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uarmymoonlight · 4 months

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after the afterparty

pairing: nerd!namjoon X ex-mean girl!reader

genre: frenemies (? sorta) to lovers, rivals to lovers, college!au, one-shot, angsty, smut,

summary: after a night of partying with your (now ex-)classmates, namjoon finds you alone in the kitchen and unspoken feelings and desires come rushing to the surface

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, reader’s a bit of an asshole, namjoon kinda idolizes her, lots of untold backstory for the #angst, tit/nipple play, biting (lightly)

words: a little over 4.8k

taglist: @kyglover @luaspersona

crossposted on AO3: here.

image by @/chimigraphic on twitter

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You finally take a deep breath of the cold night air. Eyes closed, beer in hand, hip leaned in against the kitchen counter. Another deep breath.

This night took a real toll on you: 2 hours of pre-game plus 4 of partying and an unbelievable 2 and a half more of after-partying, all in the name of socialization and redemption. But it’s over now.

You let the silence embrace and erase you. The outdoor lights paint the room with a faint blue and the only sound is a car passing by and the sink leaking. It’s just you there. The rest have gone to bed – their own or someone else’s - or back to their own airbnbs. But, as tired as you are, you stay there in the kitchen. This last moment of silence before you leave this place for good. And these long nearly 9 hours of today won’t matter. The people at the party won’t matter. Not even that award-stealing, headache-inducing, infuriating, dimpled assh–

A noise stops your thoughts. You turn to your right to see Namjoon kneeling down to catch the water bottle he’d dropped.

“Namjoon.”

“Hey”, he licks his lips “I...I thought everyone else was gone or sleeping.”

“So did I.”

A beat of silence goes by and then another, a longer one. You could almost laugh at the silence that sets between the two of you. Had this happened a while back, you would’ve already told him to fuck off and probably insulted him somehow. Then again, had this been back then, he would’ve been vexing you endlessly by refusing to let the silence just be, doing that nervous back-and-forth on his heels he used to do all the time and talking your ear off.

This isn’t back then, however. So now, you’re just looking at each other.

Alright. You said you’d change your attitude, didn’t you? Here’s a test for you to prove you did. Your chance to do something to Namjoon you’ve never done before: be nice.

“Congratulations.”

He scoffs, incredulous.

“You’re congratulating me?”

You can’t say you’re surprised he asked. There was a time you’d rather have eaten your own two feet before ever complimenting Namjoon to his face, a time you’d have done anything to not stay in the same room as him. Let alone just the two of you together.

“Well, I did tell you I would, when you deserved it” you remind him “You won the academic decathlon, graduated top of the class, and you got the girl. You deserve it now, so there you go: congratulations.” you raise your glass slightly to him.

He hesitates.

“I got a girl.”

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. You keep staring at him with those piercing eyes of yours. He hates them. Hates how much he’s always been so aware of them. Hates how much he’s always been so desperate to understand the emotions behind them. But, most of all, he hates how beautiful he finds them, how much they make him feel so on the spotlight, so special.

He watches you open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. You’re speechless? Now here’s one for the history books, he thinks. You’re probably debating whether you should ask him or not about what he meant by that. And God, he hopes you do. He wants you to ask him, he so desperately does. He needs you to want to know what he means. He needs this opening to tell you exactly why Seulgi isn’t the girl, he needs this one chance to tell you what he’s been holding in for so long, the feelings that are always on the tip of his tongue.

Namjoon waits for you to ask. But you don’t. You look away.

You can’t ask him, because that question leads to things you’ve already shut the door of, a long time ago. And he should know better than to try and get it out of you. But he’s Namjoon. Namjoon, always the hopeful idealist, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And you, always the scoffing pessimist, the egotistical cold bitch. So, you take the coward’s route and when you look back at him all you say is:

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” So there’s no point in talking about any of this, is what you don’t say.

“I know.”

Again, neither of you talk for a while. In silence, you simply look at each other. The air between you is tense with something neither could name exactly. Namjoon breaks the silence this time.

“Dance with me?” he extends his left hand to you.

“There’s no music.”

He shrugs and insists “Dance with me.”

You look at his still stretched hand towards you and it’s almost a perfect flashback of that one night so many nights ago. When he had also reached out for you, in ways more than just physical. When Namjoon had laid out so much of himself for you and all you did was spit it back at him.

“You owe me this one”, he says. Maybe he’s an ass for insisting on this, but God knows you actually do owe him at least this one. You do, and you know it. “You didn’t even talk to me at my party earlier”, he adds.

And it’s just another time that you realize he really is a much better person than you are for using the party as leverage, and not…Well, everything else you’ve done. It’s something you’re not sure you would’ve done for him.

You softly put down your beer on the counter, looking at it while you do so. Anything to not look at him just yet. You need those extra few seconds to…You don’t know what for. To prepare? To breathe? It isn’t to think, surely. Maybe that’s it. You need to not think about what you’re going to do. When the can touches the counter, you spin it a couple times, staring at the label.

With your peripheral vision, you can see Namjoon’s offering hand still out. Again, you remember another moment, a long time ago, when he offered his hand too. You had refused it. God, you suck at this not thinking thing. Andnd you suck at not being a coward.

You finally peel away from the counter and walk quietly to namjoon. You stare at his hand and, taking your time, you slide yours in it. Feeling every inch of his skin until both of your hands are completely touching, and when that happens, you feel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding come out. You feel a bit pathetic for it. The worst part is you hear Namjoon doing the same thing.

Namjoon is smart, you know that. You and everyone who saw him beat you at everything academic-related year after year after year. He’s smart. But he’s not truly smart. If he were truly smart, you think, he’d pull away right now. If he were, he’d turn his back away from you for good.

He doesn’t. He slides his hand from yours to your elbow, caressing your forearm on his way and pulls you in. His fingers on his right hand brush against you, starting with your fingers and going up until he settles it on your waist, pulling you in even more. Not letting go of your elbow, he places your hand on his chest and you complete the action by sliding both your arms around his neck.

You still haven’t looked in his eyes, focusing on his shirt. Actually, his chest. You’d rather not think about that.

You feel his presence all around you, feel him on your skin even though very few parts of you are really touching the other. You feel his head close to yours, your feet almost touching. The two of you stand locked in place.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?” His voice is little more than a breath.

“Move.”

You hear him scoff lightly and get brave enough to glance at him through your eyelashes. Only a shadow of a smile rests on his lips, so his famous dimples are nowhere in sight.

As he begins to lead you, that quivering bravery you felt moments ago vanishes. You go back to staring at his shirt while embarrassingly hoping you don’t step on his toes. You'd count your steps, instead of just hoping you're doing it right. That is if you knew how to do that. Shouldn't there be music in order to properly count the steps? Isn't that how it works? You count by following the beat of the song, right? But, then again, there's supposed to be music when you dance regardless of the counting. God, what a stupid idea. Why did you agree to this anyway?

Namjoon pulls you even closer, joining your chests and your thighs together as you draw in a surprised breath and let out a sigh. Now, your nose brushes against his lips.

Ah, right. That is why.

You really can't do this not-thinking thing. Product of years over worrying about your social status and over analyzing every interaction you had to make sure you came out on top. It’s actually a lot of hard work being the main top bitch in the area.

Briefly, you wonder what people would think if they saw you right now in his arms. You wonder what Namjoon thinks of this whole scene.

And what an interesting scene it is: the dim lights covering you like a blanket while you quietly embrace, a dance that is little more than just swaying softly to a soundtrack of whispers and wind. You can see your pale reflections on the window. The image akin to that of ghost lovers lost to time, only united by the sound of emptiness when time is frozen. Maybe is because of that image of emptiness and stillness, and because you already decided to leave that you tell him:

"I'm sorry.” It's said so softly, so hopelessly, that Namjoon nearly misses it.

There’s so much he could say to that and yet…He puts a hand on your chin and pulls you away just enough to look at your face. With your eyebrows frowning and your beautiful eyes wide scanning him, you look as scared as Namjoon feels. Namjoon traces your face with his thumb: eyebrow to temple to cheek to your lips. This last caress makes your lips part a little, enough for only a thread of air to pass, and eyes flutter.

There’s so much he could say, but there's only one thing he wants.

Your lips touch in a strong kiss. A kiss that is like that first leap of courage into a cold pool. You know the water will be cold at first, but you also know that if you don't jump, you'll never get into the pool. And just like in a pool, neither of you breathe for a while. Just like in a pool, Namjoon is terrified of that first splash of water, scared you'll push him away.

The kiss ends and you catch your breaths. Not for long, though. You grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him in again and relock your lips. Now, you make sure it's a proper kiss, you take your time learning how to kiss him and how you two fit. After a swirl of your tongue, you feel his hand on your lower back put more pressure and pin you closer. Your legs open slightly and he puts one of his legs a little in between yours, his crotch rubbing against yours as you kiss. As you sink your finger deeper into his jacket, Namjoon firmly grabs the back of your neck and presses his hold. The shivers all over your body and your moan encourage him.

A surprised gasp leaves you when Namjoon, with one hand grabbing your neck and the other around your waist, moves you until your back is against a wall. The cold surface touching your back provides a small break from the hot and heavy air between you and him. A small part of you - the part that isn’t busy kissing him - is a little shocked at how strong he got. When you first met him, he was all height and bones. You’d heard he’d started going to the gym some semesters ago, but you sorta refused to really acknowledge it and, when your eyes and body acknowledged that independently, your brain made a conscious choice to ignore it. At the moment, you don’t have much brainpower to make any choice besides making out with him.

Namjoon likes to think he's self aware enough to not be an arrogant prick, but he can't stop the feeling of pride taking over him as you touch him with such clear appreciation of his new physique. He responds to it with his own devotion, intoxicated by your trademark perfume, the same lingering scent that would always tempt him whenever you left a room.

You feel his toned chest and your hands travel along his strong shoulders. And you feel a bit stupid, a bit clichè, because you put your hands on his upper arms and squeeze his biceps. Kinda like in those stupid movies where the sweet bimbo cheerleader fakes coyness as she fawns over the totally not humble quarterback’s muscles. Okay, so, yeah, maybe it’s a bit eye-rolling worthy, but God! his biceps! If his biceps weren’t enough…his thighs! His thighs are huge and strong and you think you’re not really ashamed of how you gladly let him put one of them between your legs. Also, you don’t care that you two are unabashedly dry humping each other, like two horny inexperienced teenagers. Well, suppose that goes with the cheerleader-quarterback thing. Besides, Namjoon certainly doesn’t seem to mind, guiding and motivating your movements by stroking your ass.

Jesus, dry humping someone should not feel this good. You keep going, more, more and more, feeling yourself get wetter with each move, feeling Namjoon get harder each time you feel his dick brushing against your lower belly. He lifts your leg and repositions himself at a better angle so it isn’t just the friction that’s doing it for you, but the hard pressure of his dick too making you nearly lose your mind in need of him - and he's barely touched you. How come you're affected by him like this?

You open your eyes to see him leaving messy kisses along your skin, making his way down your neck past your collarbones. When he reaches your cleavage he makes it a point to maintain eye contact and lazily kisses the space between your breasts. Again, Namjoon isn't particularly conceited, still, he shows a boastful smirk at your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues his way down your body, his hands trailing its contours and feeling the soft silk of your dress he wished you weren’t wearing.

To him, you’re beautiful like a queen: proud, imposing, and powerful. You’ve always been. He thinks it’s your sharp, intelligent eyes, your intent look, but it’s also your straight and confident posture. Looking at you at the moment, though he can still see that spark of intelligence, your eyes are heavy-lidded. Your posture is not insecure, it’s solicitous, fully ready to give in to him. But you’re still you and because you’re still you that there’s still a hint of royal impatience in the way you press yourself against his body, demanding more out of him.

The vision of him going down past your belly button makes you take a breath and arch your back in anticipation. You'd sooner kill yourself before saying you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you do feel something. It takes all your little sense of self control to not grab his hair and lead him straight to where you want him. You don’t have a chance to actually do this since he’s already dipping even lower, eyeing you with malice and desire and nearly driving you crazy with need. You feel your nipples harden when he strokes your folds through your panties with his thumb before pushing the clothing aside.

“Namjoon”, you moan.

He lets out a low growling sound at that and begins exploring your pussy. Fingers and tongue take turns touching and tasting you. His fingers open and stretch you while his mouth sucks on your clit. You think you mumble something along the lines of “yes” and “there” a few times. Your fingers curl in response and your hips move following his rhythm. He licks and sucks and tastes and touches and strokes and you feel yourself closer to cumming with each movement.

Once more, you catch a glimpse of yourselves in a window. The sight is one of pure depravation. You see how dishelved you look, your lips swollen from the kisses and hair an entangled mess on your head, dress hiked up as one of your legs is proped up on Namjoon’s shoulder, a hand of his squeezing your thigh.You’re a bit impressed at how he’s still at it, when your last few hook-ups seemed to want to eat you out as quickly as possible only to say they did it. You’ve never really seen a man who seems so happy to eat pussy like Namjoon. You watch your reflection for a little bit longer while he continues edging you.

Enough. You need all of him now.

“Namjoon”, you say breathlessly. It was a command, but your mind can only think about his tongue on your pussy. You try again. You forcefully pull his head back “Namjoon.”

He hisses a bit due to the force of you pulling his hair.

“Yes, Your Highness?” you squint your eyes in annoyance hearing the mocking nickname he gave you so long ago. You hated the nickname, because you knew it wasn’t a compliment, just a veiled insult of his. However, hearing it while he’s on his knees for you…not bad, you think, not bad at all. Especially when his already deep voice sounds deeper and raspy, the words coming out with a drawl.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’s up in a second, leading you upstairs. The way up is confusing and chaotic, with the two of you nearly running but barely letting go of each other, hot and lewd kisses exchanged while you walk. You have no idea how Namjoon finds the right door. He stops kissing you only to open the bedroom’s door, which you quickly shut behind you. He tries to put you against it, but you flip him and press him to the door instead.

For a moment, you only look at him. Spreading your hands on his muscular chest, you listen to your heavy breathing.

“Y/N.”

You kiss him again. You put your lips on his neck and take your time there, busying your hands with taking off his jacket and then unbottuning his shirt. When you finish, you stroke his bulge through his pants. Namjoon lets out a hungry hiss that has you rubbing your thighs together. The point of stroking him was to tease Namjoon, you wanted to see if you could get him so worked up as he’d done to you. Unfortunately for you, you find out that that’s a double edged sword and it’s sharper end is pointed towards you, because the more you touch him the more you feel yourself get hotter. Having him in your hand only makes your mouth water.

There’s only one thing you can think of right now. You pull his member out of his pants, stroking the full length once before you turn him and push him down on the bed. Namjoon watches you crawl onto the bed and fully take off his pants and underwear. It’s not slow and sweet or careful. Every motion of yours is aggressive and fast, eyes gleaming with a hungry determination Namjoon is sure is mirrored in his own eyes. You’re beautiful, so so beautiful. On all fours over him like a fucking lioness ready for her meal. Just looking at you like this makes him even harder.

Maybe the gentlemanly thing would be to stop and tell you there’s no need to repay the favor of earlier. But, well, maybe Namjoon isn’t a gentleman, after all. And he’d surely never deny you of anything, not when you so clearly want him. The idea of you wanting him just a fraction of how much he wants you is the best feeling in the world. Or rather, the second best. Because the first is definitely the feeling of your mouth on him.

You take his full length in your mouth, coating his dick with your saliva. Namjoon watches as you alternate between teasing kitten licks on his cockhead and properly sucking him off, your hands griping the base of his cock. God, you’re not simply beautiful, you’re gorgeous. He fights against the urge to roll back in his eyes in order to watch you going down on him. Your hair is thrown around, some of it tickling his thigh while your head keeps bobbing up and down, your makeup is smeared and your dress is a crumpled mess. And you’re gorgeous.

You make eye contact with him with your lips still wrapped around him and he thinks he’s gonna die. Or cum. Probably both. Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he thinks he’d die happy right now.

“Tell me what you like”, you tell him.

“You.”

The immediate blurted out answer shocks you a bit. You scoff.

“You really can’t keep it in.”

In the split second you don’t move, Namjoon starts to deflate. He ruined everything. He waits for you to get up and leave.

You don’t.

You lean forwards and kiss him. The kiss is nothing more than just the press of your lips together. You ignore the still lingering doubt in Namjoon’s eyes. Reaching past him, you go through the drawers on the nightstand. As you look for condoms, your tits are hanging above Namjoon’s head and he peppers kisses on them. After a few seconds, you get the condom out the drawer.

Namjoon tries taking it out of your hands.

“Give me, I can do it.”

“No”, you stop him. “It’s fine.”

You kiss him lightly on the cheek. Namjoon has to stop for a bit. You’d never been so…soft with him before. Not even in those few months long ago when you had been something akin to friends.

Not wasting any time, you put the condom on his cock. You quickly take your panties off and guide his lenght to where you want it. You two stare at each other as you sink yourself on his cock. Moaning at how he stretches you out. You love how full he makes you feel. He’s so big, his cock makes you feel so good. Having him in your mouth was one thing, having him inside you was heavenly. You place a hand on Namjoon’s chest.

“Lay down.”

Because you personally believe feminism is about having a buff hot nerdy guy under you while you get yourself off.

Head on the pillows, he watches you move your hips, leading him in a slow sensual rhythm. Moaning, your head rolls back in pleasure, mouth open to help you breathe better. The two of you pick up the pace, you bouncing on his cock a little then reverting back to grinding.

“Y/N, your dress. Please.”

Understanding what he means, you pull your dress above your head and toss it to the side. With both hands holding your hips, he only gives your tits a dazed glare. He keeps watching when you take your own hand and play with your tits. Namjoon growls and thrusts his hips upwards harder when you lick two of your fingers and use them to play with your nipples, caressing and pinching them, your palms massaging the rest of the soft flesh.

“Like that?”

The raspiness of your voice, that sparkle of meanness in your eyes, that one raised eyebrow on your face…it’s all almost too much for Namjoon. You are gorgeuous. And he’s so impossibly hard.

“Yeah.”

The word almost doesn’t come out. You shake your head and giggle at him. Only you. Only you could be bouncing on a guy’s cock, suck him off, have him eat you out, and, with just a little giggle, make the guy blush. Still, if feels so good to make you laugh. Even if it’s at him. So good.

Almost beats being inside of you. Almost.

Namjoon flips you and lays you down on the bed. Immediately after you hit the mattress, he’s already on you, mouth licking and sucking on you tit. His pace gets faster, more franctic, more desperate. Hitting deeper and deeper. When he hits a sweet spot, you moan louder.

“Yeah, there. More. More. Yes. Yeah,” you repeat the words like a mantra.

“So beautiful”, he tells you. “Almost there, baby.”

God, the pet name. “Can’t take it anymore”, you say.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can take it all.”

He knows you can. You - open wide for him, hair spread on the pillows like a halo, nipples hardened for him, pussy clenching around him - can take it. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

On top of you, Namjoon looks like a fucking beast, in the best way possible. Eyebrows furrowed and barring his teeth, his honey skin sprinkled with sweat. A drop of it slips from his forehead and falls on your cheek and you finally cum. Moaning his name over and over. He put his mouth again on your tit, gritting your nipple between his front teeth. With a final moan out of you, Namjoon empties himself inside the condom.

For a few seconds, you don’t move, just listen to each other breathing. Namjoon feels himself getting softer inside you and, on the back of his mind, he dreads the moment he pulls out from you. Dreads the moment you realise whatever you were doing was over, and so was your business with him.

Still, he can’t stay inside you forever. He pulls out.

He busies himself with taking the condom off him and throwing it away while he notices you get tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up. He mentally kicks himself for not doing it for you, but then again, maybe you don’t want him doing this for you. That’s another kind of intimacy you haven’t given him the greenlight to do. Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

You put your dress back on and his heart aches. “First door to the right. Hey, uh - “ he begins before you leave “I’ll go get water. Do you want some?”

You shake your head and leave the room.

Silently, he puts his underwear and pants back on and goes to the kitchen, trying all the way down to not think of you.

He stays a little bit longer than needed in the kitchen. Even after everything, he still can’t feel sure of anything with you. There’s still that ugly feeling of inadequacy whispering in his head that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Tonight was just a fluke.

Namjoon goes back to the bedroom expecting you to not be there anymore. He imagines you jumping out of the bathroom window to escape him or sneaking off through the roof. If he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for what you two could’ve been, he’d probably laugh at the scenarios he made up.

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he finds you there. Curled up under the sheets on one side of the bed. Your eyes are closed and your face is serene. He hesitates.

“You’re not gonna sleep?”

You ask without opening your eyes. Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he climbs onto bed behind you. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close enough that you feel his warmth beside you and his breathing on your neck.

A while of silence goes by. He’s not sure if you’re already asleep. However, there’s one more thing he needs to say to you, even if you don’t hear it. Something he was too much of a coward to say before.

“Stay.”

You open your eyes. You’re careful to make no move to alert him you’re still up.

You think about his request. Stay. Part of you wants to, part of you - a very small and recent part of you that is hopeful, a part that is only there because Namjoon coaxed it out of you - says you could stay. Stay. You could stay with him. Stay in his bed. In this city. Stay…

Like you said, though, that is a very small part of you. The biggest one is a coward.

When Namjoon wakes up to an empty side of the bed the next day, he instantly knows what happened.

You left.

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author’s note: my first attempt at writing smut (at least full on smut, star to finish), hope it doesn’t suck :DDDD any and all feedback/comments are appreciated

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon fanfic #rm x reader #rm imagine #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #my writing #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #bts

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effortandmore · 10 months

Text

the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader

summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

au: okay. so this is canon-compliant but also maybe a little bit of a time-travel/multiverse au

warnings/tags: here we go... time travel (kind of), discussions of war, descriptions of famine, talks of anarchy/revolution, descriptions of ww2 germany and nazis, minor character death (not a tannie), implied gun violence, the japanese occupation of korea, sex worker!namjoon, soldier!namjoon, architect!namjoon, idol!namjoon, spy!reader, namjoon has a big dick (ofc), mentions of blood... smut, including: biting, unprotected sex, sex work (this is not the unprotected sex), oral sex (f!receiving), a little bit of cumplay... idk i think that's all but honestly it's not as weird as it sounds i promise

word count: ~12k

a/n: i have wanted to write a songfic for "here i dreamt i was an architect" by the decemberists for... years now. and with my three month vacation from work, i've finally done it! listening to the song will help this make more sense, but essentially there are three verses, and they start like this: "here i dreamt i was a soldier," "here i dreamt i was an architect," & "and in spain i was a spaniard." so, i thought it would be fun to turn that into a story about namjoon and reader across all these different universes. my research for this fic was completely unhinged, and i'm sure i still got some things wrong. if you need translations for any of the dutch, german, or spanish in this, lmk but i think it's pretty readable given context. i hope you like it, but even if you don't, i'm glad i wrote it. thank you so so so much to @ugh-yoongi who assured me this was not too unhinged for the locals—ily and i appreciate you

read on ao3

Namjoon always tells people he doesn’t have dreams, but it’s a lie… Sort of.

If these are dreams, he doesn’t know how billions of people aren’t talking about them like they’re magical experiences, can’t fathom why so many people still don’t believe in multiverse theory.

Lying about it seems infinitely easier than trying to explain it to people. His “dreams,” if that’s what they are, seem so real. He can smell the scents, he can feel the rain and the blood and the orgasm that courses through him when he inevitably, in every single one, finds a version of you. When he wakes up, he can feel the phantom pain, feels like his skin’s just barely dried out from a shower, feels loose and lazy with the pleasure he’d felt while he was asleep.

So, he says he doesn’t dream, because he’s halfway convinced they’re actually happening, and he has absolutely no clue how to explain that to anyone. He thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, infinite versions of him. At first, he thought maybe it was a past-lives sort of thing, but he’s lived parallel paths on different parts of the planet during the same time frames. Or, he’s dreamt that he has, anyway… maybe they’re dreams. Maybe not. What he’s sure of, though, is that you must be out there in the universe he lives in—you must exist outside of this near fugue state where he always finds you. If you’re on the streets of Germany during the war, if you’re in Andalucia dancing the flamenco and catching his eye on every twirl… If you’re fleeing with him to Jeju as more and more Japanese soldiers encircle your small farm town… If you’re all of those places, he knows you must be here, too.

There must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

Every dream is different, but the love he feels for you? It’s always the same, and it goes like this:

Birkenau, Germany — April, 1942

He comes to, and he’s lying in a cot. It’s dark. It would be pitch black, except there’s a crack of light on the floor that’s muted and warm-looking even though the air around him still carries a bit of leftover winter chill. Somehow, he knows there’s a coal shortage this spring because of the war. There’s an everything shortage, really. No coal, no clothes, no food… He can’t think of a time he’d eaten anything but potatoes in days… Namjoon can’t think of anything, really. It’s strange, his memories feel dull, rounded around the edges and blurred out, everything just slightly out of reach. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s hypothermia (he’s a little dramatic), maybe it’s hunger; he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, because there’s not much to be done about whatever it is. Knowing the future doesn’t always mean you can change it, he thinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The clothes he is wearing are stiff—they make it hard for him to bend his elbow to reach his own face. There’s a worn crease in his right sleeve from saluting, dirt that will never scrub out on his lapels… his badges and patches do a poor job of covering the wear and tear. Although his brain isn’t fully awake, the thoughts still cloudy, two are clear: he is ready for this war to be over and he is terrified that he is a little in love with the woman lying next to him.

If someone asked him how he got here, to Birkenau, Germany in the middle of the spring in 1942, he couldn’t tell them (a consequence of for some reason not remembering anything concrete prior to this week at the moment—just feelings and sensations and language and you). He feels as if he doesn’t belong at all and at the same time, as if he’s always existed right here.

