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#rm angst
veethefreeelf · 6 months
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RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (I)
M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending
None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works
new guy - one-shot, 5.5K - by @kithtaehyung - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Solace - one-shot, 13.5K - by @m-yg93 - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
the interpretation of dreams - one-shot, 13.8K - by @ppersonna - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
out of my league mini Series by @ppersonna (go through their masterlist, trust) -> M / A / F / HpE
lost in the funhouse - one-shot, 9.7K - by @dovechim - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE?
The Body Through Time - one-shot, 10.9K - by @yeoldontknow - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
False awakening - one-shot, 6.8K - by @taleasnewastime - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Between the pages - one-shot, 4.5K - by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
you, after all - one-shot, 6.8K - by @effortandmore - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
the sleeping hours - one-shot, 12K - by @effortandmore again because their writing is beautiful -> M / A / F / HpE
tuesday moon - one-shot, 7.7K - by @effortandmore again. Just read all of their Masterlist, please, you won't regret it -> M / F / HpE
worth all your while Series by @effortandmore (just leave here and go to their page) -> M / minor A / F / HpE
promises - one-shot, 18K - by @jeonbunnie - full Masterlist -> M / major A / F / You can choose your ending
lacuna - one-shot, 7K - by @eoieopda - full Masterlist - this one has a prequel and a sequel, do yourself a favor and read all of them -> M / A / F / HpE
The Making of: Love - one-shot, 12.7K - by @inkjam-moon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Not Another Holiday Romance - one-shot, 32.3K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist - this one is one of my absolute favorites, they never disappoint -> M / A / F / HpE
The Rich Man's Crochet Club - one-shot, 32.4K - by the incredible @kpopfanfictrash again -> M / A / F / HpE
My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold Series by @daechwitatamic - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
give and take - one-shot, 10.5K - by @ddaenggtan - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
midnight wishes - one-shot, 10.3K - by @ddaenggtan again because they write Namjoon beautifully -> M / A / F / HpE
Moon Child - one-shot, 16K - by @adonis-koo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Scent of a Woman - one-shot, 10K - by @sahmfanficbts - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
The Take-Home Test - one-shot, 11.3K - by @versigny - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
keep in step - one-shot, 2.6K - by @jjkeverlast - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
On With The Show - one-shot, 33.9K - by @joheunsaram - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
reflection - one-shot, 18.6K - by @jimilter - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
A Fine Line Series by @moni-logues - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
All Night - one-shot, 12K - by @luaspersona - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
real magic - one-shot, 16.7K - @here2bbtstrash - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
deep end - one-shot, 4.2K - by @here2bbtstrash again because their writing is incredible -> M / F / HpE
The Stand-In - one-shot, 13.5K - by @yoonia - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
doom boy - one-shot, 4.2K - by @soft4gguk - full Masterlist -> M / HpE
s u g a r - one-shot, 10.8K - by @joonberriess - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
rivals academia - one-shot, 4.2K - by @aseaofyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / HpE
Love Language - one-shot, 14K - by @rmnamjoons - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Castaways - one-shot, 25.5K - by @rmnamjoons - this one is absolute GOLD -> M / A / F / HpE
all aboard! (the passion express) - one-shot, 10.8K - by @ve1vetyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Inside My Mind - one-shot, 19.2K - by @jimlingss - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
His Majesty - one-shot, 9.6K - by @yoonieper - full Masterlist -> M / A / minor F / HpE
Dragonfire - one-shot, 7.3K - by @hamsterclaw - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
obsessed - one-shot, 13.8K - by @namjuicyy - full Masterlist - really read the trigger warnings for this one please, it's not for everyone (it's brilliant tho) -> M / A / F / HpE
Untitled - one-shot, 16K - by @ahundredtimesover - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Dino-Mite - one-shot, 34.7K - by @chimcess - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea - one-shot, 8.1K - by @roses-ruby - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
English literature - one-shot, 7.6K - by @tayegi - full Masterlist - this one also has a sequel, be sure to check it out as well -> M / F / HpE
glasses-clad boy - one-shot, 10K - by @jeongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Love Borrowed - one-shot, 7K - by @goldenkookietae - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Love is Blind - one-shot, 7.4K - by @helenazbmrskai - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
the snow globe effect - one-shot, 10K - by @gukyi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
there was a bug - one-shot, 7K - by @kimnjss - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
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yoonia · 6 months
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The (im)Perfect Ending | knj (18+)
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⤑ Summary | There are stories written about meeting the right person at the wrong time. In your story, he was the right person who was all wrong for you to claim. He was your best mistake, while you were nothing more but a small chapter in his story. A story with an ending that had been written long before you came into the picture. But then life brings you back together again, allowing your unabashed hope to slither its way back in. The only thing you can do is to wonder—will this be just another interlude in his story, or are you given a second chance to rewrite your whole story, with a new pen to write your own happy ending?
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⤑ Title | The (im)Perfect Ending ⤑ Pairings | Namjoon x female reader ⤑ Genre | Past Lovers!au, Second Chance, Infidelity, Smut, Angst
⤑ Story Notes | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story involves acts of infidelity. Both characters are mature, as the story is set years after their relationship ended. Namjoon is older than OC/reader (Joon would be in his mid to late 30s, OC is in her late 20s), so there is a bit of an age gap. There will be mentions and depictions of pregnancies and surprise babies. This story is purely fictional, any similarities in the usage of name and circumstances are purely coincidental. This is roughly edited, but I hope it won’t affect your reading experience too much.
⤑ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; infidelity, older man!Namjoon, former underclassman!reader, soft dom!Namjoon, alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, surprise babies, involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, mentions/implications of first time sex, partly clothed sex, clothed foreplay, kitchen sex, biting, rubbing, groping, body worshipping, dry humping, dry orgasm, dirty talk, mentions/implications of deep-throating, mentions/depictions of public sex, pain kink, praise kink, stripping, nudity, implied size kink, breast/nipple play, hand job, neck kissing, finger sucking, fingering, clit play, oral sex (female and male receiving), grinding, riding, biting, face fucking/riding, cum eating, hair pulling, light choking, manhandling, begging, crying (not really involved during sex), reader may have gone into a headspace at one point, orgasm control (minor/implied), doggy style, rough sex, vanilla sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, implied creampie, aftercare.
⤑ Word count | 43,8k words
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⤑ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi | Music companion
⤑ Read on AO3
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Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if we had met earlier.  If my life would be different today if I had made different decisions then.  Had it been me who decided to walk away, just when you finally opened your heart to me?  Had I been reading things wrong, and that your parting words had meant something else?  I wonder if the things that you said to me then were never meant as words of goodbye, but a wish for something more. That we could be something else.  But there is no way that we could ever change the past, is there? And look at us now.  Our past decisions had only left us stranded on each of our own’s paths, and we have become nothing else but broken pieces drifting in the ocean of sorrow and pain, where our memories became nothing more but rotten dust haunting us in our dreams. 
“Hi.” 
A moment passes, and just when you are starting to believe that this is just another one of those dreams that have been haunting you during your long and lonely nights, the man standing before you speaks. His voice sounds so deep that you can feel its vibration reaching deep in your chest. You can almost feel his gentle words caressing your skin when he answers, 
“It’s been a while.” 
If you had thought that you have had his smile engraved so profoundly in your memories, then you would have been wrong. Because the moment he smiles, it looks nothing like what you remembered. It looks much better. Way better. And it shouldn’t be stirring the flutters in your chest or bringing warmth within your body the moment you get to see it again after so many years have passed. 
“I think ‘a while’ sounds like an understatement,” you find yourself speaking, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds when every bit of your senses seems to be shaking in his presence. He softly laughs at your comment, and it sounds so rich that you feel your heart swelling and beating faster. And you hate it. 
Because your heart isn’t supposed to be doing these things. Not after so long. 
“You, uh—you look good,” he says, coaxing a smile out of you, though you try your hardest to hold it back from showing. 
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Kim Namjoon,” you answer him, drawing his smile to grow a bit deeper. And again, you hate it. Not his smile. It would be impossible to hate his smile. You just hate the way you are unable to look away from it, or the way you find yourself being drawn further when his smile lingers. 
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Namjoon says with a tenderness that isn’t supposed to be present, before his eyes flicker down, shamelessly taking you in. “Are you on your way back from work?” 
Glancing down at your handbag, the one that is so obviously showing him the necessities that you regularly carry with you to work, and then to the blazer you are wearing over your cashmere sweater and the pair of jeans that you always wear on the days when work is going slow, you nod with a smile. “Yes, I just got off,” you answer him, and the brief reprieve that you get by looking away from his face brings everything back—the movements from the crowd around you, the sounds coming from the chatters and the shops in the surrounding area—every single thing that is currently happening around you. Everything that has been muted in his presence comes flooding into your senses, reminding you of where you are. 
You weren’t lying when you told him that you were coming back from work. You have no idea what had driven you to stop by at the mall tonight, when you would normally return straight away to the warm comfort of your small and quiet apartment after a long day. But seeing him standing before you, an actual presence of himself instead of a mirage, you wonder if it had been fate that brought you here.
“I figured I could spare some time to do some window shopping before going home,” you continue, though it sounds more as if you are reasoning with yourself instead of answering his unspoken question. 
“You’re alone, then?” 
You nod. “Yeah, I am.” 
“Then, uh—” he stops, suddenly looking a bit unsure with himself for a brief moment as he takes a quick glance around. “Do you have some free time before you go home? What do you say about grabbing coffee with me? I would love to, uh—catch up.” 
You should say no. Refusing his invitation would be the only sane and mature thing to do, but the words refuse to come out of your lips. Walking away would be the right thing, just like how you did the same years ago. But just like then, before the choice to grow mature and wise ever came to you, your heart chooses differently for you. And it would be the one option that you have yet to decide if it would be the wrong one, or something that you would never regret in the future. 
“Yes, I’d love to.”
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“I see that some things haven’t changed,” Namjoon says as he looks the coffee selection that you ordered—iced cappuccino, double shot, no whip cream or sugar. Your eyes fall on his order as he places it on the table before he carefully takes the seat right across from you. 
Double Iced Américano. 
You still order the same thing as well, you wonder to yourself instead of voicing it out loud. “Some things have changed, though,” you find yourself saying instead as you take a slow sip of your cold drink. 
“I guess so,” he softly laughs. “You wear your hair longer now.” 
“And you’ve gotten married.” 
You never meant to sound snappy about it, yet the words simply slipped right out of your lips before you could stop it. But you find no remorse when you look up at him to see his reaction. Instead of getting flustered, the look in his eyes shows no change in its light. There is a tease there in his gaze, the one that had once stolen your heart—and has yet to return it as whole—years back, but there is also the astonished look that you are still quite familiar with. The same one that he would give you for your sharp tongue, which was something that seemed to amuse him a lot then, and may amuse him today still. 
“So you’ve heard the news.” 
You raise your eyebrows. “Heard of it?” you scoff at him. “Obviously, there was no way I would’ve missed it when I had the delightful privilege to receive the invitation through my mail.” 
To your pleasure, he seems surprised to hear this. His eyes grow wide, and there is a sourness that you feel coming from him as he gives you a wry smile. “I never—” Namjoon stops himself and closes his eyes. The sigh that comes out of him sounds exasperated, filled with pure exhaustion that pricks at you right in the chest. “She must’ve sent it to you,” he murmurs softly almost to himself, and you can almost hear the disbelief in his voice before he looks up at your face. 
“How kind of her,” you dryly say to him, and you indulge the pleasure of seeing him react with a grimace. 
You keep your eyes on him as you sip your coffee, to see the apology that is written so plainly in his gaze. Silence lingers, and you wait with bated breath to hear what he is about to say.
“I’m—” 
A tight clench rises in your chest when you start to predict what his next words would be, so you quickly stop him before he could say them out loud. “Don’t,” you whisper to him. “Don’t apologise for her when it’s not your fault. It makes it even worse.” 
Namjoon shakes his head slowly while keeping his gaze low, and you enjoy seeing the sight of remorse that appears all over his face. You shouldn’t be entertained by this, but somehow, it feels—good. 
It feels cathartic to be able to dump all of this on him after years of keeping this to yourself, as there had never been any chance for you to speak to him after you parted ways. And you cannot deny the pleasure you are feeling from seeing the pain that flickers in his eyes. It appears only briefly that you might have missed it had you not been keeping your eyes on him. 
But it still helps make you feel as if all the past hurt that you had to keep inside for many years had all been worth it. Only for seeing him experience the same thing you did then; to be caught off guard and completely at a loss, without knowing how to react or feel when reality was thrust back at your face, forcing you to open your eyes to see it. 
Back then, you simply took it as your punishment. Because, in a way, you did deserve it. 
You both did. 
“I’m not apologising for her. For anyone, on that matter. I’m apologising on my own behalf,” he says with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. That was”—he swallows thickly—”that seems so wrong, in so many ways. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must have felt.” 
“Then don’t,” you calmly say to him, once again surprising yourself when you manage to keep your voice even, or to keep a smile on your face when you finally get to look at him in the eyes as you are telling him all of this. “Don’t even try to understand how I would feel because you may never understand. Besides, it was a long time ago, wasn’t it? None of these things matter anymore.” 
A wry smile comes to his face, and instead of feeling happy about it, you feel—angry. 
Despite everything that had happened, despite all the hurt, you hate seeing how it seems to be weighing on him. You hate wondering about the kind of guilt that he might be feeling now, if there is truly any. Instead of celebrating it, all you want to do is to reach across the table to console him. 
The thought almost makes you laugh. Yet you wonder if perhaps everything that people around you kept telling you back then had been right, that time did heal you, after all. Because the pain that nearly killed you years ago no longer hurts as much as it did back then, even if you can still feel remnants of it residing inside your fractured heart. 
Years ago, even saying his name alone would have made you feel as if every part of your heart was breaking into pieces until it felt like you had none of it left. Years ago, you even found yourself wishing that you could hurt him the way he made you feel. Yet that feeling no longer exists now when you are looking at him. It doesn’t feel good at all to see the way his eyes dim at the knowledge that he has a hand in causing you pain even long after everything between you had ended. 
But healing isn’t supposed to bring a wave of new emotions rising inside your chest as you look into his eyes—be it to feel sympathy and to wish that you could take away the sorrowful look that you see gleaming in his gaze. It isn’t supposed to bring back all the old feelings that you had long buried deeply, or to have all the memories of the past come flashing through your mind the longer you look into his eyes and be in his presence. 
Your skin prickles uncomfortably as the feeling grows more intense. Walking away from him would be the right thing to do for you. Just like how it did when you had chosen to do it that many years ago when you walked away from his life, leaving him behind with your heart fractured and only a small dignity of yours left intact. 
And yet, something tells you that you might be too late. Even the memory of your past hurt wouldn’t be able to help convince you to walk away, when the strong pull of his presence is impossible for you to deny.  
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Sometimes my mind would wander back to the letter that you sent me then.  To remind me of the words that you had secretly hidden between the letters, between the consoling words that you gave me while you talked about broken dreams, fallen hopes, and unanswered prayers.  ‘I love you.’ For a long time, I wished and prayed so badly to hear those words coming from you. Yet the moment you gave them to me, there was a sense of finality hidden among them that was impossible for me to ignore. Those words you sent to me gave me happiness, sadness, relief, and grief, because it had sounded like an answered prayer to me, while at the same time, it sounded like a goodbye. An end to the sinful journey that we both started.  And then I left, because loving you was becoming too much, too painful, knowing that there was a different future waiting for you at the other end of that journey. I left while knowing that I had earned your love and carried a piece of your heart with me, because I could never bear the thought of having to let go of your love and giving your heart back so you could give them to another. Because even after goodbye, you were still mine, just as much as I would always be yours.
“Why would you choose to walk down that path when you knew that there was no light waiting for you at the end of the tunnel?” 
A good friend of yours gave you those exact words then, after you shared with them everything—about your secret, about your sin, about the forbidden love that you had to hide from the world which you preserved only for him.
Namjoon had been with her for a long period of time before you met him. A story that had been written long before you came into his life. But love never chooses to whom it would fall onto, striking you so deep in the chest ever since the day you first met him and you were unable to ignore it when it began to blossom. For a long time, you tried to fight against it, to deny its presence, and you kept refusing to acknowledge it. But no matter how hard you tried, the feeling kept growing stronger, fighting harder to survive until it took root within you so deep that you finally had to admit defeat. 
You should have kept it to yourself. To keep it as your own dirty little secret until it would fade away with time. And yet, just like always, the truth managed to find its way to come out onto the world, no matter how hard you had tried to conceal it. 
And when it finally happened, he never looked away, nor did he ever deny or push you out of his path. Instead, he chose to embrace you, to hold you against his chest just when you tried to run away and bury your feelings for him. Instead of pushing you away, he kissed every drop of tear that you had shed when you allowed yourself to bare your heart for him to see and let him know that you loved him. 
The moment that you fully accepted that your love for him was forbidden, and that there was no way you could allow that feeling to grow any further, he chose to abandon all logic and came to find you instead. You were ready to say goodbye, and yet he pulled you into his arms and kissed away every broken word that was leaving your lips, opening his heart that was supposed to have been claimed by another just so he could keep you as a part of him, unwilling to let go. 
“If this story had been written with a different ink, a different pen, or even a different hand, then perhaps we could have a different ending.” 
Those were the words that Namjoon gave you then, when he held you through what was supposed to be a cold and lonely night. It was the night that he spent piecing every broken part of your heart which had been shattered when you bare your soul for him. Those words were supposed to help you see that there was already a different ending written to his story, while yours remained unseen. An unwritten plot that the universe had yet to reveal. You should have realised it then, that the two of you would have never been a part of each other’s ending, and that your paths would only end in an intersection where he would have to take a different path to yours.
But Namjoon made it hard for you to see it when he spent all night making love to you, allowing you to see and feel what it was like to be in his arms, to feel his touches and kisses, and to embrace pleasure that no other man but him could have ever given you. Then he continued to make it hard for you to open your eyes and see reality when he kept you blinded by his love, binding you to him with the wanton pleasure that he kept showing you each time he saw fear and uncertainty in your eyes. 
You knew then that it was wrong to continue, yet you found it hard to end your sinful act when it felt so right to be in his arms, to be kissing him so freely until he could feel all the love you kept inside. Never once did you feel any remorse, even as the long nights progressed into weeks, months, and then years, until the moment everything fell apart. 
The memories which keep flashing in your mind to remind you of the past should also remind you of all the hurt, of all the despair that you had gone through back then. Instead, just like then, you choose to keep your eyes closed shut and push them all the way to the back of your mind as you return his kisses, to revel in his touches, as you once again fall into his warmth after he opened his arms to let you back in. 
“We shouldn’t be doing this—” you try to speak between the deep kiss you are sharing, though whatever you are trying to tell him quickly fades and withers when he kisses them away, drawing a series of soft moans instead of words. 
“No, we shouldn’t,” Namjoon simply answers as he pulls away from the kiss, yet he gives you no sign of letting go. From your lips, he trails his kisses down the column of your throat, pressing his hot kiss right against the very spot on the side of your neck that would always make you squirm. How he still remembers how to find it is beyond you. But he does it so naturally, as if the years that you spent apart had been nonexistent. 
“And I thought you said that you had to go home,” you try to speak again, though the moans that keep escaping you and the way you keep arching into him are betraying your words, allowing him to see how much you meant none of it. 
“I did say that,” he hums against your skin. This time, he does pull away, barely, just enough so he can look at your face while his arms are still wrapped around you, denying you a chance to escape. “But going home is the last thing that I have in mind right now.” 
“What—” you almost choke, almost finding it hard to speak when you open your eyes and you get to see the familiar look in his eyes looking back at you. The deep passion, the love, the desire—everything that you have missed for so long now appearing right before you. Things are not supposed to turn out this way, and you are not supposed to let that silly little hope of yours being revived from the deepest part of your soul where it had been buried and left forgotten when you ask him, “What are you thinking now, then?” 
“You,” Namjoon says, sounding determined and completely sure of himself, with not a slither of doubt can be heard from his voice. “All I have in mind right now is you. All I can think of right now is all that I want to do to you, and what I want to make you feel.” 
“And what is that?” 
His eyes seem to be lost in you as he grazes your lips with the tip of his thumb. “Everything. I want you to feel everything, so you’ll remember how good we were together.” 
But I never forgot. 
That small voice of conscience finally reveals itself, only to admit the truth that you have been denying to hear.
Perhaps that had been the reason why you refused to end the night when it was time to part ways with him after that impromptu coffee date. Maybe that was the reason why you invited him into your home, the small apartment that would usually feel so cold and desolated, now burning hot with the desire that you are sharing with him. 
Whatever it was that had crossed your mind when you opened the door to your home for him to enter had not been anything close to this, nor did it involve him lifting you up onto the kitchen counter where he can part your legs for him so he can step closer, pressing hard against your heated center as he captures your lips once again into a deep kiss. 
You barely managed to take off your shoes right after you entered through the door when he pulled you into his arms. With his lips capturing yours, he managed to shut your mind until he succeeded to corner you in your own home, placing you in the same position as you did back then when you first gave in to the desire which he aroused inside you. 
There are words still left unspoken, but everything else becomes nothing more than a blur of motions as you easily melt into his kiss, and it doesn’t take long for you to realise that he was right. 
Every touch he is giving you, every kiss, every soft hum that he releases when you return every single sinful act of his continue to bring you back to the past. You have never forgotten how good it felt when you were with him, and the memories from the past are only making things better, intensifying everything that is happening to your body and what he is doing to you now. 
A groan slips out of him as he moves to slip your blazer off of your shoulders. Once it is gone, your sweater comes next, and he leaves you breathless as he easily pulls it over your head and tosses it away. 
With your upper body now exposed and your chest is heaving with your deep breaths, he comes to a halt. His eyes trail down, resting on your breasts. With only your lacy bra left to cover your skin, his gaze feels like a gentle caress. You can feel its heat, as if he is touching you with his fingers when they remain on your waist, keeping a gentle hold on you there with only his thumbs moving in small circles and keeping away from where your body is warming up under his perusing gaze. 
The moment he finally moves, everything within you sparks alight.
Deft fingertips are moving on your skin with a light touch that is not bringing as much heat as his gaze does, yet the responses your body is giving to his touches are intense. Your body simply burns hot with your desire and you have never before felt this alive. As he kisses your lips, his hands trail their way to your covered breasts, touching the area where you are most sensitive to his touch. He easily brings back a part of you that has been lying dormant. Your senses are being awakened by his touch, and he makes you feel as if you have been asleep for so long and he is waking you up with his kiss, his touches, and the soft sounds that he makes as he slowly devours you. 
“You’re more beautiful than how I remember you,” Namjoon says as he pulls away from the kiss, almost whispering when his words are filled with raw emotion mixed in with his desire. 
“I’m flattered that you still remember me,” you answer him with a shaky voice, drawing a low chuckle out of him.
“How could I ever forget you?” Namjoon looks at you straight in the eyes as he says this. There is an invisible clench in your chest when you can clearly see that he is being sincere. And it scares you so much to see it that you simply choose to deny it.
“Don’t speak as if you’ve spent your life thinking about me when you’ve been living your own life for the past seven years,” you say to him, though it is becoming a struggle to keep your voice even this time around when the fractures in your heart begin to reemerge together with your memories of him, refusing to be ignored. 
Your words cause him to raise his eyebrows. “You won’t believe me if I tell you that I do think about you?” 
Scoffing at him, you try to press down the hope brewing in your chest that he might be telling you the truth. “And supposedly you did think of me, then what would you be thinking about?” 
“Everything. I think about everything that has to do with you,” he immediately answers, once again making you believe that he actually means it. “I would think of your face, your beautiful smile, and the sound of your voice.” His eyes search your face, and he is taking his time with it as if he wants to memorise everything about you, while his hands begin to move again. His fingertips are gentle as they come grazing on your skin, yet it is still enough to make you shudder, to feel warmth rising from wherever he is touching you. 
A ghost of a smile flickers on his face once he notices this. “Other times, I’d think about your skin—how it grows warm when I touch you, especially right where you are sensitive to be touched. Like—” Namjoon gazes down as his hands slide upward, until his fingers reach the hem of your bra and his thumbs graze against your soft mound, drawing a gasp out of you when you feel a sudden heat rushing through your body. A grin appears on his face at the way you are responding to him by arching your chest into his touch, and he softly hums, “Yes, just like this.” 
Your breath is caught in your chest when you feel so much within such a short amount of time and with only the little things that he is doing to you. His deep gaze continues to bring you a myriad of sensations that intensify everything that his touches are bringing to your body, while his words are causing the flame within you to come back alive. 
You say nothing to him in return, taking in everything that he is trying to say. Namjoon doesn’t seem to be completely done with baring his truth yet, and the more you listen to him, the more you find it hard not to bare your own truth for him to see.
“I would think about your eyes. I could never forget the way you look at me, and how honest those eyes always become that I would almost always be able to know what you are thinking,” he continues, and you can hear the tremble in his voice. As if he is overcome with emotions as he is saying those words. 
“And I would think about the gloss that would appear in those eyes when you are feeling something so intense. Just like how they look to me now. But I always love looking into them more when I’m touching you,” he says this with a small smile, his eyes looking deep into yours while he continues to move his hands, gaining more confidence when you make no move to stop him. He reaches up to brush his fingers across your covered breasts, his steady palms pressing into the lacy cup that your bra seems to melt under the heat of his touch. 
Taken over by the delectable rush flowing through your body, your chest arches into his hands and your soft moans start escaping your lips before you can stop it. Then he draws more reaction when he moves his thumbs and presses down at your covered nipples, causing you to gasp and almost miss the words he is saying next, “And I love the way you would look at me when I’m making you scream my name while you—” 
Come. 
The word echoes in your mind as he suddenly moves his fingers to pinch around your nipples, causing your entire body to quiver with the mixture of pain and pleasure that he is drawing from your body. 
Pleased to see your reaction, he draws his hands away, moving them to your back as he leans closer. As his fingers begin tugging at the clasps holding your bra together, his lips return to yours, distracting you with a deep kiss while he works to peel the flimsy thing off of your skin. He has it in his hand when he pulls away from the kiss. With a flick of his wrist, your bra disappears from sight. He wastes no time to continue further. His hands return to your body, touching your bare breasts with his gentle touch which gradually grows firmer, drawing shudders from you as the warm skin of his palms come brushing across your hardened nipples. His hands linger for a moment longer before he continues trailing them down the curves of your body that he can reach. 
You are left speechless, unable to speak or react other than to allow yourself to revel in the pleasure. With your mind muddled in bliss under his wandering touches, it is hard to control the way your body is responding to everything that he is giving you. Each pulse of your blood feels hot in your veins, as it flows down from the parts that he is touching to the center of your desire hidden all the way down south. A raw, unfiltered want that feels so intense and is completely beyond your control takes over. Holding on to the edge of the counter with a tight grip, you begin rocking your hips, pressing down against the cold surface of your kitchen counter to satiate the pulsing need coming from your core. 
His own hunger is palpable through his eyes as he is watching you move. The sight of you trying your best to quench your need seems to entrance him. It draws a deep groan from his chest right before he moves, stopping you from going further without him being a part of it. 
Gripping you at the waist, Namjoon brings you forward until you are at the edge of the counter. Your legs slide open and part wider for him. He tugs you against him, pressing your softness against his hardness as he captures your lips again. Your body shudders when you can feel him, as the testament of his desire comes brushing against your covered center. 
Your hips jerk when he presses into you harder. Even with both pairs of pants getting in the way, it is still not enough to hide the intense pulses rising from both of your bodies. Taken over by your own pure and raw instinct, your hands rise, gripping at his hair as your mouth moves against his, returning his hungry kiss with your own. His arms grow tight around you, holding you firmly to him as he sucks your bottom lip until he draws another gasp from you. An intense shudder runs through your body with the pain that he inflicts on you, though the way your breasts are rubbing against his hard chest is quick to wash it away, replacing it with a blissful rush that almost pushes you over the edge.
Tightening your hold on his hair, you begin to move again, rocking your hips against him at a steady pace, gliding and rubbing the source of your heat against the hard line of his cock that you can feel straining from under his pants. You hear him moaning at the friction, though the sound that he is making gets drowned into the kiss as he continues pressing his lips on yours. 
Namjoon catches your lower lip again and sucks harder, drawing a whimper through your lips just as you are rewarded with pure, unsheltered pleasure. A pleasure that rocks you through your soul, one that ignites the desire inside you until you cry out, drawn by its intense wave rushing through your body. Breaking away from the kiss, he takes you in his arms, holding you against his chest until the shudders of your release slowly winds down. Warm breath lands on your bare shoulder as he softly sighs, finding content in the way your bodies fold together in a tight embrace. 
“I missed this,” he hums, though his voice almost sounds like a moan. As if watching you unravel is already enough to put him on the edge. He tightens his arms around you, keeping you engulfed in his warmth as if he is afraid that you might slip away. “I missed us. I missed everything.” 
“I missed us too,” you murmur against his neck with a content sigh. Breathing in his scent, your body slowly recovers. With a deep inhale of breath, you pull away from him. Disappointment sparks through his eyes when you gently push him off of you. Once you are apart, his whole body stiffens. There is no doubt in your mind that he is expecting to see guilt in your eyes when you look up at him, and perhaps for you to kick him out of your home once the blissful fog fades and reality sinks in. 
Because the two of you have crossed the line, and there is only one option for either of you to choose to fix this.
Deep down, you know that choosing the most logical option would be the wise thing to do. To end this now and never look back again. But with the soft hum of your pleasure still surging through your veins, and your heart is beating in a way that is making it seem as if it hadn’t been truly living and beating the entire time you spent your life without him, you know that it will be too late to turn back now. There is no way you can continue living without his touch now that he has managed to rouse your soul back alive. Now that he has succeeded in reminding you of how good he can make you feel.
“What I missed the most is to touch you,” you murmur with a sigh, and his eyes grow wide. No doubt he is completely caught off guard to hear you say this instead of telling him to walk out the door and kicking him out of your life. A visible sigh of relief comes out through his lips, though his shoulders still seem tense.
“Is that really what you want?” he questions you. And for the first time ever, you notice that he has grown nervous as he anticipates your answer. Seeing this helps eliminate every single doubt that you may have felt since the moment he came through the door and he chose to let go of every last bit of his restraint to kiss you. Because you can finally tell that he sincerely wants this too. Hopefully just as much as you want this to happen.
Without looking away, you answer him with, “More than ever,” before reaching down to start pushing your pants down your legs. You shift on the counter and raise your hips to lower your pants, almost stumbling when you can barely hold up your weight until he lends a hand. He is quick to make a move to gently grab your waist to keep you from falling while you kick away your pants and your flimsy—and now completely soiled—panties, until they are out of the way. 
Seeing that you are now completely bare for him, he makes his move to strip down. You reach for his shirt just as he begins pulling at it. It takes merely a few seconds until it is gone, followed by his shoes, socks, and then his pants quickly joining the pile of mess laid on the floor, and there is not a single thread left as he stands before you. 
For a moment, neither of you makes a move.
It feels like the space around you falls into a blissful silence as you find yourselves completely stripped bare, with nothing left to get in between as you are facing each other in the silence of your kitchen. Aside from the light coming from the microwave behind you, neither of you had the chance to turn on the overhead lamps that would normally light up the room. The existing light casts a soft, nearly muted golden glow across the room. Under the dim lighting, he glows. Just like how he would often appear to you whenever his presence would come to visit you in your dreams at night. 
Just like how he took you in, you take this chance to look at him properly. From his bare chest, you find the faint scars that you have always remembered seeing on his skin, the hidden marks that you used to trace with your fingers, and the dent on his waist that you used to hold when he was making love to you. 
Through his strong shoulders that feel hard under your palms and his toned torso that flexes under your gaze, you find the most change that he has gained so far, with strong muscles that have grown during the years that had gone by. There are visible signs of ageing that are also beginning to show on his skin, his lower torso, and even on the strands hidden in his thick hair, but none of them could take away any part of his beauty that you can openly admire. 
In your eyes, he is still the perfect man that you have ever known. He is perfect in every single aspect that you can find in him. Not just physically, but everything else that lies within, most specifically the part of him which had drawn you into him the first time you met. 
Yet what you are currently drawn into has everything to do with the physical aspect of his, as your eyes fall on his hard cock that has been drawing your attention by looking hard and ready. 
Just for you.
Your heartbeat picks up once you get a clear view of how much he wants you. Under your gaze, his cock seems to come alive as you see it throbbing, twitching slightly as his want grows just as much as yours. 
“You said something about touching me,” Namjoon teasingly whispers, breaking the silence that has grown thick with tension as your hunger for him grows. His lips tip up at one corner, forming a small grin as you look up to him. A flush of warmth spreads through your cheeks, yet he helps calm your unsteady heart when he gently adds, “Show me that you meant it.”
