now it was Jungkook’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”

You explain what happened during dinner and how his excitement died down shortly after. You were already starting to feel deflated because of his reaction until he came back later that night. It seemed to quell your doubts.

“You think he wouldn’t be cool with long-distance?” Your brother asks.

“I don’t know. We haven’t really–reopened the topic since this morning. We’ve both been swamped with other stuff. He’s coming over tonight, though so–maybe we can clear it up then.”

******

While you took absolute pleasure when he fucked you senseless, you had many quiet moments that you relished.

Like this. Both of you laying in your post-fucked out state with your heads at the foot of the bed. Him on his back while you on your stomach, just talking, after a long day at the office.

“I have a confession to make,” he began.

You turn to glance at him while he stares up at the ceiling.

“Remember when I told you that Mayumi ran out of love and patience for me?”

You hummed and nodded cautiously at the mention of an ex from somebody you were seeing.

“She left me because—she said that I held her back and…lately she was starting to resent me for it.”

“W-why would she resent you?”

“Because I was selfish. After finishing my undergrad, I went straight into getting my doctorate. I asked her to move in with me, which she did—at the expense of losing out on a great job opportunity. Moving away from her family. But I convinced her that moving into the city would present more opportunities for her. More options. Plus, we’d be together.”

You weren’t exactly sure what was prompting Namjoon to open up like this but you let him, nodding and humming softly to urge him to continue while you listened.

He goes on to narrate that Celina had hired him right out of undergrad. They first met when she happened to be a visiting lecturer at his university. He caught her eye when he started to challenge one of her findings—which in the end, she admitted was slightly flawed and outdated due to an old theory that she had based it on.

He jumped at the opportunity because she had an esteemed reputation in public policy.

She saw promise in him and convinced him to go straight into a graduate program while he worked as a programmer and research assistant at her budding firm.

You started to get a weird feeling and decided to ask him outright.

“Are you–are you trying to tell me something? You and Celina–” You asked hesitantly.

Your bed shook as a hearty laugh booms out of his chest.

“No, no, baby. I promise you, that’s not where this is going,” he looks at you assuringly. “Besides, I didn’t think I was her type because—I pretty much questioned her at every turn. I wasn’t uhm…agreeable to everything that she said. And I wasn’t doing it to be a dick. I just—wanted to make sure that every angle was taken into consideration, making sure that we were thorough. Which, I think in the end, she respected me for and it made me a good researcher.” He clarifies while he reaches up to kiss your bare shoulder. “We strictly had a mentor and mentee relationship.”

He had obviously risen up the ranks using his smarts and determination. Unfortunately, his ambition drained his personal life.

Mayumi was always trying to accommodate him. Worked her decisions around him. She was happy to do it because she loved him.

“Then one time, I was doing some extra work at home—nothing unusual. But at that specific time, I was feeling some extra pressure at work because I wanted a promotion and I knew that I deserved it. Only thing was, there were three other people in contention. I needed to do something…insanely exceptional to be at the forefront.”

He put in the work, traveled to conferences, strengthened client partnerships, recruited notable researchers–which, at the sound of that, you cocked our eyebrow to. Clearly, all of this was enough to convince Celina and the rest of upper management to reward his efforts.

Once he became Associate Director, it was all downhill for him and Mayumi. They argued more often. She would storm off and pick up extra shifts at work while he spent nights in his office. Somehow, being anywhere but home was more peaceful. It was not healthy.

At some point, they knew that they were done for. But why did Namjoon hang on that long if he didn’t think things were past the point of mending?

“The day that we were submitting that revised proposal? She called me that morning, saying that she was done, she had had it with me. For some reason, I asked her to wait for me. So I rushed out of the office in the middle of the day.”

He didn’t know what he had hoped to accomplish. Would he convince her to stay? Would he promise to change and devote more time to her, like she had asked multiple times before? They’ve gone through this cycle in the last few years. Take a break, get back together.

He tried but her mind had already been made up right before he walked through the door. Before leaving, she told him how she felt as if she’d always had to play second-fiddle to everything else in his life—which was his career.

She’s given up everything because he promised that they would be together—which was true for some time—until his work took over his life and she became an afterthought.

He turns his head to face you again. “All this to say that, I don’t want a repeat of what happened before. I feel that this relationship is much more different than that. I recognize that you have your own dreams and ambitions. I want to support you and—find that balance that I didn’t before. I was too young and too full of myself. I don’t want to be selfish anymore—not with you.”

You regarded him intently. “Joon—“

“Don’t ever let me hold you back from things that you want. I don’t want you to resent me.”

This man squeezes your heart like no other. If at first you were worried about how he would feel, now you weren’t because it seemed like he had swept those concerns away. This was going to help with your decision to take Haejin’s job offer easier.

You smiled warmly at him. “Namjoon, resentment is far from the emotion that describes what I feel for you right now.”

He sits up slightly and leans in closer to you while he balances his weight on his elbow. “Good, because I don’t think I can forgive myself if you started to hate me.”

“Joon…where is all this coming from,” you ask softly.