He teases you awake slowly. Whispers sweet nothings to you in a language he finds himself surprisingly fluent in—it’s not his native one. He doesn’t know if it’s yours, either, but he knows you like hearing his voice. Remembers how you ask him to tell you stories of his home, how you hum softly along with the folk songs he sings to you when he thinks you’re almost asleep in his arms. He knows he likes the noises you make as you start to come to, knows you need a soft re-entry into wakefulness or else you’re a little off for the rest of the day.

You’d both fallen asleep after what some people would call lunch, although the persistent pit in Namjoon’s stomach would argue that. It’s hard to have energy when you can’t really eat, so the two of you do your best to conserve it.

Tonight, though, tonight he wants to be special. The carnival is in Birkenau this week, maybe longer, but he won’t know. He’ll leave soon, onto the next base, the next battle. It’s a miracle he’s able to go tonight, being a foreign soldier here is dangerous and the demands on him are high. He wears his uniform while he sleeps to stay warm, but doesn’t dare wear it in this town outside of this private and safe space that you’ve carved out for him. It’s been going on for a while, this sneaking away to be with you. There’s another soldier, Seokjin, on his base, who always covers for him. Namjoon doesn’t know how, it’s one of the fuzzy things he can’t figure out. Regardless, he’s here with you now and he knows he’s always grateful to his fellow soldier. And here, he’s someone different. He’s not Namjoon the soldier, he’s Namjoon who loves you, who will give up almost anything to be with you.

Except the one thing you ask him to.

He may be grateful to escape for a while, but he is duty-bound—loyal to his country, to the cause. He is, above everything, a soldier, and that cannot change. The Remington on the cheap bedside table is his best friend, and a reminder that this between you is dangerous, that it has a time limit.

And you? You have to leave, too. He knows it, you know it. It’s not safe for you here, probably just as dangerous as it is for him.

You don’t wear a uniform, you don’t carry a gun (often), but you move under the cover of the night and you deal in secrets you’re not supposed to know. The work you do is just as important as his—sometimes he thinks it’s probably even moreso. He admires you, adores you, thinks you’re brave and beautiful and brilliant. Maybe he thinks some of those things because of how dangerous you are, because of the risks you’re willing to take. Being with him, hiding him here with you is a big one.

Beside him, you stir. Your voice is a melody, always lilting, tumbling from one word to the next. “Love you, Namjoon. What time is it, baby?” Later, he won’t know why he never thinks it’s strange that you weave words across several languages. Maybe that’s just how all spies are; and that’s what you are, at the core of it, isn’t it?

“Is it time?” you ask into the darkness.

“Yes. I need to change and then we can go.”

“Do you think we’ll find something to eat there?”

Namjoon smiles even though you can’t see him in the dark. “We will. Sausages and sauerkraut, I’m sure.” He waits for you to make the gagging sound he knows you’re about to.

You do. “I hate German food,” you complain. “Can’t wait to get out of here once and for all.”

“They’ll have schnitzel,” he says, trying to make you laugh.

“Germans and their pork,” you say dismissively, “swine for swine.”

“They’re not all bad.” He means it, but it sounds a little weak when he says it. It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, sometimes. Doesn’t help that the both of you see the worst of people… that the both of you sometimes are the worst of people.

“Hmm…” you hum, he knows you agree with him. “I know, I'm sorry. I’m just tired. And don’t want to leave you.”

“I know.”

“You could come with me. Run away with me, Namjoonie.”

When you say it, he almost believes it could work. Knows it wouldn’t, knows you’d both end up dead or worse, knows he could never go home, never see his mother again. Knows it would break his heart to bear witness to the secrets you have to keep, to the lives you take.

He never responds, just lumbers off of the cot and strips his uniform off, trades it for the street clothes you keep here for him. They’re ill-fitting, cheap and scratchy. He loves them because they smell like you, smell like the soap you carry with you from France—lavender from Provence—the one luxury you allow yourself.

The two of you walk hand in hand through back alleys and quaint cobblestoned neighborhoods, making your way to the carnival. He hears the barkers getting louder the closer you get, promising fun and winnings and love and only happy fortunes told. In reality, there are no happy fortunes here, and you both know that. But Namjoon’s happy to give into the fantasy of it all, just for tonight. Just to see you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Except…

“Win me a prize,” you coo sweetly. It’s futile, since you never take anything with you, and later tonight (or very early in the morning), you will leave Birkenau for good—a mission needs completing, and dead or alive, you won’t be back here again.

“Whatever you want, jagiya.”

You bounce on your heels in excitement and drag him to a booth, one offering cheap stuffed birds. There are swans, peacocks, parrots, ducks… He doesn’t know what you’re drawn by, but he’ll knock over as many milk jugs as he has to get you what you want.

“My strong soldier,” you whisper in his ear after he knocks the top three over. It makes him grin, makes him show you his dimples. He loves you so much, loves how you tease and bait him with your words—then with your body in the privacy of your hideaway. Loves your confidence and your unwavering belief. Loves your conviction. “You can do it, Namjoon.”

He does.

The final three jugs topple off the ledge. With you by his side, he thinks he can do anything. He knows he can.

“Wähle eins,” the barker shouts at him, Dutch accent thick in his German.

“De pauw,” you answer immediately in his native tongue, pointing to the top shelf.

The man pulls one of the blue birds down and hands it to you with a smile. You can charm anyone, Namjoon thinks. A skill you’ve honed doing the work you do, he supposes. “Voor de dame,” the huckster says with a bow and a flourish of his hand.

You giggle as you take it. Namjoon’s enamored with you.

As the two of you wander (you clutching the peacock tightly under your arm), he watches as you make friends with a fortune teller and charm free pieces of chicken schnitzel from a mustached French man. Your greatest feat is sneaking the two of you onto the ferris wheel. Namjoon’s in awe of how you move—though sleight of hand is usually what he catches you at, you’re not as skilled a pickpocket as you are a liar—how you can weave in and out of a crowd unnoticed, how you can blend in with any surrounding, any language, any group… It’s a skill he wishes he possessed, too. He’s too large, a little lumbering, a little awkward in his long limbs made to feel longer as he loses muscle to months of being malnourished. But somehow, you make him nimble, you make him invisible to everyone but you. He wants to chase that feeling forever, wants to bottle it up and uncork it again when you’re gone, when he’s so desperate with the want of you that he’s got no other solace.

Bellies unusually full, legs tired, and peacock secured, he leads you back to your basement apartment. He pulls you along to follow a different path to return than the one you took there—a trick he’s learned from you. Don’t give people the opportunity to see your face twice.

It’s still dark, and you have no electricity, no oil for your lamps, so Namjoon makes love to you by memory.

He feels so foggy, but this he knows how to do, like he’s done it a million times and will do it a million more until you and he become different versions of the same thing. Maybe you already are.

Slowly, using time you don’t have, he undresses you. He’s careful with the buttons of your blouse after he slides your cardigan off of your shoulders. Takes time to press his nose into the skin of your neck once it’s exposed, to try and remember the way that you smell, that lavender soap and the iron of the hard bathwater and the danger that rolls off of you in waves.

When he lets his arms drop from your body, you walk backward toward the cot, unlacing your skirt as you go. Namjoon can’t see you well, but he hears the sounds of the cotton strings being pulled through the gussets, the soft swoosh of it hitting the floor when you shimmy out of it.

“Come here, Namjoonie,” you whisper. He would, even if you didn’t ask. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Always pulled to you like a magnet.

“Yes, jagiya,” he breathes, now trembling fingers removing his own clothes as he moves. When he finally can feel your skin under his hand, he’s fully undressed, thinks you are, too. Lets his fingertips explore your limbs just to confirm.

You straddle him on the cot, press your thumbs into the meat of his thighs and tell him he’s brave, powerful, that you’re so lucky he’s chosen you. But he knows it wasn’t a choice. Can’t explain it, but he’s always existed for you, would always find you. Couldn’t choose anyone else if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

The way you kiss him feels like forever, but he knows better. Chases something deeper and messier as his heart rate rises. Knows you don’t have time to draw it out, knows he won’t be able to be as gentle with you as you deserve. No one’s ever gentle with you, is what you always tell him. People who know you know how dangerous you are and they treat you accordingly. Except Namjoon. Namjoon who reveres you and knows you and he are cut from the same cloth—the one where you need to fight for what’s right at any cost. It doesn’t make you dangerous to people who don’t deserve the battle scars you dole out, he thinks. It makes you a hero. To him, you are a lionheart.

Your palms press into his chest above his own heart and you sink onto his length. Every time you’ve been together seems to bleed together for him, but he knows you know exactly how to move to bring him bliss, knows you feel like the god who seems to have abandoned you made the two of you for one another.

It’s a risk, but he reaches up to pull the thick curtain back just a few millimeters. Wants the sliver of light to illuminate the tendons in your neck with your head thrown back as you ride him. Wants to see the peaks of your nipples, the smooth skin over your ribcage, the mole you have right on the plateau of your collarbone. Wants to let his eyes roll back in his skull, that’s how good you feel, but can’t let himself pull his attention from your body.

“Come here,” he says quietly, wraps his spindly arms around you and pulls you down so your chest is flush with his. “Be with me,” he almost begs, “look at me, love.”

Your hands cup his face, and his guide your hips on top of his.

“I want to feel like this forever,” he thinks he hears you say, and Namjoon can see a tear dripping down your cheek before you lean in to press your lips to his. He licks at your mouth, gets you to open for him, plays melodies along your tongue with his.

He thinks they’re love songs.

He hopes you know.

You’re all tight heat around him, and your nipples brush his chest in time with his tongue brushing yours. Your lavender scent is a balm, your tears drip onto his cheeks from above, and your breaths come shallow and labored as he fucks into you.

“I think I’ll love you forever,” he says.

“Mijn schat...” You whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and smiling the sad kind of smile. Quietly, you tell him that you want to feel him, beg him to move.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t stop. Thrusts into you, lets the sound of his skin against yours get louder and filthier. He knows he should stop. Can’t make himself. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s probably too late.

You’re nodding anyway, letting out a sweet little moan when his fingers find your clit and he comes, deep inside of you. Feels like a claim he shouldn’t be making. Gets one back from you just moments later when you squeeze around his softening cock, shuddering with your release above him.

Against his chest, you breathe, and he waits for the moment when your inhales align with his. It’s going to be the last time you share the same air, he thinks.

Your work tonight will be messy. He doesn’t ask what that means, thinks he already knows. Eyes the Remington in his periphery and you give him a tight-lipped confirmation. Yes, you have things you have to do. Yes, they’re worth sacrificing your life if you have to.

Namjoon spends a lot of time wondering about the balance between sacrifice and selfishness.

Never seems to decide where he sits on the spectrum.

Lithe like you are, he should barely feel it when you climb off of him, but it’s a crushing weight. Feels like his heart might be melting, like his lungs can’t expand anymore.

Once you’re dressed—in clothes he’s never seen before, those usually given to people of a different gender, maybe a different time—he watches you toss your skirt into the hearth first, then the clothes you’ve been lending him for your trysts. He watches you find the smallest vial of kerosene and some tinder you’d been collecting and add those, too. It’s as if he can see you in your full vibrancy now: focused on the mission, focused on destroying the you that has existed in this space, the him that has loved you.

The fire burns more brightly than he could have imagined after all the time you’ve spent together in the dark. It allows him to see the hope in your eyes when you lean down to kiss him one last time. Allows him to see the tears you no longer let fall when you hand him the peacock, press it close to him so he can hold it like a child.

“Why the peacock?” he asks when you turn to leave. It’s the only question he can think of that he suspects you’ll give him an answer to.

“Immortality, Joonie. You know, the Greeks thought the flesh of the peacock would never decay? Perfect and enduring even in death.”

“Are you the peacock or am I?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” you say as you heave open the door.

He shudders with the cold gust and wishes he knew what to say. Wishes he could choose you over his gun. Wishes you would choose him over yours.

“Until next time, Joonbug,” you say against the wind.

You pull the door hard behind you, and when it punches shut, Namjoon is startled out of his dream.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“You gotta stop falling asleep in here, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost drowned out by Seokjin’s laugh.

“I covered for you at the last meeting, told them you were chasing down an idea… don’t interrupt a genius… creative flow… you know.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and sits up. Of course he’s not in Germany during World War two. Of course he’s in his studio in Gangnam, and apparently he’s slept through a meeting.

He hates these dreams because he feels so thrown off when he wakes up. The pain of losing you always sticks with him for a while afterwards, makes his whole world tilt about one degree. Not enough to change anyone but him, but more than enough to notice.

He loves the dreams because he gets to be with you—tries not to let that thought be concerning.

“What’s that smell?” he asks, still half asleep.

“What smell?”

“Mmm… you know, the lavender smell.”

“Hyung, are you having a stroke?”

“I think people who have strokes smell toast,” Jin says.

“Nevermind,” Namjoon sighs as he gets off the couch. “Thanks for covering for me, hyung.”

“You owe me now.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Agreeing is always easier than arguing with Jin.

Namjoon’s awake enough now to notice the looks that Jeongguk and Seokjin are passing between each other. He knows they know something’s going on with him, sees how they adjust the ways they move around him after these dreams, when he’s out of sorts and halfway out of commission for a half a day or so. It’s not just them, either. Jimin has tried to talk to him about it, but didn’t get very far. Hoseok knows Namjoon’s had a few bad dreams, but that’s the extent of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them, it’s more that he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he’s completely batshit. Doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows you’re real, that he believes in you the same way he believes in the existence of his sister or his best friend, Heeyoung. It’s part of the problem, really. Because every time he has one of these dreams, he finds himself actually looking for you. In real life. In Seoul. In every city they have a show in. Thought he saw you once in Switzerland, but was too afraid to get close enough to know for sure… Still isn’t sure if he regrets that or not.

It really messes with him when he’s in a city that he’s dreamed you in. Once, in Sevilla, he was too fucked up about it to even leave the hotel room. Tried to explain to one of the managers that something bad had happened last time he was there, but it got complicated when Namjoon couldn’t explain when exactly that was.

“What’s on your mind, Namjoonie?” Seokjin’s tone is gentler now, cautious.

“Spain.”

Another look of concern between Jeongguk and their hyung.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeongguk asks softly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things—you taught me that.”

He can’t help but smile at that. Caught in his own words. And he’s so tired of this, so tired of feeling like no one will understand… he’s tempted. To be honest, he could probably talk about it with Taehyung. Maybe that’s what he should do, he thinks. Tae would listen, wouldn’t judge him. But maybe Jeongguk and Seokjin wouldn’t either. Namjoon has assuredly done more questionable things than possibly believe in a ghost. Or whatever you are.

He sits back down on the couch. “I’ve been having these weird dreams,” he says.

“About Spain?” Jeongguk and Seokjin find seats to settle into, too.

“About a girl, mostly.”

“Want to tell us about her? Is she Spanish? Is she someone you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon admits. “She’s whoever I want her to be, I think.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows almost lift off his face. “Okay, Namjoonie. Why don’t you tell us about these dreams?”

Namjoon nods. “Well, the one I just woke up from, we were in Germany.”

“All of us?” Jeongguk asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Just her and me. I think hyung maybe, too, but I never saw him in the dream.” He gestures to Seokjin.

“But you have these dreams often?”

“Yeah.”

“And one of them was in Spain?”

Namjoon’s not sure what they’ll think of him once he tells them, but maybe he doesn’t have to give everything away, he decides. Maybe he can just tell him about one of the dreams and see what they think.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it if you want.”

Jeongguk nods eagerly and Jin does, too. He supposes he can’t back out now.

“Alright… well, here’s what I remember…”

Andalucia, Spain — Summer, 1913

The heat is relentless.

Namjoon sweats so much under normal conditions—this is borderline torture. If it were up to him, he’d be back in Sevilla with you, content in the small pension you both scrape together rent for every week. It’s shaded by the orange trees surrounding it, feels safe and private and cool, and most importantly, it’s yours.

Ronda is less forgiving. Maybe because he doesn’t know it as well, isn’t sure who might be someone to know and who might just be pretending. He’s done this for long enough that he thinks he has a pretty good sense for it, but he’s still sucked into having his time wasted on occasion. Wouldn’t mind it so much except it’s time spent away from you.

Blas Infante has been yelling on the steps for a while. His throat should be raw, but the adrenaline of agitating the people of Andalucia keeps him fresh, voice ringing clearly through the square. Namjoon has been watching the wealthiest in the crowd drift away, paying attention to where they’re going, making sure he’s got a line on which bars and cafes will be the best to move on to. The time is about right, he thinks. They’ll be a few drinks in and soon the wider crowd will disperse. Wants to make sure he can find a seat at the bar next to someone rich, attractive if possible. If they’re a little desperate that’s even better.

They probably all will be given the way the political winds are shifting in Andalucia.

As he turns from the crowd, he hears Padre de la Patria Andaluza shout, “the moment has come for the privileged to die!” The remaining crowd roars like the lions on their flags, angry and proud. He agrees with them—as long as he gets his money first.

When he slides onto the barstool, he makes sure to order his own drink first. Chilled palo cortado says he’s from around here but maybe a little down on his luck, otherwise, he’d be drinking Fundador.

It’s strange, he knows he grew up poor, but he can’t remember any of the details. It’s as if his whole life before knowing you is completely out of focus. He feels the resentment, though, the frustration of knowing there’s more for the taking if you have the right family, the right education, the right skin color.

But he’s older now and while it’s there, it’s in the background. Because he knows how to get his share, knows now that it’s also for the taking if you have a nice smile, a silver tongue, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed—including changing your definition of success. Including sacrificing the things you believe in the most.

Good thing the only thing Namjoon believes in anymore is you, and you’re willing to stick by his side no matter what.

She’s not anywhere near as attractive to him as you are. She’s round in all the places he likes—soft hips, soft stomach, thick ass, but there’s something with her face. Too drawn, a little gaunt in a way that doesn’t suit her. It’s age maybe, she’s got to be thirty years older than him.

Age is another one of those tricky things that feels a little elusive to him.

He thinks he’s around nineteen and she’s probably fifty. Doesn’t care, really, as long as she’s got pesetas.

She does. A lot of them.

He fucks her slow in a room above the bar and calls her “Princesa” because she asks him to. Because she’ll pay him more if he does, because he knows how women like her work. It’s been quiet between them since he took her upstairs. They don’t talk about her husband, her children… They don’t talk about you.

She shifts a little below him and it almost hurts. He’s not used to sex so dry like this—makes it hard to imagine it’s you beneath him. Digs his thumbs into the flesh at her hips and tries to picture you instead, but her noises aren’t as sweet as yours, her skin isn’t as supple.

At least, he thinks as he thrusts over and over to her guttural cries, he’s doing this for you. For the future the two of you have dreamed of since you were basically kids and he would throw stones at your window after dark to sneak a piece of your attention. He’s fairly certain you almost have enough saved up to escape, to get away from your father and brother who have never once approved of Namjoon. In their eyes, it’s bad enough he’s a foreigner, but then he has the audacity to be poor in addition.

He wants to give you a good life. There’s still a part of him that thinks someday he can give you an honest one, as well. There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not only his mistakes like your father thinks, that he’s capable of so much more than the world has allowed him to give so far. He thinks you see it, too. He’s pretty sure that’s why you stay.

As the work drags on, he realizes he’s made a critical mistake—he didn’t ask her how much she’d had to drink, didn’t think to slip the bartender a note to water it down a bit. Feels like she’s never going to come, and he can’t leave a job undone. God, he just wants to get home to you. Wants to take a lavender-laced bath with you and cleanse himself of this sin and the thousand others he’s committed before it. Wants to start on new ones with you.

The thought of you: in your orange grove, smelling of sun-dried linen and laughing while he chases you… it gives him the will to keep going.

Ironic that his love for you is the reason his cock is buried in someone else.

Eventually, she comes, and he lies and says he does, too. Makes quick work of ridding himself of the condom with his back to her. This isn’t the first time he’s lied. Would he sound like too much of a romantic if he said he’s only ever had an orgasm with you?

For tonight, his patron seems satisfied, romanticism or not. She asks to see him again the following week and he tells her all about how he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the money, see? So, if she wants to see him, it wouldn’t be possible unless…

She’s more generous than he’s expected. What she gives him to come back to Ronda will pay for a month of your pension. He shoves it in his pockets and tells her he’s going to get them another bottle of sherry from the bar.

When he slinks out into the finally cool night air, all he feels is relief. He’s going to make it in time to hop the late train back to Sevilla, back to you.

He looks up and down the cobblestone street, taking a second to remember which direction he came from. Notices a man watching him, seems like it should matter, but all that matters is getting back to you.

Namjoon counts his earnings under the moonlight as the train rumbles through the countryside. It’s enough. He’ll need to count what’s at your home to be absolutely sure, but he thinks it’s enough to get you out of there. You dream of Valencia—of a different kind of orange grove, of thick and salty sea air, of vacations in Madrid or Barcelona, strolling the markets and church grounds.

He looks out the window at the moon and thinks of how bright your face will be when he tells you the good news. He looks at the stars and hopes they will guide you both faithfully to a better life.

The train pulls into the station at Sevilla several hours later. Namjoon feels like the time just slipped away, doesn’t quite know how he passed it. Maybe the wine was stronger than he’d first thought…

It’s quiet in Sevilla at this time of night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the bustle in front of him, the same man from outside the bar in Ronda rushing up the road ahead of him. Must be in a hurry to get somewhere—Namjoon can relate, he’s in a hurry to get home to you. His bag is weighed down from the coin he’s bringing home, but oddly enough, he feels lighter than ever knowing he may never have to give himself to someone that isn’t you again.

It’s freedom.

After years of conning and scraping and scratching to climb out of the poverty he’s known, he finally has hope for something better. Because of you, because you gave him something to believe in and to fight for.

Tomorrow, he’ll take you to the gardens at the Alcazar, and amongst the flowers and the peacocks you love, he’ll give you the news—tell you it’s finally time. Maybe you can even take the train to the sea that night.

He loves you so much, owes you everything because he gets all that he needs from your company and your faith in him.

As he draws nearer to you, dirt road narrowing as he approaches the pension, he hears raised voices. Yours and someone else’s. Maybe more. It’s all he needs to take off running, can’t fathom why you’d need to be fighting with anyone in the orchard after midnight.

“Namjoon!” you exclaim when you see him sprinting up the road.

He can hear the fear in your voice, and it only makes him come to you faster. “What is it? What’s going on?” he calls. And then he sees them: your father and your brother, gesturing wildly and yelling.

“Mija, you know what he’s doing in Ronda? How disgusting he is? How he’s making a fool out of you, making fools out of our family?”

You’re calmer than they deserve, standing your ground with your arms crossed over your chest, full skirts whipping around you in the breeze. You look brave, intimidating, and more beautiful than ever.

Namjoon starts to understand, realizes he should have known something wasn’t right, that the man in two places would be a problem. Hadn’t let himself believe your father would have had him followed, but why wouldn’t he?

“You know nothing,” you snap at your father. “Mind your own business, old man. I’m not your family anymore. He’s my family now.”

Namjoon joins you in front of the pension, stands by your side, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple. “I think you should leave,” he says to the men facing you.

Your father spits in his direction, your brother makes rude gestures with both hands. They call him a whore, call him disgusting, claim he’s giving you diseases and ruining you for the god they say you need to meet one day.

(They still believe, Namjoon never has, and you think you already know god—that he lives in the way the birds call a bright greeting to the morning sun and the flowers bend to offer the bees what they both need to live.)

“Leave,” you say firmly. “We’re leaving for Valencia soon—you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll change my name, no one will know the disgrace you think we’ve brought to the family. Just let us be.”

And if Namjoon thought the crowd in Ronda was loud, he hadn’t yet had the screams of your father to compare it to. His face is a violent red, his whole body shakes with his anger, and Namjoon feels scared for the first time in a long time. The arm he has around your waist tightens as your brother pulls a revolver from the back of his trousers.

You are ever courageous—Namjoon can hear your racing heart, but you betray nothing, staring down your brother with iron conviction and pressing in tightly to the man at your side.

“No one will take you from us!” your father yells.

The barrel is pointed straight at the two of you. Namjoon can see your brother’s finger shaking and it’s as if he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t let it, would sacrifice anything for you, already has given up his body and his soul to you in some ways. He’s prepared to do it again. Would never make a choice that wasn’t to protect you. Loves you like you’re oxygen, like he needs you to survive.

He’s nothing without you, but you can be something without him. So, he moves.

And as Namjoon twists to pull you behind him, a single shot rings out through the Andalucian night, louder than a firecracker.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“And then what?” Jeongguk asks, leaning so far in he looks like he’ll topple at any second.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “That’s when I woke up. I had the window open and I think there was a car accident or one backfiring or something. Startled me awake.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jeongguk sighs. “Don’t you think, hyung?”

Seokjin nods along. “How often do you dream about her?”

“Every few weeks… for a couple of years now.”

“Shit.”

Namjoon explains how he can’t stop thinking about you for days after the dreams, how you always look different in them but he knows it’s you every time. There’s something in the way you speak to him, in the way you know his mind, in the way you move across each time and space so self-assured and brave and admirable. And then the words just keep coming. He tells them about how he always dreams of you existing at night—never in the morning. Never had a dream where the two of you have made it through the night and woken up together in love with no tragedy befalling you. He almost cries when he tells them how badly he wants to find you, how he knows you must be real, a person he’s just yet to meet… Says he’s not sure he believes in something like soulmates, but that sometimes his chest actually aches with the need to know you, to be with you. Tells them that you’re never perfect in any of his dreams, but you’re perfect for him: a partner in crime, a lover, an intellectual rival, a battleground ally, just always by his side making him sharper and better and happier. Tells them that all he wants is the chance to wake up next to you just once, sunlight and joy and no crisis clapping him awake. Tells them how lonely he is in the mornings.