His words encourage you to move, to show him that you meant every word you said to him through your actions alone. Your hands are trembling as you reach up, choosing to start from the face that has been haunting your sleep on those cold, lonely nights, and you gently touch his cheeks with the tips of your fingers. His gaze remains on your face as you move your hands down, grazing his jawline, his chin, down the length of his neck, feeling every sharp edges and smooth dents, grazing briefly at the soft stubble that is barely visible on his skin. 
His breath is caught as you brush against his chest. His taut muscles grow tense under your touch as you keep going lower. A shiver runs through his body when you reach his lower torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles and the marks on his skin that you used to find yourself getting drawn into. The shiver intensifies as you reach down to brush across the thin line of coarse hair beneath his navel, and then everything in him halts when you continue gliding your fingers lower, as if he has lost his breath and every last will that he has to move now that you are getting closer to his erection, the clear evidence of his desire that has been calling for your attention ever since it was revealed to you. 
“Don’t stop,” he says with a raspy voice when your touch lingers just an inch away from his hard shaft. His hands have found a gentle hold on your waist, where they remain as he keeps himself from guiding you so you can be the one to set up the pace. But as he speaks, he slowly moves his hands upward, finding their way back to your bare breasts. He moves his thumbs in lazy circles, starting from the underside of your breasts and continuing up to the peak. He nearly distracts you from your intention in his effort to ease your mind into it, until his gentle voice is heard once again, nearly pleading as he whispers breathlessly to you, “Please, don’t stop.”
You wait with bated breath until his thumbs reach your nipples. The lazy circles he makes continue, moving even slower now as he anticipates your touch. Tiny waves of pleasure rise with the gentle way he is touching your hardened nipples, as he grazes the pads of his thumbs across each one, bringing up shuddering delights through your body that sends warmth inside your core. 
That is when you finally move, starting with a gentle, almost tentative brush of the tips of your fingers across the length of his cock. His body jerks at your touch, yet he doesn’t stop moving his own fingers on your skin, keeping the light shudders alive. So you do exactly the same as you slowly reach down to move your fingers around the base of his cock, touching him and circling around its girth.
Namjoon draws a sharp inhale of breath as he shudders under your touch. His mouth parts when you drag your palm along the length of his hard shaft, following the veins that are pumping hot blood to the tip of his cock. While you are giving him pleasure through your soft caress, your eyes flutter to close as your past memory washes over you, bringing back all the old sensations that you once savoured from touching him like this.
“It’s been”—you sigh—“so long.” 
Too long. 
With gentle fingers, you carefully wrap your hand fully around the base of his cock, using a light grip that draws a deep moan out of his lips once your palm comes in contact with his hot skin. His head falls back when you start moving your palm, gliding back and forth from the base to the tip and then coming back up again, sometimes adding a light pressure between each stroke. The shudder that runs through his body comes out with his deep exhale of breath, one that shows you how much your touch is affecting him. 
It has been too long since the last time you touched him like this, yet it seems that your body still remembers everything. As if every inch of your hand and fingers still remember all the right touches that he likes, how to be able to draw all the right reactions that are now beginning to affect you as well. 
“Fuck, you’re right. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this good,” he groans breathlessly between his deep moans, drawing a soft, bitter laugh out of you.
“You’re not the one who has been spending the nights alone without anyone touching you the right way,” your words come with a sharpness that doesn’t seem like something that may come from you at all. But at the same time, it sounds familiar, and you know that it has come from a cavity that exists deep inside your heart. 
Because it sounds hurtful. And you can almost hear the sound of the fractured pieces of your soul emerging through each word you give him.
Those pretty eyes of his find you as they snap open in his shock, though he only looks at you with half-lidded eyes when you keep up the light strokes you are giving him through the length of his cock. “You have no idea,” Namjoon barely grits out, and he is gasping at the end of his words when you tighten your grip just a tad as you drag your palm to the tip, enough to draw a rough shudder through his body. He lifts one hand away from your breast, clasping the nape of your neck as he leans closer. 
“What don’t I know?” you find yourself speaking, breathless with each word coming out of your lips as he draws his face closer to you. Instead of answering your question, he captures your lips, silencing your mind—and perhaps his own—as he kisses you deeply, devouring you like a man in need of air. 
Namjoon suddenly breaks away from the kiss and bends lower. His mouth quickly finds the neglected nipple and gives it a light suck, while his fingers continue pinching and rubbing on the other. Seemingly lost in the rising pleasure, his hips begin to move, rocking and pumping into your palm. Sucking a deep breath, you relish the pleasure that he is giving you, not even minding it when he begins to pull the hair at the nape of your neck to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. 
Despite losing in himself, in his own need and pleasure, Namjoon manages to move his hand from your breast and reach down between your bodies. Between your parted legs, he finds your dripping pussy, and he immediately groans as he feels your heat and dampness on the tip of his fingers. The latter seems to increase under the touch of his fingers as you rock into his hand. 
“Fuck—you’re so wet,” he moans once he unlatches his lips from your nipple. His breath sounds rough, deep and heavy with lust, and you can see it clearly coming out through his gaze when he stretches himself to his full height. Keeping one hand still on the nape of your neck, he draws his hand back from your hot pussy and gently grips your wrist to peel your hand away from his throbbing cock. “I think”—he groans—“things will end too soon if we continue this way.” 
The corner of his lips curls to a grin when he hears the sound of your soft whine when he pulls your hand off of him. You watch with hazy eyes as he entwines his fingers with yours. The dampness that he gathered from you is still coating his fingers as he presses them against your hand, while your palm is still warm after touching him. He lifts your entwined hands to his lips, and he presses a soft kiss on your wrist. The act distracts you, taking your mind away from him as he steps closer, stepping between your parted legs while gently tugging your body towards him.
You draw a sharp inhale of breath once your bodies come in contact, pressing against each other, bare skin against bare skin. The sound you make seems to do something to him when he closes his eyes and shudders against you. Once he opens his eyes again, he lifts you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He does it so gently, as if he is being extra cautious so there is no possible way you would break into pieces in his arms. As if you are a little fragile thing that might shatter if he is not careful. A feeling that you share as you hold on to him tightly, except that in your mind, he would simply disappear if you would only blink or lose contact with his skin. 
But the latter seems almost impossible to happen, when he doesn’t give you any sign of letting go. Not until he finally reaches your bed. Namjoon carefully lays you down and then comes down with you, crawling over you with an intense look appearing through his gaze which makes your heart race rapidly. 
Propping himself on his two strong hands which sink into the bed, Namjoon lowers himself to you. He captures your lips, giving you a kiss that is soft and gentle, yet deeply filled with his dark passion at the same time. He draws a moan from you as he slips his tongue in, brushing against yours for a brief contact before pulling away with a shuddering breath. With a sigh, he rests his forehead on yours. 
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers, triggering the sane and logical part of your brain to start fighting against your conscience once more, the one that is supposed to help you think more clearly yet has already fallen victim to the desire residing deep inside your heart.
You close your eyes, savouring the warmth that you feel from him while trying to listen to the voices in your head to help you decide what you truly want. As you open your eyes again, meeting his eyes with more resolve, you know that he can already find the answer before you can even make sense of your own thoughts. 
You should end this before it would be too late. You know that you should. But once again, you choose to listen to your heart. You push every thought about letting him go to the back of your mind when you reach up to him and wrap your arms around him to pull him down, to kiss his lips without any single restraint. 
“I want this, more than ever,” you murmur against his lips and slowly rock your hips against his, rubbing your hot slit against the length of his cock. “I want you. Now.” 
A sharp inhale of breath comes from him, as if your words snap something inside him. Enough to give him reasons to let go every inhibitions that he has left and help him find his own resolve. You can feel it when he presses his lips on yours, giving you a deep kiss that puts you into a haze. He reaches down, gripping your thigh to part your legs for him so he can position himself at your center. Your heartbeat picks up to a rapid speed when you feel the tip of his cock pressing at your entrance, and your body tenses as you anticipate what is coming next. 
But when he moves, he is kind and gentle, just the way you remember him doing the same back when you were still together. It helps eliminate everything else so that all you can feel is his presence that spreads all around you, filling up all the hidden crevices and the void inside your soul. There is no remorse daunting you when he slowly slides into you, once again uniting both your broken souls and bodies together after spending many years of being apart. 
Tears fall from your eyes as you arch in your pleasure and he dips in, kissing those tears away the same way he did back then, all while he continues rocking, moving steadily in and out of you as he makes sweet love to you. He makes you feel and relive all the sweet and sinful love that quickly becomes so intoxicating that you instantly know that it would never be enough. Not now once your body is reminded how addicted to his love you were in the past, and how deprived of his pleasure you have been through the years you were apart.
So you relish the love and pleasure that he is giving you while you are able to. With your arms wrapped around him, you pull him down. All the way down until your mouths meet each other in a deep, passionate kiss, drowning your moans as he pumps into you in a slow and steady rocking. 
“More,” you beg him with your lips grazing over his. “Make love to me, Namjoon. Please. Do it harder, make me feel you deep inside me.” 
Namjoon draws a sharp inhale of breath after hearing your words, and he starts rocking faster, pushing deeper, until he is buried so deep that he almost reaches the hilt of your warmth. All at once, every part of your body and his come apart to a shuddering pleasure, and the sounds that you both are making as you embrace it together fills the entire room. 
“Oh, fuck”—he moans deeply—“you feel…” 
His words fade into another moan as he pushes into you even deeper until he can go no further, and you cannot blame him for not being able to finish his words. Because there is nothing that can explain this feeling—the feeling of fullness, the perfect fit you feel with him buried deeply inside you, and the waves of pleasure that come to engulf you the moment you are joined as one. 
Instead of continuing to move, he comes to a halt and simply remains still. As if he wants to relish the warmth that comes surging through his body and the way your walls flutter around him, while you revel in the way your pulses seem to fall in the same rhythm as his, as if you have become one. 
Namjoon has his eyes closed when he sighs. And when he opens his eyes again, your heart makes a gratifying flip in your chest from seeing the truth that resides in his gaze. The corners of his lips lift to a smile, making him look both irresistible and arousing when the glow in his eyes are filled with lust and a glimmer of pure love.
“All the memory I’ve ever had about being with you like this can never compare to this moment,” he says with a voice so gentle that you almost miss it under the loud sounds of your racing heartbeat. The moment his words sink into your muddled brain, what he is trying to tell you draws a gasp from you. 
“You still remember,” you whisper, and as much as you hate it, the feeling of hope—that little stubborn thing—blooms. “Do you—” you try to question him, even when you are worried to hear his answer. “Do you think about this? About us?” 
His smile softens, while there is a cloud forming in his gaze when he looks at you. “Like I said,” he whispers with a deep sigh. “You have no idea. No idea at all.”
Before you get any chance to question what he means, Namjoon begins to move. As if he is taken over by the memory of the past and the deep lust that he has for you, he starts thrusting in and out of you, going slow at first, but deep enough to rock your entire body beneath him with each thrust. The sound of your moans grow gradually louder with each pump of his cock into your depth, as he allows his emotions to flow out of him, causing his strokes to grow more intense as he continues.
The pleasure that you are feeling is incomparable to anything else that you have ever felt before, from anything that you have shared with anyone other than him. It feels too good to be true, so good that you insist to keep your eyes open so you can see him. To make sure that this is real, and not just another one of your lucid dreams that have been taking you back to him. 
The feeling of his girth brushing against your walls is real, so is the spasms of pleasure that you feel rising from the depth of your core. Your hips rise to meet each of his thrust, while your chest arches as you are embracing the pleasure that comes with it. His grips on your hip and thigh grow tighter as he leans down, his lips brushing against your neck before he bites at your skin, causing you to cry out his name when the pain increases the pleasure. 
“Namjoon—!”
“Cum for me. Show me that I was right, that we are perfect together,” he whispers to you. His voice fades in and out through your fogged brain, yet you can still hear his words, and you can feel your body responding immediately to his subtle command.
As if you are spellbound under his words, the waves of your climax wash over you and you embrace it with a sharp cry. It comes to you hard, harder than you have ever experienced it before. Not even when you were together in the past. Your body trembles violently beneath him while your intense orgasm pushes him over the edge, and soon you feel him shuddering above you. His cock slides back into you with one final thrust, pushing against your pulsing walls as he releases every drop of his essence inside you, filling you up with his warmth. He comes with his head tilts back, his eyes fluttering close, and a rough, breathless shout slipping out of his lips as he falls into his release.
For a moment, your entire world comes to a stock-still. Your mind remains caught in the blissful haze of your climax, while that same haze flows through your body like a soft hum. Opening your eyes takes quite an effort, and you only manage once his whispering voice pierces through your haze, softly calling you back to him as he slowly recovers from his own high. 
When you finally manage to return to the present, half expecting to open your eyes only to realise that all of this has been nothing but a dream and you would wake to find yourself alone in your cold bed, you are immediately met with his beautiful eyes and his dimpled smile. Within moments, your haze fades into null and every part of your sense clears out, allowing you to take in this moment, to see him as he hovers above you with a deep passionate gaze looking down on you. 
Both of you are breathing heavily, still needing time to recover completely. The sound fills the entire room that has somehow grown excruciatingly silent. The air around you feels thick, and you can hear nothing else other than your racing heartbeat which seems to fall in the same speed as his. Still attached to each other, he lowers himself, bringing his hot body that is veiled with a thin sheet of sweat, pressing down his heat onto yours as he gently embraces you, and you welcome him with your arms wrapped around his body.
It takes a few more minutes before your bodies finally settle into a state of calmness, and then a few more until you are both cleaned of all the mess that had been created, until you feel less icky about yourself just enough to let him take you back in his arms. 
“I thought you said you had to go home,” you whisper into the silence that surrounds you as he holds you from behind. His bare chest is pressing against your back, bare skin against bare skin, with your hearts beating together in a steady rhythm.  
“I am home,” he says, his voice sounds so soft, yet you can feel it piercing through your chest. Just when you open your mouth, ready to question his change of heart, he gently turns you over so you are now lying on your sides, facing each other. His lips are lifted to a slow smile, only moments before he leans closer to kiss your lips and steal your words away. “I’m right where I want to be. This is where I belong.” 
Tears are threatening to fall down your cheeks as a wave of emotions come surging through your chest. But you close your eyes and lean into his embrace, basking in the warmth that he is offering you to continue reminding yourself that this is not a dream. 
Still, reality is quick to sink in once silence falls. No matter how hard you want to deny it, the safety of this comfortable bubble that you have created with him can only be temporary. Outside, the world will continue to revolve and the reality of your circumstances that is slowly forcing its way in is starting to press down on you. Sooner or later, you will have to return to face the real world and wake up from this dream. 
“People will start looking for you,” you whisper to him despite not wanting to. 
Because that was how it happened. How your secrets unraveled and your sins came to light. When his disappearances were questioned, and people kept finding the shadow of your presence everywhere around him when he returned—the sweet and spicy perfume that was not his yet somehow lingered on his clothes, the trinkets that would somehow find their way into his things, the songs that he never listened to before but he enjoyed because you would play them to welcome your bright mornings. Once your sins were uncovered, you were left with no other choice but to end everything, sending him back to his original path while you continued to find yours. 
“Let them,” he says, though you can already sense that he is wavering. Doubt creeps into your thoughts when you catch the dark look in his eyes. A dark look of uncertainty that seems so daunting. It pinches at a deep part of your heart when you can already feel him pulling away, not because he is intentionally doing it, but because the world is trying to pull him back into the path that he briefly stepped out of in order to spend this short moment with you. 
You close your eyes, silently preparing yourself and your delicate heart to face reality. It would be one of the hardest things that you would have to do in life, especially after experiencing the bliss of being brought back to life and to indulge in his love which is completely forbidden for you to take. But it would be the right thing for you to do. 
You need to let him go.
It takes almost an hour later before you finally find the will to peel yourself off of him and convince him to return home. Back to the life that he has built without you. The life that he has with another who is more deserving of his love. 
He almost seems to be dragging his feet as he makes his way to the door of your apartment, while it almost seems to you that your mind and body are separated as you join him. No matter what you keep telling yourself, this night no longer feels real to you, even if you can still feel the ghost of his touches on your skin that is still completely bare under the robe that you are wearing. You can also breathe in the scent of his cologne that is clinging on your body. You lift your head to watch him, and your heartbeat dips when you realise that you are sending him home with traces of your sinful tryst tonight all over him. 
The shirt that he wore tonight seems a bit crumpled on the sides, right where you gave it a good grip when you were helping him strip out of it. There are some buttons that are still unlatched on the front, while the bottom hem of his shirt is left untucked from his pants on the back. The subtle note of your perfume seems to waft as he walks, clinging somewhere either on his shirt or on his body together with the musky scent that belongs to him. Your gaze follows his hand as he moves to carry his jacket over his broad shoulder, the collars hooked on his long fingers—the same fingers that he used to touch the most delicate part of your body—with an ease that fits together with the pure confidence that he often wears on his skin. You continue looking up his full height, and notice the unruly hair on the top of his head which he has opted not to touch and fix on his way out for his own selfish reasons.
“Because there are trails and evidence of your touch here and I don’t want to erase it. Not this soon.” 
You take an inhale of breath and swallow hard at the words that he gave you when you questioned it. There is a lot to unpack from his words, and you only have a little time left with him to waste on trying to understand what he meant by it. 
Too soon, you are standing at the door—with you remaining inside the threshold, hiding one shaking hand in the side pocket of your robe and the other by holding tightly on the door knob, and he is standing on the other side of the doorframe, already a step further away to get out of your life and returning to his own. You hold your gaze on him for a moment too long, giving in to your desire and selfish wish to commit this moment deep in your memory, to be able to remember his entire being so you can cherish the memory of this night during your lonely nights alone.
“I guess this is it?” he asks you when you fall silent, unable to find your own voice to speak. 
You open your mouth to respond, ready to say goodbye. But the words hang on the tip of your tongue when a lump grows in your throat as you try to say those words out loud. You have expected that it would be painful to say it, to see him leave after bidding goodbyes. Yet you still cannot bare the pain. 
Because you clearly still remember how it was like back then to feel it.
Namjoon must have caught on to this when you clam up and try to avoid his gaze, because the look in his eyes softens and he carefully takes a step closer to return to you.
As you try to look away, he cups your face with his big palms so you would look up to him. “I’ll come back for you. I promise,” he says. His voice sounds so deep that you can feel all the emotions that he is putting into his words. 
His promise feels so heavy on you, yet so pleasant, that you drop your chin and look down to hide your bitter smile. “I remember when you made that same promise once,” you whisper softly to him, though still loud enough for him to hear.  
You look up again just to see him looking back at you with his kind eyes and his gentle smile, everything about him that shows how pure his soul truly is. Tonight, that smile of his appears to you sweeter than ever, especially when he reminds you of the past once more when he says, “Then you should remember that I kept it.” 
You do remember. Because that had been the start of everything. When he showed up at your place to keep the promise that he had given to you and he made you a sinner. 
Goodbye is too painful of a word for you to speak, so you choose to say something else. Something that is less painful, and holds a bit more hope than it should.
“Goodnight,” you whisper with a broken smile. “And thank you.” 
You choose to not finish the sentence, keeping the words that you want so badly to say to him for yourself as you close the door, drawing the line between the two of you as you send him back to where he truly belongs. 
Thank you for coming back into my life. Even if you cannot stay.  
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Every time I had to let you go and watch as you return to your life, my heart would always feel heavy.  I would listen to my guts as they told me that it was going to be the last time that I was able to see you, and I would prepare myself for the hurt that might follow. But every time you left, you kept promising that you would return. And every single time, you kept that promise. Always coming back to me when I was prepared to live a life without you in it. Sometimes I wonder…what would our lives be if you had never kept those promises you gave me.  Sometimes a part of me even wished that you hadn’t kept them.  Because things would have been so much easier if you had just forgotten about those secret pledges you had given me. Things might have been much easier for me if you had lied and purposely hurt me from the start. Maybe I would have been able to leave sooner. Maybe then…I wouldn’t have been falling in love with you more and more, or let myself be swooned by all the expectation and hope that you helped plant inside this silly little heart of mine.
Namjoon kept his words. 
Within a few days, he returns. The evening had just fallen when he comes knocking at your door, surprising you with a jolt rising inside your chest when you see him standing there, with an easy smile on his face as if he has no care in the world. As if he is not supposed to be somewhere else other than here. 
“You…came,” you whisper in your shock, drawing his smile to grow wider. 
“Didn’t I promise you that I would?” Namjoon asks you with a tease in his words. But the moment he takes in the look you are giving him, seeing no smile or joy but finding a hint of your apprehensiveness in their place instead, his smile slowly fades. It shouldn’t surprise you that he is still capable of reading your emotions. A look of genuine concern and sadness fills his gaze when he, no doubt, can see the look of relief and astonishment in your eyes for seeing him. As if you had expected that he would never come back.
“You still don’t believe me,” he murmurs gently with a mixture of surprise and sorrow flashing across his gorgeous face. 
“I just—” you try to answer with a soft voice. A resigning sigh escapes you when you explain your feelings to him with the only way you could, “It’s hard.” 
Not too surprisingly, he only responds to you with a nod. “I understand,” he says, as if he truly knows exactly how you feel. That he truly understands how hard it would be for you to allow yourself to hope. To allow yourself be vulnerable when there is a risk of you getting hurt again like before.  
The grip that you have on the door handle tightens. It would make sense if you close the door right now instead of welcoming him back in. This thought had crossed your mind for the past few nights, as you tried to picture every possible scenario you could think of about how you would react should he ever keep his words and return to see you, or if he never shows up again at all. You had thought of all the choices that you would have to make—whether you are to let him back in or to say goodbye, to forget about your chance encounter and continue living as if the magical night when you were reunited never happened. And each time, you promised yourself that you would do the right thing this time around. To not repeat the same mistake you did then when you were younger and you chose to give in to what your heart desired. 
But here he is now, standing right in front of your door to return to you—as promised. It only takes you looking deep into his eyes, to see the familiar gentleness in his gaze that is enough to have your resolve waning. 
Pressing your tongue on the inside of your cheek, you mull over your choices. Everything within you keeps telling you not to cross the line. Not again. And you have the chance to make things right this time.
“Have you had dinner yet?” you find yourself asking. That is not what you were about to ask him. But you regret nothing when a smile grows on his face. And you are definitely not thinking about the other life that he is stepping out of as you step aside, allowing him to step back into yours. 
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Even when you are apart, your lives would always intertwine. 
And the moment you are together, the connection that you have between you doesn’t spark. It detonates like fireworks blasting in the dark night sky above.
Dinner was a swift affair. You were in the middle of cooking your meal when Namjoon came knocking at your door. As if you already had an inkling that someone else would be joining you for dinner, you had been cooking for two, enough for you to share the meal with him as you sat down together at the kitchen counter. 
Casual moments like what you just had tonight—one that is as simple as having homemade dinner at home with light conversations and a glass of wine on the side—had become a huge part of your memories that you cherished, because they never lasted as long as you wanted them to. Things had always been so quick to escalate when you were spending time with him, and anything that started simple and innocent would always end up becoming a fiery affair. 
And that is exactly what is happening between you tonight. 
In the past, you simply believed that it all happened only because you both realised, deep down, that your affair had an expiration date, and you simply wanted to make the most of it by sharing your passion and love in the nights that you shared together. You even made yourself believe that it was nothing more but a part of your dynamics that had once helped make things work between the both of you. That it was the reason why your relationship lasted the way it did even when you had to constantly remain in the shadows, hidden from the world. 
Tonight, as you once again fall into the same pattern as before, as you find yourself giving in to that dark temptation after spending merely a short amount of time alone with Namjoon, you realise that there had been more to it. 
There is tension that has always been there when you are together. Always so intense, always so palpable that it would be impossible for it to be ignored. Once it is there, it wouldn’t take long before the two of you are immersed in each other’s arms, as you give in to your carnal desire and allow yourself to drown in your sin. And there is also the strong connection that you feel with him which intensifies everything you feel when you are with him. A connection that has never been diminished by the passing time. All it would take is for one of you to snap, and every bit of that comforting casualness fades and the wave of wanton desire would immediately take root. Just like what just happened merely minutes ago. 
Once the relaxing moment you shared at dinner, which allowed you to pretend that you were just like any other—normal—couple, you now find yourself entangled in another passionate, extremely heated exchange. All because Namjoon made the casual remarks about what happened the last time he was here—bringing up all the things you did with him right atop the kitchen counter—and shared his wish about wanting to lie you down on the cold surface this time as he savours his dessert. 
The comment he made snapped you out of your resolve, sending you jumping out of your chair to join him in his. Your legs are spread on either side of him as you rest on his lap. You can feel the semi-hard cock that still manages to poke against you from under his pants when you press your body against him. His strong and broad chest feels like a wall of muscles under your fingertips as you press into them through the thin shirt that he is wearing. 
“I really think I’m liking this position right here,” Namjoon says with a groan. There is something that lingers in his gaze as he looks up at you. It makes you feel completely exposed, as if he can see through the fabric of your clothes—the tank-top and shorts that you had put on for a leisure evening before he came—and see nothing but bare skin. At the same time, you also feel treasured, when his perusing gaze feels like gentle fingers tracing every inch of your skin instead of making you feel as if he is simply stripping you down with his eyes. 
It makes you feel a myriad of emotions through your chest—some that makes you feel hot with new desire and the need to touch him further, and some that may bring tears in your eyes from how deeply he makes you feel.  
There is too much to unpack with just a single glance, so you decide to delve into the one emotion that you know so well. The need that seems to only grow more intense as he runs his gaze down your body and his strong palms come down to cup your covered ass. You start grinding your hips down on him, feeling his erection that you can feel growing under the restraint of his pants. The absolute ache in your core intensifies, and you rock harder above him, enough for him to feel your softness. His head falls back as he groans, while his palms are pressing on you and his fingers are digging into your soft bottom cheeks as he guides your rocking. 
“This is”—you moan into his neck when the pleasure you are feeling is accompanied by a sharp pain as your knees come in contact with the wooden backrest on his chair—”awfully uncomfortable.” 
The soft chuckle that he releases sounds strained, as if he is already on the edge and he is trying to hold it back. “Should we take this to your comfortable bed?” 
Despite agreeing to his valid suggestion, you despise the thought of having to stop and peel yourself away from him. Not when all the rocking and grinding are starting to ease the ache that you feel in your core, replacing it with a steady pulse of pleasure. “Moving only means that I have to stop touching you,” you say with a whine. You barely recognise your own voice as a moan slips out of you the moment you feel his covered bulge rubbing your clit. 
“Not necessarily,” he once again chuckles, and then he presses his lips on yours as he jerks you closer to his chest. He briefly captures your gasp with his kiss and pulls back once you no longer feel tense to whisper, “Wrap your legs and arms around me.” 
Namjoon’s voice sounds gentle, yet it also sounds commanding, that you immediately move to follow his orders. You wrap your arms around his neck as he scoots forward on his seat and your ankles join at his back to cling onto him. The look of appreciation that he gives you as a reward is more than enough to make you feel good about yourself. 
“Good girl. Hold on to me tightly and try not to let go until I tell you so,” he praises you with pride lingering in his words, and that feeling escalates into something more. Something new and unbelievably pleasant that you feel some warmth growing in separate places—from your chest and down to the place that is now wet and soiled after rubbing on him so wantonly like an animal in heat. 
His grip on your hips and bottom cheeks tightens, and he takes you with him as he rises from his seat. He does it with so much ease that it makes you feel like you are floating in the air. You don’t even feel any fear of falling, knowing that you can fully trust him to keep you from falling on your butt. 
As Namjoon gently carries you to your bed, you start to notice more tidbits about him that you missed from the last time you spent the night together. You had noticed then how his body has changed. His body that used to appear almost lanky in his full height has now been filled with more muscles, making his shoulders and chest seem wider, broader, stronger, and his arms that appear more toned as they flex under your weight while he is carrying you away to your bed. 
As he gently drops you on top of your messy sheets—you did lie down on them earlier right after coming back from work—you run your fingers down his shoulders to his biceps, taking hold for a brief moment before letting him go as you fall on your back. He steps back, taking you in with his perusing gaze the same way he had done it before. 
The sound of his deep sigh pierces through the tense air. It fills both the quiet room and the cavity in your chest. It keeps you under an invincible restraint as he continues to hold his gaze on you while he begins stripping out of his clothes. The sight of him peeling his shirt and pants down feels cathartic. Like a piece of your dream is manifesting right before your eyes. What had filled your lonely nights had been nothing but a mirage, while he is truly here at this moment, with his true presence that you can feel even without touching him. 
It isn’t until he is kicking down his boxer, relieving his semi-erection from its last restraint when you finally feel the urge to move. Your hands itch, feeling the need to touch him, to stroke him until his cock grows to its fullest size and then take him in your mouth. A grin rises on the corner of his lips when you lick your lips, unable to contain yourself, and he seems to get a gist of where your mind is wandering off to. But just when you expect to hear him bring it up and tease you, the only thing that comes out of his sexy mouth is, “You are so goddamn beautiful.” 
Your eyes grow wide. That is certainly not what you expected to hear. Yet his words are still enough to bring the flush on your cheeks right back, and that warmth you felt earlier comes back in multitude of places within you.
Including the void deep within your pussy. 
“Let me see you, baby. Strip down for me.” 
Your eyebrows are lifted. Once again, you are caught off guard when he does what is least expected as he remains standing there, gloriously naked with his cock almost fully erected and the delectable ridges of his toned torso is all open for you to gawk at. 
Pushing yourself up, you slowly come up to your knees. Locking your gaze on his, you continue to move, reaching down to the hem of your tank-top and pulling it up, revealing to him the lack of underthings covering your skin when your breasts are freed. You can only hear the sound of his sharp inhale of breath when you are pulling the tank-top over your head, obscuring your view. But once the fabric is gone, you are met with the sight of his dark gaze. His hunger licks on your skin. His cock twitches, slowly growing hard just by seeing you half naked. 
Without a word, you hook your fingers around the waistband of your shorts and start sliding it down your thighs. It falls on your knees, and you fall back so you can kick it all the way down to your ankles. 
That is when he finally moves again. He reaches out to pull those shorts off of you and flings it away. His hands quickly return to you, brushing your skin gently starting from your ankles, tracing up to your calves with an excruciatingly slow pace which makes you feel tingles rising all over your body and not just the places that he is touching. By the time he reaches your thighs, your legs are quivering, almost as intensely as the thrums of your heartbeat. 
He continues going up, sliding his fingers around the apex of your thighs and reaching to the center. He grazes his fingertips over your panties and sucks a deep breath. His voice comes out to a near growl when he murmurs, “You’re so wet already. I can feel it from here.” 
He draws a moan from your lips when he presses down at your slit, coaxing more dampness to soil your cotton panties. Then a cry slips out of you when he touches your covered clit, rubbing on it until your hips are raised, meeting up his touch with the need to have more. 
The pleasure rises, and he suddenly stops before you can get there. He pulls away from you, and before you can even start protesting the loss of his touch, he moves his hands up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts easing them down your legs. 
“Beautiful,” he whispers once you are left with nothing else on. Nothing but your bare skin and the warm flush of lust running through your veins. “Absolutely stunning,” he continues with a shaky voice, as if his words are weighed down with both his pure desire and the deep emotion that is taking over him. 
Lost in his gaze, you resist every urge that you are feeling to shield yourself away. You hide nothing as you bare yourself to him—your body, your heart, your soul—the way you never had before. Despite this, even when you are diving into this willingly, with your heart and mind completely open, it doesn’t stop you from trembling as you lie beneath him the moment he climbs up the bed and slowly crawls his way over you. His gaze finds yours, and it feels like something simply snaps into place. As if everything is suddenly right again, and you are finally right where you belong. 
“This is where I belong.”
His words from the other day return to you as you briefly close your eyes. Despite the certainty that you could hear through his comment, your mind has been filled with your own denial, still refusing the chance to hope. One look is all it takes for you to feel the walls and the stubborn denial crumbling, when you find nothing more but sincerity and something else that is deeper than his dark passion coming out of his beautiful eyes. 
With your hands back on his shoulders, you pull him down to you. His hard cock twitches between you once it comes in contact with your hot pussy, but you focus on drawing his mouth on yours. And your mouths clash into a deep, hungry kiss, leaving you breathless while your entire body seems to burn in the heat of the moment.
His strong hands come back down, opening your legs for him with his tight grip on each thigh. Namjoon slowly rocks over you once he is settled nicely against you, brushing his cock against your hot slit, over and over again, with the dampness from your pussy making it easier for him to move. His cock feels slick as he grinds against you, and you know that he can feel the slickness that has reached down to the inner side of your thighs. 
Each stroke of his length against your slit makes your body tremble. Each time the head of his cock brushes against your clit, a strangled cry slips out of your lips. Once he falls into a steady pace, your hips begin to rock together with his. Your inner walls contract, needing to be filled, and you find no shame in expressing what you need as you break away from the kiss and run your hands down to cup his strong and ample buttocks, pressing him into you to show him what you want before you say it out loud. 
“I need you—” your voice breaks out into a soft gasp when he pushes himself up and cups your breast, only keeping one hand to prop himself up. 
“Yes, tell me what you need.” 