“I just–need you to promise me that you won’t let me hold you back.”

“B-baby, I don’t–”

“Please–just promise me?” He gently implores.

“I promise,” you assured him.

With that, he closes the gap between you and kisses you.

God, you loved this man so much.

******

The next morning, you find the side that he slept in empty. You panic a little but are instantly placated once you see a handwritten note on the pillow that he slept on.

Left early—SOS from Hobi and Tae. Figured you needed all the sleep you can get so you wouldn’t rip anybody’s head off. See you in a bit.

You regretted that you didn’t tell him how you felt last night–but he was so vulnerable and truth be told, his actions felt more than enough to assure you. You would definitely tell him today. You glance at the post-script below his note.

PS — You’re so cute when you snore!

You scoffed. “I do not snore!”

******

You didn’t catch Namjoon when you arrived at the office in the morning and you went straight into a marathon of meetings with your team and a few other project officers, not to mention that you were still catching up on a pile of work sitting on your desk while you went off on your trip.

Once you found a few minutes, you place a call to Haejin and tell her that you would take the job, provided that you could incorporate some scheduled time off–that was a hard line for you. You wanted to be able to see and spend time with your family and Namjoon.

Haejin was more than accommodating. It was a small price to pay for a huge weight off her shoulders. She was a huge advocate for work-life balance in her company. She hated the thought of her staff being overworked or didn’t have personal time for a vacation, to go to their child’s recital, or just plainly take a mental break. She promised a great support staff for you if and when you were scheduled to take time off.

The next step was meeting with Celina to put in your notice–but not before you shared the good news to Namjoon.

You knock on his door to find him with his nose buried deep in a draft report that he was reading through.

“Hey,” you say excitedly. He glances up briefly to acknowledge your presence then returns to the report.

That was weird.

But you brushed it off and proceeded to tell him that you spoke to Haejin about taking the job. You also told him that you requested for unrestricted, on-demand time off to accommodate your family and him. You were over the moon at the thought of living your dream and expressed that it was too good to be true–a killer job and the man that you love by your side.

“Isn’t that great, Joon? There are only a few organizations like this–who would actually grant this flexibility–”

“I think you should take the job as it is…without any conditions or pretenses,” he interjects coolly without looking up at you.

You scrunch your face in confusion.

“Huh?” You actually heard what he said. You were more in shock, is what it is. “I thought–I thought that you were supporting me and that you’d be there for me? You know–last night? When we talked?”

“YN–let’s be practical here. You’ll be gone for a year. You’re leading a whole program–and it will need your full attention. I’ll just be a distraction.” He says evenly before he lifts his head to look up at you.

“W-wait–”

“I think that what you’ve done for the firm is amazing. You’ve grown our foundations and philanthropic efforts considerably in a short period of time. It goes to show that you’re really good at what you do. I’m not surprised that you’re starting to outgrow your position. More people are finally taking notice of your skills.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t…” You took in a sharp breath. “Look, Namjoon–I never said I felt like I was outgrowing my position here.”

“YN–you know that I’m a huge supporter of career growth. I don’t think people should confine themselves to boxes.”

His voice was barely recognizable to you. This was the same tone that he adopted when he spoke to clients and business partners. Academic, formal…disconnected.

“You should take full advantage of every great opportunity that comes your way. Clearly, The Moonstone Foundation will give you that. This is what you’ve wanted. This is…your dream. Don’t let anything or…anybody hold you back from it.”

You were aghast. Was he still talking about the job offer or–

“Joon…” you softened your expression, rounding his desk, leaning against it and dropping your voice. “It’s just us, here. We can talk like…like normal? I thought that we were on the same page?”

He stares at you blankly and doesn’t return your affectionate tone.

He moistens his lips before he speaks again. “We are talking. And I’m saying–you should move forward. This–this relationship is going to be a distraction for you. And that won’t be helpful for Haejin and the Foundation.”

Who was this imposter and what has he done to the real Kim Namjoon? The man you’ve grown to love in the last couple of months.

“What are you saying? I’m so confused, Joon–”

He looks you dead in the eyes–gone was all that love and warmth from last night. Cold and emptiness had taken over. It was the same look that he gave you when he told you to get out of his office when you supposedly stole his project from him.

“I’m saying–that we should cut our losses now.”

You stood in front of him, flabbergasted. “Are you–are you breaking up with me?” It sounded idiotic by the time the words spilled out of your mouth.

He swallowed hard and flexed his jaw. “I just think that you need to be able to focus on your new position so you can produce your best work. You know–no interferences, obstacles…”

You tune him out. His voice was replaced by Celina’s–ringing in your ears after you decided to castigate Yoongi during that one meeting.

If I fall apart, then everything and everyone else around me is affected…everything that we all worked hard for–just because I decided to have a cry at work.

Suddenly, it felt like ice water had replaced the blood running through your veins. You touch your tongue to the inside of your cheek–a habit you picked up from him. But it didn’t matter because it helped you don a mask that you desperately needed at that moment.

“Got it. Say no more.”

Part 9.5◥

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