When he finally trails off, out of ways to explain that each time he dreams of you, the desire to find you seems that much more urgent, Seokjin and Jeongguk are speechless. Jin looks like the fish he loves, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Jeongguk is a little teary-eyed and his hand is rubbing careful circles between Namjoon’s shoulder blades.

“You have to find her, hyung,” Jeongguk says softly.

“I know.”

“We’ll help you find her, I promise.”

Namjoon thinks the commitment from Jeongguk is sweet, but doesn’t know how they could possibly help. You look different in every dream, a different voice, name, language… It’s an impossible task made even more challenging by the fact that you probably don’t actually exist. Just a figment of his imagination his brain has made to give him some stress relief, some friendship. He says as much, and he can tell Seokjin agrees with him, but Jeongguk is insistent. At the very least, it’s a little comforting that he’s told them what he feels like is probably his weirdest, deepest secret, and they didn’t laugh at him, didn’t march him upstairs to the company therapist.

After that day, Namjoon feels a little bit better about everything. Better enough that he doesn’t dream about you for a few weeks, starts to forget to look for you in the face of every person he passes. The best part is that he’s really able to focus on their upcoming tour, and by the time he boards the plane to another continent with the rest of the members, he wonders if he’ll ever dream about you again.

It’s been long enough that he misses you a little bit, as ridiculous as it sounds. He doesn’t mention that part to Jeongguk or Seokjin.

They touch down in a new city, and Namjoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on the flight—no dreams. It’s early, but they don’t get the day to themselves. They’ll eat a snack in the cars on the way to the venue, run a short rehearsal for blocking and then Namjoon will do some foreign-language interviews from the hotel. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his mask up, trying to mentally prepare himself a little bit for the remainder of the day. And then he smells it, as he steps into the airport, a gentle lavender scent that’s so familiar he thinks he might be imagining it.

Namjoon stops in his tracks right outside the gate and starts looking. It’s practically instinctual at this point, head on a swivel trying to spot you. It’s so ridiculous and he knows it. But there’s just something… it’s like he knows you’re here.

Unfortunately, it’s a terrible place to be having a crisis, and he’s literally knocked out of his search when another passenger on their phone runs right into the back of him.

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, only glancing up from your phone for a second.

Namjoon doesn’t look at you, just flushes with embarrassment as if anyone could possibly know what he’s thinking. Keeps his head down, says, “no problem,” and tells himself that the weird pit in his stomach is nothing and the smell he’s so drawn to is in his head. The you of his dreams isn’t possibly in this airport in a city on the other side of the world.

He tries to shake it off all afternoon, all evening, but doesn’t think he’s too successful. Thinks he probably fucked up a couple of the interviews, hopes one of his managers would have stopped him if he was too off the mark, though. It’s probably fine.

That night, for the first time in weeks, he dreams of you.

Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea — Summer, 1931

In these most uncertain of times, Namjoon is sure of two things: you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and he is so much in love with you that he feels shaky with it.

It’s quiet in your father’s farmhouse save for your soft moans. With a rare stroke of luck, your mother and father have left to negotiate with the angry man who owns their land now, and Namjoon has taken advantage of sneaking away from Pukyong’s campus to be with you. He’d come to review plans for a new barn with your father, but finding him gone was a blessing.

You and Namjoon haven’t been able to find much time alone since he left for Busan. He comes back when he can, which isn’t often, and you sneak out to the edge of the fields to meet him under the moonlight. He’s gotten used to fucking you quietly and in a hurry, helping you brush grass and twigs out of inappropriate places when you’re done. This though, this is a luxury, to be with you in your own bed, in the daylight. To be as loud as you both want—Namjoon could write a dissertation on how nice you sound when he fucks you.

You’re slick and tight, and you’re the only home Namjoon’s ever really known. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and watches as you arch your back underneath him, whine a little, tell him not to leave marks where your parents might see.

Because you’re young and reckless and you’ve both only ever loved each other, he knows he’s got to pull out soon, but it’s hard to remember in the heat of the moment.

You call him “Namjoonah,” you tell him how good he feels inside you, breathy and sweet, running your fingers through his hair to brush it off of his forehead. It’s gentle, the way you touch him, like he’s something worth taking care of. You say all the nicest things to him when he fucks you—you tell him he’s strong and handsome and so big, you always emphasize, widening your eyes and palming his cock through his trousers. It’s probably giving him a little bit of an ego, he thinks, but he likes it anyway. Being the focus of your attention is so flattering. He always wants your eyes on him, your hands on him, your thoughts about him. You make him greedy and selfless at the same time—he wants everything you’re willing to give him and he wants to give you even more in return. Wishes this fucking war were over so he wouldn’t have to be on edge all the time. Knows he’s lucky not to have been conscripted to the Imperial Army yet, but that it’s probably a matter of time.

It’s a blessing, being smart, which people have told Namjoon that he is since he can remember. At least they’ve spared him so far because he’s of more use to them at Pukyong, learning how to be the best architect he can be, than he would be as a soldier. Someday, his own father says, he will build castles for a Korean leader, walls to keep the Japanese soldiers out. Those conversations are had in secret, in whispers and gestures. It’s dangerous to be someone like his father, to think there’s a chance for Korean independence, to fight for it in secret… But it’s dangerous to be fucking you into your mattress when your parents could come home any moment, too, and that doesn’t stop Namjoon.

Like father, like son, as they say.

He’s sure it’s not a secret that he’s your boyfriend. Your parents know him, invite him for meals, they like him. They think he’s a sweet, smart, college boy who’s going to give their daughter a better life than they can someday, and they’re not wrong.

Though, he’s also sure they’d like him a lot less if they knew he was a sweet, smart, college boy who loves your body, loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head when he licks at your core, loves the way he can throw your calves over his shoulders and hold you in place as he thrusts home. Loves the small violet bruises he bites into your skin, hidden away under your long skirts and long linen sleeves. Loves how you let him pull out and cover those bruises with his cum, and then especially loves when you run a finger through it and lick it off—when you tell him he tastes good and you thank him for sharing with you.

They’d think he’s ruined you, and he’d cop to it even though it is absolutely the other way around.

You come with a sweet, loud moan. Your throat sounds a little raw when you say his name again, which only turns him on more. With a few strokes, he follows you, leaving his release across your stomach and breasts and thinking that if all art looked like you do in this moment, he’d change his major.

Lazily, he lies next to you and pulls you close. You should clean up, you should get dressed, Namjoon should be sitting at the kitchen table studying his drawings with his shoulders back and glasses smart across his nose when your father gets home. You don’t want him to leave though, asking him to stay just a little longer, turning your head to kiss him softly.

When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he panics. You’re pliant in his arms, still sleeping, and your parents should be home—what if they’ve seen you? What if they know that Namjoon is taking something sweet from you at every opportunity, paying you back with pieces of his heart?

Maybe it’s time he faces this like an adult, he decides. He’s going to marry you someday anyway, it’s a foregone conclusion. They may not like that you’ve been breaking so many of their rules in secret, but someday you will be his wife, and he will care for all of your family as his own, and hopefully that buys him a little leniency with your father. He kisses your temple and gets out of bed as quietly as he can, pulls his clothes back on, and pads out of your room to meet his fate.

He spots them immediately, and as soon as he has the thought that he’s going to be sick, he heaves all over your kitchen floor. It’s going to wake you up, but he needs to spare you from the scene. Somehow, he gets their bodies covered before you get up. It’s the best he can do but it’s not enough—the scream you let out is haunting, half shock and half anguish. When you crumple to your knees, he holds you, lets you sob and scream into his chest and rocks you steadily. He doesn’t know what else to do.

After that day, he files for a leave from school and essentially moves in with you. You use your anger to fuel you, fighting for independence in secret alongside the bravest Koreans Namjoon knows. Your landlord comes around and neither you nor Namjoon even try to hide your rage and disgust. You spit at his feet and he warns you to be polite unless you want to end up like your parents. Namjoon tries to convince you that the old man isn’t even worth your anger, that you’re better off serving your parents’ memory alive than alongside them in a grave.

As the war picks up, so does conscription. Namjoon thinks he’ll be called any day, but the idea of fighting in the Imperial Army makes him ill. So instead, he makes a plan.

It’s only a matter of months before you’re on the ferry to join him on Jeju. He’s been there, building and fortifying. Perhaps it’s cowardly to cut and run, but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way he can be with you, the only way he can keep you safe. With the farm equipment sold off and a bit of his family’s money, he’s made you a home there, and it’s finally ready for you.

There’s a tearful reunion on the dock, and it’s followed by a trip to the courthouse to get married. It all happens in a daze, the memories hazy and dim, but the way he felt as he kissed you and made you his wife burns in him bright, bright, bright.

He makes love to you on the floor of the new cottage that night, slow and sweet. Tries to make you understand how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you. Thinks he succeeds when you tell him you love him as you come, thinks he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful in his whole life.

Finally, he leads you up the narrow staircase to the room he’s built for you. It’s got a big bed, but not too big, because you always want to be close to him when you sleep. Its wooden floors are made warmer with a rug his mother made for you, a wedding gift. The balcony is small, but he designed it himself, based on a wish you’d told him about, that you’ve always dreamed of a place to read in the mornings. It’s shaded from the eastern sun with a balustrade you can kick your feet up onto. There are crude drawings of your favorite animals carved into the balusters, alternating lions and peacocks. Protection and immortality, built into the home he’s made for the two of you. When you see it, you look like maybe you finally understand the way he cares for you, the way he will do anything he can for as long as he lives to keep you happy and safe.

You let yourself out there, and light up the night with your happiness. Namjoon watches you from the bed. He’s been on the balcony, and it’s small. He’s not technically the architect he always thought he would be since he’s left school for good, but he tried his best with this design, and then tried even more when he built it for you.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident. The funny thing about light and sound is that he sees it happen just barely before he hears it. Sees you stumble a little to your right, sees the balcony wobble and thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Then he hears the deafening crack and it’s perfectly timed with his stomach sinking and you disappearing from his view, the balustrade going with you.

New York City — Present Day

Namjoon wakes up in a cold sweat, the alarm blaring next to him. He hates this feeling—the one immediately after the dreams. At least he has most of the day off. The company always gives them time for the jetlag, supposed to be for sleeping, but he’ll use it to shake himself out of this fog that settles in after the dreams. Maybe the Met this time; he saw the Whitney last time he was here and he sort of wants to get out of Chelsea, anyway—thinks the walk might help him clear his head.

He sees you when he’s standing in front of a moon jar, wondering to himself what right these people have to even store this piece and then charge people to see it. Wonders if he could get it back to Korea somehow where it belongs, mutters something under his breath about colonialism and notices you smile at that out of the corner of his eye.

It’s exactly like he’d always thought it would be to see you: immediately he knows. There’s no question. You look different again, not quite like you have in any of his dreams, but you smell the same and you’re wearing a blue and green dress, tight around your figure and flouncy at the hem that reminds him so specifically of a peacock he wants to cry. You smell like fancy French lavender soap and you have a smile that could bring world peace.

The sight of you makes him freeze. What would he even say? There’s nothing he could tell you that wouldn’t make him sound insane, nothing that he’s willing to admit to a stranger, even if that stranger is you. His heart races and he feels himself start to sweat nervously. He’s been looking for you for years, and when he finally finds you, it sends him into a panic. How perfect for him.

He can’t stand in front of the same moon jar forever, though, so he swallows his nerves and stands up a little straighter and begins to turn to you, even if just to introduce himself like a normal person.

Namjoon’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re already gone.

He’s talking to Jeongguk while he sits on the steps of the Met, phone pressed to his ear.

“I know it’s her,” he says, sending Jeongguk into a frenzy of questions.

Namjoon is contemplating the possibility that he’s fucked up his only chance to meet you, when you appear, out of the blue, to take a seat a few feet away from him, he rushes out a “Gotta go, Kookie, bye,” and hangs up as Jeongguk is still talking.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“This is probably so weird, but…” You straighten out your skirt and don’t make eye contact. You look equal parts beautiful and nervous. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Namjoon gets this question a lot. Usually, it’s fans trying to ‘play it cool’ when they run into him in Seoul, trying to give the impression that they don’t immediately know who he is. And yeah, he thinks he’s more humble than some people less famous than him, hates to assume, but it’s always pretty transparent. But, for as much as he gets this question, as often as he brushes it off with an, “I don’t think so,” and a rushed exit from wherever he’s been recognized, he has no idea how to answer it when it comes to you. So, he just gapes at you. It’s mortifying.

“Sorry,” you continue. “It’s just that… Well, this is probably gonna sound crazy, but I think I’ve had dreams about you.”

“Holy shit,” Namjoon says, living up to his reputation as a certified genius and a clever songwriter.

This response flusters you even more, it’s clear you’re embarrassed. The way your eyes flit around and look for an exit from the situation tells him everything he needs to know.

“Sorry again,” you groan more than speak. “Nevermind.”

You start to stand, and Namjoon barely gets his shit together in time to grab your wrist and finally speak. “It’s not weird. I have them, too. The dreams.”

“No fucking way,” you whisper, your eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods in agreement. “How’d you know it was me?” He asks.

“Just knew it,” you shrug, wrist still kept tight in his grasp. “I’m not sure. It’s like… you feel the same. You smell like you, too.”

“Come on,” he says, dropping your wrist finally and standing. “Want to get coffee or something?”

To his relief, you do.

It’s awkward at first. Where do you start with someone you feel like you’ve known forever but you’ve never actually met? Namjoon has a million questions he wants to ask you but none of them seem to fully form in his head. It’s bad enough he has to think through how to not be seen with you—his lifestyle adds a whole layer of complication you’d never faced together in his dreams. Eventually, you knock on his hotel room door about ten minutes after he gets in. It had been a little stressful, waiting for you. He made you promise three times you’d actually show up and then on the fourth one, he made you pinky promise. When you took his little finger solemnly, instead of laughing at him, he was finally (mostly) convinced you’d be there.

And now, here you are, sitting at the little table in his room, clearly trying to be polite and not look at the mess of stuff he’s accumulated in just one night. After all this time wishing he could find you, he’s got no idea what to say to you.

“So… why the Met?”

You smile a little sheepish and shake your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can for such a weird situation.

“I thought it’s where the lion statues were… you know… on the steps. I thought if I went there, maybe you’d be there. I was sure it was you at the airport but by the time I realized it, you were gone. So, I guess it was the only place I could think to look for you where you might look for me, too. But they’re at the library.”

“The lions?”

His confusion seems to make you a little shy; you duck your head and shake it, like you’re telling yourself off before you even explain. “You always say I’m like a lion in the dreams. No matter where we are or what’s happened to us. You say I’m strong and brave and beautiful—”

“A lionheart,” Namjoon whispers.

“Yeah,” you brighten at that. “Is it like that in your dreams, too?”

Namjoon tells you it is. And then he tells you about all the dreams he can remember. Not in detail, and not the worst of the bad endings, but enough that the two of you can compare notes. Enough that you realize you’ve been having basically the same dreams, although not at the same time. Both of you have had some the other hasn’t had yet. He loves it when you tell him about one that ended happily, the two of you betrothed in the Joseon era and figuring out how to fall in love. You think it’s supposed to mean something that the two of you are always facing something that’s keeping you apart—you wonder out loud what might keep you apart in reality, too.

“I hope nothing will,” he says without thinking.

“You don’t even know me!” You’re laughing, but he’s clearly taken you by surprise.

“Don’t I, though?” And the mood changes. You swallow thickly and he tries his best not to break eye contact with you even though he thinks you’re so gorgeous he might not make it through the day without passing out. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but he’s already moving to your side of the table and you’re already scooting your chair back to make space for him.

You don’t kiss like you do in the dreams. In the dreams, you kiss him like he’s the beginning and end, like you’ll take anything he gives you. There’s something nice about that, makes him feel wanted and strong. In reality, you kiss him like you know it’s the other way around. You’re confident, teasing—you smile against his lips when you do a thing with your tongue that makes him let out a moan.

In the dreams, he can’t remember ever kissing anyone but you. But now he’s got your lips on his and you’re definitely not the first person he’s kissed by a long shot, but you’re absolutely the best. It’s almost like having something to compare it to makes it even better.

Maybe there should be some hesitation, but neither of you seem to have any. Not when he pulls you up from the chair so he can kiss you without bending all the way over, not when he walks you back toward the hotel room bed, leaving a trail of tender kisses up your neck and across your jaw in a surprising show of coordination.

It’s inexplicable, he thinks, how he feels like he’s done this a million times with you before but in the best way. He can kiss you without any of the awkward, nervous, first time worries he normally has. He can trust you without knowing quite why, and that part is probably the weirdest thing about all of this because he can’t trust anyone outside of the members and his family usually.

“Is it weird I feel like we’ve done this before?” you ask as you run your hands from his shoulders down his arms.

Namjoon just shakes his head and winds his fingers with yours, leaning in to kiss you again. “No, it’s the same for me,” he says.

Because of the familiarity, maybe, it’s not urgent when you undress each other. He takes time to appreciate this version of you, the one he’s actually holding in his arms, the one who pinches his side gently and then laughs. “Just making sure you’re real,” you say when he yelps in protest.

There’s a moment when you’re both naked, standing in front of the bed, when the air feels thick between you. You’re holding his jaw in your palm and he’s got his hands around your back and neither of you speak for a long beat. For him, it just feels incredible to be here with you. He doesn’t care that he has no idea what you do for a living, where you live… Doesn’t know anything about you except that he thinks he has loved you for a long time. Thinks maybe he was put on this planet specifically to love you. Wonders how the two of you could have messed this up so badly in every other universe, but is actually really glad you did, because maybe that’s why you’re finally here with him now.

“I… I think I love you,” he says timidly. “Makes me feel crazy.”

You have a tear falling down your cheek, but you’re smiling—Namjoon is pretty sure you’re not supposed to be crying before sex like this, but you seem happy. “S’not crazy, I think I love you, too. I’m so happy I finally found you.”

“I looked for you in every city,” he confesses before he presses his lips back to yours, then kisses the tears off your cheeks.

You go soft under him, body pressed into his, and he guides you onto the bed. The two of you laugh into each other’s mouths, mutter how you can’t believe it’s happening, let your breath grow heavier as you take time to learn each other. Namjoon loves it when your lips move against his pulse point, when you get a little rough with him, leaving small bites and bruises in places the stylists won’t give him shit for. You like when he talks to you, tells you how you make him feel, how much he wants to be with you—he whispers right into your ear, the sweetest confessions sandwiched by pure filth that makes your breath hitch and a shiver travel down your spine.

Namjoon’s dreamed you a hundred ways, in a hundred places, but here, spread naked underneath him in this hotel bed and laughing with him while he fucks you slowly is better than any dream he’s ever had.

“Can’t believe you’re real, baby,” he breathes as you run your fingertips down his sides. He looks down to see where his cock is moving inside of you, and he thinks this must actually be a dream. You’re perfect, he thinks as he moves fingers to your clit and presses there gently. When you pull him down to kiss you, it feels familiar again. You brush his hair off of his forehead like you’ve done in every one of his dreams, and now he feels like he could cry—he’s just so overwhelmed by you, so in awe just like he knew he would be. Just as he always has been.

You whisper his name when he makes you come. You tighten around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and Namjoon thinks this is the closest to heaven he might ever get. When you finally work through your orgasm, you encourage him to change positions, to lay on his back and let you ride him.

The way you know exactly what he likes is magical, that deep grinding of your hips in his lap. You don’t have to ask to know what makes him tick, bringing his hand to your lips as you move, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth and whining around them.

He’s always preferred this to something faster. This way, he gets to watch you, feels like you’re taking your pleasure from him, feels like you’re both getting precisely what you want from each other. He could lift his hips and fuck into you, could hold your waist and get you to bounce on his cock like you’re making a sex tape. But this is better. This is you and him, moving like you’re meant to be connected.

You absolutely are, he’s sure of it.

It’s a movie script ending when you come again just as he does for the first time—he wishes he could feel all of you when he spills into the condom, wishes he’d found you years ago and built a more tangible history with you. Hopes more than anything that you want to try to do that with him now.

The two of you clean up with a little bit of shyness; you hide your face as he cleans you carefully with a warm washcloth, and he tries not to let you see him get rid of the condom. It’s not as easy as the dreams where those things sort themselves out, but Namjoon wouldn’t trade these awkward moments for anything.

There’s not really a need to ask you to stay, he knows somehow that you will, but he asks anyway, preens when you agree and ask to borrow a shirt.

He can’t really risk room service with you here, but he gets a manager to bring you food (hand stuck shyly through a crack in the door as to not interrupt), and while you eat, he peppers you with questions about your life. Feels like he knows the important things that are the same as in his dreams (he loves you, you’re loyal), but wants to learn all the mundane stuff, too.

Much later, before the sun rises but after some people would already call it morning, you fall asleep in his arms and he lets himself drift off thinking of lavender and peacocks and falling in love.

Namjoon’s alarm goes off, and the sun must be high in the sky because the light in the room is a bit muted. It’s the first time in a long time he’s woken up content, hesitates for a second before he remembers why, remembers everything that happened the day before, remembers that you were real and here and in his bed and his arms. He lets himself just exist there for a minute, eyes closed, thinking about what might come next, how he’ll explain you to his family…

Then it sort of dawns on him that you should be right there, that he fell asleep wrapped around you and now he isn’t. He panics for a split second when he realizes you’re not pressed against him, doesn’t think he could handle it if this was a dream, too. Tries to be rational, but for some reason can’t quite bring himself just to tip his head over and open his eyes.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, smells hotel laundry detergent and sex and the faintest hint of lavender. He says a silent prayer and then sticks his hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for yours. Thinks he might scream when he doesn’t feel you there immediately.

Namjoon snakes his hand across the sheet and hopes he never has to dream to see you again.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #rm smut #rm fluff #rm angst #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #kvanity #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

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jinkookspencil · 7 months

Text

like couples do | knj

you run out of period products at dawn, and there's only one person who's up....

description/tags: namjoon drabble / fwb to lovers / fluff / but mentions the fact that namjoon and reader had unprotected sex (don't do this) and reader is relieved to get her period afterwards / so obviously mentions of period and blood / maybe a bit angsty? / been busy and been working on a request! but it's been a while since i wrote namjoon and, gosh, i love writing for him even though whatever comes to me for him is usually the most random bursts and ideas, like this one i thought of last night / let me know what you think <3

wc: ~1.6k words

Your gasp pulls you from heaven to hell.

Extracted from your dream, you’re out of the covers in a flash, dazed as you try to meet your reality. The room was sweltering despite autumn settling in and the fan whizzing away in your room as it always did. The sound you’d grown so accustomed to only made it harder to think, but you didn’t have to. The wet pools at your back and around your body suddenly made themselves known, with your black pajama top sticking to your sweaty skin. With a quick change into a tank top and a sip of cold water, you were ready to escape into a dreamland, far from the hellhole that had been your bedroom...

Only to be met with a small pool of a different kind when you pull away the blanket.

Fuck.

Quickly feeling between your thighs confirmed it - you bled through your shorts.

Well, at least it’s here, you think, your heart settling after days worrying about the sudden delay in your cycle. After all, Namjoon hadn’t used any protection…

It was hard to put away the mental image of him once you were in the bathroom, remembering that one time he had you propped up on the cabinet, but looking through it now, the panic returns. You were all out of pads and tampons.

This is why people have roommates. Or stupidly organized Virgo boyfriends, you think, cursing yourself while rummaging through every drawer, cupboard, and overnight bag without finding a single tampon for the evening.

The minutes spent on your phone were quick to squash any more of your hopes - the delivery service app had been shut down for the night after some seemingly catastrophic bug on their end, and your female friends who lived nearby hadn't answered your texts and calls, as expected at this time of day.

Reading the time on your phone, you knew one person who would definitely be up. The person who always showed up. The man worked ridiculous hours, following his ‘late-night creativity’… unless the universe really wanted to torture you and, for the very first time, he’d be asleep as well.

You consider running to the convenience store, double layering your bottoms with black fabrics, and taking a scooter... only for a stinging cramp to shock you at your lower back.

He had to answer.

to: joon 🌒[3:58am] - hi are you up?

to: joon🌒 [3:58am] - text asap please it’s urgent

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - yes i’m up. are you okay y/n?

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - i’m finally done with work for the night.

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - are you okay? i’ll call as soon as i’m out of the building.

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - don’t call i’m embarrassed to say this to you out loud plus i'm in pain

to: joon 🌒 [4:02am] - can you get me some pads and tampons? i got my period (aka the pain) and i’m all out so….

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - i need em and i can’t get em

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - y/n of course. phew i thought this was going in literally the complete opposite way considering…

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - anyways, aren’t we past embarrassment? never feel that when it comes to me please.

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - safe space just for us, remember?

to: joon🌒 [4:04am] - yes :) thanks joon

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - :) getting on my bike now. i’ll be there in 10.

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - the sky’s starting to change colors. look outside, pretty :) (1 image attached)

The knock, though expected, jolts you enough for your new bedsheet to spring away from your grasp once again. Frustrated, a groan escapes you as you walk to your front door, tightening the robe that covered your body and stained shorts.

“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon giggles at the door, seeing your furrowed expression. “Oh, you’re most definitely on your period, huh?”

“Get in here and shut up,” you groan once more, letting him in. All too familiar with your place, he unpacks one of the bags in his hand, carefully displaying an array of period products on the nearest table.

“I’m surprised you didn’t send a photo and ask me to choose one,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes.

“I… I grabbed everything in the aisle without thinking. Shit, I should’ve sent a photo, right? Are these not good enough? Are they the wrong size? Will they fit your....? I can go to another convenience store,” he murmurs, head tilted down as he surveys the products before you.

“No, Namjoon, honey, the photo is just a thing boyfriends tend to do when they’re asked to get period products. You asked the same size and fit question, though,” you laugh before quickly realizing you compared his actions to that of a boyfriend. Something he most definitely was not.