“You,” you gasp. “I need you. Inside me. Now.” 
With a grin on his face, Namjoon continues rocking and begins playing with your nipple. A gentle brush of his fingers brings your chest to rise. A pinch around the nub draws the sound of your sharp cry, and it almost feels like you are gushing right beneath your legs to the sensations he is bringing to your body.
“Say the magic word,” he teases with a groan. “Say ‘please’.” 
You give him a dirty look at his silly command, only to quickly yield when he begins to pull away, causing the flutters in your pussy to intensify. An immediate reaction that your body is giving you to remind you of what it needs. That you will not be able to rest until your needs are sated. 
“Please, Namjoon,” you finally start begging him, giving in to what is most important to you right now. Because you also know that your body isn’t the only thing that needs him. “Please, fuck me. Take me. Make love to me. I need you so—” 
The moment you begin begging him, giving him what he had asked of you, Namjoon has already started moving. His hips are lifted. His hand is between your bodies, reaching down to find your clit. It is his touch that steals the words right out of your mouth when he presses his thumb and forefinger on your rosebud, pinching it lightly before slowly rubbing it to ease the pain. 
As he watches you responding to his touch—with your head falling back onto the pillows, your hips arching to embrace both pain and pleasure, and your moan growing louder—he pulls his hand away from you and wraps his palm around his shaft. Keeping his eyes on your face, he gives himself a few strokes before guiding the hard tip of his cock at your wet entrance. 
The wet tip dips in, and Namjoon comes to halt, remaining still for a moment until the intense pulses rushing through both of your bodies start to wane. “Since you asked me so nicely,” he says with a cocky grin on his face, “I am more than pleased to give you exactly what you wanted.” 
Your mouth falls open, yet you cannot remember if you were planning to answer him or if you are simply giving him a silent cry as he pushes his way in. Your pussy walls break to a spasm as he glides deeper, moving in one inch and pulling back, then returning to get another inch deeper. He repeats the motion a few more times until you are adjusted to his size, until your pussy is more welcoming, allowing him to slide in to the hilt. 
Your hips rise once again to meet him as he gives you the final thrust that puts him all the way in until there is nowhere left for him to go. This time, he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t linger, even when you can hear the sounds that he is making as the rush of pleasure goes through his body. Even his head has fallen back. His eyes are fluttering close for a brief moment, yet they quickly open to find yours again when he begins rocking his hips. 
A shuddering gasp is drawn from you from the delicious way his cock is brushing against your pulsing walls. Sliding in and out, he makes you feel all the burning sensation again, over and over, and you can feel him slowly picking up his pace once pleasure takes over.
Every jerk of his hips becomes sturdier as he continues moving. Each thrust feels maddening, the way it wakes all the rush of pleasure, the delectable bliss that rises like subtle waves. Each gentle touch from his wandering hands bring everything together to a notch, even when he reaches up, pressing his firm hands on your breasts that have been rocking and shaking as your bodies rock together in the same intense rhythm. 
And you take in everything. Always with your eyes open, refusing to deny yourself the glorious sight of him embracing his pleasure. Always with your hands touching his arms, his shoulders, sinking into his back. When the wave of your climax hits, there is nothing that can stop it from coming. It engulfs you like a massive ripple taking you down to the depth of the ocean and plummeting you to the ground at the same time. 
Your entire body quivers, shaking in its release. The sound of your moans and cries bounce against the walls, and they are quickly joined by the sharp cry that he releases as he falls into his own release, pushed over to the edge by your blinding orgasm. 
The feeling that washes over you in your climax is deeper than content. It fills you with warmth, not only deep below as he fills you with the essence of his release, but also deep in your chest, where you are filled with love and compassion that are deeper than the wanton desire that you share. 
Because in your climax, the desire that has been running through your body is not the only thing that it fulfils. In your release, your souls are intertwined together, joining the two of you—two hearts, two bodies, two souls—into one. 
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Have you ever noticed how quickly time would pass whenever we were together?  Maybe that had been the reason why it never felt enough, when it seemed like we had just gone through a blip, and all of a sudden, our time was up. Suddenly, I was forced to see you go. For you to go back to the one you had promised your heart to first.  I have gone back to those moments I shared with you, over and over again, holding onto them tightly because memories are all that I have been allowed to keep from you. There had been many, many memories that we created together, yet they were still not enough. Am I too greedy? For wishing that we could’ve gotten more?  Or am I too selfish? Too dumb? For believing that I deserve to have more of you? To be able to keep you as a whole instead of just fleeting memories that would one day be replaced with new ones?  Was that the real reason why it was so hard for me to move on? When nobody that I ever met after you could never hold the candle when compared to you.  They could never compare. Because all I ever wanted was you. 
Unlike the last time you had to see him walk out the door and was made to wait for a few days until he finally returned to you, Namjoon hasn’t made you wait again for the past two weeks since his return. 
Every night, he has been coming back to you. You should have been questioning it. To wonder why he has been making it so easy to choose where he would sleep at night when you have been a complete nervous-wreck each time, haunted by the thought that things would suddenly start crumbling down without you ever having enough strength to stop it from happening. Haunted by the pain that you would have to endure once he slips away from your life once again. 
But after what happened the last time you talked about it, when you reminded him that he still had a different home to come back to, fear and uncertainty continue to torment you. 
What if the moment you question him about it, he suddenly has a change of heart? Then he would change his mind, finally realising that he was never supposed to be here with you from the beginning and to start thinking that everything has been nothing but a huge mistake.
What if the next time you would have to watch him walk out that door, it would be the time when you finally witness him walking out of your life? That he is never going to return, leaving only the shadow of his presence in your home? 
That is why you have chosen to keep all of those questions to yourself. To bury all the doubt and allow everything to fall into its course. You admit that you are being selfish about this, but you still want to enjoy the time that you have together where you get to hold him in your sleep and wake up to his smile the next morning. 
And just like that, time continues to pass. Each night has always been followed by a gloomy morning after where you would have to part ways with him as both of you must face real life responsibilities. Every day, you would be wondering if that morning was going to be the last time you would ever see him again. But each night, he would always come knocking at your door, ridding every bit of doubt that you ever have as he returns to you, always with a smile that makes it seem like it is a normal thing for him to be here with you. 
And Namjoon continues to do so each and every day, keeping his promises to come back into your arms until the days blend into weeks. 
Two weeks. When the realisation dawns on you of how much time has quickly passed, you wonder how it is possible for you to feel as if the days simply blurred together, making you believe that all you had done so far is to blink, and time simply went away. But you know that it is not true. It shouldn’t be making you feel vulnerable, continuously haunted by the fear that your story with him will be cut short—just like how it did back then—just when you believe that everything would be different this time. 
Each night, you always close your eyes with a feeling of acceptance. Always with your heart prepared and your eyes half-opened just so you wouldn’t fall back on your butt once the rug is pulled right under your feet and things would have to return to the way they were. When it would be time for both of you to return to your own paths. 
You take what you can for now, to cherish all the fleeting moments that you have with him, because you know that time has never truly been on your side.
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You reach out to search for him in the dark of the night. 
Your chest feels hollow when you suddenly anticipate finding an empty bed, with only his warmth and the scent of his cologne left behind after he slipped away without saying goodbye—just like what you had once experienced in the past. But your breath is caught when instead of finding cold, messy sheets when you stretch out your hand, you find his warm skin under your fingertips. The steady thrums of his heartbeat can be felt under your touch, letting you know that he is still there. 
That his presence is real.
“Why are you not sleeping?” Namjoon’s deep and hoarse voice breaks through the silence. His voice is still heavy with sleep, and you can still sense his exhaustion when he shifts under your touch. Guilt immediately overcomes you when you realise that he was probably awakened by your movements, as Namjoon has always been quite a light sleeper. And it is making you feel more guilty when you remember that he needs to have good rest tonight more than ever, knowing that today has been quite rough on him. 
You could easily tell that he was having a hard time the moment he walked into your home tonight. With his shoulders slumped forward, his gaze that looked dull even when he tried to force a smile when he first saw you, it was unmistakable how drained he seemed to be both mentally and physically. And that was before he started stumbling in his steps as he entered your home that you had to catch him before he could fall on the floor of your dining room. 
You had wondered what might have happened during the day while he was gone, when his lively self that you saw in the morning had returned to you looking despondent and defeated. Despite your curiosity, you forced yourself to bite your tongue and kept your questions to yourself when he said nothing about it. All you could do was to help him relax and get his mind off of it, while hoping that he would eventually share his troubles with you once he was ready.   
It took quite an effort, yet you finally excelled in helping to ease his mind by going down on your knees and taking him deep in your mouth. Each lick of your tongue around the head of his cock and each brush of your lips across his length washed away every distress that he had, taking them away bit by bit until he was moaning in his pleasure. But it wasn’t until he came to a climax—with his hands clutching your hair tightly as he kept your head in place so he could thrust his cock so deep that he was hitting deep into your throat, and his cum landing on your tongue, filling your mouth, then slipping down your throat—before the tension in his body finally faded away completely. 
Then you both went straight to bed, calling it a night after the long day that you both had. Finding cure through the warmth that you shared while being in each other’s arms, you had fallen asleep with the hope that both of you would be able to forget about all the troubles that you met through the day and be ready for the new day tomorrow. 
But it is when the silence gets so deep when dark thoughts return to you. They start getting into your head, pulling you out of your relaxing slumber for you to wake up far too soon with an unsettling feeling lingering in your chest. It feels to you now like an invisible weight pressing down on you, making it hard for you to even breathe. 
Thoughts about him disappearing in the night and leaving you with a broken heart have been haunting you. They come to visit you in the night, tormenting you even when you have fallen asleep with his warm embrace engulfing you. Tonight, that tormenting feeling seems to rise within you even stronger, bringing back the doubt that clings in your soul like a forlorn hope each time you are reminded of the anguished look that he wore when he first came home to you.
But as you manage to find the glint in his eyes through the dark, you know that you wouldn’t be able to tell him all of this. Not in the way that would only burden him with your insecurities while he is already dealing with a lot of things on his own. So you simply reach up and place a palm on his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your cold hand as you turn his face to look at you. 
“Have I told you that I’ve been having dreams?” 
The question that slips out of you—completely unbidden—has him raising his eyebrows. “No, I don’t remember that you have. What kind of dreams?” Namjoon curiously asks you, looking genuine as always to know more about what is going through your head.
Your lips lift to a small smile as you think deeply about it. “It’s odd, really. Before we met again, I would always have wonderful dreams. They mostly involved you and I’d wake up the next morning regretting that they hadn’t been real,” you share with him with a soft voice. Looking back to it now, you can barely remember what actually happened in those dreams after seeing him in them. As now that he is truly here, those dreams have been quickly replaced by memories. New memories that you are building together with him. Which only brings you to wonder, “but now that you’re here, and I’d get nightmares—” 
You stop for a brief moment. Your eyebrows are lowered as you recall the short dreams that you have been having lately. The dreams that seem ominous, and they haunt you even during the day when the fear of losing him suddenly manifests out of thin air. “Like how I’d dream about watching you go or waking up at night and realising that I’m all alone in my bed, just like I had been before you came back into my life.”
With a soft sigh, Namjoon touches your chin with his gentle fingers and guides you to look at him. “I’m here. You can feel me being here, don’t you?” he asks you as he brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing it against his heartbeat.
Closing your eyes, you press against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat with your palms so you can savour it. It brings a smile to your face when you feel it quickening under your touch. “Yes, you’re here. You’re real,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Then he brings your hand to his lips to kiss, silently asking you to open your eyes again.
“Maybe—” he whispers to you while clasping your hand, “I can show you just how real I am.” 
His words become the final warning as Namjoon captures your lips, kissing you slowly, tenderly, allowing you to feel him. Your body relaxes under his. Your head falls against the pillows. Warmth pours through your body as you move your hand to the back of his neck to get him to kiss you deeper. Then he shifts on the bed, sliding closer to your body under the blanket, and you get to feel quite a bit more of him.
You pull away from the kiss with a gasp, and he yanks the blanket off of his body, baring his bare skin for your eyes to see. Even in the darkness, you can still see the hard lines of his cock. Even when it is hardly grown to its full width, its solid girth stands at attention under your gaze. After all the years you spent touching him, learning all the ridges and veins on his body with the touch of your fingers, and then going back to those memories again by relearning everything about his body during the recent time that you have been spending with him, you can almost see it clearly without the need of light helping you see everything. The muted glow of moonlight mixed with the city lights filtering through the window also come to play when he moves closer, as they help you see the glistening bead of pre-cum that appears on the head of his cock, slipping out of him as it subtly throbs the more you give it attention. It makes your pussy wet just to see it, your hot walls clenching on the inside, while your mouth waters with the urge to have another taste. 
No words are shared as you climb on top of him to straddle his waist. Despite feeling confidence at first, you start feeling off-balance once you sit down on him. Moving in the dark while being taken over by lust might be the reason why, so you place your hands on the pillows right on either side of his head to keep yourself up. With your upper body practically hovering above him and not a single fabric left on to cover your skin, your breasts hang over his face. This brings the look of hunger through his eyes that seems to glow in the dark. You can feel it transpiring from him before he lifts his hands to touch you.
“Oh, yes. This position has definitely become my favourite one so far,” Namjoon says with a whisper that fades to a groan as he cups your bare breasts. He does it with tenderness at first, bringing all the shivers in your body until you relax into his touch. Then he starts squeezing them, pressing them hard enough until it hurts in the most pleasant kind of way which draws a moan from your lips. 
That pleasant feeling rises from your core, sending your hips swivelling above him. Your body quivers when the head of his cock brushes against your clit, then he intensifies it further as he lifts your breasts and captures one of your hardened nipples into his sinful mouth. 
“Ah—fuck,” you moan at the sensation that he is bringing into your body as he sucks, and licks, and swirls his tongue around your hardening nub. Your head falls back, yet you also feel as if you are getting fully awakened as you continue moving and rocking over him, brushing your hot slit along the length of his cock. 
He releases your nipple with a pop of his lips and groans at the pleasure that he is feeling. Lifting his hips, he lets you feel the firm press of his erection when he murmurs, “I want to be inside you.” 
With a gasp, you open your eyes to see him. The dark hunger that you saw earlier has been taken over with another. A look that shows more passion and a deeper kind of lust that encourages you to make a move. Licking your lips, you reach down between your legs, finding his hard cock that feels heavy in your palm. You keep your eyes on him as you lift your hips and position the tip of his cock at your hot entrance. Slowly, you start lowering yourself back onto his lap. The thick head of his cock parts your tight opening, teasing and coaxing you with its width. His hands are gripping tightly on your hips as he guides you to sit down on him. Your body trembles as you take him in, taking inch by hard inch of his length until he is fully seated inside you. 
“Is this…oh, fuck!”—you hisses when the tip of his cock comes brushing against your pulsing walls—”is this okay?”
“Perfect,” he hisses right back, just as you let out a moan at the throbbing pleasure now rising inside you. His eyes flutter open once he feels your pussy taking him deeper. Keeping his hands on your hips, he smiles to you and says, “Take what you need from me, baby. I’m here for you.” 
There is something in his words that pinches at your chest, but you simply ignore it. The only thing that matters now is that you need him, and you need to relish all the pleasure that he is offering to give you. Once the burst of pleasure that you feel from him being inside you wanes into a series of muted spasms, you start to move. You begin riding his cock, starting slow until you are better adjusted to his size, before finally picking up into a pace that sends you into a delirium, where you are sent into the height of pleasure that you can only ever gain from him. 
“Keep going, baby,” he urges. His head falls back with a groan coming out of his lips when you follow his guide, doing it exactly how he likes it as you rise and fall onto his cock. “Yes, keep doing it like that. Just like that.” 
Seeing his reactions and hearing his words excite you even more. It pushes you into becoming more wanton in your action, encouraging you further to give in to your needs and to please him while you chase your own release. 
The resounding climax comes soon enough. Just when your thighs are beginning to burn and shake in each firm stroke of his cock into your depth. The sound of his deep groan that comes through his lips as the first wave of your orgasm flutters around his cock becomes the final warning as he finds his release. His hold on your hips tightens, and he begins to buck his hips to meet your steady rocking. After a few thrusts, a few more steady strokes of his girth against your walls, he finally gives in to his needs and takes control. With a strained groan, he begins fucking into you with fervour, thrusting upward just as you come back down, each thrust keeps growing faster until you feel him getting more erratic in his movements. You open your eyes to see it happening as his face grows tense, right before you feel the warmth building up inside you as he comes. 
Seeing the sight of him embracing his climax, hearing the sounds that he is making, and feeling him throbbing inside you as he is filling you with his warm release quickly pushes you towards your own. You fall onto his chest when your orgasm hits you like a wave. Starting from your core, it flows intensely within you and spreads down to your limbs that you can no longer hold yourself up. 
And Namjoon gladly captures you in his arms, folding your body against his chest as he slowly turns to his side and gently helps you lie on your back before he pulls out. You immediately feel heavy with sleep the moment your head hits the pillows. Then your body sinks deeper into the sheets as Namjoon carefully pulls the blankets over your bodies. Once he is done tucking you back to sleep, Namjoon slides away from you. Yet he doesn’t leave you for too long, only rising to grab something to clean the mess on your bodies and on the sheets beneath you before he is back, gathering you in his arms again.
As if he wants to make sure that you can feel him even in your sleep.
Your eyes get heavier, until you no longer able to look at his face when he kisses the top of your head. “You did a good job, baby,” you vaguely hear his whisper as you are slowly drifting back to sleep, falling into a much calmer, more peaceful slumber. 
The words that he gives you next help soothe both your body and soul, as he murmurs to you softly with simple words that work almost like a spell and a fragile promise to give, “Remember this moment. Think about this every chance you get. Until there are no more space for those nightmares to come in when you sleep at night. Even when I’m not here with you.” 
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On a different night, you wake up to him shifting on the bed, searching for you. 
Namjoon hums softly as his hands find your waist in the dark. His fingers run down your skin as he gently turns you until you are lying on your back. 
“Hmm—” you hum and mumble as you are slowly getting dragged out of your slumber. Your bedroom is dark, with nothing more but the glow of the moonlight permeating into the room through the open curtains. With the help of the muted light, you can see the silhouette of his face—the unmistakable sight of his strong jaw that takes form, the tip of his nose and his full lips, before you manage to find his eyes through your bleary eyes—as he hovers above you. His lips turn to a slow grin once he notices that your eyes are fluttering open.
“Did I wake you?” he whispers, “I wasn’t planning to, I promise.” 
A lazy chuckle escapes you at how innocent he sounds. As if he is caught doing something that he shouldn’t. Something naughty, and he feels guilty for bothering you with it. Though the tone of his voice makes you wonder, “What are you trying to do?”
His grin deepens, and you can almost see the dent on his cheek—the dimple that you would usually touch when you are touching his face—taking form. “I’m suddenly feeling hungry. I was thinking about getting a midnight snack.” 
You blink through the dark and lazily raise your hand to point towards the kitchen. “Hmm—you can find some cookies in the cupboard. Or cereal. I know you love your cereal, so I bought them for you when I went to buy groceries today.” 
The sound of his low chuckle pierces through the dark. “Actually—” Namjoon dramatically sighs, making you even more curious. You force your eyes to open wider and look at him with your brows furrowed. “I was thinking about having a different kind of snack.” 
It takes you a moment too long to understand what he is getting at. Your eyes are still heavy with sleep and have only slightly adjusted to the darkness around you that you can barely see him moving. But you can definitely feel the heat of his kiss as he presses his lips on your bare shoulder, and you can feel the bed dips when he begins crawling down, all while his hands come down to claim a gentle grip on your thighs, parting your legs open for him. 
He draws the sound of your gasp when his warm breath falls on the apex of your thighs. The skin there is still soft and tender after taking his rough pounding after dinner—something that you can be sure he can still feel on his own skin because of the way you pinned him between your thighs while you were embracing your climax—so you jerk a little when you feel his lips brushing against it. Namjoon looks up before he does anything else, catching your gaze to ask, “You don’t mind, do you? I don’t think I can go back to sleep until I’m filled.” 
Your heart flutters once you are starting to see where this is going. Yet the feeling that materialises deep within your core is not as as innocent as the reaction that is coming from your chest, when heat pulses and you get to feel something wet leaking from between your legs. Smiling at him, you prop yourself up on your elbows so you can get a good look of his face. “No, I don’t mind it at all,” you answer, already feeling your walls pulsing from anticipation. 
“Good,” is the only thing that you can hear from him as he dips between your legs. He lowers himself further, almost sinking into the sheets as he starts kissing his way up from the inner sides of your thighs and all the way up to your folds. His hands are steady as they hold your thighs apart to keep you from closing them on his face, and his mouth expertly finds your nether lips even without any help from the lights.
“Oh, God,” you moan softly with your head falling back, your fingers sinking into the sheets. Every nerve within your body sparks alive, awakened from whatever state they were in while you were still deep in sleep as Namjoon begins working his mouth and tongue against your hot core. His jaw feels rough against the soft and tender skin of your thighs, and you are almost sure that you can feel the thin presence of his stubble which he rarely allows to grow thickly on his chin. His warm tongue feels delightful as he laps between your folds, licking away every drop of your arousal as he slides his way up and down your slit. 
Namjoon lets out a soft, agreeing hum once he manages to find your swollen clit, which he quickly captures between his sinful mouth to give a light suck. The sharp gasp that you make from the rush urges him to continue. Alternating between working his mouth around your clit and slipping his tongue down your slit, he sends shock waves of pleasure through your body. It gets you crying out, moaning his name with ragged breaths as you ride the pleasure.  
“Hmm—this is it,” he mumbles with his mouth still pressing at your folds. “I fucking love the way you taste, I can never get enough of it.” 
His words are muffled once his mouth returns to your heat again. As the pleasure rises, your muscles tighten within you, coiling so fast towards your climax. Twisting the sheets under your hand, you reach down with the other and presses the back of his head deeper into you. A handful of his thick hair slips between your fingers and you give a clench, not enough to hurt, but enough to help you feel like you are still in control of yourself despite feeling like you are unraveling. 
Soon, your breath quickens as your climax surges through your body in intense waves. Your toes curl into the sheets beneath you, while your hips jerk violently against his mouth, pressing down to chase it as it comes. His hold on you tightens as you writhe in your pleasure, keeping you down as he continues working his mouth to devour your release. 
And he still doesn’t stop. Still not letting up even as the spasms of your climax slowly wane into a flutter.
You are only partly aware of the way you are moving, riding the waves of your orgasm with your hips rocking into his face. Your hand sinks deeper into his hair, nearly pulling at the strands as you press his head deeper, just as you are beginning to feel the pulses of pleasure rising back up again. You are teetering on the edge, yet your stubbornness takes over, unwilling to let it come to you so quickly when you had just earned your climax.
Something that he quickly notices, and he doesn’t let you get what you want so easily. 
As your pussy walls are contracting with faint signs of another climax getting through you, and the sounds of your moans and your rough gasps blend together, he slips a finger inside you, pressing against your inner walls. And he doesn’t stop until he finds the sweet spot that sends your pleasure soaring higher. High enough until your entire body quivers with it, your hips almost lifting while being taken over by the delirious bliss. 
Noticing that he has found your weakness, he continues working his fingers, moving it in and out and pressing repeatedly on that very same spot which had drawn a reaction from you, and he keeps doing it in the same rhythm as his tongue. It makes you feel even more elated in your pleasure, until you finally reach your final breaking point and your second orgasm comes rolling through your body. 
Your legs are shaking. Your heart is pounding so loudly that you can barely hear anything else but the sound of your ragged breathing. And you are unaware of his next movements as he slowly pulls away and begins climbing up, finding a new position as he hovers over your body. 
With a sly grin, Namjoon licks his lips and uses the back of his hand to wipe off the rest of your essence that is coating his chin. “Delicious. Exactly what I needed,” he whispers as he moves on top of you. He presses his lips on yours, getting you to taste yourself through his tongue as he deepens it. 
Still lost in the momentary bliss, you struggle to catch your breath. Yet your body seems to be entranced, when it reacts on its own the moment you feel his erection pressing on your legs and you readily open yourself to him, allowing him to return to your center where he settles into position, going back right to where he belongs. 
A sigh comes out through your lips as he moves his lips from your mouth and down to your neck. He nips at your skin, drawing a sharp inhale of breath that comes out louder as he enters you. He starts moving, with deep and slow thrusts as if he wants to take his time with it this time instead of giving in to his wanton needs. 
As the pleasure rises inside you, climbing at a slow and steady rhythm that feels comforting at the same time that he makes you feel euphoric, a new wave of emotions comes through your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his hips as you unravel this new feeling that comes poking at your chest. And you continue that way, giving in to the delightful pleasure as you rock into him, meeting his slow thrusts with your rocking hips. Doing it over and over until it becomes so intense and the coil within your core snaps.
Tears drop to your cheeks as you succumb to your final orgasm, and you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck before he can see yourself falling apart. In the height of your pleasure, you suddenly feel emotional, like a dam had just been broken inside you. Not only because of the euphoric feeling that is taking over you in your release, but also at the realisation that comes through your mind right after the blissful fog begins to subside and your mind is cleared enough for you to think. 
Fear engulfs you when the reality of your circumstances finally dawns on you, when you realise that there is no possible way that you are going to be able to survive if he should ever decide to leave you again.
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The first time I found myself in your arms and felt how easy it was to fall into your embrace, I simply thought I was dreaming. For the first time in my life, I felt how beautiful it was to fall in love, and to be so loved in return, and I never wanted it to end.  And my prayers were heard, because you never left.  Even when I was ready to let you go, you simply held me tightly in your arms and never let go.  How was a girl not to fall in love so deeply when something like that happened? To have the only person that she dreamt about suddenly loving her back, giving her all the attention that she could only dream of? Whenever I would recall that night in my head, I would often wonder—what would have happened to us if that night never happened? Where would we be today?  How would our story have played out, if only you never knew how I truly felt for you?
Eight years ago…
“What am I to do with you?” Namjoon whispered, breaking the silence that had been accompanying the two of you since the moment you sat down with him on the porch. 
The student residential that you rented together with a few of your close friends from college had normally been quiet. But that had not been the case that night, and you had no other choice but to escape them by hiding on the dark, dimly-lit porch.  
Keeping your eyes closed so you could feel him, you let out a soft giggle and asked, “Why? Am I so hard to handle?” 
You could sense him smiling without having to see it when he answered, “Saying that would be an understatement.” He kissed the top of your head, and your heart soared. A content sigh slipped out of you as you wondered if this was just a dream. Because it felt too good to be true that you refused to believe that it was real. That he was giving you all the attention that you had craved and waited for for a long time. 
Never once had you ever thought that you would be here at all. To be sitting by his side with his arm around your shoulders and your head resting against his chest. To be this close to him when you had only been able to watch him from afar before, let alone to be teasing each other like this. 
His low chuckle stirred something deep in your heart. Because you loved how it sounded, and you loved how he made you feel when he did just that. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, before shifting on the seat and turning you in his arm so he could look at your face. “You know that you’ve been driving me crazy, don’t you? I never know what to do with you, especially when you’re like this.” 
“Like what?” you asked him with a smile, though it wavered when you caught the sad look in his eyes. Almost as if he was feeling guilty. 
Namjoon let out a sigh and briefly closed his eyes before saying, “Looking like you’ll cry if I try to pull away.” 
Your heart ached upon hearing this. Because he was right. You did feel like you were about to cry. You often felt that way with him, mostly during moments like this one, when he was just about to leave you for the night. Watching him leave had always been torture, when it almost felt like a wake up call to see him walking away, reminding you of the reality that you kept denying to see to keep the dream life that you were living in with him. That night specifically, you felt like everything around you was slowly crumbling, that he felt so far away even when he was still there, holding you close to him. 
Taking a deep breath, you breathed in his scent and his entire presence, and you were instantly brought back to the night he first took you in his arms. Back to the first time you ever felt his love. 
Merely a couple of months had passed since the night of your confession. 
It was the night that was supposed to have given you closure. A night where you were supposed to close a chapter of your life which you spent keeping your unrequited love a secret from the world. 
Hearing the news of his upcoming graduation had been the catalyst for you to make that decision to finally put your truth out there. You had hoped that admitting all the feelings that you kept denying through the years would give you a sense of relief, a chance to be freed from the treacherous feeling that was deeply rooted inside your heart, and then you would be able to find a way to move on from him once the secret was out.
He was leaving anyway so it wouldn’t matter once he is gone away.
That was the silly logic that you kept in mind when you talked to him about it, when you finally told him everything in the final month he was to remain on campus. 
“I’ve liked you for a long time. I tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder and harder to forget and deny how I felt when you kept being nice to me and you continued answering my calls. I’m not asking for anything, just for you to listen and to know that I’ve fallen for you. As silly as it sounds, but I do love you.”
There was no expectation on your part to what kind of response that you would be getting from him. At the very least, you had put aside all kinds of expectation in the first place, knowing that his heart belonged to someone else and there would never be a place for you in his life. The only thing that you expected was to feel relieved, which you successfully gained the moment the truth was out in the open. It felt freeing once you managed to put your emotions into words. It felt peaceful, that the moment you were done, you were able to look back at him with a smile on your face, and a resolved feeling that you were ready to let him go. 
But Namjoon refused to let you go. His offer to take you home right after that encounter had unexpectedly escalated into something else, which finally became the beginning of your nefarious conduct which lasted for so long. It became the main reason why you were in his arms this very night as you clung to him almost desperately to feel his presence for the last time before you had to see him go.
Namjoon cupped your cheek gently with his palm as he looked deeply into your eyes. While you had no clue of what was going through his mind or what he was seeing in yours at the time, you had the sudden overwhelming feeling of fear. Because you already felt him slipping away from your grip, and even if you could still feel his warmth pressing against you, the distance that would start to grow between you became palpable. 
And you felt helpless when you had no idea how to change that. It was already late at night and you could hear your housemates going about inside the house to end the evening, but you cared nothing of it. You felt as if you were inside this small bubble that felt comforting yet fragile, and you only had seconds before the bubble would crack and everything would be gone.
That he would be gone for good.
He was supposed to be leaving that week—actually leaving—and deep down, you could feel that the moment he left, that would be the end of it. And in his silence, you could almost feel that he was saying goodbye to you for good. 
You had no idea what you were thinking then. Perhaps you weren’t thinking at all, and you had simply acted out of instinct. That would have been the perfect excuse for the indecent response that you gave to his innocent touch. 
As his hand moved gently across your cheek, you turned your face and pressed your lips on his palm, kissing him softly. His breath was caught right then, as he never expected that you would have done something so intimate, yet so risky at the same time. 
His next exhale of breath was trembling as he brushed his thumb across your lips. As if he wanted so badly to kiss you but was afraid that someone might come out of the house and witness it happening. Wanting the same thing, you did something else to make up for not being able to kiss him so openly while showing him what you had desired from him at the time. You kept your eyes on him as you slowly parted your lips, and took the tip of his thumb and started sucking it gently. 
It was a simple act. Something that was so subtle. And yet, you could tell how much it was affecting him. The shudder that ran through his body was delicate and nearly muted, even more than your little act, but you could feel it through your body which was connected to his. Even if you weren’t able to feel it, his reaction was still visible to your eyes. Because you had spent years watching him, taking notes of his emotional clues and the expressions that he would make during various circumstances, and the dark look in his eyes was an unmistakable sign of his desire burning from the simple teasing act that you were doing to him. 
You continued nibbling on his thumb and taking the digit into your lips just a knuckle deeper. Then you started sliding your lips back and forth, stopping briefly to slowly bite the tip and lick around it, until you heard the sound of his soft gasp and his eyes began fluttering to close when it got too much for him to handle. A soft groan came out of him and he tried to pull his hand away. His thumb slipped out of your lips, yet you caught his hand, placing your palm at the back of his wrist as you turned your face to start kissing his fingers. 
His eyes never wavered as he watched you kissing his digits, doing it excruciatingly slow while keeping your eyes on him the whole time, allowing him to see your intention through your gaze. What you wanted from him was clear, yet you wanted him to see it for himself instead of having to say it out loud with your words. Exhaling a long, shaking breath, Namjoon licked his lips and once again brought his thumb to brush your lips, before intentionally pressing its tip between them and sliding it in once again so he could feel your tongue lapping across the skin. 
“I really, really, have no idea what to do with you,” he whispered, and his voice trembled as he did his best to hold back from reacting more, yet you felt no remorse for making him feel this way. Before you could say a thing, he tightened his hold around your shoulders and moved his hand away from your lips to the nape of your neck. He played with the strands of your hair as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispered with a bitter chuckle. It sounded desperate, as if he was struggling so hard to fight against his restraint.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do with you,” you teased him with a whisper. Being this close, the urge to kiss him felt overwhelming, yet you held back and simply bit down your bottom lip before you could allow yourself to break all of your restraint and give in to temptation. 
But then he threw all of your effort out the window when he suddenly offered, “Come with me.” 
You opened your eyes and looked at him questioningly before asking, “Where?” 