“I lived in a dorm full of boys, how was I supposed to know?” he says, scratching his head.

“These are perfect, and I’m stocked for at least the next three months. Thank you, Joonie,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he replies quietly, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss your forehead. It only hits you both when your hand is rubbing at his back in his embrace, and it takes even longer to break away than it did to realize the situation.

Something shifts in Namjoon’s gaze when he sees you emerge from the bathroom in new pyjama shorts. “Cute PJ’s. I’m not used to seeing them on you for more than five seconds.”

“Enjoy the show, then,” you quip, plopping down next to him on the couch and extending your legs over his lap. You hadn’t really meant it as a command, but can’t help but smile catching the fact that Namjoon had obeyed. His fingers draw mindless circles at your ankles as his gaze travels upwards. Minutes are spent in silence, eyeing your thighs with intent before his eyes rest on your exposed clavicle. His circles stop, gripping your ankle and noting the undeniable rise and fall of your breathing and breasts, swollen and tender against your thin cotton tank top.

“Oh,” he finally says with a cough, breaking the silence and raising his brows. “I almost forgot. I thought you might need these.”

Leaning forward, Namjoon dumps the entire contents of the second plastic bag onto your hard coffee table. Small, colorful circles bounce off of it and onto the floor, long bars land with a thud, and instantly recognizable plastic packages are cushioned by its contents.

“Oh, Joon. I do. I do fucking need this,” you let out, almost as a moan. “You already know what I want.”

Smiling, he tears open a plastic packet of your favorite chocolate-flavored bread and another for himself. The time spent biting and savoring the pillowy snack was heavenly in the comfortable silence -save for the birds that begin to chirp from somewhere outside your window.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the sticker,” you say, handing Namjoon the tiny square envelope in your now-empty plastic packaging. He’s quick to grab it from your hands, giddy to see whatever Pokemon character was inside.

"Take mine, too," he says, handing you his square, with an illustration of a pink, deer-like creature - not at all like the Pokemon he usually mentioned.

"Oh, she’s pretty!”

"Exactly..." he says. "Deerling, that's her name. She's a new favorite of mine, actually. Her colors change based on the different seasons in the year... and when she evolves, her deer form's antlers are basically how branches are decorated in nature: budding flowers and leaves for spring, greenery for summer, you get the picture. She's the only one that truly encapsulates the beauty of our world..."

"All that for a Pokemon? I'm jealous," you tease, but he doesn't laugh, quietly opening the envelope you'd handed to him.

“Yes!” he cheers. “I don’t have this one yet - Moltres. Ah, you really are my good luck charm, huh?"

"Am I? I guess you should keep me around, then, huh?" you say, leaning back on the couch and poking his shoulder.

"That's the plan," Namjoon says, his eyes still thoughtfully fixated on the sticker he fiddled with, but only for a moment. “Uhm… I… we… should probably get some sleep, huh? I should probably…go. Uhm, should I?”

“Do you want to go?” you ask, feeling a tightening in your chest at the thought. Just like all those nights in bed, it was too comfortable to remember that this wasn't your entire reality but stolen, secret time. Always, one found themselves reminding the other to snap back to reality. It was beautifully torturous, just as you two had liked it for so long… until it began to sink in that the beauty could stand on its own…. if only one of you had the courage.

“….No. No I don’t really want to go, Y/N. But if you want me to….”

“I don’t want you to,” you interrupt, nudging his fingertip with yours right over your knees until your hands are intertwined. “I mean someone has to help me fit that stupid sheet onto the bed... and you're quite familiar with my sheets."

“I am,” he smiles, nodding to himself and squeezing your hand with his.

“Then we can get in… and just go to sleep… or cuddle,” you wonder, feeling Namjoon's soft hand under yours.

“Like couples do?” Namjoon asks, finally meeting your gaze for the first time that night.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m thinking like couples do,” you whisper, your breath hitching on the words that spoke your once unthinkable, far-fetched desire while looking at it right in the eyes.

“Me too,” he smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss it and rest it at his dimples. “Like couples it is then.”

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muniimyg · 1 month

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ college crush!joon ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @rrosiitas @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

college crush!joon is the type to meet you after class and pretend like he didn't sneak out of a lab just to see you. he'd ask his friends to cover him and his profs turned the other cheek since he's a good kid. it's not like he'd be leaving class early for stupid reasons, right?

college crush!joon walks inches away from you. usually, his hands are shoved in his pockets while you leave yours lingering in case he wants to take it. he does. he's just too shy right now. maybe next time.

college crush!joon expects you to see you at a party. as he waits, he greets everyone he knows. when you walk in, you catch him hugging a girl a little too long for your liking. it can't be helped. you sulk. your smile turns into a small frown and just as you turn to avoid him, he pushes his way through the crowd. "yah, ___!" he slurs as he pulls you in by your waist. as you huff, he chases your eyes. "don't be jealous," joon says desperately. "i'm too tipsy to act nonchalant. might say things i mean. might do things i've been meaning to do." you blink at him. "i'm not jealous." is all you have to say. he laughs before leaning in, slumping his body onto yours. like reflex, you wrap your arms around him. "but if i were... i wouldn't have any reason to be, right?" you ask softly, unsure if you even said it loud enough for him to hear. you feel his hearty chuckle against your body. he pats your head and kisses your neck. he's never done that before. shivers go down your spine. "babe, if i wanted a reaction from you, it wouldn't be through jealousy."

college crush!joon is a man of his word. it wasn't the night of the party, but a few nights after. he came over and then he really came over. as joon finishes the last bit of his soju, you giggle and straddle him. on top, you begin to grind your pussy against his buldge. his jeans are peeled off and the thin fabric of your panties make it easy to feel his cock harden. as you run your fingers in between his boxers waist band, he reaches over to kiss your neck. he kisses it softly and then with intent to leave a mark. you moan as he bites your skin, feeling the sensation of being so close to him. as he does this, you grind on him faster and faster. "holy fuck, i could cum right now." he moans, "can i get my dick out?" you shake your head. "n-no. i just want to do this..." he gulps. "you just want to dry hump me until i cum?" you shrug. "until i cum too." he can't think straight. it's okay if you didn't want to fuck just yet... besides, you two are kind of drunk... so this is good. this is better than good. this is fucking—"you haven't even asked me out. you don't deserve my pussy." you tease, as you cup his face. you mean it though. he offers you a lazy smile, trying his best not to cum just yet. but you look at him with pleading eyes and it makes him go crazy. "bad boy," you slap him. "such a bad fucking boy. you want this pussy? be good to me." he nods, biting his lip from how hot you are in this very moment. "i promise," he says hastly. smiling, you take his hands and hold them for stability. grinding, humping, and fucking his cock that keeps being slapped against his abdomen is too much. there's so much heat between you two. there's so much fucking wetness that soaks both of your fabrics. it's sticky. it's so fucking loud too. he's going to burst. then, you moan, throw your head back, and it must be a god sent moment because your dress straps fall from your shoulders, causing the front to flop down. revealing your breasts, he can't help but watch the way they bounce. without a thought, he buries his face in between your breast. you giggle at the initial ticklish feeling, but quickly feel flustered when he sucks on your nipples. "make me cum," you cry. "make me cum and i'll suck your cock so good, joon. i p-promise." he smirks, making the deal. he then takes a fistful of your hair and tugs it down. he begins to roll his hips against you, and the pace is just perfect. he moans into your ear, he bites your collarbone, he sucks your tits some more—then, you cum. you spill yourself all over your panties and it leaks over his boxers. quickly, you get off of him and go on your knees. tugging his jeans lower, you take his cock out of his boxers and grip them with your two hands. "so b-big," you salivate. "two hands.. oh god. when you fuck me, will you even fit?" your words have him dizzy. he can't even process what you said before you go right into it. you kiss the tip before engulfing it you have nothing to lose. it's like you didn't just cum moments ago. how do you move that fast? as you bob your head, joon can't help but feel his stomach twitch. you suck his dick so good. you suck it like he always thought you would—better even. better because it's real. better because he cums for real. as he spills himself inside your mouth and catches his breath, you swallow and wipe the excess cum off of your lips. " keep your promise, joon... or i'll never suck your dick again."

college crush!joon is annoying. since that night... well, he's been avoiding you. you cried about it the other night. you thought he was different... instead, he's a promise breaker. fuck him. as you're dismissed from class, you can't help but wonder where it went downhill. did you suck his dick wrong or something? were you too demanding? did he not get it? he's so fucking annoying. as you exit the building, for the first time in 2 weeks, you see him. he's talking to another girl. you want to throw a tantrum. instead, you turn your cheek and continue to walk away. then, as you go, you feel his presence catch up to you. "hey." he greets you. you ignore him. "okay, yeah, i'm a dick. i know. i should've called. i should've texted... but i didn't. my bad. i was figuring things out—" you stop walking. he cuts in front of you. "i'm sorry, ___. a group member complained about me always skipping the last portion of lab and i got into some shit with my profs. i got all stressed and not to mention—i've been wrecking my mind trying to figure out the perfect way to ask you out. i want to do that, okay? i want to take you on a date. i should've said it earlier. i should've kept my promise... i'm sorry. please, can you give me a second chance?" he begs. you gulp, feeling uneasy. "f-fine," you agree. "but i'm not sucking your dick no matter how much you impress me with the date. i'm still mad at you." joon's lips curve into a smile. he puts his hands up and laughs. "all good," he reassures you. "i wanna do this right. wanna love you right. you never have to suck my dick ever again—" your eyes widen. "n-no. i will. i want to. it was fun. it was big—" he covers your mouth with his hand. "shhh," he blushes. "how about you just let me hold your hand for now? yeah? let's start there." he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together. your heart flutters as you two walk side by side. he isn't shy anymore and you... you aren't as mad. maybe it's whatever. maybe you should suck his dick later for the plot.

#bts smut #nam joon smut #nam joon scenario #rm imagine #bts rm fanfic #bts rm blurb #bts rm smut #joon fluff #joon college au #bts college au

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littlemessyjessi · 1 month

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“Couple of Chaos” : A Kim Namjoon/RM Commissioned Request: Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader

Kim Namjoon x Reader, Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader, Established Relationship

Prompt: Namjoonie and his partner who is just as much of a mess as him. A darling. A lovely person. Love of his life. But just as much of a chaotic mess as he is, lol.

“Life is the messy bits.” - Lisa Friedman

Headcanons: How Namjoon and Reader deal with the both of them being messy as hell.

First and freaking foremost, you’re both disasters

just full on

You’re both equally chaotic

one as bad as the other

and yet ya’ll will get on each other’s nerves so bad with messes

like…. ya’ll both do it and yet when it’s the other person it’s somehow terrible

hypocrites, the both of yuns

that being said, in a way, ya’ll kinda complete each other

Namjoon is a perpetual passport loser right?

And I’ve lost count of how many times he’s lost his air pods

Well, cue…. you

His personal storage locker… or purse. Whichever you want to refer to it

If you carry a purse, just snatch his shit from him and keep up with it so this man can actually board a plane

If you don’t carry a purse but wear a bra, stick it in the boulder holder

If you don’t do either, put it in your pocket for him

If you don’t have pockets then you have bigger problems to worry about that Namjoon-ah and his lack of ability to keep up with his shit

Now, assuming that you do have these things, you do this so often that Namjoon just knows you have them.

Needs chapstick? If you’re in a relatively private company, he just goes into your pocketeses for it

Passport? Ok, so Namjoon is smart as fuck. We get it. However, he do be having some primo himbo energy at times.

Picture this: Airport. Namjoonie lost passport. “Oh, wait a second. I know where it is!” Just turns and sticks his hand in your bra and deep sea dives in the titties until he has found what he’s looking for. Assuming that you have titties. If you don't, well again- homeboy is just deep sea diving in whatever area you're currently keeping his belongings.

meanwhile, the eyes of everyone around him have been scarred and you’ve just been violated in front of the entire airport

he realizes this in about 3 seconds and all he can do is give you that cute dimpled smile

of course he’s forgiven. It’s Joonie. If you don’t forgive him then I’ll be along directly to deliver an ass whoopin'. Let's not play with sweet Namu's precious feelings. He's an angel and a perfectly wonderful person. Fuck with him and you fuck with me. And I have raged stored from the age of three. I am now in my 30s. I have it and I will use it.

so yeah

and going back to ya’ll getting on each other’s nerves

doom piles

There. I said it.

Ya’ll both got doom piles and junk drawers and whole ass closets just full of random crap

and you nearly kill each other over it on a regular basis

“Jagiyaaaaaaaaaaa! Come on! There is a full on mountain of stuff here and you can’t even close this drawer.”

“Namjoon, would you like to discuss the entire guest bedroom full of figurines? Or perhaps, the closet full of books? Or maybe, just maybe, you would like to explain to me why there is an drawer in our bedroom full of baby things when neither one of us has any plans of having children anytime soon?”

“....” *Joon bites lip and narrows eyes

“....” *you lift a brow*

“Alright, jagi. My mistake. You hungry?”

“Yes, I’m starving.”

“Wonderful.” he smirks. “Where would you like to eat?”

Your head slowly turns around.

You narrow your eyes at his smug ass face.

“How fucking dare you, Kim Namjoon?”

And he has the audacity to smirk at you because he knows he bested you cause you can’t decided where to eat to save your life.

Jokes on him though because you just needed a project. It was sorting through your doom piles but now that he’s pissed you off it quickly changed to annoying the ever living hell out of him.

Lowkey though, jokes actually on you because Joon loves it when your fiesty and sometimes purposefully does this shit just to rile you up.

You also know this about him though. Which is why you left the junk drawer open and also why you got sassy.

He likes that you’re a mess and you love that about him too.

"This is the stuff that drives me crazy This is the stuff that's getting to me lately In the middle of my little mess I forget how big I'm blessed"

- This is the Stuff, Francesca Battistelli

Members Reaction to the Deities of Destruction and Disaster:

Seokjin: (A/N: omfg Seokjin you did not have to be so aggressively attractive. And that goes for you too, Namjoon)

Long suffering sigh. The hyung energy is strong here. It’s part frustration and part pure bewilderment as to why, how and what even is he going to do with the both of you. That being said, Seokjinnie thinks the two of you are super cute together. You definitely get scolded but also, he cracks easily because come on. Look at ya’ll. Thanks God every day that Namjoon uses you as his purse though. He is so tired of standing around in an airport, lol.

Yoongi: (A/N: Cue the dreamy sigh. Just look at them. Look at the smiles. Look at the damn ARMS!)

I’m gonna be so for real with you right now. He does not give a shit about the mess. I mean, don’t get his things in a mess but if you roll up in a 2003 lifted Tacoma, open the door and a bunch of shit falls out… I mean, maybe he might give you a little bit of a lecture but honestly? That’s ya’ll’s problem, lol. But also stop losing ya’ll fucking airpods, the both of you. If a bra works then do that because he will not be loaning you another pair ever again. And he refuses to talk about why.

Hoseok: (A/N: Mother of God. I have the fattest crush on Hoseok. Also peep that cute little Kookie. And how DARE you attack me like this, Namjoon?!)

Never in the history of ever was anyone annoyed more by this than Hoseok, lol. However, he doesn’t bitch. Oddly enough, he never complains about it. He never bitches. He never lectures. He does, however, come over to hang out and help the both of you clean your mess. Hoseok is great for body doubling if you have ADHD. However, if you have an issue with him doing the cleaning it might be an issue. It makes him itch and he needs to scratch it.

Jimin: (A/N: It's unspeakable how much handsomeness is in this gif.)

An actual ANGEL for body doubling if you have ADHD and you’re trying to handle the depression hoarder situation in your bedroom. Super respectful and understanding. He just enjoys spending time with his loved ones so he would gladly come help if you want it or just keep the both of you company. Because clearly body doubling does not with you and Joon together. You just make it a bigger mess. Acknowledging this: Jimin finds this chaos hilarious and doesn’t do anything to stop. Ya’ll are wild and unkempt and honestly? Jiminie is here for it.

Side note: I am particularly attached to Jimin in this gif. Look how beautiful. Look how handsome. I swear, that man is dangerous. We are all very, very, very lucky that he's such a sweetheart because don't act like if he asked you for a kidney that you wouldn't immediately start looking for something to carve with . And if that happened to be a spoon, we'd all just accept our fate. Don't lie.

Extra Sidenote: Namjoon be looking extra delectable. *chef's kiss*

Taehyung: (A/N: First of all, damn Namjoon. Those arms. Sweet lord. I'm looking, Joonie. Respectfully, of course..... but I do be lookin. Second, does Taehyung not look like the most precious creature in all the land?)

A precious darling. He does not give a shit about the mess. He just loves his hyung. He loves his hyung’s love. Ya’ll are special to him and that’s how you are. He thinks it is part of ya’ll’s charm and your charm as a couple. Ya’ll are a messy couple but not in the having your dirty laundry out for everyone to see way. In a “aw, Jiminie, look at them. They are such tragic disasters but they’re disasters together.” kind of way. He will find a way to make it romantic no matter what.

Jungkook: (A/N: Just Jungkook out here living his best y/n life, honestly, lol. )

Ok, so here’s the thing, lol. Jungkookie has had his own issues with messes here and there. Also, let's be honest.... he's got the fattest crush on Namjoon, lol. His crush on Namjoon may even rival the crush I have on Hoseok. Like, I kinda doubt it because there ain't much I wouldn't do for that man but still. Jungkook loves him's Namjoonie. He loves all that Namjoon-ah is associated with. He's his biggest fan, lol. With you, it is honestly the same. Like... his hyung is in love? Who is this person that has captured the heart of the most magnificent Namjoonie? If you managed to do that and Namjoon is happy.... honestly Jungkook adores you. Regardless of the hopeless fucking messes that the both of you clearly are. He and Taehyung share this but in addition to this, Jungkookie will literally help you with anything you need. He just wants to hang out with you both so he'll do like his Jimin hyung and either just chill while you sort or he'll help you. Or just hang out in the chaos and not solve anything, lol. He just loves his hyung and he loves his hyung's love as well. It's as simple as that.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my content and thank you so much to @alisoncdariel for commissioning this piece! I hope you enjoy it!

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suzumenokakimono · 1 year

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Bigger issue

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Genre: au, fluff, friends to lovers

Word count: 9k

Summary: Long winter had left you with some additional kgs and you were very sulky about it. You knew you were not fat, but you didn’t feel yourself. This was not you, not the real one! You wanted to hide and wait for better times.

A/N: I’ve gained some weight recently and I am not very happy about it. I had to get it out of my system.

P.S. I started to write a new one-shot with Jimin but I am so whipped for Namjoon I am doomed.

Masterlist

—----

You sat on the couch.

People were going around you, talking with each other, laughing, drinking, simply having fun. You knew some of them, the other ones were completely stranger to you. They all were invested in their own matters, nobody was paying attention to you.

Which was fine. You really wanted to be left alone. You needed to gather your thoughts. Your own thoughts which were tormenting you, making you feel worse and worse each passing moment. And you knew it was all just in your mind, nobody was guilty, just your fucking brain bringing up everything, exaggerating, showing the whole situation in only dark colors. You knew that. If someone actually went inside your head and saw all that mess, they would call you crazy and tell you to get over yourself. It was that stupid. And you knew that. You also knew you were the only one thinking about that, nobody had mentioned anything, pointed out anything, given you any hint they’d noticed. They didn’t care. And, of course, you knew that. And yet, you were failing to control that. You were failing the battle with yourself, with your own fucking thoughts.

And you were sitting on that couch. That was not how you were supposed to spend that night.

You hadn’t seen your friends for a long time. You all had been busy, with your lives, jobs, schools or whatever. You all had stuff to do and no time to meet and catch up. You missed them, but there had not been much to do about it. You wanted to talk to them, you wanted to spend time with them, but at the same time you wanted to be left alone, not seen by anyone. You were not feeling yourself, not as you should have. That was just not the best timing.

And the reason for all of that was very simple: Long winter that had left you with additional kgs and you hadn’t had time to do something about it. You were busy and had decided to take care of your love muffins some other time. You hadn’t thought that your friends would betray you and force you to meet and have fun before that happened.

You almost had changed your mind and stayed at home. You had been so close to writing to everyone you were not feeling well.

But you actually had one good reason to come.

Him.

You knew he would come, he’d told you himself. Or more like he’d written you in text. He was such a nice person. He’d asked you if you were coming to the party because he hadn’t seen you in ages and he’d missed you. You remembered vividly how much you’d blushed after reading his message. And how quickly you had changed your mind about going out. You’d been missing him too. Very much. You missed his wide, charming smile. You missed his laughter, you missed his big, sexy brain. His everything. You loved spending time with him, you were never bored together. You loved how he was talking about books he’d read, about places he had visited. You loved how his underbite was showing when he was focused on something. You loved his dimples popping out when he was smiling. You loved…

You loved him.

Oh, you were so in love with him. He was your friend and you definitely had feelings for him that friends usually don’t have for each other. And you were pretty damn sure he didn’t feel the same way about you. He had never shown any sign of that, more affection than it was appropriate. He was always nice, kind and gentle. He was occasionally hugging you, nothing you could have taken for something more than a friendly gesture. You’d been always enjoying those moments, reminding yourself it was better than nothing. You knew he had never treated them the same way as you had been. He didn’t like you that way.

But still, you were insanely in love with him.

So, you’d put on your comfy pants and oversized hoodie to cover yourself up and had gone to the party.

And you’d ended up alone on the couch. You were bashful about your appearance, actually regretting putting on baggy clothes. You hadn’t been able to have a good time. You’d meet a few of your friends, you’d talk a little but you’d been feeling their eyes on you. You were so damn sure they were judging you over your look, you couldn’t focus on anything else. It had taken away all the fun from the evening and you already wanted to leave.

You’d seen him around. Obviously, he was looking gorgeous as always. He hadn’t changed at all. So tall, slim and handsome. He had been trying to talk with you but you’d been running away from him, always finding an excuse. To be honest, that was really stupid since he was the only reason you had come to the party in the first place. You probably were crazy. You wanted to slide between couch cousins and never be seen ever again.

You felt someone had sat next to you. You were so invested in your own thoughts it startled you and you almost jumped in your spot. You turned your head and to your surprise you saw no one else but him. He was looking at you, with his eyes half closed, full lips pressed in a thin line. He seemed puzzled, like he wanted to ask you about something, still hesitating if that was the good idea.

“Namjoon?”

“Oh, good. You remember me.”, he exhaled theatrically, showing his relief. “Considering how you’ve been running away from me the whole evening, I would assume you don’t know my name anymore.”

“I would never run away from you.”

“Oh? Then what the hell is happening today?”

“It’s not you. I’m running away from everyone!”

“Wait? So, I’m not special? You’re not avoiding me and only me? This makes me more sad than you not remembering my name.”

You chuckled, probably for the first time that night. Namjoon had that special power over you. Your soft spot for him was already an independent country with its own currency and national anthem.

“So, are you having fun all alone on the couch?”

“I am no longer alone.”, you half smiled at him.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“Absolutely not. You’re just one. And there… are the others… Why there is no many of them?”

“It’s a party. It usually happens at parties. At least, so I’ve heard.”

“You seem to be more experienced in this than me.”

“I know a few things, true.”, he made this facial expression of a person who knows stuff, more than the others. “Hoseok told me.”, he added after a small pause.

You chuckled again. Namjoon was definitely ruining your ruined evening.

“Where is he anyway?”, you asked.

“I have no clue. Last time I saw him, he was dragging his girlfriend somewhere. I don’t want to know the details…”

“Well, at least they have some fun…”, you felt your face turning pink. Why the hell had you said something like this to him? You cleared your throat. “Are you having fun?”

“No, I can’t. Not when you’re like this. It’s bugging me. You’re bugging me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I hope so.” Namjoon scooted a little closer to you. “What is up? What have you been up to all this time? Talk to me.”

“No. You talk first. Last time we saw each other you’ve been trying to publish a book.”

“Oh shit, it’s been that long?”, he sighed. “Well, true, I was contacting a few publishers…”

Namjoon started to talk about the past events, things that you had missed while not being around. He had been working hard and even though it had been basically his work, nothing exciting, he still wanted to share that with you.

And you really wanted to listen to him. You wanted to know all the updates from his life, even his work life. But you had drifted away very quickly. Your mind was playing tricks on you and even the short, yet fun, conversation with Namjoon had not kicked out the main topic of your mind.

You looked at him. Ah, he was so pretty. Way out of your league. Especially when you were looking like this. Way too big, way to bummed with your anxiety. He would never look at you that way. Why had you eaten that cupcake after coming to the party? But then again, your stomach had been empty, it would make a noise right during your chit chat, you were sure about that. And he would hear that. You’d had to eat something!

Namjoon smiled with his full dimpled smile. Way out of your league.

You saw people passing past you, someone broke a glass, a pretty black dress was wet and smelled like beer and you were fat.

You lost him.

“... they wrote me an email about it…”

You squeezed your brain. Random sentences were still coming to you. But they seemed to be muffled, like he or you were underwater.

“... I tried to correct that, but it was so hard, you know? I didn’t want…”

His hair looked really good. He always had nice hair.

“...Y/N… you listening…?”

He had said your name. You had to focus! Wait, what was he saying?

“... and I sold my kidneys because I’ve needed more money for drugs.”

“...what?”, you blinked a few times, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“You.Are.Not.Listening.To.Me!”, he was mad but still amused by your facial expression.

“I-I am!”

“Oh yeah? What was the movie about?”

“... a movie? I thought… you’ve written a book…”, your confusion was going through the roof.

“That’s it. You are spilling everything, now.”

“Ah, Namjoon. I just drifted away, can you repeat please? That one about drugs?”

You gave him the most charming smile you could produce. But he knew you too well. He had not bought that.

“I died. Now your turn.”

“I don’t wanna die… I was just thinking… you know… about stuff… all of them… and…”, you were talking more silently with each new word. You were trying to confuse him, maybe discourage a little. He was so stubborn, but he’d found a good opponent.