A smile appeared on his face, and the sadness and guilt that he showed you earlier faded into relief as he found a resolution that was going to change everything. “Away from here. I just—” he started to say, stopping himself when his own self-doubt came over him. He looked nervous as he made you this offer, as if he was expecting you to refuse when he asked again, “Please. Do you trust me?” You nodded, and he continued, “Will you come home with me?” 
The answer came to you so easily, even without him having to convince you further. Because you were willing to follow him wherever he wanted to go, just as long as you could be together with him. “I’ll go anywhere you want me to,” you said to him, and his relieved smile became more visible. 
No words were ever needed to be spoken as he kissed your temple, finally unable to resist giving you more while still being hidden under the shadows of the night. Then he took your hand in his as he stole you away from your friends and the house that you had been residing in since sophomore year, without ever giving you a chance to change your mind. 
That night was when everything between you officially shifted. When everything that you had expected to be a short term kind of fling turned into something else as you left with him. It was risky, and it was probably the stupidest thing that you could have ever done in your life. But as you followed him that night, you were absolutely ready to take all the risk and to face everything that may come in your way of spending that part of your life with the man you loved. 
Because being with him worth all the pain, the tears, and all the sacrifice. Even if it meant sacrificing your light just to have it all. 
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Present day…
“Will this be okay?” 
You raise a hand to cover your eyes from the bright sunlight so you can have a good look at him. Your lips lift to a hint of a smile as you watch Namjoon moving before you. Bent down on his knees, his arms are flexed forward as he is busy spreading a picnic blanket on top of the small patch of ground that he chose not long after arriving in the city park. 
In your eyes, he looks almost as if he is completely out of his element, which is an amusing sight to see. It isn’t so much about him being out here under the sun, nor it has anything to do with your surroundings, but more because he is showing you a different side of him that you have longed to see. Ever since the first time you got to know him, Namjoon has always seemed so calm and collected. Always so put together. Yet as he tries to meticulously sort out the picnic blanket, he looks a bit awkward and clumsy, though he still keeps a wide smile on his face that seems unrestrained and free, a sight that you enjoy seeing from him the most.
There is another thing about him which draws your attention aside from his bright smile that warms your heart. You look down as he stretches out to tame the corners of the blanket that keep rising due to the passing wind, watching the muscles on his back and shoulders straining under his thin t-shirt as he works to solve the problem while treating it as if he is working on a piece of art. 
“Alright, I think that’s about it,” he says with a groan as he carefully pushes himself up, snapping your thoughts just before they can get anywhere near the dark places in your mind. He moves quickly as he rises back to his feet, giving you no chance to say a thing before returning to your side. 
“So…what do you think? I figured this spot would be good enough for us. Don’t you think so?” Namjoon asks you with a soft sigh, sounding quite relieved and proud of himself for his work that it brings a smile to your face when you see it.
You take another look at the spread blanket, noticing how it is positioned on even ground where the grass is soft enough to cushion your weight and just arm’s length away from the nearby line of trees to give it enough shade to protect you both from the sun. There is quite a comfortable distance between this spot to the crowd of picnic-goers that you see filling the park, making it an ideal place for you to enjoy this leisure moment together with enough privacy from prying eyes.
“It’s perfect,” you tell him as you carefully place the heavy picnic basket that you have been carrying on top of the blanket. Straightening up to your full height, you breathe in the fresh air around you and smile as you relish the warm sunlight falling on your skin. “The weather is lovely today.”
With a soft hum, he takes a step closer and places his hands on your shoulders. “That’s why I decided to take you out here today. I want to enjoy being in the sun with you,” he gently says as he kisses the top of your head. “This is much better than being cooped up at home on your free day, don’t you agree?”
Something about his question puts you to a halt. It isn’t so much about what he said or how he said it, but it was something that his question implied which suddenly makes you feel uneasy. He probably didn’t mean anything other than pointing out the fact that you have been spending your day offs resting at home, oftentimes with him, instead of spending the day hanging out in the open like this. 
And he wasn’t truly wrong when he brought it up either. Because that is exactly what you were planning to do to spend your long weekend. But as fate has it, he found out that his schedules are aligned to yours and wasted no time to came by so he could be with you. It was a nice surprise to find that you would be able to keep him to yourself this weekend, but then he gave you yet another joyful surprise when he first suggested to take you out on this cute picnic date. You were obviously overjoyed by the idea that you immediately agreed without thinking too much of it. 
Looking back to it now, you finally realise why it had brought you such joy when he talked about taking you out here today, and why it has felt peculiar to be out in the open like this for a change. It was all due to the fact that you have somewhat grown more used to seeing him in a completely different setting. 
Due to the circumstances of your relationship, you have often spent more time with him in the privacy of your home, completely hidden from the world outside. Even when he takes you out on dates, he would find a way to keep things on the down low. From taking you to those dinner dates in restaurants with private rooms or quaint cafes on the outskirts of the city, to slipping into the movie theatres once the lights have been turned off. 
Before today, you have only treasured those stolen moments with s joyful heart. But now, as you are standing here with him under the sun, a different kind of emotion comes through your chest. It feels dark and heavy, and yet you have no intention to delve deeper into it. Not now, when you are supposed to be enjoying this moment with him.
Sighing, you ignore the feeling of bitterness that is slowly making its way to ruin your mood. “I guess you’re right,” you say to him, “this is a nice change.” 
A nice change that should be making you happy. And yet—
Taking a good look around you, you get a view of the spread of green grass that appears bright under the sunlight. Nearly half of it is now covered by various blankets and folded chairs in different spots where people are lounging under the sun. Most of the picnic-goers have come here in groups. Most of them came here with families and friends, while there are couples who seem to be enjoying their time together. 
Normally, you wouldn’t care much about the people around you, much less to compare yourself with them, as you are afraid that it might shatter the illusion that you have created for yourself. You have no idea what compels you to do it now as you watch closely at the lovers around you while you are leaning back against Namjoon’s broad chest. A sense of longing comes blooming inside you, as you picture yourself being in their shoes. To be the one holding his hand so freely in front of these people, to be showing him love—kissing him, touching him, laughing together under the sun—instead of cowering under the shadows. You wish you could be like them, to have what they have, instead of feeling like you have a target placed on your back for the sinful secret that you are hiding inside. 
That’s because you are not like any other couples that are out here today, who truly deserve what they have now. 
You wince as the bitter voice of your conscience fills your head, and the bitterness that you vaguely felt earlier starts gripping harder at your chest. It comes to remind you about your choices, the reason why you are more deserving to only be able to embrace his love in the safety of your home, or while you are hidden in the private room within the fancy restaurants that he often takes you to or to the outskirts of the city where you would be far away from prying eyes. 
Like a dirty little secret that he has to hide.
“So—” Namjoon whispers as he kisses your shoulder, oblivious to the dew that is forming in the corner of your eyes as reality hits you hard that the fractures in your heart start to resurface. And yet somehow, even in his unawareness, he still manages to help soothe your unsettling feelings away as he gently rubs his palms up and down your upper arms. “Aren’t you going to sit down and join me? You know I worked my hardest to get everything set up perfectly.” 
You briefly close your eyes, silently hoping that it would be enough to clear the tears away so he wouldn’t notice your change of mood before you get to look at him again. “I suppose it would be a shame to waste all of that hard work,” you whisper to him while feigning a teasing tone, yet you avoid looking into his eyes as you take his hand, allowing him to help you step onto the blanket. 
Namjoon joins you once you are settled nicely on the picnic blanket. He easily finds comfort as he lies back with his elbows propped behind him after he is done helping you set out the drinks and snacks that you brought out today. 
“Now this”—he sighs as he stretches his long legs out—”is comfortable. Just how I pictured it when I thought about bringing you out here today.” 
His comment puts a smile on your face. “I hate to admit it, but when you first offered to take me out today, I thought you had gone mad. One minute you talked about how cozy it was to cool off at my apartment while complaining how hot it was outside under the blaring sun, the next minute, you started making lunch and was packing them up in a picnic basket,” you tease him with a chuckle, making him laugh as he still has no idea about the dark storm that is brewing inside your heart. Tilting your head up, you embrace the warmth falling on your face and exhale a deep sigh, hoping that it can help calm your heart. “Thank God I decided to listen. It really is nice being out here.” 
Hoping to ease the troubling feeling inside, you relish the warm sun for a bit longer. Not realising that he is using this moment to slide closer. Until you feel his warmth hovering against your side. You turn to look at him as you open your eyes, finding his warm gaze looking back at you. 
“I’m also glad that you agreed to come out here with me. I think we both needed this,” Namjoon says to you with a gentle smile on his face. For a brief moment, you wonder if he can sense your uneasiness when he appears to be cautious as he shifts a bit closer to you. But you soon figure out that he has something else in mind as he slides one hand around your waist and pulls you his side. “This is one of the things that I missed,” he murmurs as he leans down, once again pressing his lips on the exposed skin on your shoulder. “Do you remember back then, how we would escape from the city together and find places where no one would recognise us?” 
Of course, you still remember. Those had been some of the old memories that you still have of those days and the precious moments that you would always look back to. While most of the details from your old love affair have turned foggy over the years, there are still small moments that you would often revisit when you were thinking about him, even long before your fated reunion which had eventually led to this day. 
The night when you confessed your feelings, for example, has been the one memory that will forever be engrained in your mind and would return to you even when you try your best not to think about it. Then there was the night where your sin nearly got exposed, when he took you home from your secret date during the end of semester break and you arrived to a full house as your housemates had returned early from their vacation. You stayed under the shadows on the porch that night for a long time until both of you decided you weren’t ready to end the tryst, and he sneaked you out of your home to take you to his, where your carnal tryst continued all through summer in the safety of his home. 
But the part of your memories that would often cause your heart to flutter would be the times he took you on those secret escapades that he mentioned. When you were not being hold up in your bedroom nor were you hiding in his house downtown, you used to sneak away to have your secret outings to various places where nobody would be able to find or recognise either of you. You have often thought of those moments as the memories that gave you joy to remember. At the same time, thinking of those moments also reminded you that everything you had with him was real, instead of something that you conjured from your own dark fantasy. 
Oftentimes, you would wonder if both of you remember those events differently. If he had been simply using those outings to steal moments with you while hiding your relationship from the people who knew who you were, while in the meantime, you sought validation through those stolen moments and have been remembering them as passionate getaways to savour where you felt loved, and where you were finally able to garner his full attention the entire time without anything else getting in the way. You might never be able to find answers now after so long. But no matter what kind of intention hidden in those moments, the truth would always remain the same. That you were simply pretending to be actual lovers while you were together in places away from home, always taking all the chances you could get to forget about the reality waiting back home.
Before you can say anything, Namjoon gives you a small smile to say, “I won’t blame you if you had chosen to forget about those times we spent together. I would understand if you wanted to forget. But for me, it was hard to forget about them. The time we had during those outings,” he says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it, “were the happiest time I ever had. I would think about the little trips we had when I’m alone, wishing that I was out in the sun, having my own secret adventures to get away from the city with you by my side.”
You want to correct him and let him know that you have never once forgotten about the beautiful time you shared. Yet you bite your tongue, when your curiosity only draws you to ask something else. “Have you not been able to do that with—” 
A knowing look flashes through his gaze. There is no need for him to hear the end of that sentence to know what you are about to ask him. And he isn’t allowing you to question it out loud or to mention about her, when he leans back in to give a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips and turns his attention on the neglected food and drinks that have been spread out before you. 
“Why don’t we start on lunch before the food gets wasted for being under the sun too long?” Namjoon offers you as he reaches out to open one of the food containers. Just like how he meticulously prepared this entire picnic set-up, he carefully peels one wrapped sandwich before handing it out to you and carefully prepares the salad that he packed up together with it. He then continues by reaching out to grab one of the tumblers filled with cold drinks and prepares a pair of clear glasses. The ice inside the tumbler makes sharp clinking sounds as he takes it in his hand. 
“I’m sure you’re thirsty too. I made us something that would help us cool down under this heat,” he says as he hands you one of the glasses and starts pouring the drink that turns out to be homemade sangria which he prepared from home, kept chilled with extra ice inside its container. “I have purposely added a hint more of your favourite red wine in this,” Namjoon softly chuckles as he presents you the glass of drink, though not before dipping a straw to go with it. “I hope the drink is refreshing enough for the heat. Maybe it can help you relax a bit more too.” 
You blink your eyes, surprised at how on point his comment was. You never realised that he might actually be able to sense your uneasiness no matter how hard you have been trying to hold it back. You say nothing to that, however, and choose to simply take a hefty drink of your alcoholic punch, hoping that it can help to ease your mind. 
As the alcohol hits you, a comforting warmth rolls through your body, while the ice does enough to cool you down. You take another long sip, relishing how good it makes you feel while ignoring the fact that it wouldn’t take long for you to start getting tipsy with how much wine he added into this drink. 
Maybe it would be better once you do get a bit more tipsy, you simply convince yourself, because then your mind would stop going back to those dark places in your head. With a content sigh, you look up at him and smile. “You did good with your choice of drink. I’m sure this is going to help me a lot to relax. Though I should probably warn you that I can be a bit of a nuisance if I get drunk too early in the day, so you have to be responsible when that happens.” 
“I don’t mind,” Namjoon simply says to you as he leans back closer. Within a blink of an eye, his face has become much closer, and his lips are now hovering against yours. “I’ll take all the responsibility, as long as you’re having a good time with me,” he adds with a gentle voice, before giving you a chaste kiss right on the lips. “Now eat.”
Smiling bashfully, you pull away and start diving into the meal. For a short moment, it feels like you both fall into some sense of normalcy in the guise of your picnic date. With any thoughts about the past pushed aside, and no more conversation shared to remind yourselves about his other life that he leaves behind just to be here with you, you allow yourself to indulge in this peaceful moment where you can once again pretend that you are just as normal as the other pairs of lovers around you. 
You both fall into an ease as you talk about mundane things in life between the meal. Sometimes while teasing each other, other times giving each other light touches and stolen kisses just to celebrate each other’s presence. You watch endearingly as little children run across the opening to play together, some chasing their pets while others are chasing each other, filling the air around you with the sounds of their laughter. You have long stopped comparing yourself to other people around you when you glance towards the pair of lovers sitting nearby, finding shelter under the shades just like you do as they lean against each other while watching the view around them. 
“I must say,” you say to him as you pick up a piece of chips after finishing your sandwiches, “that I didn’t expect that you would do so well with all this food. The mini sandwiches?”—you hum softly—”so good.” 
Namjoon laughs at your comment. “You’re exaggerating,” he says, though it is quite obvious that he enjoys the compliment when he flicks the tip of your nose and kisses it. “But it does more than enough to boost a guy’s ego to be complimented by his girlfriend and I can’t say that I minded it. I feel like I can start bragging about being the best sandwich maker in town.”
His antics draw a giggle out of you. He doesn’t often act this way, which is why it pleases you when he can be so open like this from time to time. “Well, I like boosting your ego,” you tell him as you reach out to grab your drink right after he refills it, “among other things.” 
This got him lifting his eyebrows. He can tell that the alcohol is already affecting you as you are starting your third glass, after only switching to the fresh juice once in the middle of your meal earlier at his advice to avoid getting tipsy too soon. “And may I know what are these other things might be?” he asks as he rests on his side, propping himself on one elbow and facing you. 
You bite your lips before you haughtily answer him, “I think you already know the answer to that.” Your gaze trails down his upper arm, drawn by the way it flexes under his shirt to hold up his weight. Uninhibited thoughts start rushing through your head, drawn by the building lust that suddenly rises to its peak. Add that to your tipsiness, and you suddenly become a bit shameless. Mischievous ideas run through your head as you think of ways to tease him, to misbehave so you can draw a reaction from him for once. 
Pulling the straw between your lips, you take a slow slip of your cold drink while feeling hyper aware of the attention that he is giving you. You can feel his gaze on you without you having to take a look, and you can feel him watching every movement you make. Feigning innocence and acting as if you have no wicked intention in mind, you start playing around with the thin straw, biting and sucking at the tip and sliding your lips lower like you are sucking—something else. His eyes seem to grow a tad bit darker as he is drawn to what you are doing, bringing a smile to your face at how easy it is to affect him so much. 
His lips tug to a subtle smirk when he lifts his eyes at you. “Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing right now,” Namjoon mutters to you with a low voice. 
“What am I doing?” you tease him back, and he easily retaliates by pulling you to him. You laugh as you fall against his chest and feel his lips pressing at your skin, just below your earlobe. Your breath quickens, just as you hear the soft groan that he is making, no doubt still affected by your teasing. “Would people be able to notice if we try to do something—naughty, under these trees?” 
He chuckles softly and turns you to face him. “Like what?” he asks while leaning forward until his face gets so close to yours, “kissing you deeply until you forget how to breathe, or pulling you to my lap so you can ride me when there is a risk that these people can see what you’re doing?” 
You bite your lips, now becoming the one affected by his teases and his words when you imagine doing everything that he suggested while being out in the open. You hate being the one to yield first when you were the first to start this game, so you lean closer and brush your lips against his earlobe as you whisper to him, “I’m thinking about doing something more risky, like taking you inside my mouth like I did with the straw.” 
“Fuck—” he curses under his breath. You can tell that you had managed to send his mind all the way down to the gutter, and his body is reacting down below. He has his eyes closed briefly when you pull back. 
“I remember that we did something similar a while back—” you mutter softly with a smile as you are brought back to the past yet again. Bringing you back to another unforgettable moment that you shared with him then. “Remember when you took me up on that hiking trip right outside of town? I wasn’t that big of a fan when it comes to hiking, but you convinced me to it.” 
Namjoon lifts his eyebrows and starts wiggling them. “I remember doing a lot more than convincing,” he teases you with a deep chuckle. 
“Oh, we also did a lot more while we were up there on that hiking hill,” you tease him back. Your cheeks immediately flush as you recall that weekend. Years have passed, but that day remains in your memory to this day. The long hike that you did with his hand sometimes reaching out to yours just to make sure that you could keep up with him. The scenery that you saw—the tall trees, the spread of fresh green grass and odd-shaped boulders that you found once you were close to the top, the hidden spring and small waterfall that you found between the carved ridges. But the magnificent and unforgettable part of it was slipping into the hidden grotto right below the waterfall after dipping into the spring, where he held you with his strong arms while you rocked above him, filling the rocky walls with the sounds of your wet bodies slapping against each other under the blinding bliss. 
You lick your lips at the memory of your pleasure, and how you dropped down on your knees right before you started to make your way back down the hill and took him in your mouth one last time until he unraveled completely. Tilting his head, Namjoon looks at you closely with an intrigued look filling his eyes. “Do I want to know what’s going on in your dirty mind right now?” he asks you with a mischievous smile on his face. 
“Hmm, I don’t know,” you tease him. “Do you want me to share?” You look back at him, smiling, before taking the straw back between your lips, slipping it deep enough until it almost reaches your throat and start sliding your lips up towards the tip before actually taking a sip.
There is something dark in his gaze when he realises what you are doing. But you only manage to get a quick glimpse of it before he pulls you back to his chest and buries his face at the crook of your neck. “You’re fucking killing me here,” he says with a deep, frustrated groan, before he finally gives in to temptation, as he pulls your drink away and captures your lips, giving you a deep kiss that would have been enough to make any child or bystander blush if only they can see it. 
He makes you completely breathless from the kiss, and your skin flushes with warmth that has nothing to do with the bright sun above your head. Yet the moment he pulls away, you quickly notice the way his dark eyes seem to dim. 
A heavy silence soon grows between you, and you are quick to notice the change in his mood. There is nothing unsettling about it, nothing about it that makes you feel like he is slipping away or that your little world is crumbling to pieces, yet it is still enough to make you start questioning things. As he lies back down on his side like before, he seems to be so deep in his thoughts that you feel curious to know what is going through his mind right now. Something tells you that he isn’t reminiscing the hiking trip that had gotten you feeling warm or many other liaison that you shared with him in the past, so you cannot stop yourself from asking him, “What are you thinking?” 
The corner of his lips tilt to a small grin as he mulls over his answer. “I just—can’t remember when was the last time I felt like this,” he finally says to you with a wistful tone of voice, a dimple appears on his cheek when he looks at you.
“Like what?” you question him, feeling more curious than ever to get inside his head. To know how he actually feels about being with you. “How do you feel?”  
Namjoon releases a deep sigh as he deeply thinks about it. “I feel like I’m free. Free to do whatever I want without feeling heavy around my shoulders. Free to be myself,” he says, sounding content as he says these words, as if he is relieved to be able to get them out of his chest, “not to be shackled by anything worldly that is forcing me to be someone that I am not.” 
Something about his words, his revelation, pierces through your heart. You have always wondered why he would always have such a forlorn and faraway look in his eyes at times, but this is the first time you get to hear what is happening behind the looks that he makes. Namjoon grabs your hand and starts rubbing his thumb in circles across your skin, finding refuge in your presence alone. “I love how I can always be free to joke around like what I’m doing it with you and enjoy the things that may raise some eyebrows for some.”
His words—and the way he says them—draws a smile to your face. Even when your heart feels heavy because of what he seems to be dealing with. He looks straight into your eyes when he sighs deeply and continues to say, “It took me some time to realise that I’ve only ever been able to do these things when I’m with you.” 
You take a deep breath, trying your best not to get emotional. “To do what, exactly? To follow your needs and act on them?” you tease him, hoping that you can lighten things up just as the tension coming from his personal burdens seem to be lingering in the air.
When he doesn’t answer you right away, your heart starts beating rapidly. You feel uneasy. Prior to this, you had often wished that you could find a way to get inside his head. Namjoon may have been sharing a huge piece of himself with you which he claimed to have never shared with anyone else before, but there is always another part of him that you haven’t been able to read. He may have been baring his soul whenever he is with you, but his deep thoughts have always been another mystery that you have never been able to solve. You always had this fear to dig deeper, to open the deepest layer of himself to see what is hiding beneath, afraid what it might do to the illusion that you have created for yourself about the two of you. 
“Remember when I told you long ago, about how a person tends to become a reflection of another just to fit someone else’s image of the perfect lover or partner so they could stay with the people they love?” he asks. There is a woeful look in his eyes when he looks at you that makes your heart heavy.
“I remember,” you answer bitterly. You remember it perfectly well because it was the answer that he gave you when you found the courage to ask about his life that you never got to see. To find out the reason why he managed to stay in the relationship that he had with another for such a long time even when he didn’t seem to be—happy. When you openly questioned if he had truly loved her that much to stay, so much so that he could never choose you over her, the answer that he gave you had only revealed something more. “Do you still feel that way? Even after years had gone by, do you still do such a thing?” 
Again, he doesn’t give you an immediate answer. Instead he turns to look up at the sky, and that glum look in his gaze appears clearer under the bright sunlight. “I suppose I am the one to blame. I wanted to create that image in the first place to win her heart, so I could become someone who was more deserving to be with her instead of the person that I knew myself to be,” he says with a bitter chuckle. The sound does something to your heart that you feel the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him. The irony of his situation makes you ache for him. But there is nothing that you can do or say about it. 
There is a look in his eyes that is enough to stop you from doing anything else but to listen. The look of acceptance. An absolute defeat, which is something that you had never seen from him before. As if he has simply surrendered to his own fate, to the life that he had written for himself. 
“I never realised how exhausting it would be to continue living my life that way. I probably shouldn’t be complaining about it, not after so long and when I was the one to make it happen in the first place, but it feels like I’m losing myself. I have been losing myself. I’ve been feeling like I have become a mirror of my true self that I have to constantly hold up in front of her and everyone else to create the perfect image of myself that she could love, that everyone could accept,” he speaks with a voice that sounds defeated, and it causes the ache that you have been feeling for him to bury itself deeper into your heart. His small smile looks broken when he turns to look at your face again, only to say, “But I had to keep it up, right? Because I can’t bear the responsibility of breaking her out of the illusion of me that I created for her.” 
And just like that, the bitterness hits you right back in the chest. Listening to him talk about her has never been easy. Unlike then, it no longer feels painful to hear him mentioning her so lightly like this. The feeling has grown numb over the years, also added with the fact that you have been trying to avoid thinking or reminding yourself about her presence ever since he is back in your life. But it still doesn’t mean that you are now able to hear him talking about her without feeling like your heart being ripped apart. 
Hiding your clenched hands under the skirt of your sundress, you remain silent to allow him to continue. Then Namjoon surprises you when he suddenly pushes himself up to a sitting position. He gently reaches out, finding a stray strand of hair and slowly tucking it on the back of your earlobe. His gaze feels intense when he is looking at you, then he begins to speak, revealing another hidden part of his that you have always desired to see. 
“With you, everything is different. It always has been, even from back then,” he murmurs, almost to himself as a wistful look comes through his gaze, replacing the dark gloom which you previously saw in his eyes. “With you, I never have to pretend. How could I, when even from the very first day we met, you have always been able to see right through me?” 
“Is that so?” you ask him with a trembling voice. He nods just as you see glimpses of your first encounter that many years ago back on campus, when you made a single comment that must have gotten stuck in his memories as much as it did with yours, 
“As someone who is supposed to be a motivational coach for freshman students like myself, you’re not exactly looking like a bright sunshine either. I bet you didn’t even want to be here, did you?”  
You cannot help but smile as you recall his reaction. The way he gawked at your audacity at first before he bursted into laughter. By the time he was done, any tension and dark mood that followed him evaporated, and you got to see his eyes brightening up with new enthusiasm to deal with his new underclassmen of the year. And it was the same brightness that caused the instant attraction you had for him which later manifested within you for a long time. 
Just as you are brought back to that specific memory of the past, his smile is lifted as if he is recalling the same thing as well. “You were the only one who saw it. Who saw me. As if you knew that I was having a rough time, and the last thing I needed was to be in a student gathering night where I had to deal with freshmen years when all I wanted to do was to have a quiet night by myself so I could think.” He chuckles softly and continues to play with the wild strands of your hair that he manages to catch between his fingers. “But that wasn’t the only time you did it, was it? You’ve always been able to see right through me, to look past my facade that I showed everyone else around me. You make me feel like you can see what’s beneath—my head, my soul—even when I tried my damn hardest to hide it from everyone.” 
Your breath is caught when his gaze finds yours. This would be the first time in your life that you would get to see yourself through his eyes. You have no idea what compels him to talk about all of this with you. Looks like you aren’t the only one who is getting affected by his mix of drinks, after all, when he continues to spill his deepest and darkest secret, revealing to you what he has kept inside his heart this whole time.
“I know I never said anything, but—” Namjoon says, suddenly choking up, “I wonder if this was the reason why I always gravitated towards you even before you began to act so friendly towards me each time we met,” he admits with a bashful smile, drawing your own as your memory takes you back to those days, when your gullible self would always be drawn to him whenever he was around. Even before you realised that you were harbouring a secret crush on him, you would look for any reason to cross paths with him. It felt so long ago that you can barely remember all the details. It is astonishing to find that he has a better memory of your past encounters when you had always thought that you have been the one to cherish them more. 
When you have spent years believing that you were the one who had fallen first and harder, and that you were the one who felt a lot deeper between the two of you. 
“At first, I only started to pay more attention and look you up out of curiosity. I wanted to see if it had only been in my head, but the more I got to know you, I became more curious to know how you managed to do it so easily, to see through everything that everyone failed to see,” he continues while you are left speechless. Believing that you might choke or cry if you say something, you keep your mouth shut and bite your tongue, allowing him to continue opening up, baring his soul the way he never could before. 
“I soon realised that I found comfort by talking to you and spending time with you. It was always so easy for me to reveal myself to you without feeling like I was forced to, and it felt—freeing, to be able to do that for the first time.” He exhales a deep sigh, looking like he had just dumped a whole weight off his shoulders by talking about this when his smile grows. “It was addicting, the feeling that you came to me whenever I met you. All it took was for me to sit down with you for a couple of minutes and I felt like I could breathe again.” 
He releases the strands of hair that he has been playing with and let them fall against your face, then gently cups your cheek. “I never thought that it could lead to anything else. It never crossed my mind to act on that feeling, mostly because I didn’t understand what it was,” Namjoon murmurs softly while he absentmindedly starts moving his thumb on your skin. Then he lifts his gaze and smiles. “Until you suddenly came to me to confess your feelings.” 
A chuckle slips out of his lips as he recalls what had happened that night. “That was quite surprising. I think I already knew that you may have had a crush on me, but I ignored it, probably thinking that if I didn’t say anything, I wouldn’t have any expectations and I would be able to savour spending more time with you. But when I realised that your confession was meant to be your closure, that you were trying to move on, I got—” he swallows hard and furrows his eyebrows, “I panicked. I got scared. Because I knew that I was losing you.” 
When his gaze lifts up, you get to see it—the fear that he felt then, and the tears that are formed in the corner of his eyes at the thought of you leaving him for good. “I couldn’t bear it. That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from kissing your lips instead of letting you go when I should have.”
Just as he says those words, his raw emotions are shown in his eyes. It gets you all choked up to see it, to feel it, to finally realise that he feels this much just for you. Concern plagues you, as you try to imagine what kind of life that he has been living in since the day you were gone.
“Do you—still feel the same? Do you still feel like you’re putting up a facade even right in front of—” 
Her. Even until this moment, you still cannot find it in you to talk about her or to mention her that easily. But if what you have been feeling about her is envy, jealousy, and hurt—for the fact that she is the one blessed enough to live a life where he is in it—what you are feeling now is rage. Infuriated to think that she would allow him to keep living this kind of life just to be with her. 
“I think—I’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve forgotten how to live without doing it,” Namjoon says with a bitter smile on his face. “I must admit that I was beginning to doubt myself and everything that I’ve built in my life. I’d spend my nights wondering if what she has for me is anything close to love, or if she loves me for the idea that she has of myself that I had created for her instead of the real me that has been pushing its way to come to the surface.” 
Then his smile shifts into something that looks more to be relief when he looks back to the night you came across each other once again. “The day we finally met again—” he says, still with a smile on his face, “it happened right when I started questioning myself. I had no idea just how much longer I would be able to keep up with this facade. Because it has been exhausting, and it was starting to kill me inside. The more I felt like I was losing myself, the more it felt like it was sucking my entire soul.”
You blink away the tears that have been forming in your eyes while you were listening to him. A sudden burst of anger fills your chest after hearing what he has to put up with, when you have been spending your life thinking that he was living the life that he had chosen for himself and finding happiness in it. “Then why do you keep this up? Doesn’t it make you feel lonely?” 
Namjoon gives you a wry smile. “Just like I told you,” he says with a slow sigh, “you have no idea.” 
His answer only makes you frown. During all the times he has been saying those same words to you, you have only been brushing it off, telling yourself that he has only been saying those things to please you. But the look you see in his eyes as he repeats the same thing to you now tells you a different story. 
In his eyes, you see a glimpse of his broken soul. His loneliness that he may have had buried for a long time now emerging through his gaze like a deep void, pulling you towards it. Right at that moment, every last bit of doubt that you ever had about this relationship immediately shifts. Just when you had thought that all the existing bond you shared may have only come from lust, and from the desire that always burns so rapidly the moment you are in the same room, you realise now that there is something more there. 
Just like how you have always found solace in his presence, to feel like your heart and soul are awakened the moment he touches you, it turns out that he might be feeling the same thing. That your presence feeds his soul in a way that no other ever could. Perhaps that is the reason why you always gravitate towards each other, even after the universe tried to split you apart. All because you need each other. 
Because your souls crave each other’s presence to survive.
“The night we crossed paths at the mall, I felt—relieved, more than I was astounded to see you again. It felt like my questions and prayers were answered. All at once, everything came back to me the moment we spoke and then sat down together, and it made it hard for me to walk away. The feeling of freedom that I could only feel when I was with you felt like a drug, and it made me feel like I was coming back alive again,” he continues, still with his deep eyes looking into yours, letting you see the truth in them. 
“You’ve asked me why I kept coming back,” he adds with a smile while you still unable to find your own voice to speak, “I guess this is your answer. This is the reason why I keep coming back to you, and also the reason why I know that I won’t be able to let you go. Not again.” 
Just then, the tears that have been forming on the corners of your eyes begin their descent before you can do anything to stop it. A sense of closure fills your heart. All the bitterness and the dark thoughts are lifted when you return his smile as you brush away your tears. 
He pulls you to his chest and holds you there. Finding comfort in his embrace, you don’t make a move aside from wrapping your arms around him. His heart beats steadily against your cheek and you close your eyes to find calmness in it. 
Yet, even in the solitude of your shared silence and relief, your mind still refuses to remain quiet, and another question feeds your curiosity.
"Do you think we deserve to be happy?" you ask him as you gently pull away, while Namjoon falls silent. 
"That's a tough question to answer. But if I have to be honest?" he starts to answer after mulling it over for a moment. "For me? I don't think I'll ever deserve it. Happiness is not for someone like me. A sinner, whose heart has been tainted." A bitter chuckle slips out of his lips as he looks up at the sky. There is a wry smile on his face when he turns to look at you again, fading as quickly as it appears. "But the same can't be said for you. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who can make sure that you are given a life where you are constantly smiling and laughing, enjoying your life the best you possibly can instead of having dark shadows haunting your gaze every time."