Namjoon had not bought your mumbling as well. He rolled his eyes and moved even closer to you on the couch. Your heart skipped a bit, you were playing it cool though, pretending him being close to you was not doing anything to you. He was your friend, just your beautiful friend. Who you’d been in love with for decades.

“Come on, Y/N. Talk to me.”, he tilted his head, almost bumping into yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You could feel how your face was turning red. Namjoon was way too close, you could smell his cologne. You didn’t want him to see you so flustered, it would only add more to your anxiety which was already bigger than ever. An urge to hide attacked you even more than before. So you did the only thing that had come to your mind. You took your hood and put it on your head, pulling by the hem, to cover your face as much as possible.

Namjoon gasped in surprise, taken aback by the plot twist. He looked at you with eyes wide open, trying to make any sense out of it.

“You know, I haven’t seen you in a long time, but I cannot say I can see you right now.”

You snorted, before any thinking. That was kinda the point. You wanted to look at him but he was not supposed to see you, at least not like that. You were conflicted between spending more time with him as you wanted and hiding in the closet and watching a whole party from that place.

But Namjoon had no idea what was going on in your head and since you were refusing to talk to him he decided to leave you be. You were sure he’d said something like “See you around” and simply left. You knew it was exactly what you had wanted and yet still it hurt. You wanted to be left alone but maybe not by him. But how was he supposed to know that since you’d refused to even talk with him?

Agh, you were so conflicted! Your mind was a mess and nothing was able to ease that.

You looked around the room, trying to find Namjoon. You wanted to apologize and maybe explain a little what was going on. Not everything, but you didn’t want him to be mad at you. He still was your friend, you didn’t want to lose that.

You found him next to the drinks table. He simply grabbed a beer and moved to stand in the door frame. Before you even realized, someone had joined him. You didn’t recognize her at first, her hair was covering her face. But when she moved your heart stopped for a moment. It was Amber. Your mutual friend from school with whom you both had stayed in touch even after going separate ways and jobs. She always looked good. She was the lucky one who’d never had to do much to actually look pretty. Her hair, skin or outfit was always on point. That night was not an exception.

You had a feeling she liked Namjoon. She had never told you anything or had made a move, but it seemed just too obvious. Or maybe you were just too alerted when it came to women around him. You tended to exaggerate. But you had no idea if Namjoon liked her back.

You sat in a complete lack of movement for a moment, observing them, trying to read their body language. You were never good at that and your mind was always going places with assumptions and way too creative imagination. You shook your head. You had to focus!

They were talking, mostly she was. Namjoon was sipping his beer and listening to her. He seemed interested in her story, responding when needed, maintaining eye contact for the whole time.

That had been you moments ago. He had been talking with you, he had sat next to you, not being asked for. But you had blown it, of course you had.

Amber laughed at something, something that Namjoon had said. He smiled at her, with that cute dimpled smile and she touched his shoulder. He didn’t react in any special way, he was looking straight into her eyes, cheerful and happy. They were having fun. Together.

You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out of there immediately. You did everything not to run for your life and as gracefully as you were able to, you left the room. People had mostly gathered in the big room or in the garden so when you found a kitchen it was empty. It seemed abnormal but you didn’t want to question the fact you could actually be alone. And you needed that.

Seeing Amber with Namjoon was like a punch in the guts. He was not your boyfriend, a friend yes but nothing more. Yet you were jealous, so fucking jealous. Seeing them together immediately had created a scenario in your head of how they hook up at the party and you are left alone and live under the bridge. You were already making yourself cry.

But you couldn’t stop thinking that they were perfect for each other. Pretty people together always made sense.

She was even more gorgeous than him.

No. Nobody was.

But she was way prettier than you, not to mention yet again, she had a flawless body while you were hiding yours under millions of layers to cover up your winter fat. Coming to the party was a mistake. Namjoon didn’t want to see you, he’d just wanted to be nice.

You leaned to the counter on the kitchen island, having your back to the door and sighed. Even you were annoyed how much this small change in your appearance was affecting you. You didn’t want to be this grumpy. It was not you! Maybe you should go back home and somehow figure all this out in your head? The evening was already ruined, you were not missing anything.

It had taken a few moments for you to calm down. You didn’t want to cry, it was not worth ruining your simple makeup that way. You took a deep breath, then another one. You closed your eyes: You were such a mess.

Namjoon was passing by the door when you were still contemplating your fate.

“Y/N?”

You turned around, hearing your name. You were not expecting to be found there and most importantly not by him. You were pretty sure he was too invested into having fun with someone else.

“What are you doing here?”

He came into the kitchen and stood next to you. His hood was on, although you could see his hair popping up from it.

“What is up with you today?”, he asked again. He sounded resigned.

“Ah, nothing really. Just go back to Amber, I don’t wanna ruin your evening.” “... who? No, I was looking for you. Wanted to make sure you’re OK. You seem so off today.”

“… oh. Thanks.”

“You disappeared so suddenly. Did something happen?”

“No, not really…”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Um, I don’t wanna talk about this…”, you waved your hand, trying to dismiss the whole subject, making him forget about it.

“Why? What’s going on?”, but he was insisting.

“Nothing, it’s just me… being weird.”

“OK, now you have to tell me.”

“No! Ugh, it’s really stupid and embarrassing…”, you were already sweating through your T-shirt.

“Tell me even more.”

You looked at him, begging with your eyes to finally drop the subject. You were already feeling new anxiety crawling on your back, because apparently there was never enough of those. But he was having none of it. He was waiting for you to say something, anything to clear the situation for him. It was really bugging him.

You sighed. You were doomed.

“I’m feeling really weird… Like… I’m not feeling myself right now.”, you tried to put some sense into the whole situation. “After this winter… it’s been so long and I was so busy… I just… I got fat and I hate it so much.”

You sighed again. There, you’d said it. It had sounded much more deep in your head, though. When you’d finally said it, when you’d shared your concern with him, it hit you how shallow that actually was. You were worrying about extra kgs like a teenager from an American movie. Namjoon probably had already changed his mind about you.

But when you looked at him you saw a complete lack of any expression. He was not disgusted, amused or even bored. He was looking straight into your eyes, maybe waiting for you to say more. But when you hadn’t, he just raised his eyebrows.

“That’s all?”

You knew he hadn’t meant anything bad, but you still narrowed your eyes and looked at him with a “Don’t you dare to comment that” look. You were certain you wouldn’t take his any kind of remark easily.

But he didn't say anything like that. He didn't comment on your words, he didn’t laugh, huffed or called you in any way. He was only looking at you with those brown eyes of his, finally adding one to one and connecting all the dots.

“Ah, I got fat too, you know. I gained a few kgs, look.”

Without any more explanation, he lifted his hoodie and grabbed a small roll on his waist. He was absolutely insane saying that this would be proof of him getting fat. You even wanted to say that to him, but he grabbed your hand and guided to his body.

“See for yourself.”

You hadn’t reacted fast enough. Before you realized what was going on, your hand had landed on, well, him. You felt his warm skin under your fingertips. You’d never been this close to him. Hell, you’d never touched him like that before! You felt your cheeks getting hot and red, your hand on his waist already sweaty.

“N-namjoon, what in the…”

“You can feel it, right? Fat.”

“Wha-Where?!”, your mind was hazy, you hadn’t thought that through.

“Oh, come on. If you squeeze it you would feel it.”

Your head was already spinning. If someone heard your conversation, weird rumors would spread in no time.

Namjoon was still insisting you would agree with him. And seemed to be completely oblivious to your near death state. He was still holding you by your wrist and wanted to move your palm more onto his stomach. You panicked.

“Maybe here…?”

“Oh my god, no…I don’t want-t-to!”, you were feeling like you were about to pass out.

“You don’t want to touch me?”, he giggled.

“No, it’s not that!”

“You want to touch me?”, he started to laugh.

“Yes-NO!”, the moment those words had left your mouth, you pulled your hand from his grasp, using all the strength that you had left and hid your face in your palms, wanting to die on the spot. Your face was hot under your fingertips, you wanted to melt into the floor.

Namjoon was already laughing his ass off. He leaned on the kitchen counter to not fall on the floor. You wanted to punch him in his fake-fat stomach.

Instead of that, absolutely mortified with your previous words, you put your hood back on, pulled the strings and simply hid your already scarlet red face. You hoped it had made you invisible to him.

“UGH. I’m embarrassed enough now, can you please leave me alone?”

Namjoon ignored your words and tried to catch his breath. He was still chuckling when you saw him standing right in front of you.

“Not a chance.”

You heard him saying that and then his arms were wrapping around you and pulling you close to him. He hugged you. He hadn’t given you any chance to oppose in any way. Not that you wanted to. You were surprised and your heart started to beat like it was the end of your life and it had to show what it had been made of. But you didn’t do anything to push him away. Instead, you leaned your head on his chest, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Having him so close was something you’d always wanted.

You felt his fingers digging into you, he was slightly tithing his embrace. He was not letting you go.

“Oh, Y/N.”, he sighed. “You are so fucking weird sometimes, I swear… Maybe that’s why… I…”, his voice went really quiet, you couldn’t hear everything.

“Why what?”, you asked, having your face still buried in him, but he didn’t answer. “Why what, Namjoon?”, your voice was muffled by his chest.

You felt him stiffening. You looked up but his sight was already averted, he was avoiding eye contact with you. He seemed baffled, like he’d surprised himself with his own words. He’d said something he shouldn’t have. He dropped his hands from you and took a step back. You suddenly felt cold, missing Namjoon’s warmth.

“Why what?”, you were not letting this go. “Are you going to make fun of me? Offend me? You just called me weird, I mean I should feel offended by that but…”, you wanted him to tell you what he’d said before, but you didn’t want to make all of this too serious.

“Y/N, just drop it…”

“No, you had something on your mind. You got my attention and you just want me to drop it?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I want.”, Namjoon took another step back.

“Oh, that’s just cruel! You were nagging me the whole evening and now you want me to DROP IT?. Come on! We are friends! We..”

“Y/N.”, he interrupted you. He pressed his lips, making a thin line of them.

“Namjoon.”, you copied him. It just pissed him off.

He huffed and looked away. He hid his hands in his pockets, he looked so uncomfortable. Exactly the same as you'd been just a moment ago.

“Was it about the thing… I’ve said earlier? About being fat?”

“What? Y/N, what the hell?”, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you getting back to this?”

“You hugged me. Did you feel…”

“Can we really drop this?”, he covered his face with his palms, trying to find any sense in your conversation. He was getting a headache.

“But you said something about me.”

“I’m going to kill myself…”, he was talking to himself.

“Do you have a problem with me…?”

“No, Y/N. I like you!”, he blurted out, just to shut you up.

And you shut your mouth immediately. What had he just said?

Namjoon’s face went slightly pink, he was actually blushing. Yet again, he had problems with looking at you, he was trying to focus on anything else. You could see his sight jumping around the room, him getting more flustered each passing moment.

What had he just said?

Namjoon liked you.

He couldn’t believe he actually had said that. Mumbling a soft confession, simply talking to himself while he had been hugging you was one thing, but screaming straight forward to finally make you stop talking was something else. He was already regretting that, putting his heart on the plate like that, without any good reason. And hope.

Because deep down he hoped you felt the same. He was pretty sure you didn’t, though. You were just friends, good friends to be more specific. He always liked you, he hadn’t realized when his affection towards you had become something more. It must have been a slow process. One of those when you wake up one day and you are madly in love, not remembering all the steps getting there. His crush on you had been killing him lately. He had missed you, wanted to see you so bad. When you had written to him you would come to the party he couldn’t be happier. He hadn’t planned confessing, but had hoped to at least spend some time with you, alone. He liked you so much.

Wait, Namjoon liked you? He really did? You wanted to shake your head in disbelief. That was impossible. That was so strange. That was so ironic, you could barely believe that. It hit you how you’d been killing yourself with doubts and uncertainties and it all hadn’t made any sense. Because Namjoon liked you.

You snorted before the rational part of your brain stopped you. You simply couldn't help yourself. Next snort turned into laughter, which surprised both of you. Namjoon finally looked at you. He did not expect you to laugh at him. He hadn’t planned to confess to you that night, his words just had slipped out. It had happened and he had to deal with that. But laughing? Oh fuck, this was worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

He was hurt. You’d hurt him. He blinked once, twice, he couldn’t believe that, he couldn't look at you anymore. He wiped his face, just to do something with his hands and took a few steps back. If that was the case, if you were laughing at his feelings, he didn’t have to stay there and listen to that. He turned around to leave the kitchen. He had to organize his thoughts, estimate the damage.

“... Namjoon… no… wait!”, you breathed out and reached out to him.

You manage to grab the hem of his hoodie, to stop him. You were still laughing, not getting the atmosphere that was in the room. But Namjoon was still leaving, dragging you with him. He was too strong, you were not able to pull him back. So, while still holding his hoodie you moved your other hand and tried to catch his hood. You caught the tip of it and pulled it down, just to stop him, just to slow him down. Namjoon was still running away from you so it tightened around his throat. You heard him groaning, but he finally stopped in place.

You didn’t want to let him go, even when he turned around to face you.

“You’re not only laughing at me but also strangling me?”

He was sulky and sad. You wanted to make sense out of all of that. It was just a misunderstanding. You finally had to stop laughing!

“I’m not laughing at you…”, you tried to catch your breath. “I just… can’t believe it… You like me.”, you stopped for a moment, your mouth went dry from all that laughter.

“Is it… so bad?”

“Yes.”, Namjoon froze on the spot, feeling like someone had stabbed him straight into his face. But you knew what you wanted to say. You smiled. “I’ve been crushing on you forever and all this time… you liked me?”, you dropped your hands, to finally let him free.

Namjoon used that moment to detangle from his hood and find a way out of the kitchen. Your words hadn’t hit him at first.

“Wait-what? You like me too?”, his eyes went wide open.

You were only able to nod. What was there more to say? You both had just confessed to each other, in the most awkward way possible.

Namjoon was looking at you with his big eyes. And he was looking straight right into yours. Your cheeks became slightly pink under his intense gaze. His lips started to curl into an adorable smile. First shyly, his brain was slowly accepting new information. His dimples popping out were a sign of his full blown smile already brightening up his face. You simply felt how hot it had become in the room.

“You like me back.”, his eyes went full crescent moons, his smile was wider than ever.

He looked down at his feet, a little embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. But he couldn't stop smiling. He looked up back at you, with his face slightly flushed but brightened up. The wave of relief that had run through him was immeasurable.

“Not sure what to do now.”, you shifted in place.

This time Namjoon snorted. Thankfully, none of you had understood that as laughing at the other.

He knew exactly what to do. Or more like, he knew what he wanted to do, what he’d been thinking about for way too long. He wiped his palms into his pants. He was already sweating. Just thinking about what he was about to do was making him nervous.

With just two steps he moved closer and stood right in front of you. He slid down your hood from your head, cupped your face and kissed you. Just like that. You’d only had a chance to gasp right before your lips met. There was no warning, no music in the background, no time to prepare. There was a pounding in your head and you weren’t sure if you didn’t collapse on the spot.

In your mind you had been kissing him many times. You’d even prepared a scenario for your first kiss. It had never been in the kitchen, right after you complained about being fat and strangling Namjoon with his own hood. You could hear other people behind the wall. Someone was puking in the bathroom. Romanticism had gone straight to hell.

And yet you didn’t care. You could only focus on him and how his hands had moved from your face to your neck and shoulders. His touch was gentle, like it had been the first time you even felt his hands on you. You’d been friends forever, but never anything more. That’s why you wanted more.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He was slightly surprised with your eagerness, but didn’t complain even for a second. You felt how he smiled between kisses, kissed that he was deepening each moment. You felt his tongue on yours, he tasted like beer.

He pushed his weight on you, making you step back and pressing your butt to the kitchen island's counter. He grabbed you by your waist and simply put you on it, sliding between your legs. You gasped feeling his hands on your hips, pressing you onto him. He moved his kisses on your neck, making you arch your head to the side. He was kissing you like he’d never done this before or it had been so long, he’d missed it way too much.

His palms slid down to your thighs, spread on your body, enjoying its warmth.

“Now, where is that fat you’ve been talking about? I can see nothing of the sort.”

You didn’t know what to say and you were not sure if he actually was waiting for anything from you. You just wanted him to touch you.

“You’re so sexy…That’s all I can see…”

His face was right in front of yours, he saw your shy smile. He also noticed you wanted to say something, maybe argue about that, deny being a hot piece of ass for him, so he quickly got back to kissing you to suppress any disagreement in the discussion.

None of you heard Hoseok, your mutual friend and your roommate's boyfriend walking in. He was going around the house, from room to room and when he’d entered the kitchen, he was not expecting to see you in a make out session. And from his angle, he was able to see only you.

“Oh hey Y/N, don’t mind me but have you seen Namjoon somewhere?”, he had no problems with interrupting you.

Namjoon lifted up his head and looked at his friend with an annoyed expression.

“Oh… OH. OK. In that case, do you mind putting Namjoon out of your mouth and lending him to me?”

“No.”, you meant that. Your cheeks were still pink, not sure about the reason for that anymore.

“Joon?”

“You heard her.”

Hoseok was so shocked and amused at the same time he simply wanted to stay and see where all of this was going. He even leaned into a door frame, folded his arms on his chest watching the show you were giving to him in the kitchen, something he had not expected to see that night.

Or any other night. He knew Namjoon was into you and had been trying to convince him to talk to you about it. Yes, you were friends but he’d had a feeling this would end up in a good way. He liked you both, he wanted you to be happy.

And he was fucking right. He was mentally shaking his hand for manifesting you hooking up with Namjoon. Namjoon, who was still looking at him, waiting for him to leave and let you be alone again.

Hoseok threw his arms in the air, showing how much he disapproved of the whole leaving idea, but then he left, being the best friend he always had been.

Namjoon huffed after him and quickly got back to you, already missing feeling your soft skin under his lips. He immediately wrapped his hands around you, pulling back to him. He pulled you by your hips, which made you slide on the kitchen counter, you felt him right between your legs. He was playing with the hem of your hoodie. It was getting steamy, even more than before. Namjoon was kissing you like he wanted to catch up all those years thinking he couldn't have you.

You moaned into his mouth. You loved this, you always wanted this. Namjoon touching you, kissing you. Damn, that was a dream coming true! You wanted all of that! But maybe, not all at once? You didn’t have to score all bases possible at once. You felt he was getting more into, his touch was not that soft and gentle as before. One of his hands stayed on your hips. It sneaked under your hoodie, you felt his fingertips on your skin. You shivered.

“May-be…”, you broke the kiss, breathing hard. It wasn’t easy, Namjoon was keeping you close to him. “I think ...we should slow down a little…”, you weren’t losing your grip on him as well, even while saying those words.

Namjoon cleared his throat. He knew you were right. He wanted to agree and disagree with you at the same time. He’d wanted you for so long, he probably had gone too far and too fast on your first make out session. He just loved kissing you.

“Ye-Yes. Yes, you are right.”, he was missing a lot of blood from his head and had problems with focusing.

You touched his round cheek. His eyes were immediately on you, waiting for anything from you. You kissed him softly on his lips, still holding his face.

Soft kiss was definitely not an invitation to something more and Namjoon knew that. He had to calm himself. He didn’t want to come out as a horny animal that couldn't control itself. You were special to him, this had to be special.

He nodded again, agreeing with you, knowing you were right. He took a step back, dropping his hands off of you. He cleared his throat again.

“I-I think I will look for Hoseok, check what he wants from me…But don’t go, OK?”

You smiled at him and nodded. He smiled back and before he left you, he quickly adjusted himself in his pants. He seemed not to care about the fact that you’d seen that and he just left. But it hit you. He had a boner. And after making out with you, after touching you. Not perfect Amber but you, with your winter size. Your cheeks got hot and red back again. He got aroused because of you. Now, that was something to think about.

If Namjoon had heard your thoughts he would have been back to you in an instant. He definitely had gotten too excited about your mutual confessions, he had gone too fast with making out with you. His boner was still there when he found Hoseok in front of the bathroom. He seemed to be waiting for someone, surprised to see Namjoon, after being kicked out of the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you…”, his voice was slightly hoarse.

“Oh, Y/N spit you out of her mouth, good. OK, first of all: Congrats!. You’ve been in love with her for like forever and you finally scored!”

“Wha-I did not! What are you talking about…”, Namjoon’s cheek got pink again.

“Is that so?”

Hoseok smirked and eyed Namjoon up and down for some drama. His eyesight stopped on a still visible tent in Namjoon’s pants. He raised his eyebrows with an unspoken question.

“And that’s because you’re so excited to see me?”

Namjoon fixed his hoodie, trying to cover himself with it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I mean, it’s completely normal. Y/N is hot and you probably have been thinking about her all this time…”

“Why are we talking about this?”, Namjoon was losing the point of that conversation.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of! Having a boner…”

“OK, stop looking at my penis. Or maybe you like it that much?”

“Nah, thanks. I like my dates without one.”

“So, what did you want?”, arousal was quickly exchanged with annoyance.

“I wanted to say we’re leaving and if you’re not leaving with us there would be no one to drive you home.”

“I think I’ll stay with Y/N. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“You’re weird.”

“So, are you gonna hit that?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Why? You want her, you always did.”

“I did. I still do, but I’m not gonna be a jerk and get in her pants a moment after we’ve confessed to each other.”

“That’s so cute. But that’s not what I saw when I’ve come into the kitchen last time.”

“Ugh, OK I know. I got carried away… I shouldn’t have thrown myself on her…”

“Nah, you should fuck her. It would ease the tension and everybody would be happy.”

“I’m not gonna tell Y/N about this. She would bite your dick off if she heard you talking shit like this.”

“I’m not into that but you two have fun. Speaking of, let me talk with Y/N first.”

Namjoon did not understand friend’s words fast enough. He tried to stop Hoseok, worrying what he would say to you, but he smoothly passed him and went straight to the kitchen. Namjoon was mortified.

Hoseok quickly found you, still waiting in the kitchen. You hadn’t even left the counter, you were still sitting at the spot Namjoon had left you. Surprised it was not him coming to you, you raised your eyebrows in question.

“Y/N, congratulations on your new Namjoon!”, he screamed.

Hoseok opened his arms to hug you. You were so confused you just went with it, without any questions.

“I knew you would end up together. Namjoon was fapping way too hard to you.”

“That’s… that’s a very interesting TMI.”

“Yeah, maybe you should ask him about this later.”

“Maybe I will…”

“For now…”

He reached out to his back pocket and gave you a small packaging. You didn’t recognize it at first, not knowing what he was up to. But you rolled it in your palm, trying to check what was written on the plastic. It turned out to be a pack of condoms. You looked at him with another confusion and added some embarrassment to the party.

“Why?”

“You kids stay safe.”

“We’re not…”

“There is nothing wrong with banging on the first date but make it safe!”

“I don’t think we need this right now…”, you were handing over the condoms back to Hoseok. Saying you were starting to feel uncomfortable would be a gigantic understatement. And Namjoon was somewhere near, probably hearing everything.

“Namjoon is crazy about you. If you asked for his dick he would give it to you in an instant. He was still hard when he came to talk to me.”

“Were you always like this or is this some kind of a new trait of yours?”

“I carry about you. I want you two to be happy.”

“Thanks, mom.”

The whole conversation was making you sweat through your clothes. You’d barely confessed to Namjoon. Were you even a couple? You liked him, he liked you, he’d gotten a boner. Was that already serious?

You were still handing the condoms over. You didn’t know what you should do.

“Keep it. Just in case. I have more for myself, don’t worry.”

You surrendered and took condoms back just to make him stop talking about them. You hid them in your hoodie pocket, hoping there would be a trash bin somewhere near so you could throw them away.

“OK. That is settled, so as I’ve already told Namjoon, we are leaving. You would need to find another way of getting home. Have fun and tell me about everything tomorrow!”

He hugged you again and you just waved when he was leaving the kitchen. That was a lot of events for just one conversation. You sighed heavily. Your not-a-relationship relationship with Namjoon was already stressful.

Namjoon came back to you right after your step mom had left. He looked worried.

“What did he say to you?”

“He gave me this.”, you showed him the condoms.

“What the fuck… Why did he do that? We don’t need this! I mean… sure we do to have safe sex… not that we’re gonna have sex! Because we won’t! I mean today, because I don’t want to… No, I do, I really do… Y/N please tell me to finally shut the fuck up.”

You were already shaking from laughter. You stopping him from this beautiful monologue was not an option.

“You're definitely laughing at me way too often this evening.”

He quickly moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. It had become so natural to you so fast.

“He also told me you’ve been fapping way too hard to me.”

“Wha-That degenerate… Look who’s talking. Before he started to date his girlfriend he got blisters on his hands. Um, not saying that you’re my girlfriend now… unless… you want to?”

Somehow you missed his question. You took his palm into yours and was looking at the inside of it.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking for blisters.”, how you were able to sustain a firm voice, you would never know.

Namjoon almost spit all over you while trying to suppress his laughter. He leaned more into you, hiding his face in your neck, still laughing. There was something about confessing to your friend. You’d crossed that line and had become something more but you had that friends foundation, being able to still joke around, have your inside jokes, acting like kids just because. Making Namjoon laugh would always be your favorite thing to do.

And with that you realized the whole mood from before had been gone already. Kissing Namjoon was fantastic, you could die like that. But you’d just confessed and didn’t have to score on the points in your relationship at once, in just one night. You could wait.

When he’d finally calmed down and had lifted his head, you asked Namjoon if you actually could go home. Maybe your own mood had gone way better than it was before, but you were getting tired anyway. You were actually excited for what was coming next. Would Namjoon text you something cute in the morning? There was a whole nother life ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.