You swallow the heavy need to cry when you question him, ”Is that how you see me?"
He answers you with a soft hum. “When I look at you, I see someone who is resilient, strong, hard-headed yet always knows what she wants and how to get it. You have a heart that's so big, filled with so much love to give, and you carry that heart openly in your sleeves,” he says as he slides the pad of his thumb across your cheek to wipe off your drying tears. "Deep down, your soul is still pure. Yet the shadows in your eyes show a different kind of story." 
Pursing his lips, he begins shaking his head slowly as if he is feeling regretful. “That's why I always believe that I don't deserve you. I don't think I ever will. Not when I'm the one who put that shadow in your eyes because I can't give you what you needed." 
"What if that shadow only appears because my soul is just as tainted as yours?” your question comes as a whisper. “Because I'm in love with a sinner, and it's making me a sinner too."
"Do you really think so?" he asks, and his lips lift to a smile. “Maybe you’re right. But that only means that we’re one and the same, don’t you think?”
You smile back at him. “Then maybe that's a sign that we really do deserve each other."
Namjoon softly chuckles. “Maybe,” he hums as he pulls you back to his chest and presses his lips on the top of your head. You feel him closing his eyes as he sighs, and his voice is gentle when he whispers to you, "Yes, perhaps you're right. We do belong together.“
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If I must compare your life into day and night, then she would be the one to fill your bright days, always shining under the sun, while I would be the one to reside in your long nights.  Before I received the letter you wrote me, before I finally got those three little words that meant more than my entire world coming from you, I spent my time living with you while wallowing in self-doubt.  The world that you had inside your mind will forever be a mystery that I can never solve.  Yet you have always been honest with me. Always so open even when you had to tell me about all the painful truth. Letting me know that you no longer have anything left that you could offer or promise me except for the small piece of soul that you have been brave enough to show me. I have learned, after many years, not to be greedy when it comes to you. To take all that I could get and have only what I deserved to gain, just as long as I could be with you.  Even if I must remain in the dark. Even if I must remain living as a part of your night.  But as time passes, it becomes harder not to listen to what my heart desires. To not want more.  Because I will always want more. Even if I will never be able to put those silly wishes into words.
Once you are no longer counting the days, life simply continues and time seems to easily blur together. Before you realise it, nearly a year has gone by, and he still remains by your side. Yet time doesn’t seem to matter anymore as both of you continue to live your lives together in your small little world, built and secured safely within the walls of your small home. 
With him being a part of it, this place has become your safe haven. 
A place where you are separated from the outside world, protected from the reality that you have chosen not to take notice when you are together with him. The place that had once felt desolated and cold has now become a place of solitude, a place where you can live comfortably in the safety of his arms without having to worry about the future that lies ahead of you. 
It helps you forget the fact that he has another life to come back to—something that you choose to not think about on the nights that he wasn’t spending with you—and helps you put everything about the past far, far away from your thoughts so you can relish the joy of the present. 
Until tonight, when Namjoon suddenly brings it up again.
You are lying in your bed, with one of his arms laid under your neck and your head resting on his shoulder. This is something that the two of you would do whenever sleep eludes you at night, and you would fall into a comfortable silence while enjoying each other’s presence.
He has his eyes looking far over your head. In his silence, his gaze seems to settle on something that he sees in the distance as it lingers out the window. Looking over your shoulder, all you can see out there is nothing but the dark, night sky. But it seems that glimpses of the past are visiting him through the partly opened curtains when he suddenly mutters,
“You never asked me to leave her.” 
You turn to look at him. “What?”
For a moment, he says nothing else, though he still has a faraway look in his eyes as if he is still looking far back into the past. “Never once did you try to break us apart. And we weren’t married then, so it would’ve been easy for you to simply ask me to walk away.” Namjoon stops talking to close his eyes, briefly, then he looks down at your face when he opens those beautiful eyes again. He wears a smile on his face, one that is filled with curiosity and something else that is kin to guilt, when he asks you, “Why was that? Why didn’t you ever ask me for it?” 
Gnawing at your lips, you take a moment to consider your answer. You have no idea what to say or how to respond to his question, even if you do get what he is trying to say. You just never expected that he would question you about it after so long has passed since then. 
Closing your eyes, you start thinking about the past. Because you have wondered about it. The words had always been there, threatening to slip out of you each time you looked into his eyes and your chest was filled with dread for knowing that he wasn’t truly yours. But you always chose to bite your tongue, refusing to place this one simple truth out into the universe despite feeling the deep ache in your heart which was filled with longing and the desire to be with him. It wasn’t easy to continue lying to yourself, to hold back the way you did. And yet you still chose to do it, only because you had always known that asking that much of him would be too much, no matter how desperately your heart desired it to happen. 
For him to be asking about this now only forces you to recount everything—about your true desire that you had to bury deep inside, your undying wish, and the constant battle you had with yourself for denying your feelings.
Avoiding his gaze, you cannot help but wonder, “Did you want me to beg you to leave her?” 
His eyes are downcast when you look at him again. A deep, resounding sigh comes from him as he slowly answers, “I’m not sure about wanting it. But I can say that I expected that it would happen at some point. That you would ask me to make a choice, and for me to choose you over her. I guess”—he chuckles softly—”it was quite surprising that it was never brought up. I spent so many times envisioning every possible scenario of when we would be having that talk. In a way, I think I was preparing myself to deal with it should you ever bring it up and start demanding it, but it never happened.” 
His confession catches you off guard, and you have no idea what to think of this. Suddenly filled with a mix of emotions, you say nothing to him until he looks at you and asks you again, “Have you ever thought about it? About us being together?” 
You take a moment to mull over your answer before saying anything. The memory of having to refrain yourself from expressing what you desired the most seems to have been ingrained in you. You still remember everything—what it was like to be in that position, unable to be honest with your own heart, and it causes an immediate reaction coming from you as you once again find yourself holding back from admitting your feelings. 
But once you look into his eyes, you realise that things between you feel much different now compared to how it was back then. And after years have passed, you have grown to become a completely different person. Unlike then, you feel entitled enough to feel greedy. Deep down, you feel that you are allowed to be, and you have your own reasons to feel this way. 
Only because you refuse to believe that the universe has no reason for allowing you to meet each other again after so long. And you refuse to accept that you have crossed paths merely by chance after many years have passed only for you to part ways again the way you did years ago.
Sighing deeply, you find the courage to speak, seizing the chance to be honest with yourself, and to him. “Every single time,” you answer softly. And just like that, you feel as if the weight that you have been carrying is lifted, and you feel even lighter as you continue to open up your heart. “Even when I never said a thing, I wished for it. I prayed for it every single night when I had to say goodbye and watch you go back to her. I spent all the nights I had to sleep alone in my bed begging to the universe that you would be mine forever.” 
The more he listens to your confession, the deeper the crease between his eyebrows grows. “Why have you never said anything?” he asks you, sounding baffled as he listens to all of this for the first time, while you cannot help but respond with a bitter chuckle. 
“It’s not like I never wanted to ask or even beg for you to make it happen,” you admit to him with a shrug, then you tilt your head up, looking at him straight in the eyes to question him, “but what right did I have to ask that much from you?” 
When you already had your whole life planned which didn’t involve me becoming a part of it—are the words left unspoken, when it suddenly becomes too painful to recount the events from the past, just before the voice of your conscience speaks to you once more to say,
What right do I have to ask for it now?
You instantly bite your lips, hating how the voice of reason always returns to put you back in your place. Just like how it often did the same to you back then. In the past, you had always chosen to listen to that voice, to help you become the reasonable one between the two of you by refusing to be greedy and only taking what you could get from him. Now, you quickly brush it off, pushing it away so you can ignore it, and choosing to listen to your heart instead. Because not everyone gets a second chance the way you do now.
“You said so yourself, remember? You talked about how our stories had been written differently, that you have had your story plotted, written, with a proper ending to your story planned.” You smile bitterly when the ache in your chest returns, bringing back all the emotions that you had constantly felt whenever his words would come to haunt you. As if reminding you that you had no place in his life after everything was done. 
“I was young and dumb, and I didn’t exactly understand what you were saying then, but I knew that it wasn’t our happy ending that had been written for you. I think—” Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to look into the state of mind that you had back then, understanding yourself better now to finally comprehend the past choices you made and admitting it loudly, “I think, once I got that thought embedded into my mind, I just pushed away everything that I desired the most from you and simply took what I could get, while all I could do was to wait and prepare myself for when our time together would finally be up.” 
Namjoon falls silent yet again as he takes in your words. It makes you feel a bit silly now that you put your past thoughts into words. But just like you said, you were too young and dumb to know what would have been the right thing for you to do and how to express your feelings, something that you had never been capable of doing.
But not being able to formulate your feelings into words had not only been your true reason to keep quiet about what you wanted. 
Asking him to make such a big decision would require you to have hopes. The kind of hope that you could never allow yourself to have. Not in the position you were in back then. Even if you ever had the courage to be honest about what you wanted, even if you tried to do it without allowing your hope to bloom, you still knew that it would eventually come either way. 
You know then how it would have tainted everything once you started demanding more, that it would have ruined any blissful moments that you were having with him. And it would certainly have only left you with more bitter memories than the good ones that you still keep with you to this day.  
“How about now?” he gently asks you after a moment has passed. “What do you wish for now? What do you pray at night?” 
With just one look into his eyes and by listening to the tender voice that he gives you, any resolution that you have had about not wanting to act as recklessly as you did then or to give in to your heart’s desire dwindles. All of your defences that you have put up to keep you from getting hurt again this time start to wane. 
This is your chance…
You can almost hear your own heart speaking to you, encouraging you to be honest—not only to yourself, but also for him to be able to see your true desire. The deep, warm look that you find in his gaze feels just as encouraging, allowing you to put your feelings into words. 
“I pray—” you begin to speak without looking away from him, “that if this is just a dream, then I don’t ever want to wake up. I just want to stay here with you, just like this, where nothing else in the world matters but us.” 
You stop for a brief moment, biting your lips once you realise that you have finally told him everything that you have been keeping inside. 
There is no turning back now that the truth is out. There are only two kinds of reactions that you can get from him after hearing your confession. Either he stays, or he decides that you both want different things and he will no longer want to have anything to do with you. 
This thought had been the reason why you were wary about being honest with him. Just like him, you had thought of any possible scenario that might have happened once you shared with him what you truly want from him, to actually ask him to choose you instead of the life that had been planned for him. And each time, you had pictured him choosing the last option, and you had always seen yourself accepting it, knowing that it would be the only thing that you would ever deserve to get from him.
Because you don’t deserve to have him sacrificing his entire life for you. 
Tonight, however, you find some resolve growing within you when you look into his eyes. This time, you feel like you are allowed to hope. You are allowed to demand more from him, and you are allowed to fight your hardest until you can finally get what you have always desired. 
“I want to be with you. I want to be the only one that you hold at night, the one lying down beside you like this to listen to your voice as you talk about your day. I want to watch you walk out the door in the morning without feeling worried or scared that it will be the last time I’ll ever see you again, and I want to be able to go about with my day feeling optimistic as I plan how I’m going to be spending my night with you instead of wondering whether or not you’ll be coming to visit.” 
Once the words continue to slip through your lips, it feels as if there is a dam within you that is breaking down. You didn’t expect to become so emotional about this, but it feels freeing to be saying all of this out loud, that your tears come flowing down your cheeks once relief takes over you. 
“I want us to be like any other couple, to go on dates, picnics, to have afternoon walks in the park, maybe go on a trip far, far away for a lengthy of time,” you continue with bitter laughter slipping out of your lips as you recall your picnic date. The picnic date which revealed a whole lot more that you could ever handle. 
A wave of melancholy floods through you when you remember everything that went through your mind that day. Having him opening up to you, allowing you to hear his deep and dark thoughts about his relationship with his wife had given you a sense of reassurance. Yet it lasted only for a short period of time. As that day had brought to light a myriad of other things that you still have to deal with to this day.
The insecurity that you felt from being with him in the open was a feeling that has not been so easy for you to shake off. You remember feeling inferior while being surrounded by all those people. Those who were lucky enough to be with their loved ones without having any worries. The feeling of jealousy and the desire to have what they had has helped open your eyes to see everything that was wrong about your relationship. 
It has made you realise now more than ever just how sheltered he has made you feel by being with him. It has brought back all the past memories that you have overlooked each time you reminisced the past, to remind you everything that you had to endure just to be with him. Like how you had to watch him attending campus events with her by his side, while all you could do was to watch them from afar and wait until the moment he could return to you once the day was over. Sneaking around your friends just to be able to steal a few hours within the day to see him. The lunch dates that had to be cut short each time any of his friends or yours would suddenly appear to catch the sight of you while you were together. 
Every night, you would always be haunted by how he made you feel. The sorrow you feel for being hidden like a dirty little secret. Always waiting on the sidelines until it was your turn to come out into the light.  
“I want to be able to hold you forever, not only until we reach an expiration date for whatever it is that we have now, but until the day I breathe my last breath. I want to be able to scream to the whole world how much”—your voice gets caught in hour throat before you try to say it out loud—“how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you. I want to show everyone that you are mine. And I want us to be able to be together under the sun, holding each other’s hands in front of everyone who gets to hear about our story, instead of hiding in the shadows the way we have been.” 
Namjoon moves his hand just as you speak, gently pressing his palm on your cheek as he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. “Is that what you truly want?” he whispers. His voice comes out so soft that you nearly miss the way it trembles. But it is the look you see in his eyes that gets you. The look that feels so intense that you can feel it in your chest. 
“Yes, that’s what I want.” 
Without another word, he pulls you against his chest and leans down to kiss you. He wastes no time dipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss while taking the rest of your words and your breath away. Still high with emotions, you feel like you are melting under his touch, allowing him to take over your body and soul completely as he turns you over until you are lying beneath him. 
You have no idea what is going through his head right now. But with the way he is kissing you, touching you, and easily covering your body with his as if your bodies have been moulded to be the perfect fit, none of it seems to matter anymore. Placing your truth out there has felt so heavy but relieving at the same time, and all you need now is to feel him. To have him mend your heart after opening it wide for him to see what is hidden deep inside. 
As he makes sweet love to you, tenderly and slowly, you finally get to understand the real reason why you had never been able to completely move on from him. For so long, you had simply thought that it was all because you had not been truly healed from your broken heart. That your heart had been so fractured that you were unable to love anyone else the same way you have always felt so deeply for him. 
But he makes you see the truth when he easily brings to you to the brink of your pleasure through each slow thrust, each deep kiss, and with every gentle touch he gives you, making you feel all the things that no other person had ever been able to make you feel. It is all because of his sweet lovemaking, when he makes you feel alive and complete. 
And because when his eyes find you, he isn’t simply looking at you. He sees you. Sometimes unabashedly undresses you with it, other times it feels like he is making you a promise without saying a single word. A single gaze with different meanings that you can hold on to.
And that gaze is what you find in his eyes when you open your eyes in your blissful moment of climax and contentment. Through his eyes, you find his silent promise, to see the words that he is unable to voice out loud. Looking deep into his eyes, you also get to feel his love. You can feel it caressing your entire body and soul as he embraces his pleasure, as he bares his soul for you to share with you everything that he has been hiding within his own heart.
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I never asked much from you, except for your heart and to ask you to love me back. To appreciate my existence instead of denying my being. To help make me feel less invisible even when you were not here with me.  Even then, there were still some words that I kept wishing to hear from you. Words that seemed impossible to be spoken, because no matter how many promises you had given and kept for me, I had always known that there was one promise that you had given and one that you would never be able to break.  The promise that you gave her. 
“I’m leaving her.” 
Back then, many years ago, you dreamt of moments like this, to hear him say those words to you. Whenever you would look back in the past, you would often wonder what would have happened if you ever had any courage to ask him to say something like this. 
It feels too overwhelming to accept that you are not just imagining things. That he had truly just said those words to you, completely unprompted, after weeks have passed since the night you spilled your secret wish and talked about what you truly wanted from him. 
What your heart still desires from then and to this day.
Shaking your head, you try to deny that this is happening. You have to. Because you can already feel your silly little hope blooming in your chest, thinking that he truly meant what he just said. “You can’t mean that,” you say to him with a wry smile, still refusing to believe him. Yet when his determined gaze doesn’t seem to waver, it tugs you out of your denial.  
“But I do. I mean every word I said,” Namjoon says to you almost pleadingly, and you can feel your resolve cracking under the firm tone of his voice. You try to avoid his gaze so you can remain in denial, yet he refuses to let you ignore him as he walks over to you in his fast and long strides until he is standing right in front of you. Taking your hands in his, he forces you to look at him in the eyes when he says, “I want to.”
The breath that you take trembles, and it gets caught in your chest for the fear that you might break. Seeing this, Namjoon tightens his grip on your hands to get you to focus on his words before you start panicking. “Remember when we talked about what you truly wanted? When you finally shared with me everything that you’ve never been able to ask from me? Well, this is me finally being honest with what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted but never could admit,” he says, almost rushing in his words as if he has been keeping it inside for too long. 
“Do you mean it? Do you really mean this?” you start questioning him once you are able to find your voice again. “You told me—” you choke out a sob, “you said that you couldn’t promise me anything when you already made one promise to another.” Just when you say those words, his words from many years ago return to your thoughts, echoing inside your head the way it always does whenever you reminisce that time in the past where he unintentionally put your wishes to rest, 
“Maybe if things had been different. If she had been the one to say it first that it was over between us and I could erase everything that I had given her—every promise, the silly vow we made with each other, everything we planned—then I would have been able to give you more…” 
Namjoon visibly winces as he is reminded of those same words that he gave you then. When he closes his eyes, you can tell that he finally understands the real reason why you could never find any courage to tell him how much you wanted to be with him, or to even demand that he would give up everything that he had built for you. His face crumbles with remorse when he opens his eyes again and sees the look on your face. Reality seems to dawn on him after hearing your words, and he pulls you into his arms just before a tear drops from your eyes. 
Closing his eyes, he takes a long, deep breath and then exhales it slowly. “I admit that I was…nothing more but a coward and a complete fool back then. I had so many opportunities to make it right by you, to make a choice, but I was too afraid to walk away and face the consequences if I ever decided to take back my words. I thought we still had time. I thought I still had more time, but then—” 
You left. 
You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest, hoping that you can bury all the memories from the day when you decided that you had enough. It wasn’t because of your pride that you chose to walk away from his life, nor it was for your own dignity. You walked because of your own selfish reasons, only because you could no longer take the pain of being kept in the shadows and having to watch him live another life, loving another woman, and building an entirely different life when you were building your entire world around him. 
“After you were gone, I kept regretting my choices. I regretted the fact that I couldn’t be honest with myself and allowed myself to be complacent on what we had until everything fell apart, and I lost you for good,” he confesses to you with his voice coming out almost to a whisper. “I spent my entire life regretting the fact that I had to lose you because of my indecisiveness,” he continues, while tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you take in this revelation. 
Namjoon pulls away with a shuddering exhale of breath to look at you. “But it’s different now. It has to be. I knew it ever since we crossed paths again, because it happened just when I finally gave up on hope. That’s why I know that I can do it this time. That’s why I have to do this. I can’t lose you again.”  
He brings his hands up and cups them on your face, allowing you to see the deep love in his eyes, the sincerity and truth that you desperately seek just so you can trust his words.
So you can allow yourself to have hope. 
Your shoulders fall in relief when you can see them, his emotions that are plainly written in his deep gaze, and you take it all in as he leans down, capturing your lips in his. Your eyes flutter to close as you embrace this warm feeling that he is bringing into your heart. 
“I also have my own regrets,” you say to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I regretted that I chose not to say anything even when the truth was that I never wanted to let you go. Never again. It hurt too much when I did then. It’ll hurt more if I have to go through it again.”
As you look into his eyes, and just after you admit this feeling for him, more questions begin to arise. They come flooding your thoughts just as rapidly as the rise of hope you feel blooming in your chest.
Is this how your story with him going to end this time? With a happy ending, where you are going to be walking on the same path with him again?
Before you can find the answer, Namjoon lifts you up and carries you back to your bedroom. Like always, the moment you are in his arms again, all rational thoughts are gone out the window, leaving only wanton needs filling your mind. He lays you down on your bed and lowers himself above you, pressing you down with the length of his body. Your body welcomes him as he settles between your legs, making you acutely aware of the hard lines of his cock pressing down on you. 
It might have been the fact that your emotions are running wild within you that your body feels so sensitive and it reacts instantly to his touch. It makes you hyperaware of everything that is happening around you and all that you are feeling from him. The heat of his body, his rapid heartbeat, and the rush that comes building within you from his gentle touch. 
As Namjoon presses his weight down on you, your hips rise to meet him. The moment your mouths meet each other in a deep kiss, your body begins to move, rocking and grinding against his covered hard-on that suddenly feels to be carrying more weight. 
“I…need you,” you find yourself pleading as you rock your hips against him, rubbing your covered heat against his length. Your carnal need to feel his touch overpowers you so intensely that you fail to tell him that you are feeling this need because you want this to be real. You want him to show you what words would never be able to convey. 
But there is no need for you to say it out loud, when he gets it. When the look he is giving you tells you that this is exactly what he needs as well. A groan slips out of his mouth just before he pushes himself up and gets to work. In your desperate need to touch each other, both of you move in haste, almost ripping your clothes apart in the rush to get yourselves bare. 
Namjoon wastes no time once every piece of clothing is gone, pressing down on you and devouring your lips until you are left breathless, and your mind is silent. Even without a word, he is telling you everything that he is unable to give you through the kiss. Giving you everything that he wants to say to you by showing it through his actions. 
His kiss doesn’t relent as he grabs your hips, holding you in place while he settles right between your parted legs. Every move he makes is so gentle. He moves with so much grace and tenderness that you feel at ease, even when your heartbeat is racing so rapidly and your body is tense as you anticipate his pure loving. 
Lifting your legs up to spread them wider, he pulls away from the kiss and slowly begins crawling his way down your body. You barely have your eyes fluttering close when you feel his hot mouth capturing your nipple, his wet tongue circling around it once, twice, before he moves to the other and gives it the same treatment. With his tenderness, he draws a series of soft moans from your lips, and then he continues his journey down the rest of your body.
“I feel like I want to take my time with you. Like there is really no need for us to rush,” Namjoon says with a deep, gentle voice, making his intention clear without having to say the words out loud, though you can still clearly hear the need in his calming words. 
Your eyes are fluttering close yet again as he grows closer and closer to the source of your heat. Your hips are lifted when you feel his lips brushing against your mound, then you react with a moan as you feel his tongue pressing down between your hot folds.
Using his hands on your hips, he carefully tilts your body up, just slightly off the bed so he can dive straight in and bury his head between your legs. Grasping the sheets with both of your hands, you lift your hips and start moving, rocking gently into his mouth to chase away the pulses within. It seems to urge him on, when he lets go of all the tenderness as he licks at your folds, before finding your clit and clamping his mouth hard around it.
“Namjoon—!” A sharp cry comes out of you as he moves his tongue in circles, tasting around your tender bud and lapping at your arousal.
You run your hands through his hair, almost pressing him deeper into you as he works his mouth and tongue to draw out your essence. But there is a change here in the way he is devouring you. His hunger feels subtle, replaced by something else that feels more sensual and luscious as he takes what he wants gently instead of sucking you hard and fast the way he usually would. 
Namjoon remains there for a while longer, savouring your taste and getting lost in giving you pleasure. He keeps going, following the sounds that you are making and your reactions to guide his next movements. A flutter arises from within your tight walls, drawing a low moan from him when he can feel it too. His hand tightens on you as your legs quiver against his head, holding you down as you start thrusting against his mouth to chase your release. Keeping you down with one hand, he quickly moves his other hand up. As his mouth moves to capture your clit, his fingers replace his sinful lips, parting your folds and slipping inside, spreading you open before stroking them into your pulsing walls. 
“Oh, fuck—!” you cry out as your body rises at the snap of your tight coil, and a rush of pleasure takes flight within you, sending you to your blissful release. 
Keeping one hand touching gently at your pussy, Namjoon pulls his mouth away and starts climbing his way back up. Hot, wet kisses trail up your stomach, then your breasts, stopping briefly to tease around your nipples while his hands trail up the sides of your body to your breasts, before he comes up to kiss you hard on your lips. 
“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs against your lips, drawing a soft whimper from you when you want the exact same thing. 
He shifts on the bed, and you can already feel the heat and weight of his cock as it falls against your center. Your legs are spread around him, almost like your body has been programmed to welcome him inside you. Lowering himself on you, Namjoon presses into you gently, drawing out this moment for as long as he likes it despite the burning need that is practically vibrating throughout his entire body. But things quickly switch up when he slowly slides inside you, taking his time burying his length inside your warmth.
You moan at the pleasure he brings you and slowly buck your hips against his body as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly just when he continues moving. With his hands on your hips, he thrusts into you again, drawing the sound of your cry of pleasure. And he keeps at it, moving in and out of you with steady and firm thrusts, filling you up completely. Deep groans keep coming out of his lips at the way your pussy is wrapped around him in a claiming grip. 
As the pleasure heightens, both of your bodies tremble together. His jaw seems tight, a clear evidence that he is trying his damn hardest to hold back and make it last. But just like how you are quickly overcome with the increasing pleasure, you can tell that he is slowly getting taken over by his own pleasure. Digging your nails into his skin, you rock your hips to meet each of his thrusts, moaning and arching your back as you give in to the surging rush you feel from his intense fucking.
“Keep going, baby. I need…more,” you start begging him when you are reaching so close, the coil in your stomach tightening when you are teetering on the edge, already at the brink of your release.
At your words, he responds to you with a firm thrust. One that comes so powerful that it sends your body rising from the bed and shaking at the wave of bliss that comes with it. You take a sharp inhale of breath and hold onto him tighter, anticipating the climax that you are so ready to embrace, only to have him come to a halt. 
“Keep holding onto me, baby,” he says with a deep groan as you open your eyes to look at him. 
Before you can say a thing, he slides his arm around your waist and starts pulling you up with him as he sits back on his haunches. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close to his chest and helps you straddle his lap while keeping his cock buried deep inside you. Once you are settled on his lap, his cock seems to penetrate into you deeper, pushing into your depth and making you feel completely full. 
“Fuck—so deep!” 
A low chuckle comes out of him. As if he enjoys hearing this coming from you and taking it as a compliment. With his arms tightening around you, Namjoon begins to move again, rocking gently beneath you as he thrusts his cock deep inside your pussy, starting slow at first and steadily picking up its pace once your body is adjusted to him in this new position. 
The pressure keeps building, and in its rise, your body reacts to every movement, every action, meeting each of his thrusts with your own rocking as you slide up and down his cock to ride the pleasure. 
“That’s it. Ride me, baby,” he says, coaxing you to keep moving. Using your arms on his shoulders as leverage, you rock faster against him, riding the high that comes as he fucks you from beneath and whimpering to each delightful rush that you feel as your walls brush along the length of him. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good around me. You feel so perfect for me.” 
His voice sounds strained with his undying desire, and once you feel his entire body shudder beneath you, you know that things are about to go intense. “I can’t hold back this time, baby,” he groans, drawing a gasp out of you as he pounds into you with a powerful thrust. 
“Then don’t. Fuck me, baby. I need it, I need to feel you, please.” 
He holds you tighter as he kicks things up to a notch and starts fucking you with all of his worth, as he pours all of his emotions into everything that he is giving you. As you clutch around him tightly, his thrusts keep getting faster and desperate, growing more erratic with his deep passion that seems to overflow. 
Sliding his hand up your back, Namjoon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth finds your skin and he begins trailing hot kisses from your collarbone to your neck, finding his way up to kiss your lips. With his kiss, he swallows the sound of your moans as he steadily rocks in and out of you, distracting you from the touch of his hands as he rubs them all over your body. His mouth moves towards your lobe and comes lower, pressing against your sensitive spot which draws a shiver through your body. 
“Tell me that you’re mine. That you’ve always been mine,” Namjoon pleads with you with ragged breaths, tugging firmly at your heartstrings when you can feel the desperation in his words.
“I’m yours”—you gasp as he thrusts back inside you so deep you can feel it all over your body—“I’ve always been yours, and I always will be.” 
Once again, his entire body shudders against you. Though you can easily tell that he is responding to you with a whole different reason this time. As if your words are the ones that are snapping him out of his final restraint. You use the chance to rock back against him, pressing down as he pushes up, feeling the tip of his cock hitting your depth until you are shaking on top of him. 
As your bodies move together in a steady rhythm, he lowers his hands down your waist and guides you to move. “Keep riding me that way, baby. That’s it, cum around my cock,” he grunts, moaning in between his words with the pleasure you are bringing into his body. “Let me see you cum.” 
His words and his touch guide you as you move above him, chasing your high. You cry out as he slams hard into you. Your head falls back, loving how perfectly his cock is stretching your walls. The pressure keeps growing more intense. You can feel your orgasm building inside you as he continues thrusting into you hard and fast. The moment the first wave of your climax hits, your body arches into him, inadvertently rubbing your clit against his skin and the line of coarse hair under his navel, and it sets you off instantly. 
You are coming so hard that it feels like you are about to explode. Your muscles spasm around his cock, against his body, and the feeling surges through your whole body that you can feel the burning heat rushing everywhere. The sounds you are making seem foreign to your own ears as you cry out in your climax. The high-pitched moans that are followed by the sound of your ragged breaths seem to linger while you are riding your orgasm until everything starts to wane. 
The moment everything stops and you sag into his chest, you can feel that he is still hard inside you. Soft kisses bring you back to him, allowing you to feel the rock-hard shaft that is still embedded within you. Your pussy contracts intensely around him as he slowly lifts you up from his lap, pulling out his cock from your depth. Your head is still spinning as Namjoon lays you back down on the bed, barely recovering from your intense bliss, and he helps clear your foggy brain by kissing your lips gently, coaxing you to open your eyes.
“Turn around. I need to get deeper inside you,” he says, his voice sounding deep and raspy, strained with his need as he gently grabs your hips to guide you into position. “Get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” 
Your body trembles at his voice and command. You can feel that he is being weighed down with his pent-up desire—and perhaps the exact same emotions that you are feeling now—and it puts you into action as you slowly turn around, giving your back to him.
Namjoon moves to take his place behind you, and you start grinding your ass to him as you feel him carefully shifting closer, and you can feel the heat of his body pressing against your skin. His hands come down to grab your hips, holding you still as he presses his body against your back. And then you feel him, the object of his desire, his cock that is still rock solid and still wet from your release as it comes pressing against your behind. 
He slides one hand between your legs, finding your folds with the tips of his fingers. You let out a gasp as he presses his fingers against your clit. With only his tender touch, your body erupts and you can barely hold back from falling forward. 
“Please”—you gasp breathlessly—“I can’t take it anymore. I’m so close.” 
You can feel him shifting behind you, and he gently parts your nether lips while he positions his cock at your pussy. You feel a nudge, and you can already feel the head of his cock penetrating through your entrance, spreading your walls for him once again and making them pulse around his cock as he slowly slides his cock inside of you. 
A moan comes out of your lips at the intense pleasure that you feel as he enters you, and the sound that you are making quickly intensifies when he wastes no time and begins rocking, moving in and out of you with ease despite the intense flutter of your walls around him. 
“Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me,” Namjoon moans deeply as he fills you up, inch by inch, making you arch your back when he reaches your depth. A small whimper comes out of you as you quickly readjust to his size. Your body has grown so used to his presence, and it should have been easy for your bodies to join together if not for the fact that you are still too sensitive after your previous climax. It takes a while before your muscles stop fighting against him, and he can finally start moving with more ease. 
Once Namjoon finds his rhythm, he moves his hands from your hips, moving them underneath you until he finds your breasts. He cups each one with his palms as he fucks you from behind. His warm palms are pressing and kneading at your soft flesh while his deft fingertips are moving to play with your nipples, rubbing at them and pinching harder while he picks up speed. 
It makes you feel breathless when the pleasure feels so intense. Each hard thrust that he gives you makes you feel as if you are about to shatter into pieces beneath him, yet his touch brings you back together again each time. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and bury your fingers deeper into the sheets as you enjoy every second, every thrust, and the delectable way his body is moving against you. 
“Fuck me harder, baby,” you start begging him when the pleasure inside you increases, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of your climax. So close, but you need more to get there. “Please, Namjoon…!” 
After giving your breasts one last squeeze, Namjoon moves one of his hands back down to your hips, grabbing your flesh while he continues pounding into you from behind. He bends down, pressing his chest into your back when he whispers, “You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel it, baby. You’re gripping me so tightly.” He groans as he speaks, overcome with his own pleasure as he keeps fucking you to your blissful end. 
“Yes,” you cry out between your ragged breaths. “Please. I’m almost there.” 
Instead of giving you what you want right away, he moves his other hand upward and wraps his palm around your throat. He gives a light squeeze, not enough to cut off your breath or to choke you, but enough to give tension which only intensifies the sensation you are feeling running through your body.
“Cum for me, baby,” he says with a firm voice, adding the pressure around your throat as he thrusts deeply into your pussy. “Give it to me one more time.”
His words and his rough handling of your body become the perfect spell to finally push you over the edge. Your orgasm builds inside you, increasing so intensely that your entire body shakes against him. And he keeps thrusting, pounding into you hard and fast, hitting all the right spots until you come to your final climax. 
Your pussy clenches around him as the waves of your orgasm take you over, ripping through your body until you cry out in your release. It feels so intense that it pushes him towards his own edge. Namjoon comes into a climax with his face buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth comes pressing down on you as he bites a small part of your skin.
Every sound, every sensation blurs together in your bliss. Even the gentle rocking that he still keeps up as he slowly rides out his orgasm feels like it is happening outside of your body. Once everything wanes, neither of you makes a move to separate, and you take the moment to relish the remaining spasms of your climax that are growing numb. 
“—love you.” 
His gentle voice breaks through the blissful fog that you are currently being stuck in. Every sound comes fading in and out as they all return to you and his voice seems so distant that you nearly miss it at first. But then he presses his lips on your skin, finding your pulse, and his voice clears out the moment he speaks again. 
“I love you. I always have.” 
Thinking back, there had never been a moment where he ever spilled his entire heart like this. Not until the letter that he wrote for you, where he slipped those three magical words between the words that he wrote to get you to see the world that was built around him through his eyes. 
Tears threaten to fall, and your eyes become blurry once again. Only this time, it isn’t the intense rush of pleasure that is blinding you, but the tears that are pooling from underneath your eyelids. 
“I love you too,” you find yourself saying to him before a sob breaks through. Giving him the three exact words that you never got to say to him back all those years ago. “I loved you with everything that I have back then, and I still love you the same now.” 
Once again, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His chest rumbles against your back when he releases a soft groan. Just when you start feeling content in his embrace, he carefully pulls out and untangles himself from you so he can flip you over. 
Now lying on your back, you get a clear view of his face. His eyes are looking at you with an intense gaze, his lips are swollen from kissing you, and his cheeks are still flushed after his climax. 
“Say it again,” Namjoon says with a gentle voice, the complete opposite of the firm touch that he is giving you as he takes your hands and entwines your fingers with his. “Say those words to me again.” 
“I love you,” you whisper, drawing a soft sigh out of him. He lowers himself down, once again covering your body with his. You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as your bodies are pressed together, his lips hovering so close to your lips that you can feel his sharp inhale of breath and his slow exhale when he says, 
“Again. I need to hear it.” 
“I love you,” you gasp softly, though the sound fades when he gently kisses you. 
“Again. Say it,” he murmurs against your lips, and when you answer him, your voice comes out louder, firmer, when you give him what he wants. 
“I love you.” 
You have heard of stories about meeting the perfect match for your soul, something that may only happen to those who are lucky enough in life to experience it. The once-in-a-lifetime occurrence where you fall deeply for someone and have the entire course of your life changing. 
As you revel in his presence, you realize that this is it for you. That he is your person. The one that your soul recognises as its perfect pair. It feels terrifying to accept this rather than it is freeing. Because right at that moment, you instantly know that you will never be able to love anyone else again the same way you do him. You will never find the same kind of love, one that is devouring you from the inside, no matter how hard you would look for it.
And it terrifies you. 
Ever since the beginning, you have been going through this with him by facing it moments by moments, always with one feet ready to turn towards the exit, always prepared to face it once it ends. Now that he is offering you a future together, it scares you deeply that the only thing you can do is to hold him tightly, afraid that your fragile hope would shatter if you ever let go. 
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I love you. I am writing it here, plain and clear just as how I feel it. Like how you gave me these same words in your old letter. The same letter that helped me open my eyes to see the truth between us. I love you. Those three words would never be enough to show how deeply I feel for you.  Just how simple words would never be able to explain the reason why I have to walk away.  If only our story had been written differently, maybe we could have the ending that we have always wanted.  The perfect ending. An ending where you and I are together as one, forever, without being haunted by fear nor concern. Without having to wonder about what the world would think of us and forever be tainted with the repercussions of our sins.  I will forever love you. That part of my truth will remain unchanged. Even if everything has changed between us.
Your hand trembles as you finish writing the last part of the letter that you are planning to send him. 
It seems ironic to end everything through a letter. Only because it seems to you as if everything is coming to a full circle, when he was the one who sent you the letter which ended everything between you in the past, and now you are the one to pull the brakes with your words. 
In truth, you never wanted this to end. Never once had you ever thought that you would decide to once again walk out of his life just when there was something to hope for. But this has to end. This time, however, you have the right reasons to call things off instead of simply trying to keep what small part of your dignity left intact after you had sacrificed your entire heart and soul just to love him. 
Just like how you thanked the entire universe to allow your paths to cross each other’s once again so you could feel his love for one last time, you are now thanking the same universe for allowing you to see the light. To see the truth that neither of you had been willing to see.
You cannot remember how you found yourself strolling through the mall that night. It was six months ago, merely a couple of months after you began planning your escape, to be together with Namjoon after he promised you the rest of his forever. 
But you remember exactly what you found, and how it forced you to open your eyes and face the reality that you had wistfully ignored. As if fate had intentionally taken you there that night to show you what you needed to see. 
The pull that Namjoon has over you has always been—intense. Irrevocable. In a way that you could walk into a room and sense his presence before you could ever see him. That had been the reason why you managed to find him that night despite never knowing that he would be there. As you walked through the hall leading to the cafe which you regularly visited after working hours, and there he was, completely oblivious to your presence while he was dining in one of the restaurants nearby. 
And he was not alone. 
In your head, you have had the perfect portrayal of what kind of life that he has with the woman that he married, formed through everything that he had once shared with you. But that image went down the drain after what you saw that night. 
You had thought that she was the light in his life. The one person who has claimed the special place in his life, to be right by his side. 
But you were wrong this whole time. Neither you nor her had ever been his light, nor had you ever deserved to claim that special place in his heart, when it had already been reserved for someone else. Someone who was more deserving. 
And you only realised it then, when you saw him there with his baby daughter sitting on his lap. As you watched him tending to her needs with full of care while watching her lovingly as the small child blabbered silly nonsense to him over their little dinner date. Every illusion that you ever had about his life shattered the moment you saw the smile on his face. The way he looked so happy, so free, a sight of his that he had never shown anyone else before. Not even to you. 
Witnessing everything that was presented before your eyes, you realised how blind you have been. Though you also realised that Namjoon had always been able to make you feel that way, to prevent you from looking at the world around you whenever he had you wrapped in his arms. He had kept you in the dark for so long, veiled from the reality where his other life still existed, kept safely in a far distance where you wouldn’t be able to reach. 
That was the moment when you finally woke up from your dream. To realise that it would never be possible for the two of you to be together. Not without facing a heavy repercussion—like hurting an innocent soul and shattering whatever image that she had ever created of her father.
That was when you decided that you had no place in his life.
When you stepped away from the scene, the fractures in your heart presented themselves to you, reminding you that they were never truly gone as they manifested with each step that you took to walk away. The strong urge to turn back around kept weighing you down. Yet you resisted, choosing not to ruin what was possibly the sole reason that he ever had to hold on to the life that had kept him isolated even from himself. 
Namjoon might think of you as a coward, because that is exactly what you are. And what you have been doing for the past half of year has been nothing more but a coward move that no doubt has been hurting him since the moment you took that fated decision. Just when he was finally ready to fight for the life that he wanted to build with you, you had instead chosen to run. 
But you chose not to disappear from his life right away. You could never do that to him after everything that you shared together. And you needed a proper closure, to relish some more time with him and create more memories while you were slowly planning your departure. Starting by gradually avoiding his texts and calls and using your busy days as your excuse to see him less frequently as before. It pained you to hear his disappointment whenever you evaded him, and it hurt even more when you had to swallow your words, forcing you to keep the big secret that you had intended to share with him the night you saw him with his little girl.
During this period of time, something else had helped strengthen your resolve, making you more determined to move forward with your decision to leave. 
The conversation that you had with him about his life and the relationship that he has with his wife has been haunting you ever since that picnic date, way before you finally got to see him showing his love that was so pure to the one poor soul that you could never afford to hurt. For a period of time since, you have wondered if what he has truly been searching for with you was nothing alike to what you have desired to find by loving him.
You realise now that you can not be his saviour. And when you realised just how much younger and inexperienced you had been when you first met him, you have started to wonder if he had been trapped in the same situation that he has with his wife, when he had created an ideal version of you in his head that he thought he had fallen in love with instead of the person that you are today. 
What would happen if you were right and you had chosen to stay?
You had thought that you would be ready to face everything being thrown your way to fight for your love. But would you be able to face the same despair that he has been facing through his life, only to remain to be the same person that he loved, even when a lot of things have changed?
You look over to the pile of suitcases that have been set up in the corner of the room, ready to be lifted away from this place. Somewhere inside, there are a few of his things that you have collected and are planning to keep. Among them would be one of his shirts that you would often wear to sleep at night or when you are lounging alone at home. For some reason, that shirt has become your favourite among his other belongings. You love breathing in the scent of cologne that still sticks on its fabric, though it has grown fainter with time and from being washed over and over, yet it seems like everything about him still remains strongly in your memories that you can still sense everything about him all around you. 
Deep down, you know you should feel guilty for keeping some of his belongings when you decided to leave. Despite your wish to be able to move on, you want to keep the memory of his presence in your life in some way. Yet his old belongings are not the only things that you are keeping to forever carry a part of him in your life. 
For the first time ever, you can finally allow yourself to be greedy. Because this time, you have every reason to be this way. 
A soft cry calls for your attention from the next room, so you leave the unfinished letter on the dining table and rush your way over. The corner of your bedroom that had once housed the big desk which he often used to work from home has now been replaced by a wooden crib. It isn’t anything fancy, just an old second-hand crib which you thrifted from a nearby vintage store. It was the only thing that you could afford under a short period of time and while you were saving up some money to move out of the city. 
A move that would be costly now that there are the two of you instead of you alone. 
The cries soften immediately once you look down from above the crib, cooing softly at the sweet baby who is looking back at you with a pair of wide, teary eyes. Seeing his face makes you smile, even when uncertainty plagues you. You always wonder what kind of world he is seeing through his eyes. If he is just as terrified as you are for the future that lies ahead of you. 
“Why are you awake this late, baby?” you coo at your baby boy as you gently lift him up in your arms. He fusses a little in your hold, but the crying comes to a halt once you have him pressed against your heartbeat. “You can’t be hungry already. Were you scared because I wasn’t around when you woke up?”
As your baby makes his cute baby noises with his eyebrows furrowed as if he is complaining at your absence, you feel that same fear gripping at you from deep within. The fear that first started to manifest inside you the moment you saw those lines staring back at you from the home-kit pregnancy test. The fear that kept on growing while you were busy contemplating how you were ever going to give the news of your pregnancy to him before you left. It wasn’t your intention to keep this from him, yet there had been too many risks that you would have to face should the news of him having a baby outside of his marriage ever comes to light. 
In the end, you had decided to keep things to yourself. Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him losing the admiration that his little girl had for him, nor have you had the courage to face the condemnation that may follow once the presence of his illegitimate son is revealed. It took a lot of effort on your part, but you still managed. Hiding your pregnant belly for an entire nine months had been quite a feat, and it would have never been possible if not for the growing distance which allowed you to evade his perusing gaze while the baby was growing rapidly within you. 
If it had only been you who would have to face it, you would be willing to face the challenge of building a life with Namjoon with your head held high. But your son doesn’t deserve any of the pain. He doesn’t deserve being placed in the shadows and living the kind of life that you had with his father because he needs to remain a dirty little secret. And he doesn’t deserve feeling less than he should because his father had reserved that special place in his heart for someone else. When he had already promised his entire universe for her daughter. 
As you hold your sweet little child in your arms, you feel a new kind of resolve. Tomorrow, as you make your final exit from this place, along with your suitcases and everything else that are precious to your heart and your sweet baby boy in your arms like this, you will be sending that letter in the mail. 
Just like how he did it then before he left the city to be with her.
“Everything is going to be okay, baby. It’s going to be just you and me, but we’ll get through it, won’t we?” you whisper to your child who is now smiling at you, as if he knows that you are in dire need of his reassurance to get through everything. It feels painful still to look into his eyes, finding the gaze that seems so similar to his father’s that your breath gets caught each time, and the dimple that appears on his cheek which mirrors the one that you loved. You close your eyes and press your lips on your son’s forehead as you silently pray to the universe that you are choosing the right path this time. That everything will be okay once tomorrow comes. 
Tomorrow, you will say goodbye for the life that you have here. To all the memories that you have created with Namjoon, and the shadows of your past that are filled with his presence. 
It would be a terrifying thing to do. But this time, you are ready. Ready for a new life. A new start. Ready to find the love that you deserve to have. And you will be ready to write your own ending.
It won’t be perfect. It may never will be. But it will still be yours. 
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⤑ Author’s Note | This was quite a journey to have and it took me longer to finish than I actually thought it would. How did we ever got to this point with such a lengthy story, I really have no idea. This story was originally planned (or unplanned) to be Namjoon’s birthday fic, yet here we are now, a month later and I’m just releasing this one so late. I hope that this story can entertain you in a way, and that you enjoyed this little adventure that I’m sharing with you. Thank you for reading and for getting this far. Please kindly leave likes/kudos if you enjoyed the story, leave comments and questions if you have any, and any kind of feedback will be welcomed. Thank you again for reading!
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— © 2023 @yoonia (Tomoe Dia), all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, and unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed. | First publication & writing on Oct 12th, 2023
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seokjinsonlyone · 8 months
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this is how i think bts would be if you were in an on again off again relationship
a/n: i'd like to interrupt my regularly scheduled drought to drop off this headcanon that nobody asked for <333 lemme know what you thoughttttttt
namjoon:
"why do you let me treat you like this?" you asked, pushing at his chest forcing him to lay straight down.
“you don’t wanna be on top?” he asked brows furrowed, undoubtedly confused seeing as you were the one that climbed on top of him. he tried to sit up, but you kept your hands flat on his chest not allowing him to move.
“no. why do you let me treat you like this?” and you weren’t referring to the position at all. you were talking about the way he always let you back into his bed, back into his heart.
every time it didn’t work out with someone else, you’d call him and he’d answer every time. he would kiss you all over until it didn’t hurt any more and help you put the pieces of your heart back together. kept it safe for you until you were ready to give it out to someone else. and every time you walked away he let you.
here, now, sitting in his lap, in the exact position you’d been in countless times, a wave of deja vu so strong you couldn’t even pretend to ignore it any more passed over you. all lust abruptly replaced by confusion and the only thing running through your mind was why?
he gently removed your hands from his chest and sat up. a subtle reminder that he had more power than you realized. he kept you close to him his hand on your lower back, keeping your chest pressed against his, leaving you nowhere to look but right at him. "because i love you. and i want you. in any way you'll let me have you."
you shook your head fiercely. "you're too good, joon. you don't deserve any of this."
"then do better. be better. for me."
you opened and closed your mouth multiple times, left speechless at his suggestion. "i- i don't deserve any of this. i don't deserve... you," you concluded, eyes cast downward.
he tipped your chin back up. "you deserve everything. and more."
seokjin:
"i'm sorry. i didn't want to call you but..."
"it's fine, hobi, really."
"are you sure?"
you nodded giving him as kind of a smile as you could muster. "i can take it from here."
he pulled you into a hug anyway. you were grateful for it. it gave you a little bit of strength and lord knows you were gonna need it to deal with the drunken mess before you. "alright seokjin. come on. get up now. i'm here."
you couldn't keep in the giggle that slipped out as he popped up, the complete opposite of the dead weight he'd allowed himself to become, refusing to get off the floor unless you were the one picking him up.
"i missed you," he slurred, latching onto you, head obviously swimming, thoughts lost to the whiskey he downed with his friend.
"i missed you too," you admitted. it wasn't like he was going to remember in the morning. "we gotta go now. hobi wants to go to bed."
he perked up once again at the mention of hobi's name. "ohhh yeah j-hope. thank you bro!"
you heard him giggle from down the hallway and call out a "take care!" as you stumbled out of his home.
you huffed as you made your way down the street. seokjin wasn't that heavy but he was nearly six feet and really leaning into you. it was a good thing they lived in the same neighborhood. you hummed along to whatever he was babbling about, not really paying much attention until he suggested the one thing you knew you couldn't do. "stay with me."
"i will. just until you get to sleep," you replied, taking his keys from him and letting you both inside, opting to play dumb.
even in his inebriated state he wasn't having it. he gripped your hips. "not just tonight. forever."
you sighed. "seokjin... we want different things. you know it won't work. we tried and it didn't work."
"i'm different than i was before. i don't care about all those other things. i want you. as long as i can have you, i have everything."
you shook your head. you weren't having this conversation when he was drunk. "come on. let's get you to bed."
he relented, letting you move him around as you pleased, undressing and redressing and just before he finally succumbed to slumber he grabbed your hand one last time. "stay."
yoongi:
"are you going to stare at me passive aggressively all day or are you going to say something?"
you didn't appreciate his attitude at all, so you had no problem pointing out what'd been bothering you all morning. "there's a mark on your neck."
he furrowed his brows in confusion, raising his hand up to feel around before walking to the mirror in the hall to see what you were talking about. "hmmm... that's weird."
"yeah i think so too," you spat. "imagine my surprise when i wake up and see that on you after you were out all night with namjoon doing god knows what."
"crossfit."
"what?"
"we were doing crossfit."
"i don't know who that is or why y'all chose that codename, but it's stupid as hell."
"it's not a codename. it's a type of workout."
"that leaves hickeys?"
"it's not a hickey. it's a bruise."
"on your neck?"
you could tell he was getting angry by the flush that was creeping onto his face and the way his nostrils were flaring, so it's not a surprise when he says "you can go if you want. no one's stopping you."
but you were ready for a fight. you'd been stewing ever since you woke up and found him in the kitchen, sipping on coffee with that mark on his neck. had been waiting around for an explanation and the one he was giving now was way too lame. "oh. so you want me to leave now?"
"no. i want you to trust me." he sat down next to you. "i just got you back. why would i go out and do something stupid like that? why would i go looking for anything else, when everything i've ever wanted is waiting for me at home?"
and suddenly all the anger in your body dispersed, transforming itself into shame, relief, love. you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
he hugged you back for a moment then pulled away, swiping at the tears welling up in your eyes before they got the chance to fall. "don't cry, okay? just trust me."
you nodded. lord knows you'd follow him anywhere, but if he cheated on you, that's a trip you wouldn't make it back from. "i will. just don't go where i can't follow."
hoseok:
you jumped at the sound of his voice, accidentally dropping the shirt you'd just picked up.
"if you leave this time, don't bother coming back."
“i- i- i wasn’t.” you were.
it was dark in the room, so you couldn’t make out the expression on his face but the way he rolled over, back turned toward you spoke volumes. if you were leaving he didn’t want to watch you go.
you scurried to the bed, tucking yourself against his back. “hobi. i wasn’t.” you don’t know how you were supposed to convince him when you couldn’t convince yourself. “i was just cold.”
he grunted. you wrapped your arm around his middle, rubbing at his abdomen. “do you believe me?” you peeped.
“no.”
your heart cracked. “do you want me to go?” you wouldn’t blame him if he did. wouldn’t blame him for saving himself from you.
a beat of silence passed. he intertwined his fingers with yours. “no, but i want you to want to stay.”
you didn’t know what to say so instead you just hugged him closer and hoped that for now that could be enough.
jimin:
jimin was good with people. better with you. that's why you came back here again after three months. that's why you always came back.
jimin was too good with people. they loved him. he loved them back. he loved you more. at least that's what he always said.
it was hard to remember when he was touching and kissing on you in a way that varied from the practiced ease you were used to before you broke up. it wasn't bad but it had your mind racing trying to figure out who he was touching, loving, while you were trying to get over him.
took away any ability to focus on the feeling of his lips on yours, trailing down your neck, sucking and soothing the marks he was leaving on your collar bones. your lack of response had him reversing his path, kissing back up your neck, on your cheek, the corner of your mouth, until he was able to look you in the eye. "everything okay?"
you stared at him dazedly. he nudged your nose with his trying to regain your attention. "were you with anyone else while we weren't together?"
he opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. "i- i- yeah." he deflated at his admission.
you recoiled slightly. it hadn't been that long since you two decided that you wanted to work things out again. your heart was still tattered and torn. you felt a piece of it slip out of the confines of your chest.
"i didn't cheat on you," he defended.
"i know." and you did know. but it didn't stop you from feeling a hint of betrayal. while you were somewhere curled up unable to even think of anyone else, he was already on to the next thing. someone better than you probably. someone he wouldn't have to keep doing this back and forth thing with. a single tear slipped down your face.
he cupped your cheeks in both his hands. "it was one night, and it didn't mean anything. we had already been broken up for like two months when it happened. we've never been broken up for that long. i thought we were done for real this time," he explained softly.
"i know. i'm not mad. i'm just..." you needed to get out of there. you needed some space. you started gathered your belongings.
he grabbed your wrist before you could get too far. "babe... don't go," he whined.
"i have to. i need to think."
"think with me."
"i need to do this alone. i'll call you later."
you slinked out the door, head and heart a complete and utter mess, and spent the rest of the night wondering was it all worth it? is he worth it?
you came back in the morning. you always came back.
taehyung:
he frowned looking at his screen, you blocked him on instagram and like everything else. his messages weren’t even being delivered and every call was going straight to voicemail. straight away he could sense that this was different.
you two fought a lot and he could take some of the blame for that. he liked to pick fights with you probably more than necessary. he couldn't help it though. it was the only time he was sure he was on your mind. and he'd take the knowledge that you were seething over him over thinking you weren't thinking of him at all any day.
the fight that transpired a couple days ago, however, was not like that. it was major. it wasn't solved after a couple hours. the last thing you said to him was that maybe you two shouldn't be together and he agreed, and now he was here 2 days later, staring at his phone, with no feasible way to contact you.
he wasn't going to let that be the end of you. not over things he said in the heat of the moment, things he didn't mean, he'd never mean. he was in his car before he realized what he was doing. at your doorstep knocking before he thought of words to say.
you opened the door slowly, not entirely surprised at his presence but off put all the same. "yes?"
he just stared at you for a moment. you were so pretty sometimes he forgot how to speak around you. definitely lost his mind at times because he simply couldn't be without you, but he'd fix that. he'd be better as long as you took him back. "you blocked me," he stated dumbly.
"yeah."
"why?"
"bc we're not together anymore." you don't know what he wanted. why he showed up on your door stating the obvious.
he huffed, running his hands through his hair. "i didn't mean that. when i said we shouldn't, i- i didn't mean that."
"i did. taehyung our relationship is unproductive. we're not getting anywhere except on each other's nerves. let's just stop before we hate each other for real."
he stared at you in shock. he knew he could be petty at times. he knew when you two were fighting he said some things he probably shouldn't have, but how could you ever believe that he felt anything but love for you? he was so wrapped around your finger, so irrevocably yours that he couldn't fathom being without you. how could you not see that? his only problem was that he felt you weren't as invested as him and maybe he could've done a better job of communicating that and he would after he was sure that his last time holding you in his arms wasn't his last time.
he dropped down on his knees. "one chance."
"tae," you sighed.
"please," he begged, eyes getting teary, "give me one more chance."
jungkook:
you sighed leaning back from jungkook's embrace. his hands were lower than they should've been, grazing at the very top of your thigh right below your butt. you let him. you always did.
you stared at each other for a few more seconds. he was so handsome. he always was. kind eyes, sweet smile, hair all soft and fluffy. you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through it. you stopped yourself when you saw the way his eyes dropped down to your lips. time to pop the bubble you found yourself trapped in.
"thanks for the ride, jk. i had a really good night."
he whined out your name, hand going from lightly grazing your thigh to flatly palming it, attempting to keep you in place. "you really not gonna invite me in?"
you couldn't help yourself. you draped your arms around his shoulders, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, dopey smile set on your face. "what would i do that for?"
he wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you tight, and nosed at your neck. "because i wanna make your good night a great night."
"mmm... i want that too," you agreed. and because you were a weak weak woman you couldn't help but peck his lips. he perked up at the feeling of your lips on his, but deflated once you continued talking. "but you know what i want even more?"
he averted his eyes, tongue poking at his cheek. he knew the answer to the question.
"i want you to be mine!" you chirped. he knew that. it was the only reason you'd even agreed to go out with him again. you'd given your heart to him so many times and just sat back and watched as he tossed it around carefully, strung you along for months with no promises of more. you were done with that though. you needed more. you told him that. he promised he'd consider it. it was the only reason he was standing too close to you right now. and until he could commit to you a peck on the front porch of your house was all he was gonna get.
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effortandmore · 9 months
Text
the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader
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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: 
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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. 
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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…” 
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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. 
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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. 
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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. 
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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.
767 notes · View notes
daechwitatamic · 1 year
Text
My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold || KNJ || Masterpost
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(banner by @/itaeewon)
Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Complete!)
Rating: NSWF - minors dni
Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut
Pairings: KNJ x female reader, unrequited KTH x reader
Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 
Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.  Warnings: pov changes - some scenes are namjoon’s pov, conversations revolving around the past loss of immediate family members, language, drinking, angst, a LOT of poetry sorry, eventual smut - sections will have individual warnings
Author's Note: huge thank you to @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii for beta-ing and listening to me talk about this series a LOT!!! Second thank you to @/jeonqkooks for the gorgeous banner and ALSO for listening to me talk about this way too much lolllll
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Series Teaser:
Namjoon peers at you through eyes squinted in suspicion. “How drunk are you?”
You consider this. “Enough that I want to kiss you again, to hell with the consequences. Not too drunk to remember that there would be consequences.”
The playfulness leaves his face; it’s too obvious not to notice. “Consequences like what?”
It’s a challenge. He knows you know it.
“Namjoon,” you say, a little pleading. Don’t. 
“Consequences like Taehyung would see?” he presses. His voice has gone hard.
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I. Your Wild-Running Heart | 7k
II. My Devotion's Been an Ocean | 7k
III. So I Speak Your Name | 7.5k
IV. Something Has to Change | 7.5k
V. Say What You Mean | 6k
VI. Don't Think About Him | 6k
VII. Supposed to Be With You | 6k
VIII. Nothing Grows Here | 5.5k
IX. Heedless and Willful | 8k
X. So I Follow | 7.8k
XI. All of It | 8K
--
Extras:
-> The apartment's layout
-> Section II Poetry Analysis
-> Section III Poetry Analysis
-> Section IV Poetry Analysis
-> Section VI Poetry Analysis
-> Section VIII Poetry Reading and Analysis
907 notes · View notes
back2bluesidex · 7 months
Text
Enchanted - KNJ
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Pairing: Namjoon X Reader
Theme: Angst with a happy ending, exes to lovers au.
Request:
HIII i want to make a request for the TS song drabble game Can you do Namjoon x Enchanted the genre maybe angst? fluffiest Its one of my favs ..this idea came to mind while remembering the lyrics.. what if Namjoon lost his memory and reader was a museum crying staring at Nam´s favorite works and then they meet and maybe they fall in love again.. leaving an open ending if he ever got his memory back or not. or maybe he did! whatever you want is fine :)
Song: Enchanted
Word count: 1k+
Warnings: Major character accident, partial amnesia, angst, pining, crying, suffering, reader gets called a bad luck.
Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!
A/N: A huge thanks to you, anon, for offering this brilliant idea. I changed the storyline a bit so that it fits within a drabble length and I hope you like it.
also, a very happy birthday to our best boy Kim Namjoon. I hope he is happy and healthy just as he deserves to be.
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"What are you doing here?"
"eomeoni, I- I"
"Didn't I tell you to keep your distance from now on? Didn't you ruin enough?" 
"Please.. I will - I want to see him once. Please. I promise I won’t even step near. I will just take a look. Please eomeoni?"
"No! You - You are bad luck. Look what you did to my poor son. He was rushing to see you just because you fainted and look who's laying on the death bed now!"
"eomeoni.."
"Stop calling me that! You are no one to me! you are no no one to Namjoon. Leave right away or I'll have to report you." 
The conversion reels in your head as you stare at the man from afar. 
It's been a year since that dreadful night, the worst night of your life. It's been a year since you last saw him, heard his voice, until today. 
Your heart rips apart seeing him standing so gracefully with practiced elegance. Nothing has changed. He still looks the same. It feels as if it was just yesterday when he took you to the art fair and bought you that handmade clay-framed mirror. 
But you know things are far from being so simple, if anything then everything is much more complicated than ever. 
While you still stay awake each night, spending a fair share of time shedding tears for him, he doesn't even recall your name. He doesn't remember who you are, what you sound like, how your touches feel, or the time you two shared being so in love. 
You had vanished from his life long ago, vanished from his memories leaving absolutely no traces behind. 
He forgot you, even if you know he never intended to, even if you know it was a cruel decision of fate, he still forgot you and you can't change a thing about that. 
Silent tears fall from your eyes as you stare at him. Only you know how much you want to run to him, hold him tightly in your arms and tell him that you have waited for him, tell him that you have never stopped loving him, tell him that you love him more than anyone ever can. But you can’t.
And even if you do all these, what will be Namjoon’s reaction? He will just shove you to the ground thinking you are a crazy woman trying to throw herself at him. So you decided to leave. Meeting him unexpectedly here in the gallery should be more than enough for you. You can’t ask for more. You have no right to ask for more. 
You turn your heels to leave but you hear a faint voice calling you from behind. 
"Excuse me.." it's his voice. It's Namjoon. 
You start to panic. Contemplating whether you should run away or give in, you stay planted at your own place. 
"Hey. Um.. I am sorry to bother you but I- uh saw you staring at my direction and you seemed to be really familiar.. So, do we know each other?" Namjoon's voice is unsure and filled with confusion.
Your heart breaks. You know you should have not expected him to remember you but his confession still makes you weak on your knees. 
Blinking several times and gathering some strength, you turn around and face him. 
He's just as handsome as he used to be, if not more. 
Seeing you silent, Namjoon clarifies, "Sorry if I seem weird with my questions. I actually got into an accident last year and lost some of my memories. So I tend to ask people who they are if someone seems familiar to me. And you.." he pauses, his eyes raking through your face as if he's trying to find a clue "you seem to be someone very close to me." 
"I- I think you got the wrong idea. I mean - I, no, we.. we knew each other through some common friends but weren't exactly close." Your words fumble over each other much more than you would like. 
"oh- sorry then." A sheepish smile takes over Namjoon's face. 
His dimples make you sick and you want to run away from him. 
"I gotta go-"
"May I know your name?" 
You two speak out at the same time.
"Y/N. It's Y/N." You say hurriedly. 
"Yeah... Y/N" Namjoon whispers. 
You don't know if you're imagining things or not, but a flash of sadness passes through Namjoon's features. 
"I don't wanna sound like a creep but-" he hesitates.. "I would love to have a cup of coffee with you." 
"I am so sorry but I kinda have to go." You reply with your heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again.
"oh.. then, can I at least have your number? Please?" Namjoon pleas. His voice quivers a bit or maybe you're just hearing things. 
You don't know what you should do. You don't know why life is playing these games with you. You don't know where this will go but what you know for sure is that you're enchanted to meet Namjoon again. So you give in and take another chance. 
"Sure." You murmur. 
Namjoon pulls out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and gives it to you. 
As soon as you take his phone in your hands, your world starts to spin, eyes start to blur, hands start to shake because it's you. It's your picture saved as his wallpaper, the one from the art fair, under cherry blossom, wearing the same hoodie Namjoon is wearing right now. 
When you look up at him you find that his dark eyes are full to the brim with tears, which may start falling anytime. He looks as broken as you do.  
"The story line didn't end there, Y/N. It was the very first page. And... And I was enchanted to meet you. I would do anything to meet you again." 
"You- y-you remember me?" your words get choked.
"How could I not? You are deep-rooted in my heart. My brain may have forgotten a period of time but heart kept on trying to make me remember you. And it was successful." Namjoon smiles through tears, so do you.
"I hope you are not in love with someone else, you don't have someone waiting on you." he whispers, stepping close to your body.
"No- I don't." you reply, taking a step towards him.
Namjoon comes closer, cups your face and connects your forehead with his as you two intertwine your lives again standing in the middle of the gallery.
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Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae
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indigobsessed · 6 months
Text
Domesticity.
pairing : kim namjoon x reader (newly-established relationship)
summary : after getting into a relationship together with your best friend of 5 years, he decided to sleep over as usual. but this time, you woke up feeling different.
genre : best friends-to-lovers, fluff, comfort, a teeeeeny tiny bit of angst, DOMESTIC NAMJOON
rating : SFW
warnings : SHIRTLESS NAMJOON SHIRTLESS NAMJOON AND HE’S DOMESTIC ㅠㅠㅠㅠ , a bit suggestive (implied making out)
wc : 609 words.
a/n : ok maybe i lied that wasn’t my last post afterall… have fun reading this thing bc my brain cannot process an equation rn 😨 not proofread :”)
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You squint your eyes to the morning light in your room. Due to the very irritating sunlight, it causes you to slowly get up and sit down. Sighing, and you look to your side and see no one was there. You felt cold, lonely.