Namjoon agreed to look for Hoseok, hoping he was still around and ask him to take both of you home. He was probably going to your place anyway, to spend some time with his girlfriend.

But Namjoon couldn’t find him. It seemed he was too late. Frustrated, he was running around the house, checking twice to make sure and grunted under his mouth. He actually had no idea who he should ask at that moment, he was hoping to spend the whole night with you at the party, even if it was to fall asleep on the couch together.

But then someone caught his arm and stopped him. Namjoon turned around and saw Amber.

“I was looking for you everywhere. Where did you go?”

“Ah, here and there. Wanted to catch up with everyone, since I got a chance.”

“I missed you. We still haven't finished our conversation.”, she was still touching his arm, sliding up and down.

Namjoon followed her movements, with a poker face. He had had a nice chat with her before, but now he was trying to get you and him some ride home and she was wasting his time.

“I know, but it’s getting late. I would…”, he was already bucking up.

“True. So why don’t we hang out… let’s say tomorrow? I’m free tomorrow.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s nice. Thank you for the invitation but I think I’ll pass.”

“What…? Why? If you’re busy I can wait. I have a whole day just for myself.”

“Really, thank you. That’s very nice of you…”, he moved away, to be out of her reach. “But I can’t. But thank you!”

Namjoon was trying to be as polite as possible. It was nice to meet Amber at the party but he had no intentions of meeting her any other day. They were never close friends and catching up with her like that was enough for him.

“Like I said… It's getting late. I was looking for Hoseok, so he could drive me home but I cannot find him anywhere…”

“I can drive you home!”, she almost screamed.

“Oh, really? But… you don’t live anywhere close… I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“It’s not trouble at all. I was thinking about leaving as well, anyway.”

“Oh, OK. But you would have to go to another part of the city… Is that really OK?”

“Namjoon.”, she took a step towards him. “I can drive you, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, can I take someone with me? How big is your car?”

“Someone with you…?”, Amber was confused for a moment, but she didn’t want to lose that opportunity, so she quickly smiled back. “Sure, not a problem.”

“Awesome! Then, please wait here. I’ll be back in a second!”

Namjoon ran back to the kitchen to give you the good news, happy he’d managed to find you a drive home.

Amber, on the other hand, was worrying who he was going to bring. When she’d proposed to drive him home, she was obviously hoping for some time alone. A third person was like a fifth wheel, could ruin everything. But then she saw you and had never been so relieved. She knew you were friends. Friends and nothing else. And you lived on the way to Namjoon’s home so they still would have time for themselves, after dropping you off at your place. You were zero threat to her.

She smiled at you, like she was actually happy to see you. You were walking behind Namjoon, looking shy and out of place. She took you both to her car and to her surprise you both sat at the back seat. She wanted to ask Namjoon to sit at the front, so that it would be much more comfortable for him since there was more space, but he kindly refused. Amber only shrugged, thinking he was just taking care of you as his friend, making sure you were getting home safe. She didn’t pay that much attention to you while on the road, she didn’t see how he took your hand in his.

When you arrived at your building, Namjoon immediately left with you, asking Amber to wait for a moment. She agreed with a big smile but she started to watch him closely. She was getting impatient. She wanted to get rid of you, you were in her way.

Amber couldn’t hear properly what you were talking about. You both were smiling, Namjoon bit his lower lip. She was about to avert her sight, being annoyed and bored already but then she saw how Namjoon kissed you. He was holding his hands on your shoulders, you grabbed his wrists and yes, you were kissing. Not like friends, definitely not friends. Friends shouldn’t be kissing!

That was some bullshit. No wonder he had been refusing her and leaving her at the party all that time. She hadn’t been doing anything wrong. It was not her fault. It was yours.

Amber was pissed and felt like she had wasted way too much time for you. While being too proud to endure that kind of humiliation, Amber simply turned on the car engine and without any word, she left.

Namjoon only heard the car driving away.

“OK, rude…”, he was looking at the empty place on the street. “I thought… she would also drive me back home…”, he seemed pretty bummed.

You were still living a few long bus stops away from him. It was already late, he had no idea how to get home safely. There was nobody to drive him.

“Ah, this is just great. What am I supposed to do now?”

You looked at him. You know you shouldn’t focus on that, but he looked really cute while worrying like that.

“You know what? You can sleep over.”

Namjoon’s facial expression changed in an instant.

“Oh no, Y/N, that’s OK, you really don’t need to… I-I will be fine. Really…!”

“I said: sleepover, not move in.”

“Uh, I know… But we can…”

“You’ve already slept here, it will be fine.”

It was true. Namjoon once had slept at your place before. He had stayed way too long and had had no options of getting home, just like that particular moment. He’d stayed with you in your bed, with you sleeping on one side and him on the other. Or at least he had been sleeping. You’d been scared to move or do anything, kept thinking he had been right there, next to you, wearing just his T-shirt and boxer shorts. Your neck had been hurting for the whole following week after laying so stiff in one place for hours.

“But… are you sure? You really don’t need to…”

“Worst case scenario I would kick you to the bathroom and you will sleep in the bathtub.”

You knew he wouldn’t do anything against your will. You were feeling safe with him. You were past just the friends phase, but that didn’t mean sleeping together in one bed had to become something serious.

You took his hand in yours, just like he had done that in the car and guided him to your apartment. He knew the way, but he obediently followed you. You opened the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up your roommate and Hoseok probably. You wanted to spare yourself loud questions and meaningful looks. You went inside your room, Namjoon was still behind you.

“I will just take a quick shower…”

Namjoon only smiled at you. You went to the bathroom, quickly washed yourself and dressed in comfy pajamas. You were getting really tired and wanted to just jump into your bed and fall asleep. When you opened the door you found Namjoon already there, waiting for you. His pants were hanging on your chair and their owner was laying on the side with eyes closed. He must have been very tired.

You circled the bed and tried to lay down as gently as possible. Namjoon was wearing his T-shirt, you hadn’t noticed his hoodie anywhere in the room. You covered yourself tightly with a comforter and scooped closer to him. He must have been only half asleep because when you’d been already close enough he reached to you and hugged you. You immediately complied and snuggled into him, enjoying it so much. This was not the first time Namjoon slept with you in your bed. But for the first time he was this close, he was hugging you, he was not just your friend and you were pretty sure your neck would not hurt you anymore.

His warmth was soothing, you could feel his breath on your forehead. You fell asleep in no time, feeling as comfortable as ever.

—----

You weren’t sure if you’d been already awake or the loud noises coming straight from your friend had woken you up. You opened your eyes, it was already bright. You saw Namjoon laying in front of you, probably not sleeping as well, but pretending as hard as he could. You wanted to join him very much, but someone else was still doing the best they could to prevent that.

You looked up and finally discovered who was the source of all that noise. When your vision cleared up, washing away all what was left from your sleep, you saw Hoseok standing right above you and Namjoon. He looked pissed.

“... what?”, you tried to ask what he was doing there, but your brain could only process that one word.

“... do you have any idea what you have done? Why were you not thinking…?”

You blinked a few times. You knew he was talking, loudly and probably more to himself than to you, but you had a hard time catching single words and their meaning anyway.

Why was he mad at you in the first place?

You lifted yourself on your elbow to see him better. Namjoon was earning his Oscar for a fake sleep all this time, you didn’t have that in yourself to interrupt him. You tried to focus on a person standing behind him, next to your bed.

And then something hit your face. You shuddered, taken completely out of guard. You took a glimpse at a small object laying on your comforter. Condoms. Condoms that Hoseok had given you. The same ones. The ones you’d left in your hoodie, which had probably fallen to the floor.

You looked up at your friend with condoms in your hand.

“I told you to stay safe!”, he was near crying right in front of you.

When you realized what he was talking about, why he was screaming at you, you rolled your eyes so hard you felt them scratching the back of your skull. He was still playing your mom role, taking care of you even if you didn’t want that.

You discarded the condom on the floor and laid back on the bed. Hoseok huffed in disbelief, you ignoring him in that kind of matter was unacceptable. You couldn’t care less. You rolled in your spot, back to Namjoon to be a small spoon and moved back to feel him on your body. Without hesitation he tossed his arm around your waist and hugged you. He hid his face in the back of your neck, laughing at the whole situation. He had been listening to everything and had the time of his life. You only pinched him on his wrist as punishment. You had all the time in the world with him. You stopped hearing Hoseok in the background. He’d become just a noise. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes, feeling as happy as ever.

雀

#bts #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagine #bangtan x reader #bangtan fluff #bangtan imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #joon fluff #joon x reader #joon imagine #rm fluff #rm x reader #rm imagine

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook:

Don't Play With Your Food

In which Jungkook breaks and Namjoon makes a decision.

Tags/Warnings: violence, angst!, mentions of malnourishment, wounds, blood, Black Panther Hybrid!Jungkook, Bunny!Reader, hybrid trafficking, trauma, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Length: mid/long

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

There's an argument happening, and while you can't understand what the problem is, it's clear that it's got something to do with you.

With the way the man pulls on one of your hybrid ears before he lets go of it, you think it might be about the tattoo Namjoon had given you after he'd officially received all your papers and documents of ownership. It'll make things incredibly difficult for people now- because while a collar can be taken off, and a tag underneath the skin can be removed, a tattoo is the most permanent and prominent way someone can mark up a hybrid as owned. Covering it up would immediately alert authorities if the hybrid was ever to be seen in public- it's the safest way of making sure a hybrid stays with their owner.

Which makes everyone at the facility more than just angry.

Some seem to be panicking now, anxiously talking to one another because it's clear that they did not intend to take you at all. It really was a mistake- but now that you've seen the place and know what's happening here, they will naturally not just let you go on your way. So what will happen now? Will they kill you? Cut off your ear to get rid of the tattoo? Hold you captive forever, never to see the light of day again?

You don't know.

All you do know is that you're forced back into your little cell that's one side facing a wall, and on the other side facing the other hybrid cages in the hall. In this facility, they're not stacked up on top of each other, but in a row, like in some sort of animal shelter. It's crazy how that makes you feel at least a little better- though it's not much. All you can do is crawl into the furthest corner and roll up into a ball, trying to sleep because if you sleep, you can't witness whatever is going on around you.

When you sleep, you might dream of home.

Back home, where Namjoon and Jungkook finally receive the news that the police had battled through all the paperwork, and was now on their way over to Japan for more investigations- having received multiple anonymous hints as to where to look. Jungkook is pacing, agitated, this time clinging onto one of your pillows as he holds it close to his chest. "Can't we help? Can't I- I don't know, play bate or something?" He offers, and Namjoon looks at him with a stern gaze.

"I can't loose you both Jungkook. We'll both stay here, while the police does their work and bring her home." He says with a final tone to his voice, but the black panther hybrid doesn't seem like it has any effect on him whatsoever.

"You don't care at all!" Jungkook barks out with tears already brimming at the bottom of his eyes, emotions finally boiling over. And while Namjoon knows Jungkook doesn't truly mean what he's saying- it still stings him. "You're not doing anything! She could be dead for all we know and you don't care at all!" Jungkook continues to rant, fingers clenching the stuffed toy once belonging to you. "You don't seem upset, or anything at all! It's like it doesn't concern you!" He cries.

"Jungkook.." He mumbles, but the panther already storms off, door to your shared room banging shut and leaving the oldest of the family alone in the kitchen.

He does care. He cares too much, in fact.

Relationships between hybrids and humans aren't uncommon. But they're not seen as something 'morally correct' most of the time, with people advocating for humans not to be allowed legally to own a hybrid and simultaneously be in a relationship with one. It's a confusing and honestly difficult to dissect topic- especially for himself, since he knows the feelings he's harboring for both Jungkook and you are anything but platonic.

But right now, becoming consumed by emotions wouldn't help anyone. Neither you, nor the authorities, nor Jungkook. Namjoon needs to stay focused, in control, or otherwise, it'll all fall apart.

But for now, in this moment, he let's himself be swept away for once, the harsh sentence of his hybrid finally hitting him hard. What if you are in fact already lost? What if he did indeed fail you? He doesn't know if he'd ever be able to truly move on from it. But at the same time, what could someone like him even do in a situation like this? Nothing. He's powerless.

But Jungkook might be right in some degree; he's got to do at least something.

And so after wiping his tears off, collecting himself, he opens his laptop and books the earliest flight to Tokyo, before taking care of a hotel reservation at a hybrid friendly hotel, uncaring of the cost of it all.

"Jungkook." He says as he knocks on his door later, the hybrid opening it with hesitation and a blank face. "Pack your things, please. We're going to Japan tomorrow at 7 sharp." He says, making Jungkook look at him in confusion.

"What.?" He asks, unsure what his owner and friend wants to achieve with this.

"I've booked a flight." He explains. "I can't do much, I really can't. But I can at least make sure we're there for her the moment she's found." He tells his hybrid, who sighs.

"If she's found." He mumbles more or less, making Namjoon walk into the shared room, opening the closet himself to take out clothing to pack. "Namjoon.. I'm sor-"

"It's fine. You.. I understand it." He nods more or less to himself. "Trust me, I feel like shit as well." He says quietly, and its odd for Jungkook to hear his owner swear harshly like this. "I've become too comfortable with how things were going, and I became careless, and now look at what happened." He rants, continuing to pack Jungkook's bag on the beg. "It's my fault."

"Namjoon.." Jungkook offers, holding onto his owners arm to stop him for a moment. "No one's at fault but whoever took her. Whoever didn't take her safety seriously. I.. you're not to blame. I'm sorry I lashed out like that."

"Like I said, it's all forgiven." Namjoon offers, sitting down on the edge of the bed, Jungkook sitting down next to him, staring into nothing for a good second or two.

"Do you think.. she'll be okay?" He asks, and Namjoon offers an arm around his hybrid's shoulder for comfort.

"I'll make sure of it." He nods. "I'll never let anything like this happen ever again."

#hybrid imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #namjoon x reader #bts imagine #bts x reader #don't play with your food

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xattexx · 1 year

Text

Fucking attitude out of you

pairing: Y/N x Namjoon

genre: smut

warning: NSFW, Minor out!

a/n: I personally feel like idk how to write a good smut but this was in my head for few days. I will try to write something better. Please don't mind mistakes.

Having attitude was not very common for you and when you had it was because Namjoon had done something that made you angry. So now, what made you angry? His little mistake? Namjoon was thinking about you when you two were watching TV late at night. Usually you were next to each other, so why are you so far away? The whole afternoon you are puffing out air, not talking to him properly, just having sour expression. What is your problem?

As if you knew he wanted to start conversation, you stand up and said “I am going to take a shower and go to bed.” It was not his fault you had crazy day in work and when you came home, you got to know he forgot to go buy groceries so you could cook something. That was enough for today. Since then you didn’t said even a word. Too much for you. Namjoon was always in work and so did you. You didn’t bother him when working, just one time he had a day off and you wanted one thing from him, he forgets? It is childish to be angry for this but today is not the day. You just craved hot shower, washing the day off and go to bed.

While you were in shower Namjoon called the only man you were close friend with and that was Jimin. He could know what is the problem. He always had a good tips.

Jimin: “So she has an attitude?”

Joon: “Yeah but I don’t know why? I mean I know but just because I… it is childish reason.”

Jimin: “Hyung, you should fuck the attitude out. Trust me. Sounds like it. It doesn’t need a reason.”

Jungkook in the back: “YES! Fuck the attitude out.”

Joon: “Jungkook what are you doing there? Did you heard? Fuck…” he had said as he was massaging his forehead. “Ok thank you, enjoy the rest of the evening boys.

Jimin: “You too hyung~”

As he end the call he though.. Could it be? When was the last time you had sex? Both of you drowned in work. This actually makes sense. Fuck just thinking about you having sex is making him hard. How could he neglect you like this? Namjoon let his imagination run wild. His hand palming his dick. He was so sensitive. So in his thoughts that he didn’t the shower end.

….After shower….

You felt… like nothing changed. You hoped that shower will help to relax but it didn’t. This made you even more irritated. One thing you wanted to be nice didn’t work out. You had finished your routine harshly and went to bed. Maybe scrolling though videos would make you better.

That’s when Namjoon came to the bed. Thank God he took shower before so now he only had to go to bed. To you. Immediately he could smell you. And trust me, you smelled awesome to him. So nice.

Your back turned towards him but the way your body was screaming, unknowingly, to touch you. How can you make him still that crazy for you? The way that your ass is curved more to him. He was internally cursing and biting his lip.

Namjoon puts a hand on your hip. The goosebumps rose around your body. He was sliding his hand up and down on your thigh. Videos forgotten as you had your eyes closed. Feeling like your skin was burning. The breathing irregular. It was when he started to run his fingers on your inner thigh when your turned around to lay on your back.

“Joon? What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“Finally talking to me?” He smirked as he started rubbing your clit through your panties. Namjoon put put panties aside. As soon as he touches you, you moaned out his name. His favourite melody. He started sliding his fingers up and down from your hole to your clit and back. Slowly enjoying you. Spreading the wetness all over your pussy.

“So fucking wet for me and I barely touch you.” Joon whisper into your ear. You tried to hide in his chest, but he put you back on your back and laid between your legs. Spreading them just for him. Noticing your aroused nipples, he kissed you while his wet fingers travel from your pussy to play with your nips. As soon as he started twisting them, pinching them you moaned into the kiss. Your back arching to show your tits even more. He broke the kiss. Slowly kissing you down until his mouth found your other nipple so his hand can get back to work down there. This time just not teasing you. Namjoon put his long fingers inside you. Curving them inside. At a slow pace taking his time to play with your soft spot. Your toes curling from pleasure.

Too much, this was too much. You needed him. You needed to be filled. Stretch even more. “Joon please, please, I need you inside.” It was the feeling you craved. The burning sensation from stretching your walls. Adapting to him. Pulsation inside your pussy. And when he did, oh when he did, you could swear you could cum just from him putting his dick inside.

“Where is that attitude of yours now hmm?” He said as he trusted hard inside you. Just once and hard. “Where is that angry Y/N of mine?” He trusted again. Same force. Making you feel electricity running through your body. Your eyes already closed. Namjoon just kissed you and let himself work. Jimin said fuck the attitude out so he will.

Namjoon started trusting in and out of you. Enjoying all the sounds that your pussy was making. It was the wet squelching sounds. Nothing else heard in room just him and your body, and both of you moaning. His mouth slightly opened, eyes on you. Carving in his memory your look, the pleasure on your face.

“Please, stop clenching. I won’t last if you will clench around me.” He had to stop for a second. Immediately kissing you, taking a break from the emotions you both felt, your bodies worshipping each other. His hand travel beneath your leg and lift it on his shoulder. Giving him even more room and easier access to your g-spot. He started trusting into you again. The new position making him go wild. His thumb found your clit. It was too much for you, the way he was hitting your g-spot and playing with your bungle of nerves.

“Joon.. joon I am gonna.. I am gonna…” before you finished your sentence your orgasm hit you like a truck. Carving your nails into Namjoon’s shoulders, your pussy tightening around him and pulsing. He gave you a second to calm down. Your head was empty. Just you and him. Nothing else.

“Baby, let me finish.” He said as he started trusting inside you. The after pleasure making you moan even louder than before. Fucking you though your post orgasm feeling. It took few strokes for him to cum inside. The best way how to finish by his opinion. Giving you a little reminder what your anger leads to.

He laid on you. Lazily making out with you. It was that what made you wanna stay like this forever. But him as a real man, he got up to clean you both up. As you tried to stand up, your legs started shaking. Your toilet was not far away but clearly you needed help. When Namjoon saw you struggling he smiled and scooped you into his arms. Taking you to bathroom, he knew you need to pee and clean yourself. As you were in his arms you felt an urge to apologize. “I am sorry for today and how I treated you. The work sucked today and…”

“I am sorry for not noticing and neglecting you in all ways.” Kissing your forehead, he put you down and got you new pair of undies and shirt while you got shower ready. Another one today but after the cardio you both have? Shower was needed. The whole evening was needed.

#namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #namjoon smut #rm x you #rm x reader #rm x y/n #rm imagine #bts smut

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vintagenahbi · 16 days

Text

You Breakup/ Get A Divorce

Ot7xReader- BTS Reactions

JHope, Suga, RM

Summary: How you handle being separated and breaking up with each member.

JHope

I stood there in shock starring at the divorce papers that were just handed to me by Hobi. I was lost for words. Any time I would try to speak nothing seemed to come out. I felt tears stream down my cheeks hitting the page, nearly causing the ink to bleed.

“It’s for the best [y/n].” Hobi said. I looked at him speechless.

“This is not for the best? The best!” My voice increasing with every word. I slammed the divorce papers onto the floor and stormed off into what was once our shared bedroom. I grabbed a luggage bag and started stuffing clothes into it. Quickly moving back and forth from the closet to the dresser.

Hobi walked up behind me and tried to get me to stop. I lightly shoved him away. Trying to console me after handing me divorce papers seemed redundant. I was completely blindsided. We were having a hard time recently, but I didn’t think it was bad enough to get a divorce.

“[y/n] calm down for one second.” I slammed my bag shut and zipped it up. I glared at Hobi. He nearly froze.

“Why Hobi? We were trying to make this work.”

“Because for three years we’ve been pretending to be happy. Let’s face it, marriage changed us and it wasn’t for the better. I couldn’t make you happy. I wasn’t here much and after a while it caused a rift, even resentment. We’ve been arguing to the point that we don’t exist in each other’s lives.” I sat down on the bed. Everyone he said was true. I wasn’t happy and neither was he. I tried my best to make it work but we both knew it was over. I had spent nearly five years with him and in a second it was all gone.

Hobi sat on the bed next to me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. Within seconds he started to break down. Seeing him cry made me cry.

“Hobi we tried and that’s all that matters. We tried.” I tried to compose myself. He lifted his head off my shoulder. I looked into his eyes and kissed him one last time. “I love you, but I have to go now.” Hobi sat there. I grabbed my suitcase and headed out the room.

“I love you [y/n].” He softly said. I looked back and smiled. As I walked out that front door, I knew it was the end.

Suga

Yoongi sat across from me as he held my hand. I knew what I had to do but it pained me. I had to get up and leave. Yoongi and I had just broken up but I was still consumed by the grief. I wasn’t ready to let what we had go yet. We both agreed that his touring and being away wasn’t helping our relationship. He hated long distance and so did I. We came to the conclusion that it was best to end it.

“I don’t know how to let you go Yoongi. Two years and like that we’re done.” Yoongi looked at me and smiled.

“It’s a goodbye for right now. I can’t handle the long distance. I want to be there for you, but it’s hard when I’m not there.” I suddenly frowned. I always felt as if I was a lot for Yoongi. I had my own career and couldn’t follow him around when he toured. I know staying up late video chatting didn’t make things better for him.

“We can make this work Yoongi. I can do my part more. I can come out to see you more. I want us to work.” I was nearly pleading which made me feel desperate. Yoongi started rubbing my cheek as if it was second nature.

“You did your part [y/n]. I don’t want to let you down. What we have is beautiful.” I pulled him in for a tight hug. He winced in pain because of his shoulder injury. I felt bad as I pulled away. I starred into his eyes. All I could see was the pain of having to say goodbye.

I know we didn’t say it often but I was compelled to say it. “I love you Yoongi.” Four words that I wish i would have said more often. Yoongi meant everything to me.

“I love you too.” I looked away from him trying to conceal the tears in my eyes.

“I guess this is it.” I mumbled. Yoongi moved my chin to face him. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. He got up and left.

I sat in my living room trying to force myself to eat dinner. The tears kept flowing down. It had been about a month since Namjoon and I had broken up, but the pain was still there. Suddenly, I heard a knock at my door. I got up and opened it. In front of me stood a teary eyed Namjoon.

I stepped out of the way to let him in. I closed the door and was in utter shock. Namjoon turned to me and fiercely hugged me. He moved me away.

“I know normally people don’t do this after a breakup, but I had to see you again. We didn’t get to have a proper goodbye.”

“Namjoon, I don’t think this is healthy for either of us. I am still trying to deal with the fact that wee aren’t together and this is a lot.” I got chocked up with every word. Then I exploded. I collapsed to the ground and cried my eyes out. It felt dramatic, but much needed.

Namjoon kneeled down and held me in his arms. All I could do was cry.

“I’m so sorry [y/n]. I love you.” He rubbed my arms as he soothed me.

“If you love me then why did you leave?” Those words cut me like a knife. All I wanted was Namjoon again, but he ended things and I had to accept that, a part of me wished he would to. “You have to go Joon.” He looked at me and nodded his head in agreement.

We both got up. He headed towards the door. I could barely see through the tears. I grabbed his arm and pulled him in for one last time. “Goodbye Joon.”

“Goodbye [y/n].” I let him go and watched him walk out my door. After that moment I knew I was going to be okay.

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abloomingperiod · 10 months

Text

him | kim namjoon

"hey, you listening?" you ask as you make your way out of the bathroom and into the room your fiancé was situated.

"yes" he simply answers, voice calm and eyes and hands leaving his book to look at you.

when your eyes find his, you stop - on your tracks and your train of thought - to drink on the sight.

there he was, the reason you’re even planning and thinking about what is supposed to be the biggest and best day of your life for the last three months, since he dropped on one knee to ask for your hand - and later, to give you a glimpse of why you’ll need more than a week for your honeymoon.

there he was, hair growing over his neck - less than a mullet, just like you asked him to grow it into -, bare and pretty face, big and buff limbs glowing as the warm, small light from your lampshade illuminated them. sharp eyes, yet so calm and serene gaze expecting your next words.

speaking of them,

where exactly did they go?

“honey?” his deep voice asks with a small side grin, which you want to slap him for. does he thinks he’s helping you and your reasoning, when all you can think about is how remarkably low it is?

him, him, him. everything about him. all about him. him.

“right” you come back to earth, hands on your hips, “so... about our wedding”, you start, but can’t help and feel funny under his gaze, shrugging it off with an old, stupid joke of yours, “let’s end it off- nah i’m joking, but for real-”

as dumb as it is, it never fails to rip a small chuckle out of your sweet soon-to-be husband, and you swear to god it’s the prettiest sound in the world.

if it was possible to fall in love twice with the same person without even falling out of the first time, you’re sure his laughter would be responsible for it.

and once again, you’re standing there like an idiot, watching the other idiot that knows exactly what he’s doing when his lower lip gets pulled back by his teeth, and you feel like a teenager for the tenth time in the last 3 minutes. “...you okay, babe?”

just let your thoughts win and grab him, for god’s sake.

“i can’t keep my hands off of you” you confess, arms giving up, sighing and faking a frustrated face that could never be convincing. not when your legs are already folding and making their way onto his lap, slowly crawling with your knees to the only place you never get sick of in the world.

him, him, him. his skin, his warmth, his embrace.

everything about him. all about him.

“now why would i ever want you to do that?” he asks smoothly, hands immediately finding your waist and burning up your skin. his eyes held such a welcoming stare, you wish you could just say ‘i do’ right now and have him all for yourself ‘til your last day on earth.

“no but i do have something to say” you remember yourself and him, hands finding his waist and caressing around it - waist, tummy, chest, bones, everything you could find and paint with your own touch. “i was thinking, and maybe, we should throw a little something before the actual wedding, you know? like a pre-wedding thing”

he observes you, head slightly hanging to the side as his curiosity get to him.

“not that i don’t think it’s enough or anything!” you assure him, fingers going through his small silver chain that held your proposal ring in. “you’re gonna like this, hear me out: we probably want to drink our asses off. that’s just how we roll, right? but i know myself, and i know my limits... i’ll be straight up with you: i don’t think my insides can take cake, korean food and alcohol the way i wish it would.”

and there it is, one more laughing sound of his, but this time, a louder, bigger one.

the dumbass is laughing at your costs, now.

“you really can’t function outside of the ‘8 or 80′ style, can you?” his right hand flicks your forehead lightly “dumbass.”

“pardon? i didn’t ask for a funny tummy and i certainly don’t want it messed up at my own wedding. that’s a huge ass reason to throw a small something a few days before!” you interject, quickly pinching his sides, earning a cute squirm from him. “plus, i don’t wanna be bloated when i’m wearing my wedding dress.”

with that, he just stares at you for a second, and lets out a fair question as his eyes narrow at your intentions, “you’re not plotting this just because of that, are you?”

another thing you could easily hold accountable for a second fall for him: his caring.

handling and watching you more intently than yourself, sometimes.

god, it’s almost embarrassing how much you love this in him.

“no. and you know that. i really do have a suck ass stomach, you’ve seen how bad it gets” you say, easing his sudden seriousness, and with that you smile at him “plus, i want other korean stuff turning my insides out...”

he interrupts you with most delicious laugh you’ve heard in a long time - since the last time he laughed this hard (last than a day before). “ “god, you’re gross! okay, i see your point.”

“i knew you would. now, this can be very s-small,” you get into the details of your plan and his hands betray his incredulous gaze, as they travel down to the small of your back and rest on your ass, softly caressing it an earning a small tremble in your voice. “less than 20 people, your closest friends, my closes friends, a bar with at least 5 of the 10 drink options we’re having in the menu... we can bring the same flavor of cake...” your eyes keep scanning his beautiful face and the loving eyes he gives you, admiring the thought you put behind your little plan. “we can even wear a tie and a small veil! so everybody knows about it! who knows? maybe we even get a free drink. gotta milk our options out, baby.”

at that, you expect him to give you one more nice chuckle, or even a light slap on the butt, but he decides not to. instead his hands press you against his own lower body, and his plump lips attach themselves to the side of your neck. you let out a small sigh followed by a light chuckle “i’m serious!”

“i know you are” he defends himself, lips travelling north to your jaw and cheek, leaving hard pecks, making you smile like you’re high “you’re irresistible, that’s all”

you know for a fact he felt your pulse stumbling, fumbling and failing as his lips kept kissing you.

“enough for you to say yes?” you take advantage of his sweet words.

“i’m marrying you, isn’t that enough of an answer?” he asks, facing you with the most whipped out smile you’ve ever seen. “sure. anything for you.” you smile wildly at him, heart throbbing and lips mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as you peck his lips. “i can search for that bar, too.”

god, why is he so freaking him?

of course he can.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he responds, smile never leaving his mouth, cheekily giving you his trademark wink along with it.

“you..... ugh!” your hands tangle ins his hair and your lips attack his just like you did when he proposed to you. your kiss is urgent, desperate even, and still, he manages to laugh against it. he pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and heart to heart, hands dancing around your ass.

you could never get sick of this place.

“fucking love you. can’t wait to put this ring on your finger” you pull back and confess, lips ghosting his as you watch your hands travel back to his chain.

“you and i both” he agrees, eyes and hand mirroring yours, gasping a bit. “can’t wait to see you in that dress” fingers caressing your whole torso: spectrum, under-boob, ribcage, waist, “and take it off.”

oh, are you longing for that honeymoon.

“and you will” you peck him again, “‘cause now i don’t need to care about my tummy”

his laughs fills your room and your eardrums with the most beautiful sound you can point out. his head fall back to the wall behind and his eyes close, and you wish you could have this sight and this sight only for the rest of your life.

“yes, your tummy is well taken care of”

“and that’s for you, too. i need my newly husband a hundred percent conscious and collected for the after party”

he lightly tsks at you "if i were you, i’d wish the opposite” he slowly grabs your ass and kisses the back of your ear. god, he feels like a delicious poison. “plus, i don’t think i can stay collected after watching you down that aisle.”

“you and i both” you repeat his words, head resting on his shoulder. “thank you, i owe you one.” and leaving a small kiss on his jaw.

“show me the dress?”

“never.”

“but i’ll search for the bar.”

“you did that on yourself.”

he jokingly scoffs and mumbles a small ‘fine’, and you fall in love with him all over again.

“but i’ll give you a hint. it’s white.”

“shut up.”

“make me.”

and he looks down at you, small smirk painting his face.

“yeah? wanna pay it back now?” he asks mischievously, as his finger trace your lower lip.

“i just might” you respond, kissing his thumb. his eyes hold a darker tone, and as your bodies almost mold into one with the proximity you’re in, you can feel just how much he might want it.

“...still wanted to see that dress, though.” he jokes, and you return to your position facing him, lightly slapping his rigid chest. he catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, softly kissing it, and travelling to the back of your hand.

“that gives bad luck, dumbass.”

as he keeps kissing your knuckles, his other hand ghost over your thigh, enticing you and making you shiver deliciously.

because that’s what he does. namjoon makes you stumble, tremble, flutter, shiver and fall.

him, him, him.

everything about him. all about him.

“you’re all the luck i need.”

him, him, him.

#kim namjoon #kim nam joon #kim namjoon oneshot #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon drabble #bts imagine #bangtan imagine #rm imagine #rm oneshot #rm scenario #kim namjoon scenario #could die and kill for him ngl

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bonobonoyaatheart · 10 months

Text

I failed - Kim Namjoon

Summary: The BTS comeback is approaching and Namjoon is extremely busy. You are struggling emotionally but have nowhere to go and find solace. You find a way to escape this: Self harm. It is all hidden until Namjoon comes home early to surprise you.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Iddol Namjoon x gn Reader

Word count: 2178

Warning: Mention of Self harm. Don't read if this is triggering for you.

Never ever suppress your feelings if you are going through this. You are not alone and you deserve all the love.

As the countdown to Namjoon's highly anticipated solo. began, the atmosphere was filled with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. You, as his devoted fan and loving partner, understood the immense pressure he was under to deliver his best. Determined not to add to his already heavy load, you chose to keep your own struggles hidden, not wanting to burden him further.

Every day, you witnessed Namjoon pouring his heart and soul into his work, tirelessly perfecting his craft. You saw the sleepless nights, the countless hours spent in the studio, and the weight of expectations resting upon his shoulders. Your admiration for him only deepened as you witnessed his dedication and passion.

Yet, amidst the chaos of his comeback preparations, your own personal battles raged on silently. The mounting stress, the unrelenting anxiety, and the unspoken worries began to wear you down. But each time you considered confiding in Namjoon, you pushed the thoughts aside, fearing that revealing your struggles might distract or burden him.

You convinced yourself that he had enough on his plate already, and it became your mission to support him wholeheartedly. You became an expert at masking your own pain, wearing a smile that hid the turmoil within. But with each passing day, the weight of your own emotions became harder to bear, and the line between supporting Namjoon and neglecting your own well-being blurred.

In the midst of the frenzy, you found solace in quietly caring for Namjoon, making sure he ate properly, offering words of encouragement, and being his unwavering source of love and support. Yet, as you silently carried the weight of your own struggles, the void within you grew, and the need for release became unbearable.

Days turned into weeks, and the pressure continued to build. The weight of your unspoken pain and buried emotions grew heavier with each passing moment. You felt like you were walking on a tightrope, trying to maintain your composure while the inner demons clawed at your sanity.

One day, unable to bear the burden any longer, you decided to visit Namjoon's recording session with the hope of discussing your feelings. As you made your way to the studio, your heart pounded with anticipation and nervousness. You knew Namjoon was stressed, but you believed that sharing your struggles might help alleviate some of your own pain.

Arriving at the studio, you noticed the controlled chaos that surrounded Namjoon and his team. They were fully immersed in the creative process, focused on making every detail perfect. Your admiration for Namjoon's dedication swelled within you, but you couldn't shake off the lingering doubt of whether he would have time for your concerns.

Summoning your courage, you approached Namjoon during a break between takes. The anxiety twisted in your stomach, but you were determined to speak your truth.

"Joon, can we talk for a moment? I've been struggling lately, and I really need someone to listen," you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Namjoon glanced at you, his face etched with exhaustion, but the weight of his responsibilities seemed to consume him.

"Can it wait, babe? I'm swamped right now," Namjoon replied, his tone exasperated. "We're running against the clock for this album and I can't afford any distractions."

The words struck you like a blow. The dismissive tone and lack of understanding pierced through your heart, leaving you feeling invalidated and unseen. Silence hung heavy in the air, and you found yourself at a loss for words. With a heavy heart, you turned away and started making your way back, feeling the weight of his indifference pressing down on you.

As you retreated from the studio, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Disappointment mingled with hurt, and the tears you had held back threatened to spill forth. Doubt and loneliness swirled in your mind as you questioned whether you could find solace within yourself, whether you could continue carrying your burdens in silence. The once unbreakable bond between you and Namjoon now seemed fragile, and you wondered if there was a way to bridge the growing gap between you.

The days stretched into weeks, and the weight of your unspoken pain continued to bear down on you. The inner demons grew stronger with each passing moment, their whispers becoming louder, urging you towards self-destructive habits that offered temporary relief from the overwhelming emotions. But beneath the numbness, the darkness within you continued to fester.

Meanwhile, Namjoon carried on with his hectic schedule, oblivious to the storm brewing within your soul. The demands of his album consumed his every waking moment, leaving little room for anything else. He was blind to the cracks forming in your facade, unaware of the battles you fought silently in the depths of your despair.

One evening, Namjoon managed to wrap up his work a little earlier than usual. A flicker of worry had nestled itself in the back of his mind, prompting him to return home and check on you. He entered the apartment, his heart pounding in his chest, his steps heavy with apprehension.

As he walked into the living room, his breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes widened in horror. There you were, curled up on the couch, a blade held tightly in your hand, your trembling body reflecting the pain in your heart. Blood stained your skin. Fear gripped Namjoon's heart, his mind racing to comprehend the depths of your anguish.

"No! Please, don't do this!" Namjoon's voice broke, his words choked with tears. He rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he tried to gently pry the blade from your grasp. His own tears flowed freely down his face, his voice a raw mixture of panic and guilt.

"I… I can't… I can't believe I let it come to this," Namjoon stammered, his voice cracking with each word. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so, so sorry. I've failed you. I've failed to see your pain, your struggles. How could I have been so blind?" He traced your cuts gently, noticing how deep they were.

Namjoon's shoulders shook uncontrollably, his sobs echoing through the room. He held you tightly, seeking solace and support, his words filled with a mixture of desperation and self-loathing. "You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who can protect you, who can be there for you. I'm an idiot for not realizing how much you were hurting. I don't deserve you."

You wanted to say something and calm him down so bad, but you had gotten numb, mind gone blank. You struggled to find the right words to tell him you were sorry and he didn't need to blame himself for everything. But Namjoon took your silence as a sign of you being disappointed and mad at him.

Tears streamed down his face as he continued to pour out his emotions. "I'm unworthy of the love you've given me. I've taken you for granted, and I hate myself for it. You're the most incredible person I know, and I failed to be there when you needed me the most."

Namjoon's voice cracked with vulnerability as he clung to you, his apologies pouring out like a torrent. "Please forgive me. Please know that I love you more than words can express. We'll find a way through this together. I promise, I'll do everything in my power to support you, to be the person you need me to be. But just forgive me. I'm so sorry, beyond my words can express."

You gently wiped away the tears streaming down Namjoon's face, your touch soft and comforting. You needed to say something or he was gonna be even harsh on himself. "Namjoon, listen to me," you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. "I don't blame you for everything. We've both made mistakes, and we've both been struggling silently. This isn't about placing blame; it's about healing and growing together."

Namjoon's breath hitched as he looked into your eyes, his voice choked with emotion. "But I feel like I've failed you, like I've failed to protect you. I should have noticed your pain sooner, and I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this."

You shook your head gently, cupping Namjoon's face in your hands. "No, my love. You haven't failed me. We're in this together, remember? We can't change the past, but we can learn from it. Our love is stronger than our mistakes, and we have the power to build something beautiful from the broken pieces." "But I couldn't help you. I feel so miserable." Namjoon said, trying to control his sobs

"I'm sorry too Joonie. I shouldn't have chosen this way. I am truly sorry. It's not entirely your fault baby." You spoke softly, caressing his cheeks. "Promise me you will never do this again, I'll be there for you at every step, but please don't hurt yourself like this." Namjoon said, his voice tender and soft.

As Namjoon held you tightly in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you protectively, a sense of peace and reassurance washed over you. The weight of the past slowly lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and love.

In that tender moment, Namjoon pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips conveying warmth and comfort. It was a simple gesture, yet it held a thousand unspoken words of love and devotion.

A soft smile graced your lips as you suddenly remembered that you hadn't cooked dinner yet, but the thought was quickly dismissed when Namjoon spoke up, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

"Let's not worry about cooking tonight," Namjoon whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "I want to make up for the lost time and show you just how much you mean to me. Let's go to your favorite restaurant and have a special evening together."

Your heart swelled with affection as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your being. With his unwavering support and the promise of cherished moments, you knew that healing and happiness awaited you.

Namjoon reached for his phone, dialing his manager's number with a renewed sense of purpose. "Hey, I need to take a day off tomorrow," he spoke into the phone, his voice filled with determination. "There's something more important that needs my attention. Don't worry, I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

As he hung up the phone, a sense of freedom washed over you both. Tomorrow would be a day dedicated to nurturing your love and strengthening your bond.

Hand in hand, you walked out into the evening, the weight of the past fading into the background. With each step, you could feel the anticipation of a brighter future, of shared laughter, and of moments that would help you build new memories together.

At the restaurant, as you sat across from each other, smiles playing on your lips, Namjoon reached out to hold your hand. His eyes sparkled with affection as he spoke softly, "I want tonight to be a reminder of our love, a celebration of how far we've come. You mean the world to me, and I'm grateful for every moment we share."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a mixture of love and happiness filling your being. "Namjoon, I'm so grateful to have you by my side. Tonight feels like a fresh start, a chance to create new memories and let our love bloom."

As the evening unfolded, laughter and sweet conversations filled the air. You reveled in each other's company, sharing stories, dreams, and aspirations. The worries of the world melted away, replaced by the warmth of love that enveloped you both.

With each passing moment, you felt the wounds of the past slowly healing, replaced by a renewed sense of joy and hope. The connection between you grew stronger, and the love that had brought you together shone brighter than ever.

As the night drew to a close, Namjoon leaned in, his voice a soft whisper against your ear. "Thank you for giving me another chance, for trusting in our love. I promise to cherish you every day, to be the partner you deserve. Let's build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless support."

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Namjoon, I believe in us. Together, we can conquer anything that comes our way. Our love is resilient, and with you by my side, I know we can create a beautiful life together."

As you left the restaurant hand in hand, a sense of excitement and contentment filled the air. The road ahead might still have its challenges, but you were ready to face them together, knowing that your love had the power to overcome any obstacle.

With the promise of a day dedicated to nurturing your love, you both looked forward to tomorrow, where you would continue to write the story of your lives, one chapter at a time, with love, resilience, and a shared commitment to building a future filled with happiness and fulfillment.

A/N: Reblog and share if you like, and let me know what you think about this!

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts #rm x reader #rm bts #namjoon #namjoon angst #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x y/n #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #bts angst #bts fic #rm x you #bts namjoon #namjoon fanfic #rm imagine

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gyupremacy · 2 years

Text

A Sunday Kind Of Love | knj.

↳ Pairing: kim namjoon x fem!reader

↳ Genre: smut, fluff

↳ Au(s): established relationship, slice of life

↳ Word Count: 1.6k

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Warning: cursing, handjob, blowjob, gagging, come tasting (it's pretty much more smut then fluff than anything 💀)

↳ Summary: You just finished making a delicious breakfast for your boyfriend, but soon start craving more.

↳ a/n: I'm so exhausted from this past week from my new job, but that won't stop me from putting out stuff for you all. I'm working from 8 to 5 Mondays through Thursdays (with the exception of getting off at 2 on Fridays), but I'll still be here to reblog stuff and interact with everyone if updates become less frequent. I also want to tag/shout out @jjksblackgf for giving me the inspiration for the title of this from a song recommendation (which was great, thank you Kyla 😊)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The sheets tangled around your body as you tossed around in the bed. A cool chill washed over your exposed shoulders, attempting to get up from the face down position on top of the pillow.

You try to move from your current position until realizing that something was on top of you. Your boyfriend laid cheek to cheek (literally) on your panty clad bottom. Feeling the healing bruise on the side of your neck gave you a faint smile, remembering the previous night's activities.

Namjoon held tight onto your waist and snored on as you tried to move ever so discreetly. Turning and looking over your shoulder, you bring your hand down and rake your fingers through his hair.

The Sun began to creep through the blinds and brought in a cascade of light into the bedroom. The white tank top that clung to your body was bunched at the bottom as Namjoon rubbed his hands up and down your torso in his slumber.

"Are you having fun there, babe?" laughing to yourself, noticing how he's beginning to stir awake.

He brought his head up from off your butt and woke up. His puffy eyes and chapped lips draw your attention as you sat up facing him.

"I take it someone had a good night's sleep." you bit your lip, watching your boyfriend still attempt to get up.

"You're right. I had the best pillow." he smiles, allowing his signature dimples to show this early.

Namjoon scoots further up to the headboard, laying right beside you. He rubs the small of your back, leaning in for a kiss.

"Damn boy! You need to brush your teeth!" you chuckled, while watching his awe expression.

"Oh really? Guess someone's not getting the Namjoon Breakfast Special this morning." he tuts.

"Baby, the Namjoon Breakfast Special is you making a bowl of cereal after almost burning down the kitchen." you retort, biting back more laughter.

He lightly punches you in the shoulder at these words, only to envelope you underneath his body.

"Fine then, you get up and make breakfast. That just gives me an excuse to check out that sexy ass of yours." Namjoon smiles seductively, getting up to let you do your thing.

You shake your head playfully, making sure to put on a little show as you exit the room. The kitchen wasn't far from your shared bedroom and you took the time to navigate the dimly lit area.

You opened the pantry looking for something to make when you stumbled upon the box of pancake mix. You grab the box, the pan from the cabinet, the stick of butter, milk, and eggs, all from the refrigerator, so you can begin making breakfast.

Turning the stove on with the pan in toe, the stick of butter effortlessly fell with a sizzle on the flat metal surface. You put the pancake mix, milk, and cracked eggs in a measuring cup, whisking the three ingredients together.

You pour the contents of the cup in the pan, grabbing a nearby spatula, prepared to flip the two circles of batter inside. Flipping them over, you could see the golden brown, fluffiness of the meal.

A few moments pass, then you flip the pancakes over on a small glass plate, ready to eat. Topped off with blueberries and sliced banana, along a honey drizzle, you put the dish on a tray.

You also took the time to grab a glass from the cabinet and rinse it out and pour orange juice for Namjoon.

Placing the cup carefully on the tray, you picked everything up and walked back towards the bedroom.

"Order for Kim!" you giggle once your boyfriend sees you reenter.

"Y/N, you really put out all the stops." Namjoon smiles graciously, taking the tray from your hands.

"Only the best for the best." you slide back into the bed next to him, kissing him on the cheek as he begins to scarf down his pancakes.

"So, what's the plan for today?" he says with a mouthful of food.

"You don't have to be in the studio for a while and I'm taking personal time off, so I thought maybe we could have a rest day." you intertwine your fingers with his.

"Just you and me."

Namjoon started to blush and you could feel blood rush down below once you said these words. He would be the first one to tell you he was naturally dirty minded. You could say the most innocent thing and he would instantly get turned on.

Your boyfriend insisted it wasn't the words that were said which made him horny, but rather your presence in general. He wasn't able to contain himself whenever you were around, no matter how long you two have been together.

"Okay horndog, at least eat your breakfast first before even thinking about anything else." you roll your eyes jokingly, watching Namjoon continue eating.

You took in his appearance: disheveled hair, his bright tanned skin practically glowing in the morning light, and his soft demeanor that contrasted his initially tough exterior.

A gentle giant would be the perfect way to describe him. He was tall by all standards, with muscles to match, but his heart was pure and giving. You reminisce on your first meeting with him, where his dog almost trampled you in the park.

He was walking Rapmon, who was currently asleep in the corner on his dog bed, while you were reading a book on the nearby bench. The snow colored dog had somehow gotten loose and began attacking you with a frenzy of licks and tail wags.

The handsome stranger who the pet belonged to came rushing towards the both of you, apologizing for the dog's behavior. Little did you know that you would be sharing a life with that very same stranger and dog almost two years later.

"Hello? Y/N, I was asking you a question." you brought back from your daydream when your boyfriend draws your attention.

"Huh? I wasn't paying attention. What were you asking?" you look up at him.

"I was asking if you wanted some of my pancakes?" Namjoon said, picking up a piece with his fork and putting it a few inches from your mouth.

Nodding, you lean forward for him to feed you breakfast. A bit of syrup lands on your mouth, causing Namjoon to put his thumb between your lips, which you instinctively suck.

"Baby...if I'm being honest... I'm not that hungry." he looks up at you a little taken aback by your words.

"We could wait until lunch and order someth-" you put your finger to his lip to quiet him for a moment.

"I am hungry, Joon… but not for food." Namjoon knew instantly what you were getting at, watching your hand come dangerously close to his member.

He moved the sheets off his lap, allowing you to pull down his night shorts and boxers. His length springs to attention and you press a kiss to the tip.

As much as Namjoon loved playing with your body during sex, he also loved when you reciprocated. He palmed your cheek with his hand, trying to keep his moans at bay, so as to not disturb the neighbors.

"Y/N... you know how much I love it when you do that little trick with your tongue." he squeezed his eyes shut after the praise.

"Have to keep you on your toes somehow, Kim." you quickly respond, before going back to work on his still hardened member.

The long, tantalizing licks had soon turned to rapid fast movements, until you took him all the way down in your mouth. The gagging sounds that erupted out had you theorizing that your other half began seeing stars, making sure to bring him back into the moment.

"Oh shit! Oh shit, baby!" Namjoon bucks his hips into your mouth, watching tears form in your eyes.

You made sure to pay extra attention to his balls, since he liked it whenever you fondled them. The soft skin of your hand made contact as you grabbed them lightly, trying your best to not cause any discomfort.

"I can feel how heavy they are, Joon. Is this all for me?" you teased, referring to the semen inside of him.

"You know it's all for you… as long as you're a good girl." Namjoon remarks, breathing heavier than before.

The sight in front of you was something to behold: Your toned boyfriend unraveling under your touch. Truly a morning delight.

"You're almost ready, I can feel it." you let up, until going back to his spit-covered member.

You bob your head faster, watching intently as Namjoon is closer to his release. He moans out loud, which startles Rapmon, but not enough to wake the dog up.

"Y-Y/N! I'm gonna…gonna…fu-" you jerk him off while he comes in your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Namjoon's cheeks were flushed red as he attempted to regain his composure… which isn't aided by seeing you swallow his load.

"Mmm… so delicious." you moaned, grabbing a towel to clean the mess that you created.

"You're insatiable, babe." Namjoon laughs, tucking himself back into his pajamas.

You return his laughter, curling up into his arms, staring at the ceiling.

"How about we order some lunch and continue this later?" you kiss his bicep, getting up from the bed once again.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Your boyfriend was left with nothing more than a wink, a look over your shoulder, and more motivation for later this afternoon.

#btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #wkcnet #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon imagine #rm smut #rm fluff #rm imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagine #gyupremacy

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effortandmore · 11 months

Text

worth all your while (ch.6) | knj x f!reader

chapter summary: you figure some things out, namjoon figures some things out, and the two of you finally talk about what that means for your future

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff

au: celebrity

chapter warnings: swearing, this is like... 4k of smut with feelings and then a few other words. it includes: unprotected piv sex (use condoms irl pls), oral (f!receiving) which includes biting (a little bit), nipple play (kind of), a little bit of cum eating, there's some hair pulling (but not like... aggressively), they finally DO communicate well which is such a departure it feels like it should have a warning

chapter word count: ~5.9k (total 35.6k)

a/n: hello, this story is finally over! thanks for going along with me if you have, i really appreciate the support this one's received. thanks to @the-boy-meets-evil and @ugh-yoongi for their support of this fic, although this chapter is unbeta read, so all mistakes are my own. please feel free to lmk what you've thought, i always appreciate your kind feedback so much!

previous chapter | masterlist | read on ao3

Even though you’re upset, you think the least you owe Namjoon is a reply to the messages he’s left.