After getting the courage to get out of bed, you did your mini stretching as of what your best friend of five years, Namjoon, taught you.
And then it hits.
Namjoon, kiss, confession, sleepover.
Maybe you could be dreaming, maybe this is all just about you.
You went over to look at yourself in the mirror, seeing your messy bed hair and bare face. You are wearing a white tank top with biker shorts, but the jacket you were wearing isn’t yours, and it was five times bigger.
Namjoon.
You walk out of your bedroom to see Namjoon in the kitchen, shirtless and making 2 cups of your favourite tea. You stand there, blushing at the sight of his muscular build. And then you think again, is it true that you kissed him?
You were lost in your thoughts until Namjoon snaps you out of it.
“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t see you there.” He said, putting down the cups of tea on the counter as he walks over to you and wraps his big arms around your waist. You look up to him with loving eyes as he leans down to give you a good morning kiss.
It felt natural.
There were no hesitation.
That was when you realise, he is no longer your best friend, but your boyfriend.
The kiss lasted for a while until he pulls away, you lean onto his bare chest.
“Good morning, Y/N.” He caresses your back in small circles. “Ew Namjoon, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!” You slapped his chest lightly as you felt the vibrations from it as he chuckles. “Me too, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to kiss you all over again.” He teases as you whine about how disgusting that was.
Both of you stand there, enjoying the quiet atmosphere in each other’s embraces.
He feels warm. You feel warm.
“Namjoon, is this real?” You question him as you hold him closer. “Real? What do you mean by real, baby?” Baby. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the nickname. “I mean.. Is this real? Us? Are we.. Can we? You won’t leave me right? Namjoon-“ He cuts your blabbering off with a kiss. “Y/N, listen to me baby. What I feel for you, what you feel for me, are all real. I know what you’ve been through, I’ve seen it all, my love. The moment I get to call you mine, even though you were already mine from the start,” He speaks. “I. Will. Take. Care. Of. You.” He continued, each word with soft pecks.
“Please don’t ever leave me, Joon.” You nuzzled yourself closer. “Never. We are still the same as before, Joonie and Y/N-ie remember?” He comforts you, and you nod.
As you both pulled away from your embraces, he takes your hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Baby, why don’t you go sit down and put on our favourite show while i reheat our drinks. Hmm?” He says, giving a little kiss on your cheek as you went over to sit down.
He comes back after a while, sitting next to you and cuddled closely.
This may be the first, but it lasts forever.
And you have never loved someone so much, and you have never felt so loved by someone.
To make it even better, it’s all from Namjoon.
Your boyfriend.
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muniimyg · 1 year
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F2F // KNJ
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as your friend, he’s there for you. as your tutor, he’s there for you. as your lover… he’s halfway there
+
fully knowing you can’t pass the course without him, and him being self aware that he can’t go a few days without fucking you—nam joon agrees to be your tutor. it’s all fun and games until his best friend asks you out and you say; “yes”
navi | m. list | ask me ! | see note below for taglist request
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pairing
tutor // smartass!nam joon + airhead // pretty privilege!oc
second lead syndrome: playboy!hoseok
au/genre
fwb // SLIGHT love triangle
love hate friendship
crack & angst
mini series // smau + written
warnings
implied smut + actual smut
name calling, dumbification, touches on technicalities of cheating, gaslighting, etc
parts
10/10
note: this fic is a mini series ‼️ therefore it WILL BE FAST PACED ‼️ please refrain from commenting on this post or the following parts posted to be added to the taglist . see note below 👇
taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “f2f” // please DO NOT comment here or on the series . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks
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index # f2f knj
01 // 02 // 03 // 04 // 05 // 06 // 07 // 08 // 09 // 10
end.
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copyright ©️ 2023, muniimyg on tumblr.
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joheunsaram · 2 years
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Discord Discourse (knj)
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summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server... dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?
word count- 2.8k
pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader
rating- PG15
genre- internet relationships, s2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff, slightly smutty
warnings- pretty angsty, a little sexting but not actual sexting, superficial conversations portrayed as deep (lol im sorry I didn’t want to make this too long), infatuation, open ending, talks of a daddy kink
a.n.- this was not supposed to Joon’s bday drabble but it somehow ended up so lol. this is for all my fic writers out there. please don’t hate me for what the reader did... there may or may not be another part in the works oops lol
Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon​ for helping me brainstorm, beta and fix the ending!!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌
- Kim Namjoon had a bad habit.
It wasn’t like watching too much porn, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t googling himself to read comments on his videos, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t talking to his fans incognito, although it was exactly like that.
Sitting in his room, in his boxers, he had all the lights off. His eyes were fixated on his screen, two fingers hovering over the touchpad of his laptop as he scrolled periodically. He pushed his glasses back, his face luminated by the blue light of his screen and swallowed, ignoring the way his stomach knotted and his face heated.
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. And it all started when he joined a random discord server named after his studio. Of course he never revealed himself. To the unsuspecting largely female members, he was John, an autocorrect happenstance that granted him his anonymity. Not that anyone would believe he was him anyway. Not in these circles.
He thought it would be cute to interact with his fans when his new solo song came out, a way to practice his English. He wanted to know their reactions and their criticisms without the love. Little did he know that all he would get was affection and that affection would not only feed his dwindling ego but give him a dopamine rush that had become so addictive it had his heart racing every time a notification popped on his phone.
monolover: omgggggg did you see joon in the new mv???? I’m fucking dying! moonchild: yes I want to lick his whole body! GODDAMN HES PERFECT!!! joonsbicycle: honestly if he’s not getting every inch of his body worshipped rn whats even the point of life? moonlover: I volunteer as tribute! God the things I would let that man do to me!!!
He chuckled at the thread, lower lip caught between his teeth and looked around his dark room. The silence in the air was deafening. He liked his home. He was proud of his collection, making it look like an art museum, beautiful and untouchable. The wooden accents and the plush furniture was comforting but they felt cold.
There was no one there to worship his body. There was no one even there to kiss him. Which is why this was a bad habit. He shouldn’t be getting happy sucked into this small world of eight women who had somehow unlocked more kinks in him than should be possible. And he really shouldn’t be holding his breath when your name showed that you were typing.
It was unhealthy to be almost in love with someone who he didn’t even know. Yet when your message popped up, his heart skipped a beat and his boxers got tighter.
yn: if namjoons sitting alone rn it’s a crime!!! I would be on my knees in front of him marking those thighs fuckkk. yn: speaking of! new super smutty fic is out reblog for good skin lol I really hope he never finds my blog he would be traumatized.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Namjoon whispered as he stared into the dark abyss in front of him, imagining you crawling towards him, your lips travelling up his legs, your teeth leaving indentations between the muscles.
When he first joined the server, he had been immediately drawn to you. Perhaps it was because he had joined right after he posted about his plans for opening a gallery and the first thing he saw was your in depth analysis on an artist you admired but he had never heard of. It made him eager to post about art too and gave him the push to step away from his nerves and talk. He expected to be told that he was boring and that nobody cared. He was used to that. But the server was inviting, asking questions and letting him soliloquize about paint strokes and abstractions. They welcomed him with open arms without knowing who he was, especially you.
You asked him probing questions that made him think, re-evaluate his stances, and then you turned out to be something out of his wet dreams. The more time he spent on the server, he realized it wasn’t just a place to discuss his and his team’s music and accomplishments. It was a place where they also discussed how attractive he was. In full uncensored detail.
After only a month, he had read every single work of fiction you had created, all of them featuring him. The other members of the server were writers too, but somehow he only found your works alluring. The first thing he read was a whopping ninety thousand word story about heartbreak and love and perseverance. It had him tearing up with his character, a broken man who worked a dead end job.
He had praised it and the moment you told him it was supposed to be an anti capitalist piece, he read it all over again. This time he caught the nuances and critiques of a system he hated and was a part of — just like the Namjoon in the story. You had never met him, yet his fictional self made all the decisions he would make, felt the things he would feel, and after a really long time, he felt like he was seen. His fictional self wasn’t an idol, he wasn’t famous or beloved. He was just himself and it made his longing for a normal life seem… well, normal.
With time, he used your stories to teleport himself into worlds he wouldn’t experience, into situations he would never be in, and he felt alive. Seeing himself from your eyes made him feel incredible, invincible, even if you were practically a stranger.
So without any further ado, he clicked the link you sent and lost himself in a new world. A world where he was apparently a sex god that could make you cum six times in a row. He was hard by the time he finished the short story, and then he read it again, wanting to memorize the moves you so desired. He knew he would never meet you in real life. He had been lucky but he would never get that lucky. Yet he did it, stroking himself as he imagined how you would sound. Your female characters always whimpered when teased and moaned his name breathily. Would he ever get to hear you whimper?
As if reading his mind, you sent him a message.
yn: don’t get too turned on reading the new story. I want you to figure out the hidden meaning 🤪 john: what hidden message is in jisoo calling Namjoon daddy? yn: john we all know you love when I call Namjoon daddy in my fics lol but look deeper 👀 john: it’s only cause it seems like your characters love saying daddy. Anything you wanna confess babe? yn: ughhhhh I hate that you all know my kinks because of this!!! tell me when you see it
Namjoon read the piece again, ignoring how turned on he was to find nuances, and then he read the description of the room, a description he had skimmed over to get to the good parts. How did he miss that?
john: theyre fucking in prison?! john: WHY IS NAMJOON IN PRISON?! john: I thought you said he would be a good guy! He’s always a good guy in your fics!!! yn: don’t get all emo on me. He could be falsely imprisoned lol yn: but nah I put him in prison as an allegory. Like how life can feel like you’re caged in but you forget about that feeling if you have someone you love by your side. yn: ugh I hate explaining stuff makes me feel like a belong on r/verydeep HAHAHHA john: that’s actually fucking profound. Who knew porn could be art? 😝 yn: sex with me is always art thank you very much john: yeah I bet it is, baby. I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy anytime.
Namjoon blinked as soon as he registered what he had sent, his heart pounding in panic. He had always had these thoughts about you. He never thought he would tell you any of them. What was fucking wrong with him?! Did he really think a few flirting comments from you gave him free reign to sext! God he was like the terrible men on Tinder, just a testosterone filled Neanderthal focused on sex. Fuck!
yn: as hot as I find out intellectual discourse I really wouldn’t sext with a stranger. you could be like twelve for all I know
Namjoon perked up at the message. You technically didn’t say you didn’t want to, just that you wouldn’t. Perhaps he stood a semblance of a chance when it came to you. Perhaps all the texting and subtle flirting made you like him too.
john: as a matter of fact I turned 28 today. so I’m definitely not twelve yn: ha you’ve been reading too many of my fics your bday really the same as Joons?
Oh… he hadn’t thought through about this piece of information. Of course you knew when your favourite celebrity’s birthday was! But hey a lot of people have birthdays at the same time.
john: virgins unite baby john: VIRGOS! I MEANT VIRGOS! yn: lmfao not helping your case john: how do I prove I’m of age yn: honestly idk yn: guess no sexting for us. rip. john: well… what if we do a voice chat? john: not that I just want to sext you! john: it’ll just be nice to hear your voice and get to know you better yn: ha I’m not going to sext you daddy 🤣 yn: but sure I like talking to you (yn calling)
Namjoon’s eyes widened at the screen, his throat dry. He hasn’t expected this easy acquiescence. He thought you would just blow him off, but after months of daily chats he should’ve anticipated that you’d be comfortable enough to chat with him. Taking a deep breath, he clicked the little green phone to pick up.
“Hello.”
“Hey! Wow, your voice is really deep. Somehow even though your name is John I expected a girl,” you giggled and it was a rush of endorphins tapped right into his veins. Your voice was nothing like he imagined. Where he thought of you to have a high pitched, slightly princess-ey tone, your real voice was lower, an alto with a rasp that made him weak. He wanted to listen to it everyday.
“So does this prove I’m not a twelve year old?” he teased, hiding his nerves with a confident bravado you preferred in the fictional Namjoon.
“Nah. But I really want to talk about this book I’m reading because it’s so funny and dumb in the best way and I could care less how old you were,” you replied. He chuckled as you launched into a rant about this romance series you were reading about a group of men who read romance to solve their romantic problems. Namjoon lost himself a little in the similarities between himself and the plot. Wasn’t he also reading romance to mold himself into a perfect man, albeit he was trying to woo the author herself, but still. However as you continued, he thought about how exceptionally stupid it was for him to even attempt to seek out something other than friendship with you.
It wasn’t as if he could just ask you out and take you on a date. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss you under the lamplight of a rain soaked street. He only knew your first name and if your accent was any indication, you most likely didn’t live anywhere near him. Should he really try to start something if he knew for a fact that he couldn’t give you the romance that he knew you wished for?
Decision made, his nerves eased and he listened to your rants, discussing the novel he had never read. He couldn’t let his heart get involved. If you love someone, set them free, isn’t that what they said? Well he would set you free to meet the guy of your dreams. You didn’t actually like him, you had mentioned to him time and time again that the Namjoon in your stories wasn’t based of off the real one, and other than light teasing,  you had made no indication that you thought his alter ego ‘John’ was up to your standards either. No matter which persona he was, he didn’t fit you, so for the sake of the only freeing friendship he had, he decided it was better not to complicate things.
At least until you said your next words.
“Want to hear about my next story? I think I’m going to write my first idol fic. Something about the loneliness of fame, of how isolating it seems,” you pondered out loud, and Namjoon hated how much he already related to the story.
“Tell me about it. Fame fucking sucks,” he commented, momentarily forgetting his disguise.
“Are you famous, John?” you asked, a teasing grin visible over the line, making Namjoon contemplate whether to come clean. At 3am, his impulsivity was at an all time high so without any forethought of consequences, he hit the camera icon.
The screen split into two, the left side showing his dark room before he clicked on his bedside lamp. The bright light blinded him momentarily, his hand automatically rubbing his eye before he sheepishly looked at the camera. He heard nothing from you but could see your icon showing you were still on the call.
“Hi… umm I guess I’m kinda famous,” he said, laughing uncomfortably. The longer the silence went on, the more his nerves clawed at him, making him flush so deeply, he wished he could turn back time.
“What… the… fuck?”
He heard you whisper before the call disconnected. Staring at the chat, he tried to overcome the sudden wave of dejection at your rejection. It was a logical response. You had said multiple times you wished he never read your works, of course you were taken aback to learn about him, about who he really was. He should give you some time to catch up.
But patience was never Namjoon’s strong suit, so he messaged almost immediately.
john: please say something
You didn’t reply for an hour even when your icon had a tiny green circle next to it, indicating that you were still there.
yn: I am really really sorry about all the fics and the rude comments. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I apologize if these conversations were creepy or disturbing. Just know that you are a great source of inspiration for me and I hope you keep making amazing music for me and other fans. Thank you so much for your hard work. I will delete my blog if you like and I won’t bother you again, john. yn: I mean Namjoon. yn: really sorry again. yn: also happy birthday!
Namjoon stared at his screen cursing at himself for ruining almost a year long friendship for a moment of loneliness. You had said you made him uncomfortable but he was sure that if anyone was uncomfortable it was you. Bracing himself, he decided to answer the only way he knew how. Honestly.
john: Please don’t apologize. You have never made me uncomfortable Y/N. Please believe me.  I really do enjoy your stories and talking to you. I would consider us friends if you’d have me.
As soon as he pressed enter he got a response. Only it wasn’t one he was expecting.
Your message could not be delivered. This is usually because you don't share a server with the recipient or the recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends. You can see the full list of reasons here: https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360060145013
His hands shook as he wrote another message only to get the same message in return. After a year of friendship it seemed that he should’ve just hid his true self after all. Shutting his laptop, fell onto his back on the bed, lying to himself that he was okay and that it didn’t hurt.
Opening your blog on his phone, he was relieved to see it still up. Heart pounding in a last ditch effort, he raced to send you a message. Copy pasting his earlier words from discord, he hoped that this time they reached you.
He was ecstatic when the script under his text changed from delivered to seen, his heart soaring in the effervescence of hope. You never replied back, at least not till his eyes were scratchy from staring at the screen and his lids were heavy from sleep.
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. But if he could salvage his friendship with you, he had no intentions of breaking it.
-
next
taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka@miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11@yoontaethings @jeonyreads @pb-n-juju @everythingaboutfangirling @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997
Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I appreciate your feedback!
Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3
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yeonkimintakecare · 3 months
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Cheap Vacations
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader; Angsty Fluff
Summary: You've been in recovery for awhile now, and you're so tired of the people around you coddling you. You ask your boyfriend to come with you on a spontaneous trip, but will he end up disappointing you?
Author's Note: This is based of the song Cheap Vacations by Tobi Lou. He's my second favorite artist after BTS, and I was really depressed in 2020 and I was listening to a lot of sad music. But the song is really good!!! So I suggest listening to the before, during, or after.
Warnings: reader in recovery for a prescription addiction, lot of talk about recovery and mental illness, pretty angsty.
You sit at the window looking at the planes. You look down at your phone to check the time. Your plane to Greece was leaving in 30 minutes. You booked it a week ago when you got home for you and your boyfriend. But he still wasn’t here.
Where is he?! You think to yourself. You told him to be early to the airport but he still wasn’t here. If he’s late you don’t know what you’ll do. Your hands start to shake while you think about getting onto the plane alone. What I would do for a Xanax right now.
You check the time again, just as you pick up your phone it starts to ring. You immediately pick up.
“Namjoon, where are you?” You whisper scream into your phone.
“Baby, I’m not coming.” He said calmly.
“What do you mean? I can’t get onto the plane alone. I need you here with me.” You say starting to tear up and your voice starts to break. Your body starts to shake and you feel the knot in your stomach turn into a rock. You feel weighted down and you feel as though you are about to start sinking into the ground.
“Baby you didn’t ask me if I even wanted to go.” You could hear the guilt in his voice.
“It was supposed to be romantic.” You say weakly. You didn’t understand why he didn’t want to do this with you. To be honest, the break was much needed. Everything in life was always so overwhelming and you just needed some time to take a breath with the love of your life. You needed something new in your life.
“I also don’t think that you should go on this trip. ____, you just got out of rehab. I don’t think that going on a plane, which you find extremely stressful, in a country that doesn’t speak your native language, is a good idea. I missed you so much, can’t we just take a trip here?”
You understood where he was coming from. You had a really rough eight months in rehab to get better. And you were, better that is.
“I just need to get away. I need to get away from everybody treating me like a baby. I need something new for awhile. I want to find a new high. A different high that healthy for me. I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air with you, and when I saw the tickets to Greece I thought it would be good for us. I didn’t get to have alone time with you for eight months and I just wanted to go on this trip. I got a window seat for you and I needed you. I feel like absolute shit all the time and like I'm disappointing everybody all the time. I just wanted to be in a new place with people that don't know me or what I've done.” You sob into the phone. You hated flying alone, your anxiety made it impossible to not have a panic attack on the plane.
“Baby-“ Namjoon begins to speak, but is cut off by the speaker announcing the boarding for your flight.
“I don’t care whether you come or not. I’m going. I need this, and I had hoped you would’ve been here with me, but you weren’t. So I’ll do it on my own. My therapist taught me to be independent, so that’s what I’m going to do.” You say trying to convince him, as well as yourself. “I love you and I’ll contact you when I land. We can talk about how we are going to continue when I get home.”
You end the call and grab your bag and get into the line. You feel yourself starting to shake but you begin to breathe in and out. You didn’t need the Xanax or the Kolonopin. You didn’t do that anymore. You think back to Dr. Rall’s advice and instead of dwelling on all the bad thing, you distract yourself with the good things. While it didn’t cure your state of being, it helped you feel a little more comfortable. You board the plane and sit in your seat, looking at the empty seat next you and you feel the tears welling in your eyes.
Your sadness is interrupted when by a familiar voice.
“I believe that is my seat.”
You look up to see Namjoon with his bag. You smile but tears are still falling. He takes his seat next to you and grabs your hand.
“I thought you weren’t coming…” you say quietly.
“I was already through the check in, but I was hesitant. I wasn’t sure if you were doing this for the right reasons. I had to make sure it wasn’t manic decision. But what you said on the phone. It broke my heart. I’m sorry you feel over crowded, it’s the last thing you need right now.” He said while he grabbed your hand. You see his eyes tear up a bit as well.
You feel comforted while he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “I love you and if you need me, I’ll always be there.” He rests his forehead against yours. You stay there for a bit until you are told you have to buckle up and you both are pulled from your little world.
You both take out your own book to read and you share headphones. At first it was rough, but he held your hand again and eventually, using your breathing exercises and stress techniques to calm yourself down. Eventually the eventful morning catches up with you and you feel your eyes become heavy.
You fall asleep at peace with your head on Namjoon’s shoulder. He smiles when he sees the smile on your face. It reminded him of what you were like before the addiction and stress. He loved you then, and he loves you now.
No matter what struggles you went through, he would always be there for you.
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hyungieyoongi · 1 year
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Breeze
Pairing: Namjoon x Reader
Genre: Angst + Fluff + Friends to Lovers
Word Count: 600+
A/N: Requested by the sweetest bean @milk-and-moni​. I am so soft for Joonie. I hope you love it. 
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Becoming friends with Namjoon was like opening a window and letting in a cool breeze on a summer day—easy, refreshing, perfect. It was the type of friendship that made you stop and smile to yourself, thinking about how lucky you were to have someone who understood you entirely. Namjoon was someone who listened so intently when you told him stories about your day. Who remembered your favorite coffee order and made you laugh so hard your sides would hurt. He would take you on trips to his favorite museums, spending hours excitedly telling you about the pieces that spoke to him. You spent more time watching his eyes light up with childlike abandon and less time looking at the priceless art adorning the walls.
Falling in love with him was even easier. It didn’t happen all at once—there was never a moment of intense realization that your feelings for this man had transformed from innocent friendship to one of love. You felt yourself starting to get nervous around him—would he like your new sweater? Did he think the pink blush you had put on your cheeks made you look pretty? Did he think your conversations were interesting enough to keep you around? It was only then that you realized this person you had let in—this breeze of fresh air that had changed the trajectory of your life—had nestled his way into your heart so completely that you didn’t know if you could get him out.
But you had to try, because you knew, deep down, that he didn’t love you that way. You had convinced yourself that this was one-sided. You needed to shut the window, stop letting the breeze through your mind and your heart. If you didn’t, it would overtake you. And you would ruin everything.
You pulled away. You stopped texting, stopped calling. He’d leave you voicemails asking you to come listen to a new song he was writing. Then he started asking if you were okay. Then he started asking what he did wrong. The worst part was, he did nothing wrong. It was you. You were the problem.
You should have known Namjoon would never let you go that easily.
“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me?” Namjoon asked gently. He was sitting on your couch, far away from you, hands flipping his hair nervously out of his face repeatedly. He had his glasses on; his eyes looked slightly smaller because of his strong prescription. He was completely endearing. “Why haven’t you been talking to me as often, or texting me about your day?”
You gulped. His earnest questions, the look of pain on his features; he was beating at the glass of the window you had slammed shut. You didn’t want to let the breeze through.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap.
“Oh, sweetheart,” your eyes shot up at the endearment, meeting his gaze, full of affection and—dare you hope—love. “You could never be a bother to me.” Namjoon got up, sitting next to you, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. The window was cracking, the breeze was starting to blow through your heart again. You could feel it. It was undeniable. “Please, let me back in.”
“Namjoon, I-I’m scared,” you admitted, eyes blurring with tears.
“You have nothing to be scared of. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned forward slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for something. Silently asking for permission. His lips touched yours in a gentle kiss, sealing the promise of the words spoken between you.
You took a deep breath; the breeze kissed your flushed cheeks. You missed it. You missed him. He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed, soft smile on his face. The breeze was here to stay.
---
Check out my other work! ❤️
Taglist: @alpacaparkaseok​ , @delacyrose224​, @aianloveseven​ , @dulce-pjm​ , @milk-and-moni​, @wittyreader​, @royallyjjk​​
If you’d like to join my permanent taglist, let me know!
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veethefreeelf · 6 months
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RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (II)
M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending
None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works
prohibido Series by @personasintro- full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Try Again - one-shot, 11.5K - by - @bangtanfancamp - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
it's december (and i still want you) - one-shot, 16.7K - by @smoochkooks - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Good to Me - one-shot, 10.3K - by @httpjeon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
nice guys finish last - one-shot, 16.2K - by @ktheist - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
once upon an us - one-shot, 47K - by @yoonia because they are absolutely brilliant - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
bothered - one-shot, 7.4K - by @lavienjin - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
Black Swan - one-shot, 6.2K - by @helenazbmrskai because they are an incredible writer - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Ramen? - one-shot, 5K - by @solarwonux - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Hammer it Home - one-shot, 22.7K - by @gukslut - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
promise Series by @joheunsaram - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Food Wars - one-shot, 22K - by @joyfulhopelox - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Save Our Community Centre - one-shot, 15.2K - by @taleasnewastime - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE
The Bodyguard - one-shot, 62.9K - by @rmnamjoons - this one IS MY FAVE NAMJOON FIC EVER PLEASE READ IT AND RE-READ IT - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
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kookiesbuckethat · 2 years
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he makes you insecure
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Namjoon x f!reader
Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort
WC: 3.5k
<series masterlist>
taglist: @awinkies @wedarkacademia @yiyi4657 @astralandcosmos @scuzmunkie  @mooonlitstars @manchuria @joondiary​ @ygimsgw @yoongititss @hopestastic
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“You look handsome,” you smile at Namjoon as he enters the room, clad in a suit with a tie in his hand. “And you look beautiful as always,” he smiles as he approaches you and bends down to place a kiss on your forehead, holding out the tie for you. You wordlessly take it from his hand as he stays bent over so you can wrap the tie around his neck. 
Even though he has many stylists, Namjoon refuses to let anyone else but you do it unless you weren’t able to. The group was attending another American award show and even though you couldn’t sit with him at events like these, you were still able to attend and support him from the audience. Going up on your tippy toes, you place your hands on his shoulders for support as his arms come to wrap around your waist.
“Good luck,” you wish him before pecking his lips, smiling into the kiss, “I’ll be cheering for you.” Leaning down to steal one last kiss from you, Namjoon flashes you his dimple smile before joining the other members so they can walk out together.
Sitting in the audience, although you wish you were by Namjoon’s side, you try to enjoy the event as much as possible on your own, singing and dancing along to the performances. It’s during the small break between awards and performances that you take the time to look around the venue at the crowd, noticing that it mostly consists of ARMY. 
But you get startled when the crowd suddenly starts screaming. Trying to find out what everyone’s screaming about, you turn to see Namjoon talking to Halsey, an American singer that they were going to be collaborating with, although it hasn’t been publicly announced yet. 
Since he can speak and understand English the best, Namjoon befriends and works with many celebrities from around the world, especially female celebrities. And even though you trust him completely, sometimes, you can’t help but feel inferior to them. You can’t sit with him and all the other celebrities for obvious reasons, so when you see him talking to Halsey, leaning in extra close so he can hear her over all the noise, a wave of jealousy washes over you.
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That night, you go home alone. The group planned to go to dinner with Halsey so they can discuss the collaboration and although Namjoon invited you to tag along, you declined because you thought it would be inappropriate and didn’t want to interfere or distract him from work.
Sitting against the headboard, you scroll through your phone as you wait for Namjoon to come home. You can’t seem to escape the events of tonight as posts about BTS and Halsey flood your explore page. Many of the posts were speculating about what they were talking about and if they would be collaborating. 
But many posts were talking about how good Halsey looked with Namjoon. And as you scroll through social media, you can’t help but agree. You get so caught up scrolling through all the posts that you don’t hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, your name being called, or the approaching footsteps.
It’s only when Namjoon opens the bedroom door and pokes his head inside do you snap out of it. “Y/n?” he calls out in confusion, slightly startling you as your phone slips from your hands and falls into your lap, “Is everything okay? Did you not hear me calling for you?” Turning off your phone before he can see what’s on your screen, you smile sheepishly at him, “Sorry, I guess I got distracted.”
Namjoon frowns slightly, noticing your strange behaviour so you quickly try to change the subject. “Go wash up so you can tell me all about how dinner went,” you wave him off with a lighthearted smile. You hate the way your heart drops when you see the way Namjoon’s face immediately lights up at the mention of having dinner with Halsey but you force yourself to keep a smile on your face.
It seems to be enough to settle his concern because he obliges, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Once you hear the sound of the shower running and Namjoon singing in the shower, you pick your phone back up. You can’t help but smile as you listen to him sing. He must be in a really good mood and you have a feeling it has something to do with the events that occurred tonight.
Namjoon comes out of the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel. You beckon him over, having him sit on the edge of the bed as you kneel behind him, taking the towel from him and gently drying his hair. He relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes as a content smile forms on his face. “So, how was the dinner?” you ask as you rub his hair with the towel. 
“Ah, it went really well,” he says, relief bleeding into his voice. He had told you about how he was worried they wouldn’t be able to communicate well because although they had a translator, he was afraid they wouldn’t be able to connect if they used one. So Namjoon took it into his own hands to practice his English so he would be able to communicate with Halsey on his own, only asking the translator for help when he needed it.
“I think we were really able to connect and get to know each other. She really gets along with the rest of the group even though they can’t understand each other as well,” he tells you. “Really? That’s great!” you tell him, genuinely happy for all of the guys since you know how much it means to them. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “She’s really kind and understanding. She even got all of us gifts! Do you want to see? I left them in the living room.”
You laugh at his adorable excitement, but you can’t help but feel slightly saddened by his reaction to Halsey’s gifts. He never seems this excited about your gifts. “You can show me another time. But right now, you need to go to sleep, you have an early morning tomorrow,” you remind him as you throw the towel by the foot of the bed and climb into your side. 
“Right,” he chuckles, realizing he got a little too excited as he climbs into bed beside you. “I’ll bring you to meet Halsey sometime. I think you’ll like her a lot,” he tells you as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Yeah,” you breathe out, smiling sadly, “I’m sure I will too.”
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Namjoon comes home with new stories to tell you about what he and the group did with Halsey every day, completely oblivious to the way it’s slowly breaking your heart. You know that Namjoon would never do anything to intentionally hurt you and you don’t have the heart to tell him how you really feel. Not with the way he seems so happy talking about Halsey. All you can do is smile and pretend your heart isn’t breaking into pieces with every word he says.
It’s during the last day of filming that Namjoon brings you to the set with him and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. She was still a celebrity and just hearing about how great she was through Namjoon was enough to make you feel insecure. Meeting her was just an opportunity for you to see with your own eyes how much better she was than you.
Hand intertwined with yours, Namjoon leads you over to the rest of the group and Halsey who are getting their makeup and hair done. Hoseok is the first one to notice you, excitedly greeting you with a bright smile, “Hey y/n!” The maknaes’ heads all whip in your direction at the mention of your name before they’re jumping from their seats to greet you with a hug. “Hey guys,” you giggle as you try to wrap your arms around all three of them but ultimately fail.
They begrudgingly pull away and go back to their seats when Seokjin scolds them for always making the makeup artists’ lives so hard. You laugh at the way they sulk and pout but you suddenly freeze when you notice Halsey approaching you. “Hey Namjoon!” she greets him with a smile before turning to you, “And you must be y/n!” You nod as you bow slightly, giving her a shy smile. “Halsey, this is y/n, my girlfriend,” Namjoon says as wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, “Y/n, this is Halsey.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell her as you hold a hand out to shake. “It’s my pleasure!” she says as she pulls you into a hug instead, “I’ve heard so much about you!” Namjoon’s cheeks redden slightly as he scratches the back of his head. “I’ve heard a lot about you too,” you tell her, returning her excited smile. 
No matter how much the mention of Halsey made you feel inferior or insecure, finally getting to meet her and talk to her, she’s nothing but kind and sweet. You can’t find any reason to hate her, in fact, you really like her and you two even exchanged numbers. But seeing how perfect she really is, you can’t help but think that besides looking good with Namjoon, she really is perfect for him. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out, and she’s of the same status so she can understand Namjoon in a way you can’t.
While sitting and waiting for everyone’s hair and makeup to be done, Halsey’s manager calls her and Namjoon over to record a video of them doing their handshake. Watching the way they smile and laugh with each other, you can’t deny the strong bond between them despite only spending a few days together, and you can only imagine how much that bond will strengthen and possibly bloom into something more as they spend more time together.
Saddened by the reality of it all, you can’t help but draw back, awfully silent during the day. It was the last day of filming and Halsey would be leaving Korea soon after. You try to keep your distance because you’re not sure how much longer you can fake a smile and you know that if anyone were to notice your sadness, they would drop everything to make sure you were okay. But today was about Halsey and you didn’t want to ruin her last day.