After a lot of thought, and a lot of listening to Taehyung (who is always so smart about this kind of thing), you send him a simple, “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.” It’s true, and you will, but you can’t quite get there yet. It’s not even mostly his fault—at least your irritation about the night before isn’t. The clearer light of morning helps you see things less emotionally, a little more rationally. The immediate sting of him saying there was no one special in his life is gone—you get it, you really do. What’s left, though, is the wondering why the two of you never really talk about your relationship, why you’re more than six months in and he still won’t say he loves you…

It’s not the public denial of your relationship that’s really bothering you. It’s the silent, private ones. It’s the way he was clearly still upset about Jeongguk when he said it—you’re not sure if he said it because he was mad. That kind of pettiness doesn’t sit well with you.

Without all those, what happened the night before wouldn’t have stung so badly.

To his credit, he accepts your message, doesn't push you, replies quickly. “Whatever you need. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

And it’s a conflicting feeling, because you believe him. You really, deep in your bones, know that he will. But you need something more. Something solid and concrete and true. There’s a prior version of you that would have thought it was silly. Thought that words are words and they only mean as much as you let them. But now, you need him to say it. Because he says what he means (you know that much by now), you want so badly for him to say he loves you, because you’ll believe him, because you’ll know he means it, just like he means it when he says you can take as much time as you need and he’ll wait.

Is not saying it the same as not meaning it?

You can’t decide. It’s unfair, you know, to discount all the kind and wonderful things he’s done for you, to not count them as small (or big) declarations of his feelings. You know there’s meaning in the everyday, in the way he’s made space and time for you in his life.

But he’s a poet; words are his tools and his weapons and his offerings. So, as selfish as it is, you want his words more than anything.

These are the things you think about all week. You go back to work, and mercifully, you don’t have to proof or help edit the interview with your maybe-still-boyfriend. You spend relatively quiet nights in with Tae and Jimin, and you spend a lot of time on your own, just thinking. You write in your journal, you drink too much coffee, and you do the hard (but silent) work of figuring out how you want to move forward.

On Friday, you’re at a small cafe by your apartment, one you used to spend a lot of time at before you started spending most of your time at Namjoon’s. Headphones on, journal out, you’re sort of mindlessly scribbling out short writing prompts while you nurse your latte. It’s something you’d taken up with Namjoon—gave you something to do while he worked and kept you feeling creative, which your job sometimes doesn’t. You’re not sure if it’s been fruitful professionally, but it’s cathartic to weave fiction, to let sentences meander across your page with no direction sometimes, no deadline. It’s a good way of working through all the noise in your head that can be so, so loud.

“Hey,” you hear above your headphones, a familiar voice that you don’t place until you look up from your notebook.

“Oh! Hey, Yoongi.” You slide your headphones off and motion for him to sit. Seems like the polite, if awkward, thing to offer. And to your sort of surprise, he takes you up on it.

“How are you?” he asks cautiously.

“Is that you asking, or Namjoon?”

“Does it make a difference?”

You smile. He’s got a point. “I’m okay,” you answer. “You can tell him I’m okay.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair and considers you. “Maybe you should tell him.”

“I’m getting there. What’re you doing here, anyway?”

He hums and drinks his coffee. “Your roommate told me you might be here. Had to come back three times this week before I caught you. He misses you.”

It’s a partial answer, but it’s enough. You’ve seen Namjoon in a bad mood before, you wonder how it’s affecting his work; Yoongi’s work. It makes your heart take a little pause. You figured he did, you miss the hell out of him, too. But it’s still nice to hear. No reason for Yoongi to say it if it wasn’t true.

“I miss him, too. But it’s not that simple.”

“I know. And I also know that it gets more complicated the less you talk about it.” You nod, not sure what to say, but Yoongi keeps talking, so you don’t have to know quite yet. “Have you thought about what it would be like for you if he’d said he was in a relationship? Really thought about it?”

You get the sense that it’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t give him an answer, just take a drink of your latte and wait for him to continue.

“It would maybe take less than a week for people to figure out who you are. Then it’s cameras and reporters and fans following you everywhere. All the time. You see how it is for him—it would probably be worse for you at first. They’ll dig up everything about you. Even thought about being mean to someone in high school? You’re a bully. Ever drank too much and made embarrassing drunk videos with your friends? They’ll be on the internet. If it’s hard now, it’s going to be almost impossible after.”

“Almost feels like you want me to walk away…” you say carefully.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “I think you’re good for each other. I think you love each other even if you two can’t figure it out. What I’m saying is that you might think it’s not fair for him to keep things between you private, but it’s a lot more unfair if he decides to make things public without talking to you first. It has to be your decision, not his. Your life is the one that’s going to change.”

You pick at the corner of your notebook. It seems so simple when Yoongi says it, but you’d never thought about it that way. Makes a lot of sense when you consider it.

“I think I understand that,” you concede. “But what he said that night isn’t the problem.”

Yoongi smiles. It’s a little smug, a lot knowing. “Let me guess—it’s what he hasn’t said that’s making you nervous.”

“How’d you know?” It feels a little weird that this guy you don’t know that well yet can see through you so easily.

“I’ve known Namjoon for a long time.”

“And?”

“And I know he loves you.”

“I wish he’d tell me that himself.”

“What did he say when you said it to him?”

And that stops you in your tracks. Because you, logically, know you haven’t said it either. But now that someone’s sitting in front of you making you face it, it seems a little unfair that you’re holding him to a standard you can’t even meet. Or haven’t yet, anyway.

“I—”

“Look,” Yoongi says, standing up from the table. “I don’t know you well enough to know your reasons, but I know his. Just talk to him. Maybe it’s less complicated than you think.”

You tilt your cup toward him and give him your best smile in exchange for everything he’s given you to think about. “Thanks, Yoongi. He’s lucky to have you.”

“I know. And we’re lucky to have him,” he says, soft and fond.

The thing is, you know Yoongi’s right.

It’s late when you find yourself standing outside the door to Namjoon’s studio. You know the code to get in, but you don’t know if you’re in a place where letting yourself in would be welcome. Feels like you’re back to the beginning, where you might need to announce yourself. Your finger only shakes a little when you reach to press the small button with the lightbulb icon on the keypad. The first time you’d seen it, you’d thought it was so clever—of course he’d never hear anyone knocking, but the flashing light gets his attention quickly. It’s just a matter of him being in a place where he can stop what he’s doing to open the door.

You shift your weight from left to right and wait.

You fiddle around in your pocket with a gum wrapper you’d shoved in there after lunch. It’s one thing you don’t get about Seoul, how it can be so relatively clean compared to cities back home, but there’s never a trash can around when you need one.

You should have texted, shouldn’t have even assumed he was here.

Maybe he just left the light on last time he was here.

Maybe those aren’t his stupid custom Nikes sitting outside the door.

Mayb—

“Hey,” he says, a little surprised sounding as he opens the door.

“Hi.”

Neither of you move for a long beat. It’s not awkward, it’s never been awkward with him, really. You just aren’t sure where to start, don’t know how much you can ask for, so you start small.

“Can I come in?”

But Namjoon’s already pulling the door open wider, gesturing for you to come into the room. You notice right away that there’s still your favorite pair of slides by the door. It makes you smile even though this whole thing seems so serious.

“You thought I’d get rid of them?” he asks, eyes fixed on you while you stare at the shoes.

“Didn’t know what to think.”

“You want to sit?”

You nod, slip your shoes off and exchange them for the slides, and pad over to his couch. It makes you feel a little nostalgic—it’s strange how much can change in a matter of days. You hate that your last memory of being in the studio was weird, desperate, jealous sex with him. You hate that you haven’t taken the time to replace it with any better memories. You especially hate that you don’t know if he wants more memories with you.

Namjoon looks a little wild when he sits in his studio chair and swivels it around to face you. Behind him, you see the pile up of water bottles, spent konjac packets, a couple chicken boxes, a few beer cans… The man himself has mussed hair under his hoodie and dark circles under his eyes, looks like he’s been throwing himself into work at the expense of everything else. Well, you see gym clothes in the corner, so maybe not quite everything. He’s predictable in that way, likes a physical manifestation of his moods, whether it's in his music, exercise, or anything else.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” he says cautiously.

“I think we should talk. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

He shrugs, and there’s the Namjoon you know. A little pouty, a little selfish, always battling to let a better version of himself come out—one that’s more confident than you think he truly is. “S’okay,” he mutters.

“It’s not. Even if we’re fighting, it doesn’t help anything to shut you out. I know that, and I’m sorry I did it to you.”

“Thank you,” he says, raising his eyes to meet yours.

You let out a long sigh. You’d thought about what to say the whole way here, but nothing sounded quite right, nothing really conveyed wholly what you wanted. Sometimes, you think it’s because you know how important words are that they’re so hard for you to find in situations like this.

“This isn’t working,” you start.

Namjoon lets out something that can only be described as an honest to god whimper. He looks like you just broke up with him or something.

Then, you realize it sort of sounds like that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Let me finish,” you add. “This thing we have? Where we laugh and fuck and go on dates… Where you’re basically my best friend—don’t tell Seokjin—and the best sex I’ve ever had at the same time?” This, at least, makes him smile. “This is working. But the thing where we don’t ever talk about it? That’s not working for me.”

He nods in agreement. His smile is gone, but at least he doesn’t look hurt anymore. Looks like he’s thinking, like he’s trying to decide what the best response would be. Really, given how little you’ve spoken over the past week, month, months if you’re being honest… you’d take anything.

“That’s fair,” he says. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Is this about the jealousy or about the interview?”

You smile. “Neither and both?”

Namjoon laughs. It’s still shier than you’re used to, but bit by bit you feel the chill between the two of you beginning to thaw. It’s starting to get easier the more you talk, and you kick yourself for thinking you couldn’t have always just been this honest.

“I think the jealousy and the interview wouldn’t have been issues at all if we were better about talking to each other in the first place. Sometimes, I think… I guess I’m just not sure where you stand. I want this so much… Want you so much. I know why you said what you said at the interview. It only stung because I thought you were still upset with me about Jeongguk. Saying that because you’re mad is hurtful. Saying it because it should be my choice, not yours, to tell people I’m your girlfriend is actually very kind. But being with you… like loudly and publicly? It’s a lot to put on the table when I don’t know where your head’s at.”

He looks a little bewildered, and that’s understandable, because you feel like you just talked the equivalent of a marathon. “You don’t know where my head’s at?” he repeats as a question.

“I think you like me?” you reply, just as unsure.

Namjoon scoffs and stands up from his chair. He crosses the room and sits on his knees in front of you, takes your fidgety hands in his. “No,” he says firmly. “I definitely love you.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not expecting that. Not expecting the way it rolled off his tongue so easily.

“I thought a lot about us this week,” he says, squeezing your hands in his. “And I realized that all the times I was sure I’d said I loved you and you hadn’t said it back? Turns out, I hadn’t really said that at all. I said I wanted to see you, I wanted to know you, that I didn’t want you to push me away… But now I am saying, and I really want you to hear me, that I fucking love you. And whenever you’re ready to say it back, I’ll be here. Even if it takes another 200 days. Another 200 of our 200 days.”

“Joonie, we’ll be dead in forty thousand days.”

“I’m not a mathematician.”

“I’ll probably still be in love with you though,” you admit softly. “In forty thousand days.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon sits up so you’re eye level with each other and grins the sappiest of wide, dimpled grins.

You nod and squeeze your fingers around his.

“I’m sorry and I love you,” you say.

“I’m sorry and I love you, too,” he says right back. Just like that.

And Yoongi was right again. It’s not that complicated.

It’s not complicated when Namjoon’s lips press into yours, slow and unhurried, sweeter than you’d let yourself remember. Certainly softer than the last time you’d been in the studio together.

It’s not complicated when you then reach down to pull your sweater off. Namjoon’s eyes widen watching you on his couch in your bra—like he’s never seen you this way before, and you find it helplessly endearing.

“You want it off?”

All he does is nod as you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra. Grinning, you take it off slowly and let it drop to the floor.

And you want to savor the moment, memorize the look on his face, the way his fingertips trace careful tributaries across your ribs, the way he sighs like he’s at peace just looking at you. But it feels like you’ve been waiting to be back with him forever, even if it’s only been a week. It’s hard not to touch him in return, hard not to chase the pleasure you know he’s capable of giving you.

So, you reach down to guide his hands up to your chest and say, “You can touch. I want you to touch me.”

A groan escapes him and he stretches up to kiss you again as he begins to knead your breasts in his hands. You lean your head back and sigh as he takes a nipple between his fingers and teases it out taut. In your vivid imagination, you can see the smirk he’s giving you before he takes the other between his teeth, gently biting, then running his tongue over it, alternating between the two in a steady pattern.

It’s a helpless feeling—you’re reduced to just soft moans and snippets of his name rolling off your tongue. You think you almost tear up when he caresses your jaw, tells you that all he wants is to be able to make you feel good, to hear that you want him, to hear that you love him.

Overwhelming in the best way.

The only time he pauses is to lift his head and capture your mouth again in his, tongue more insistent than before.

“I can’t do what I want with these on,” he whispers against your lips and tugs at the waist of your jeans.

“And what’s that?”

“Fuck you so well you forget the last time,” he says, with too much regret and too much sincerity.

You lean back on the couch to let him unbutton your jeans and pull them off. “How about we remember the last time a little,” you say with a grin, “because the hair pulling was kinda hot.”

“Oh baby... you can’t just say things like that.” He sighs as your pants hit the floor, “You’re beautiful.”

He takes a minute to let his eyes run up and down your body; his hands follow them, tracing your curves. When you let your gaze drift from his face, you can see he’s hard just from looking at you and from teasing your breasts.

Everything in you tells you to kiss him again, but just as you start to sit up, Namjoon halts the movement with a kiss and gentle hand on your chest to push you back. You move so you can sit up on your elbows instead and watch him run his hands down your thighs, pushing your knees further apart as he scoots closer. And you’re already so wet; skin slick, ready for whatever he has planned next.

“Is this okay?” he asks, breathing against you and kissing the insides of your legs as he reaches out to hold one of your hands.

“Yeah... really okay.”

Two fingers meet your clit and he starts stroking you softly, giving you a second to adjust. But when you squeeze his hand and whimper, he moves a little faster and your noises get more insistent, a bit louder.

“Can I taste you?”

“Oh god… please Namjoon.”

You almost laugh; you think you’ve never seen him move so quickly; replacing his fingers with his tongue. Long, flat strokes over your clit and lower, letting out a moan against your core, and then pausing to tell you how good you taste, how much he’s missed you.

His fingers tease at your entrance as he sucks your clit into his mouth… runs his teeth just barely across it.

You reward reward him with a, “Fuck, Joonie… yes,” so he does it again as he pushes a finger inside you.

You’re all whines and whimpers and trembles as he adds a second finger, and then a third; not even bothering to be patient anymore. How can either of you possibly be patient with each other? You: squirming and dripping wet and saying his name like it’s the only one you can remember—him: persistent and knowing exactly what you like, exactly how much you can take.

As he licks over your clit, his fingers curl inside you and he strokes there, moving with a bit more purpose as you push your hips up to try and take him deeper.

“Namjoon, please...” you whine when he lays a hand across your hip to hold you in place and slows his movements, trying to draw it out for you and for him, too—it’s sweet the way he’s still trying to make it last.

But it won’t, not much longer. “I’m so close,” you breathe out.

Your head falls back as your thighs start to tremble against his face, and you grab a fistful of his hair, forcing him to keep his mouth on you as he lets your hips go. The moan he lets out when you tug a little just pushes you even closer—you finally get to arch your back up to push his fingers deeper inside.

“Oh fuck… oh my god.”

A small smile makes its way across his lips as you buck your hips up into him and go stiff, pulsing around him and giving a drawn out moan of his name as you come on his hand and tongue.

As you collect yourself, or at least catch your breath, Namjoon climbs onto the couch above you and starts kissing and sucking on your neck, mindlessly brushing one of your nipples with his thumb.

“Joonie?”

“Sorry, is that too much?” He freezes and you almost laugh again. It’s such a 180 from the last time you slept together.

“No... no, it’s great. I mean, you could do anything to me right now and I think I’d let you.”

He smiles at you, “That good huh?”

“You’re always good to me.” You scoot up to get your legs underneath you on the sofa and he matches you, sitting upright so he can keep eye contact. “It’s just that this all feels very one-sided.”

“I’m having a fine time.” Grinning, he moves his hand to his mouth and licks your orgasm off of his fingers one by one as if to prove it to you. And christ, you’ve never been so turned on by anything in your life—a million options rush through your head, wishing he’d let you get your lips around his fingers, his cock, anything just to make him feel good, really.

“But we’re not done,” you say as you reach over to stroke him through his joggers.

Namjoon chokes on whatever he was going to say when your hand makes contact with his cock.

“Can I?” You ask as you sit up and move to start lifting his shirt off.

“Yeah, ‘course you can.”

Bold fingers skim over his skin once his shirt is gone. As you watch him watch your movements, you swing a leg over and straddle him, feathering kisses over his neck and chest, capturing each of his freckles between your lips.

“Love you so much,” you say as you catch the one right below his bottom lip. Every single part of you feels like it’s absolutely on fire thinking about how he makes you feel so much more of everything than anyone else ever has. “Namjoon, you’re gorgeous you know?” you ask as you place hot, open-mouthed kisses over his neck.

“Fucking love you like crazy,” he groans when you hit a particularly sensitive spot under his chin. “Can’t believe it took us this long to get it right…”

His muscles flutter beneath you, and it’s incredibly cheesy, you decide, that it matches the sensation inside your chest. Beneath you, his cock is filling out, fully hard now. And you’d been nervous before, to even show up here under the circumstances, but now you’re just ready.

You’re ready to do anything for this man, and it still wouldn’t be enough. All you can think about now, worries forgotten, is everything he’s given you. As ridiculous as it sounds in your head, you’re ready to spend as long as he’ll let you giving him something back, figuring out how to keep making each other happy. Shimmying back to give yourself room, you notice him looking at you like you’re his whole world, and god do you want to be. “Still okay?”

He nods, watching watching watching you touch him, still letting one of his hands skim your skin anywhere he can reach, as if he can’t bring himself to stop touching you now that he’s been granted renewed permission.

You lift off of him to pull his joggers off, and this part, this you’re sure you’ve always been good at together. “Gonna touch you now, Joonie,” you whisper before you lean back in to kiss him.

“I’ll die if you don’t.”

It’s an easy laugh you let out against his lips between kisses and you wrap one hand behind his neck to play with the short, soft hairs at his nape. With the other, you run your fingers through your own wetness and then begin to stroke him, grip on his cock firm and steady. You run a thumb over the tip and then stare in his eyes as you bring it up to your mouth and lick his precum off.

Payback.

“I’ve always loved the way you taste,” you tease, as Namjoon groans and lets his eyes roll back. “But now you should remind me how you feel,” you say as you slide off his lap and lay back on the couch and let your own hand drift between your legs

“Jesus...”

“Please? I want you to fuck me like you love me,” you say quietly.

“I think it’s the only way I know how,” he admits, looking just as lovestruck as you feel.

Moving in between your knees, he slides his hands under your ass to pull you closer. It’s a strange fit on the couch, but you just barely manage it—one of your legs dangles off the side, but it gives him better access. He strokes his tip across your entrance and sighs at the contact, at how wet you are maybe, at how you’re literally begging for him, and then he lets himself push inside of you slowly.

It’s completely attention-stealing: watching the way he slides into you, his kiss-swollen lips twitching as he starts moving his hips, skin shining under the effort. This is it, you think—you’ve never been so hopelessly in love with anyone before. And instead of being overwhelmed staring at this man who you know is your future, it’s all contentment and peace in your head. This is perfect, and having him love you, having him inside you knowing that he loves you is better than any other feeling you can think of.

“Oh my god,” you moan as he thrusts into you.

“You feel so… fucking good...” His speech is a little stuttered, it would be cute if he wasn’t doing what he was doing to you.

He slows his movements while you circle your own clit—it’s driving you a little wild feeling your fingertips brush against his cock, hearing the little breathy moans he lets out each time he fucks into you—and he’s played you a lot of music, but those are your favorite sound.

“Fuck...” he groans, “love you… can’t believe you’re real.”

His hands slide up to your face and he cups your cheeks as he kisses you, tongue moving with yours. Feels like he’s trying to channel all of the everything you know he must be feeling into some kind of action. That physical manifestation thing again. So, you start to move your hips up a little harder, getting him deeper than he had been. It’s more of a demand than a request.

“Namjoon, more...” you whine.

He runs his tongue up your neck to your ear and murmurs, “Can I make you come again?”

It’s all you can do to respond with a long moan as he moves one of his hands down to replace yours, stroking your swollen clit.

“Harder... please...”

Namjoon rocks back onto his heels while he grabs you and pulls you up to rest your thighs on his. It shifts his angle inside you, and he fucks you harder just like you asked, matching the movements of his hips with his fingers, seemingly not able to stop his eyes from fluttering shut.

“Come on baby, one more time?”

“I’m close again,” you sigh as he increases his pace.

There’s barely any time before the combination of faster and deeper and a better angle has you clenching up around him, and your arm up snakes around his neck to bring him closer. Namjoon kisses you hard, all messy and hurried tongues and teeth as you both start to come.

A moan pours from the back of your throat and into his as you come again, squeezing around his cock while you ride out another orgasm. He follows you with a few final snaps of his hips as you throb around him.

It’s almost like you can’t breathe, can’t feel or see anything but him as he spills into you—you’d gladly live every moment of the rest of your life this way if he’d let you, you’re sure. It’s a sappy, ridiculous thought and you wonder if you’ll ever be rational about him again. Probably not for a while, anyway.

Your foreheads press together as you breathe heavily in between lazy kisses and grins. You run your thumbs across his cheekbones and then push them into the divots where his dimples should be as you kiss him again. When you finally catch your breath, you say, “Love you, Joonie. You’re incredible.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirks at you and pinches your side before you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but start laughing. Slowly, you sit up and pull away from him, letting him scoot back. His couch might never recover from the mess you’ve made.

Namjoon finds a t-shirt and wipes the both of you off as best he can, then lays sideways on the couch and pulls you down into him, your back pressed tightly to his chest. He places lazy kisses along the skin between your neck and shoulder.

“You know what I thought when I ran into you at Heathrow?”

“No... do I want to?”

“I thought you were the girl of my dreams.”

You smile, it’s cheesy, but you love it. “And now?”

“And now I know you are,” he whispers into your ear.

It’s exactly what you’ve needed from him, the simple and direct confirmation that you’re not alone in the way you feel. Turns out, clear communication is pretty sexy. “You’re gonna make me want round three, Joonie.”

“We could set records together.”

“I bet we’ll have a lot of chances to try in the future.”

“I hope so,” he whispers.

“Thanks for waiting for me.” You say it quietly as you slide your hand into his at your waist.

“Completely worth every minute,” he murmurs into your skin.

A month later, things feel like they’ve fully righted themselves between the two of you. There has, of course, been a little fighting as you negotiate the terms of what is about to be your new, public relationship. On the plus side, there’s been a lot more fucking and a lot more of actually saying what you’re feeling on both sides. It’s not easy, but it feels inarguably good to do this with him—to do it the way you should have from the beginning.

You know now that love should feel easy, but it only feels that way if you work at it. It’s a contradiction you think he’s going to write at least a couple of songs about, and you can’t wait to hear them. He always makes things make just a little more sense.

So, you’re not even that nervous as you walk up the steps to the small gallery in Hannam-dong. The terrace on the second floor is filled with people you know from work, everyone excited to see the Villet installation that’s opening officially tomorrow with a VIP preview tonight. You don’t know how, but Taehyung spots you from up there, camera hung around his neck, and gives you the dorkiest thumbs up you think he could muster—it’s cute, really, how he’s always there to support you, even when he’s working.

“You ready?” Namjoon whispers as you get to the last few steps below the gallery doors. He looks more nervous than you feel. His palm is a little sweaty against yours, but he’s solid next to you—it feels like you’ve brought a little piece of home with you when you feel the cool metal of his ring against your own warm fingers.

When you look up at him, you smile and nod, swallowing down any residual nerves. These are your people, and even if you’re not working tonight, even if you’re meeting them in a different capacity, you know it’s going to be alright. Tae calls your name, and you both turn to face him, to see his camera pointed at you with your joined hands, your dress matching Namjoon’s tie. He gives you a few extra beats, longer than any other photographer would, and then he’s snapping the picture—later, you’ll know it looks like this: looks like you looking straight into the camera with a bright smile less serious than the occasion calls for and Namjoon looking at you like you contain the whole universe.

Later, it will become a favorite, framed in the bedroom of the apartment you will share.

But tonight, it’s an announcement.

Once you get inside, you have minutes, maybe less. Just enough time to grab flutes of champagne and start toward the next set of stairs that lead to the main gallery space. You’re stopped by a familiar voice before you can head up, though. A colleague from an online art magazine—you’ve known him since you were just out of grad school.

He looks delighted, and you know why—Namjoon’s fingers tighten over yours. When you look over at your boyfriend as your colleague starts asking him questions, he looks delighted, too. It’s your favorite thing, to see him happy like this. You’re lost in it and you don’t even hear the questions, but you do hear a response.

“...Yes, let me introduce you to someone incredibly special.” You stifle a laugh—you know Namjoon knows the two of you already know each other, always running in the same small social and work circles.

But you stop laughing and just give him a beaming smile when he adds, “She’s the love of my life, actually.”

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