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Keeping your eyes on the ground, unable to handle watching Namjoon with Halsey anymore, you don’t notice the concerned glances Namjoon shoots your way every chance he gets. The other members and even Halsey are worried about you but no one ever gets a chance to talk to you for longer than a few minutes between sets.
No matter how many glances Namjoon steals at you hoping that you’ll feel his stare and meet his eyes, he’s met with nothing but the top of your head. He’s concerned by your distant behaviour and he can tell that whatever’s bothering you has been bothering you for a while. He wonders how he failed to notice something was wrong but he doesn’t dwell on the past, already planning on talking to you and sorting things out.
“Boy with luv!!!” the boys yell happily at the very end of the music video. You look up as you watch Halsey run up to them, hugging each member tightly and offering them a bright smile. Your heart clenches when she saves Namjoon for last, hugging him the longest as they sway side to side. The staff clap and cheer as BTS bows to them, thanking them for their hard work. You clap for both the staff and the group, a small smile on your face as you watch everyone celebrate finally finishing up filming of the music video.
As respectfully as he can, Namjoon thanks the staff before jogging over to where you’re standing to the side by yourself. “Hey,” he greets you, leaning against the wall as he catches his breath. “Hey,” you smile at him softly, “Good work. You guys looked great.” He smiles in thanks, expecting you to give him a hug or a kiss to congratulate him like you usually do but you remain in place, your arms protectively wrapped around yourself.
Noticing your defensive posture, Namjoon decides against getting into your space unless you initiate first. “Is everything okay?” he asks worriedly, staring into your eyes as he tries to discern what’s wrong. Turning away from him and hiding away from his intense gaze, you hesitate to answer him. You know that he knows something is bothering you and even though you could lie about what was bothering you, the concern in his eyes makes you want to tell him the truth.
But you’re also afraid. You had no real reason to be upset about his relationship with Halsey. Namjoon would never even think of cheating, and Halsey had no ill intentions. She was kind and friendly and you couldn’t blame her for gravitating towards Namjoon, especially because he was the one she could communicate best with. What would he think if you told him how you felt? Would he think you’re too insecure? Or would he too agree that you could never compare to Halsey?
You could berate yourself and compare yourself to Halsey all you wanted in your mind. But to tell someone how you’ve been feeling and have them confirm that yes, she was much better than you, especially from Namjoon, the one you love the most, you don’t think your heart could handle that. You have this faraway look in your eyes and Namjoon can sense your inner turmoil. 
Placing a warm hand on your cheek to pull you out of your thoughts, Namjoon looks at you with big eyes. Gently cradling your face in his hands to make you look at him, Namjoon’s eyes convey everything he wants you to know. That he’s here for you and he loves you no matter what. And that’s all you need to decide to tell him the truth. But the moment you open your mouth to speak, Namjoon’s name is called from across the room.
You both look over to find Halsey waving you guys over. “Hey, I was wondering if we could take a quick picture on the set together?” she asks Namjoon. “Oh, yeah, of course,” Namjoon says with a smile. “Do you mind taking a picture of us, y/n?” Halsey asks, holding out her phone to you. Unable to form any words, you simply nod with a smile as you take her phone from her hands.
Namjoon and Halsey stand side by side in front of the yellow couch, crossing their arms to pose for the picture. Snapping a few photos, you hand the phone back to Halsey so they can look at them. “These look great! Thank you so much y/n!” she pulls you into a hug. Pulling away from you, she gently nudges you towards Namjoon who’s already waiting for you with open arms. “Your turn!” she says excitedly.
“Oh, no it’s okay, there’s no need,” you say breathily as you wave your hands in front of you. “Nonsense! Come on, you guys look so cute together!” she insists. “Really, I look like a mess right now,” you say jokingly but your smile doesn’t each your eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous!” Halsey reassures you but you can’t help but feel like she’s pitying you.
Namjoon’s face falls at how opposed you are to taking a picture with him and his arms drop back to his sides. He can see the insecurity swirling in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to reassure you and wash away all your insecurities. 
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But just as he’s about to reach out for you, Seokjin comes over. “Hey, you guys coming?” he asks as he motions behind him where everyone else is waiting. They had planned to go out for dinner with Halsey to celebrate and say goodbye before she leaves for America, and she made sure you were planning on coming as well. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold back your tears and fake a smile. The three of you follow Seokjin back to the group but you tug on his sleeve to stop him.
Seokjin hums as he turns around to find you with your head down. “What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly. “I’m not really feeling well. I think I’m gonna have to pass on dinner. Tell Halsey goodbye for me, okay?” you try to muster a smile but it’s all wobbly and wrong. Seokjin turns his head back and forth between you and Namjoon in panic. Something was clearly wrong and he knew Namjoon would be able to help you best, but he also knew that you were coming to him and not Namjoon for a reason.
Before he can ask you what’s wrong, you’re already walking away, trying to slip away unnoticed. You don’t see the way Namjoon casts a worried glance over his shoulder as he watches you walk away. He jogs over to Seokjin, asking, “Where is y/n going?” Seokjin knows something must be wrong since you came to him instead of Namjoon and although he wants to respect your privacy, seeing how desperate Namjoon is to fix whatever’s going on, Seokjin gives in. “She said she’s not feeling well so she’s going home.”
Namjoon’s body moves before his mind can even register what’s happening, yelling over his shoulder to Seokjin, “Tell Halsey ‘bye’ for me!” before running to catch up to you. “Y/n!” you hear your name being called from somewhere behind you, freezing when you immediately recognize whose voice it is. Not wanting him to see the tears streaming down your face, you keep your back turned to him, his harsh breathing the only thing that could be heard.
“Y/n,” he repeats, more composed this time, “Please tell me what’s wrong.” When you don’t respond, Namjoon slowly walks around in front of you, thumbing at your cheeks when he notices your tears. You only cry harder at the action, causing him to pull you into his chest, one hand resting on your lower back while the other comforting strokes your hair. He doesn’t say anything, letting you cry it out and get your thoughts together.
When your cries reduce to hiccups and sniffles, he pulls away just to look you in the eye. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he assures you, “But please don’t forget that I’m here for you.” Namjoon looks at you with so much love and care, breaking your resolve and making all your defences crumble. “I just,” you choke on your words as another sob makes its way up your throat and Namjoon gently pats you on the pat, murmuring in your ear to breathe and take your time.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, you bury your face in his chest. “Why are you with me?” you ask, voice watery and sad. “What?” Namjoon pulls away to look at you, confusion clear on his face. “Because I love you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Where is this coming from?” You shrug, looking to the side to avoid his gaze, “It’s just, you could do so much better. Someone like Halsey. She’s talented and kind and beautiful. Someone like her would be much better suited for you than someone like me.”
Namjoon frowns, wondering how long you’ve been feeling like this and how he didn’t notice. “Hey,” he whispers gently, “Look at me.” You hesitantly turn your face back to him, looking at him with big, watery eyes. “Halsey is talented, and kind and beautiful,” he starts, ”But you are the most talented, most kind and most beautiful girl in the world to me. It doesn’t matter if hypothetically, someone may be better suited for me if I don’t want anybody else but you.”
Tears are streaming down your face by the time Namjoon finishes his heartfelt confession and he can’t help but chuckle at how adorable you look trying and terribly failing at holding your tears back. “You have nothing to worry about, okay? I love you and only you, and that will never change,” he promises, sealing it as he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your lips to express all his feelings that simply can’t be expressed through words.
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moni-logues · 11 months
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“stay?” + namjoon <3
THANK YOU for this request. I am (unhingedly) psyched for the idea I had, even though, real talk, I have been crying whilst writing it (no I have NEVER fucking cried while writing before; didn't even really believe other people when they said they had, but here we are, mentally ill and crying over my own writing lmao)
Pairing: Namjoon x reader
Genre: ANGST ANGST and oh shit, ANGST
Summary: Namjoon asks you to stay, even though you both know you have to go.
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: major character death, baby!!!! dying, hospice? i guess kind of?
Stay?
Namjoon sighed beside you and you turned your head. 
“What?” you asked your voice weak, your throat dry. 
“Stay?” he asked back. “Would you just... stay? Can’t you?” 
You laughed, or you would have if you could have; you wheezed, a stuttering little exhale that nevertheless sounded just enough like a laugh to get your meaning across. 
“Yeah, ok then.” 
He smiled, big and broad, but tight-lipped, because you both knew full well that you couldn’t. 
“Great! So, if you’re staying, what do you want to do tomorrow? What’s on the cards?” 
You hummed, thoughtful.  
“Big party. I’d have a big party... but less of a rave, more... garden party, y’know? … Get everyone I love in a room—… or garden—altogether. Good food... good drink, good music... the right vibe...” You trailed off, breathless, tired, even though you were speaking so quietly and so slowly, your breathing shallow but such hard work. 
“I’ll start sending out the invitations now then.” 
“Oh, would you? … That would be... such a help.” 
You lapsed into silence because neither one of you could really get behind the bit. You weren’t going to be here tomorrow. That was just a fact. You’d been trying to run from it, ignore it, pretend it out of existence but it caught up to you, had you in its claws now, its open mouth hovering above you, so close you could feel its breath ruffle your hair, could feel drips of its saliva fall onto your shoulders. 
“I’d really.. like to lie... in my own bed,” you whispered. “If I could stay... I’d like to lie in... my own bed first.” 
“I can ask again. If that’s what you really want, I’ll make it happen. I will.” 
It brought tears to your eyes, his determination. His face serious and jaw set. You knew he’d make it happen if you asked him to, but this was a compromise you’d been reasonably happy to make. Hospitals were not comfortable places but you didn’t want Namjoon to have to lie down every night in the same bed you had died in. So, you gave in when the hospital recommended that you be admitted and you were living out your last days on starchy, boil-washed hospital sheets and the fanciest pyjamas you’d ever worn that Namjoon had insisted on buying for you, to give you as much comfort as he could.  
You shook your head lightly. Namjoon squeezed your hand and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were full of tears, too. 
“It’s ok,” you told him, squeezing back. 
“No, it’s not.”  
His voice trembled and you watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed hard.��
“None of this is ok... I wan- I want to-...”  
He trailed off, turning away from you as he tried not to collapse. His face when he looked back to you broke your heart. He looked scared. Namjoon never looked scared. He was your guy. Your pillar, your support, your rock, your guide, your ground, your north star, your morning and evening and every hour in between. He was always confident, sure even when he was nervous; he didn’t hesitate and prevaricate and flip-flop. Solid as a rock. He was never scared. 
Except now he was. Scared. And lost. He was on the very brink of losing you and you didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to tell him everything that was in your heart. If the trade-off had been 50 years off your life for even one day with him, you’d have taken the deal. A raw deal, sure, but any moment with him was worth a lifetime with someone else. And you’d had much more than a moment. You’d had years. Fewer than you’d wanted, fewer than you’d expected, but still years.  
“I know,” you said because you did know and you didn’t know what else to say.  
You looked at him, your poor, broken-hearted, sad, lost boy, and tried to take him in. You didn’t know what lay beyond, what was in store for you; you weren’t sure you believed in any kind of after-life, but on the off-chance there was one, you wanted to make sure you remembered his face. You wanted to make sure you remembered the warmth of his hand in yours, the little calluses at the base of his fingers, the way he always absent-mindedly tapped one against your hand, the way he deliberately tapped you when he wanted to silently say ‘I love you’. He was doing it now, one two three. One two three. Three little taps for three little words for feelings too big for expression, too big for words. You tapped back.  
You closed your eyes and took a struggling, shuddering breath. You were scared now, too. You hadn’t given much thought to the experience of dying, what it would be like in the moment. You’d thought a lot about not being alive anymore, about your life being blinked out of existence, about not being here anymore—all the things that death meant. But you hadn’t really thought much about what it would be like to die. Now you were knocking on its door and had no idea what to expect. You had just hoped for the same thing you guessed everyone else did: to go peacefully, in your sleep. But now you were scared to go to sleep. Because you really didn’t want to die, actually. You really wanted to stay alive.  
But you couldn’t.  
And you couldn’t help closing your eyes. Every waking moment was exhausting; the fatigue weighed you down like quicksand and you sank deeper and deeper every day, every hour. Opening your eyes was an effort. Every breath was an effort. Living, just staying alive, required maximum effort and you were running out of stamina.  
“Namjoon,” you croaked, your eyes still closed, your hand still in his. 
“Yes, baby?” 
“I love you, ok?” 
You heard him sniff wetly and he squeezed your hand so hard it hurt. 
“I love you, too.” His voice wet, too, thick and strangled. “I love you so much. Baby, god, fuck, I-” He couldn’t finish. He wasn’t going to fall apart not yet, not while you still needed him. 
He took some deep breaths beside you, while the air rattled into and out of your lungs as if you were percussion. It took him a while to regain his composure. He had resolved that he was going to be there for you, be whatever you wanted and needed, because this time was for you, not for him. He would have all the time in the world to focus on himself when you w—... After you had d—… later on. He had resolved, but it was so much harder than he had thought it would be.  
“It’ll be harder for you than for me, I expect,” you had said to him.  
You had always maintained that dying was the easy part. Being left behind, now that was hard. You’d told him so many times that he wouldn’t have to be strong, though. You told him to make sure he broke down a little, let it out, let people in.  
“Your social circle will already have diminished by one, don’t make it any smaller!” 
You had laughed then, as you often had, in the face of death. It was only in the last couple of days that you’d turned to him and said you were scared, that you didn’t want to go. That was how he knew it was close. And he’d watched you like a hawk as you slept, listened for that death rattle, waited desperately for you to open your eyes again, to know that it wasn’t the end this time. 
Except this time... He thought he could hear it now. Your breathing was different. Your skin wasn’t the right colour. Even your eyes hadn’t been the right colour. Your hand was so small and fragile and your skin was paper thin.  
“I love you,” he said, louder this time because he wanted to know that you heard it. He wanted to make sure it was the last thing you heard, not him stumbling and swearing and crying. He said it again and again and one more time for good measure. 
Then he looked, panicked, outside the windows to the room, praying that a nurse or a doctor would walk past. Someone else had to be here. He couldn’t do it on his own. He didn’t know how. 
It kept happening. Your breath would whisper from your dry, cracked lips and the world would stop and he was convinced that was it, it was over, you were gone. But then a raspy, thin breath sucked itself back in and his breath would rush out in a sigh of a relief. Not just yet. But then the next was even slower and he thought it would never come and he thought that was it, it was over, you were gone. You must have died twenty times before a nurse came in to check on you (to check on him) and Namjoon tried to communicate what was happening but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t take his eyes from you, wouldn’t drop your hand, wouldn’t let you go for so much as a second.  
The nurse gently took your other wrist in her hand and pressed her fingers to your pulse, so weak and faint and slow, and waited with Namjoon. It didn’t take long. You inhaled, just barely, for the very last time, and the gush of air that you released, many seconds later, stronger than the others had been, was your last. That was it. It was over. You were gone. And Namjoon could only wish you had stayed.  
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effortandmore · 1 year
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worth all your while (ch.5) | knj x f!reader
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chapter summary: you and namjoon have been going along to get along, but you've yet to really define your relationship. so, when you meet your idol, namjoon gets jealous, and the shit hits the fan. ~jeon jeongguk finally appears in this fic~
pairing: namjoon x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+ please)
genre: smut, fluff, angst
au: celebrity
chapter warnings: namjoon is a bit jealous! this leads to: biting, marking, pinching, implied unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving) which includes biting, there's some hair pulling (but not like... aggressively), they don't communicate well—surprise!, angst
chapter word count: ~5.8k (total 31.7k)
a/n: hello, idk what to say. apparently this one will hurt. i don't write a lot of angst cos of that, so here we are. thanks to my friend, @ugh-yoongi for looking this over, you're the jin to my namjoon!
previous chapter | next chapter | read on ao3
In your new normal, a few months into your situation with Namjoon, you spend long hours on your laptop writing articles from the couch in his studio. Work has been nonstop crazy for him in the weeks since you got back from your weekend away, and after not seeing each other for ten days, this was the solution you came up with. 
(You missed him those ten days—missed him enough that it was a little bit embarrassing, that you became a little unbearable. It all sort of came to a head when you snapped at Jimin during a pointless argument about the drama you were both watching. He looked at you like you’d kicked a puppy and Taehyung muttered something about taking matters into his own hands as he walked Jimin down the hall, leaving you to stew in your own embarrassment and annoyance. 
About fifteen minutes later, you got a call from Namjoon, and he was using his deepest tone—the one he saves for when he either wants something, is just waking up, or is a little drunk—”Baby, can you come by the studio? I miss you…” he’d said. 
“Did Tae call you?” You’re a lot of things, but not oblivious. 
“...Maybe.” 
You huffed, indignant. “I’m just having a bad day,” you explained.
“Me too. But I think it would get better if I could see you.” 
You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning for the first time in days. It didn’t take any more convincing than that, and you’d gotten dressed, packed up a small bag of essentials, and headed out to see him. It helped the weird, anxious tension you’d been feeling, so you just kept going there.)
And while it’s not much, being in the same room while you work is nice. And if it’s all you can get of his time, you’ll take it. The perks are that you get to have lunch together, you get to spend some time with Yoongi and Hoseok—both of whom you like very much—and you get to meet some of the people Namjoon produces for, including your favorite singer, Jeon Jeongguk.
“Is he coming today?” you ask Namjoon, excitement not even concealed a little bit as you throw yourself on the couch. 
“Hmm?” 
“Jeongguk-ssi. Is he coming?” 
Namjoon swivels around to face you, one eyebrow raised. “I think he is, yeah. That exciting for you?”
You nod furiously, not even trying to suppress your enthusiasm. “He’s so nice,” you say, and it almost comes out less dreamy than you feel. You’ve met him once before and he is nice, and unbelievably pretty, and you never even thought you’d get a ticket to one of his concerts, let alone watch him sing into a microphone in the small recording area of Namjoon’s studio. It’s surreal. You’re starstruck by him in a way you aren’t usually by the people you meet in your line of work. It’s a little annoying—you don’t like feeling that way, but Jeongguk is… well, he’s special and he knows it, but he’s still seemingly really humble about it. You feel like a fangirl. 
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Namjoon says curiously. “You talk to famous people all the time.” 
“But he’s…” You just sigh, unable to find the word you were looking for.
Namjoon laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I wish you got all starry-eyed like that about me, though.”
It’s absurd, you think, because you feel so much differently about Namjoon. You’re not intimidated by him, you just respect him. And you know him better than you know almost anyone else, which changes things. You may not be starry-eyed for him at every opportunity anymore, but what you are is so much more than that. You love him. He has to know that. 
“Maybe you should get some tattoos like Jeongguk,” you tease. “They’d look good on you.” It comes out before you can stop yourself. For a second, you regret it, you think maybe you should have said something sincere about how much you care for him. But he knows. He definitely has to know. 
“Hmm… Maybe,” he hums, turning back to his screens. “Maybe I should get your name right on my asscheek.” 
“Forget I said anything,” you deadpan. And you hear him laugh one more time before you both slip your headphones on and get to work. 
Jeongguk comes by a couple of hours later, as gorgeous and quiet and polite as ever, and you try try try to be cool about it, but you’re barely containing your excitement. Or not containing it, maybe, judging by the way Namjoon has rolled his eyes at you a half dozen times since the singer showed up. 
When they’re done working, Jeongguk and Namjoon pull their headphones off and start chatting—Jeongguk takes the chair opposite you and Namjoon sits next to you on the sofa. You cringe when he puts his bare feet on the coffee table—it’s his, but it had to have cost more than several months of your rent. And sometimes you eat off of it. So… you know. 
You tune back into the conversation just as Namjoon says, “... an autograph?” 
And your head shoots up from where you’d been staring at his feet, your eyes wider than wide. 
It makes Jeongguk blush and his teeth burst out of his smile. “Of course, hyung. You don’t have to ask.” 
“Yes, he does,” you say enthusiastically. They both turn to you, and you feel a little on the spot, a little nervous. “I mean… It would mean a lot to me, and he knows that. So, it’s…” You trail off, not even sure what you’d planned to say. You’d mentioned in passing to Namjoon that you’d basically kill to get Jeongguk’s autograph, but he seemed to think you were just being ridiculous, that there was no reason to need it when you’d already met the singer. You weren’t sure he would even ask—you definitely didn’t think he would ask in front of you. 
But, he did, so you swallow your dignity and pull your copy of Jeongguk’s most recent album out of your bag and hand it to him with a marker. Of course you’re prepared. Of course you watch Jeongguk sign it with a beaming smile on your face. Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and you see him clench his jaw, staring at nothing in particular. It’s not a look you see him give too often, and you haven’t had it directed at you before—it’s hard to tell if it’s for you now, but there’s no one else around. Sure, he’d teased you about this, but there’s no way he’s actually bothered… you hope. It makes you feel nervous in a different way… an almost unpleasant one. 
Later, after Jeongguk is gone and your newly signed album is tucked away back safely in your bag after an embarrassingly high number of thank yous, you and Namjoon both work. The air is thick, a little tense, and you’re pretty sure it’s not only in your head. He’s always quiet when he’s working, always focused, but tonight he’s quieter than usual. Everything you say to him is met with one or two word responses and he barely makes eye contact. It’s after midnight by the time his manager peeks in to see if you’ll be leaving soon, and you nod affirmatively while Namjoon just waves him off without even turning around. 
You have to come stand next to him to get his attention. “I think I’m done for the day,” you tell him, trying to stifle a yawn as you stretch your arms overhead. 
“Fine. See you at home?” 
And what a funny question, because he definitely seems irritated, but also expects you to be at his apartment when he gets home? You don’t even live there; it’s not your home no matter how many nights you spend there each week. “You want me to stay over?” you ask, trying to get a better read on the situation. 
“Sure, why not? Someplace else you need to be?” 
Now, you’re the one raising a brow. He’s being weird. It all seems fine on the surface, maybe to someone who doesn’t know how you usually are with each other. He’s tense and short and his tone is clipped and he’s not looking at you and you sort of hate it. 
Fuck it. Might as well just ask. “Is everything okay?” 
He finally looks up at you, swiveling his chair around so he can face you, and you know the answer to your question is no before he even says anything. Mentally, you brace yourself a little for what he might say. But then he doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at you, eyes tracing your face, down your body and back up before he lets out a long breath. He does that thing, the one where he tugs at his own neck, long fingers pushing into the flesh there like he can physically push the stress and tension out of his muscles if he tries hard enough. 
Then he’s reaching out to you, hands landing on your hips and pulling you forward between his knees. With one hand, his thumb digs into your hip bone almost too hard, and the other pushes your shirt up so he can press his lips into the skin across your ribs, the soft swell of your stomach, the tops of your hips. “Mine,” he says into your skin—you think that’s what he’s saying anyway, because you barely hear it, could almost be in your imagination, the soft sound muffled by your own body. 
You lift your hands and run your fingers through his hair, brushing it back the way he likes with the soft strokes he always says are his favorite, but this time, he pulls you down by your elbows until your foreheads are pressed together. Just like his thumb in your hip before, his grip on your arms is almost too tight, almost crossing the line into painful, but the look on his face is soft like a plea before his lips touch yours. 
“Mine,” he says again, and this time it’s unmistakable, urgent and possessive before his tongue slides into your mouth, licking like a claim more than a promise. 
While you kiss (if that’s what this even is… it feels more like a branding—hot and a little angry on your lips and tongue) you lower yourself into his lap. You both don’t really fit in his chair, but it just forces you to be pressed in close against him, thighs tight around his. 
Something strange is happening, it’s so close to being the way it always is between you, but everything is just slightly off-kilter. He’s pulling your head back by your hair to give him access to your neck, and it’s not kind; not sweet. He starts to bite along your pulse point, your throat, little nibbles harder than usual and he’s surely leaving marks as he goes. 
Underneath you, you feel him getting hard in his joggers, you hear his breath starting to come heavier and faster, you see his cheeks flush, but they’re not dimpled with the smirk he usually sports while you’re in this position. 
“Joonie,” you whisper, “what’s going on?” 
“Doesn’t it feel good?” he asks in return, his fingers traveling under your shirt, under your bra so he can pinch and twist more than softly at one of your nipples. You moan without even meaning to, because of course it feels good, of course he knows exactly how to touch you even when he’s doing all of it a little too hard. “Sounds like it feels good. Sounds like you like it, baby. Want me to mark you up?” He’s starting to ramble now, a little desperate, leaving more marks on your collarbone, your neck, as you grind down into his lap. 
“Feels good, Joon. Always feels the best with you.” 
It’s the first time all night you think you’ve said the right thing. You can almost feel him relax under you a little, but only a little. He’s still got a different kind of urgency written on his face, he’s still hard under you, and he’s still making marks on all your skin he can reach with his lips, still pinching and twisting at patches of skin under your shirt. 
“Gonna fuck you,” he whispers, moving you off his lap and following you up. It’s different because usually he asks. Usually, he lets you make the calls, lets you decide the when and the where and the pace and the pressure. That’s what’s off—this is all him without asking. You know he’d stop if you told him to, and you don’t want him to stop, but you do wonder why things are different this time. 
He pulls you across the room near the couch, the one you sat on just hours earlier, getting an autograph from his friend. It clicks for you then, what’s gotten into him, or what you think has, anyway. 
Standing there, you watch him unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs, and he’s focused, focused, focused, quiet and intense, his hands steady and a corner of his lip tucked under his teeth as he strips you. 
You don’t ask then, you wait until you’re on your knees on the couch, until you’re both naked, until he’s behind you and licking into your core with his fingers kneading at the tops of your thighs, spreading you open. 
This too, is different. 
Normally he takes his time with you, likes to tease you with his tongue, with his fingers. Likes to press kisses to your clit that don’t do anything except make you smile and wiggle around under him, likes to lick you open and then slide one or two long fingers in you and talk to you about how wet you are, how good you feel, how you taste like ripe fruit or syrup or something ridiculous. 
He likes to get you begging, likes you to want him so much he can see it in the way your muscles twitch. Likes it when you set the rules and then hand over the control to him. 
Not tonight. 
It’s all purposeful strokes with his tongue, it’s him pulling and twisting the flesh of your thighs, it’s silence and no sweet murmurings to make you melt. It’s fast and a little rough and it’s making your head spin when he licks and sucks and even bites a little right on your clit. It’s good, he’s always good, always knows how to make you come… But it’s different.
So, it’s the wrong time (or the right time) and you don’t really know why you finally say it as a response when he says, “Mine,” again before sucking your clit between his lips one last time and drawing out your first orgasm. 
“Are you jealous, Joonie?” you ask between labored breaths, “You think I want to fuck your friend?” 
Behind you, where he had been still nestled between your legs, he comes to a halt, tongue and fingers and breathing all stilled for a moment. Then a quiet, “Yeah…” The word long on his lips and the air behind it floating like a whisper across your core.
“I’m yours, though,” you say, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face over your shoulder. “All yours.” 
That earns you his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so your weight falls on your forearms in front of him, ass up and your face pressed into the sofa so that you can’t keep trying to watch him with your neck turned back.
You’re still cum-slick and sensitive—you know he can tell by the way you let out an involuntary shiver when he drags the tip of his cock along your clit. 
“He wouldn’t be enough for you,” Namjoon says quietly, so serious. “You’re mine, baby. Gonna fuck you like you deserve.”
It’s not quite angry anymore, he’s no longer gripping too roughly or biting your skin—feels like he’s finally just about present, like he’s finally with you instead of just next to you. He’s teasing his cock at your entrance now, and you push back against him. “Yes, yours… Only for you. Please, Joon.” It’s a little needier than you meant, a little more desperate than you deserve, having already come once. But he’s a tease, and he’s so so hard, and it’s making you a little crazy that he wants you for himself like this, that you can make him go a little wild in this way. You’ve never seen him possessive like he was today. Maybe it shouldn’t turn you on, but calling you his, trying to claim you, it’s the closest thing he’s said to, “I love you.” He makes you a greedy, desperate thing, and you’ll take what you can get. You’ll take this from him if it means even close to what you want it to mean. 
Once more, he wraps some of your hair around his hand and pulls. You groan as your head tilts up and your back arches under the pressure. It’s not hard, it doesn’t hurt, but it still carries that same frantic feeling as he has since this started. “What do you need?”
“You to fuck me… Need your cock, Joonie… Please…”
And he’s always giving you what you say you need. It’s nobody’s fault but your own if you lie.
So, he thrusts into you and uses his grip on your hair to pull you onto him at the same time. It’s so fucking deep, and he feels as heavy and thick as ever inside you as you whimper in time with his thrusts. He’s been hard for what seems like an eternity, so you know it must be as much relief at this point as it is pleasure for him. 
“Want to make it last now,” he says, slowing his movements, being more prescribed, more precise with where he hits inside of you. His hand loosens around your hair, and your head falls down—you’re starting to tire now as you’re teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, about at the most you can take, because while he’s slowed, he’s still deep inside you and it’s so so much. Must be for him, too, because he’s still not talking as much as usual, just letting out short moans mixed with your name and broken, skipping record sentences all beginning or ending with “Mine.”
As he fucks you, he slides his hands under your front and pulls you up tight against him. You’re essentially sitting in his lap now, and it’s usually one of your favorite ways to fuck because it gets him so close to you. His hands on your breasts, his face buried in your neck. When you’re like this, when he’s all you can smell, all you can taste, all you can feel—it’s heaven. It’s all of your best fantasies come to life. And this still feels like a fantasy, like a dream, because it’s standing on the boundary of the familiar, because everything has fluffy, blurry edges and seems right and not right with him all at the same time. 
He turns your head to face him and cranes his own to meet you halfway. Your kiss is softer than you’ve been behaving—it’s tender and slow and you want to make a home in his mouth where it’s sweet and safe and his syrupy sappy words are supposed to come from. You tease him about being cheesy sometimes, but you like it; you like it better than today when he was upset even though it led to this. But now this finally feels almost right, this finally feels almost like you and Namjoon again. 
“Joon, I—”
And you’ve done this a million times, so he cuts you off with another kiss. He knows you’re his now (you hope this is the convincing he needed, anyway) and he knows what you need from him. He brings his fingers to your clit and strokes you there, gentle and steady like your kiss. It’s your way of talking, it’s his way of telling you everything you mean to him and everything he wants to be for you. He probably knows it’s not enough, not forever anyway, and that could be why it feels like a promise and an apology at the same time. You think maybe in spite of all the words that must be floating around his big brain, that this is all he knows how to give, so he gives it everything. 
Under his hand and while he’s buried deep inside of you, you come for the second time. It’s quiet—no noise in the fluttering of your walls around him and the way your eyes fall shut—the second time is pain and pleasure combined, and he’s told you before he sometimes wonders if it’s too much when they happen in close succession like this. 
It’s only seconds until he comes too, squeezing every muscle in and around you. It’s all-consuming—he always is. 
You lift yourself off of his lap when he’s stopped pulsing inside you, and let yourself spread out on the sofa under him, offering him a hand to do the same, half next to you and half on top of you. He’s heavy and warm and solid, and he’s the physical manifestation of the biggest love you’ve ever felt. You still don’t know what happened, why he got so worked up, not really, but before you fall asleep, you hear the quiet, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers into your hair. You don’t really know if you should have said it first.  
It’s close to sunrise when you and Namjoon make your way back to his apartment. You’d slept uncomfortably on the sofa of his studio for a couple hours, cleaned yourselves up in relative silence and then called for a car. Between you, things don’t feel quite right. He looks sheepish, you feel embarrassed. It’s not quite bad enough to be uncomfortable, but it’s close. When you tumble through his front door and kick your shoes off, he pulls you into a tight hug. You sigh in tandem and you hope it lets the weird feelings out. It’s the kind of thing you should talk about, but you don’t know how to start the conversation. So, you don’t. Namjoon doesn’t either.
It’s probably a mistake. 
It feels like a mistake when you wake up early in the afternoon and he’s not in bed with you. It feels like a mistake when you get ready for work alone, and the sound of Namjoon murmuring on the phone in his office across the apartment is the only company you have. It feels like a mistake when you ask if he wants to ride together to the museum party you’re both attending, and he says you probably shouldn’t, that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Feels like a mistake when you both deposit the rings you’d bought for your 200 days into the small dish by his door (never in public, you know you never wear them in public… and still—a big gesture reduced to something secret feels like a mistake sometimes. Feels like you’re betraying yourselves somehow). 
It feels the most like a mistake when Tae texts you to tell you he’s waiting in the car outside and Namjoon kisses your cheek in goodbye instead of your lips. 
Taehyung, to his credit, leaves you alone on the drive after he realizes something is wrong. He doesn’t bother you about what’s bothering you, instead catching you up on things you’d missed around your own apartment in the last couple weeks. Jimin’s been busy, picking up a couple of more advanced classes, but Tae says he likes the challenge, likes the students. It’s good—Jimin works hard, deserves good things. The stories are enough to distract you from your own potential problems until you get to the event. 
It’s never fun to go into things like this in a bad mood. Makes it hard to focus on your job, makes it hard to enjoy things you normally would. This should be easy, but it’s a big party. The yearly member/donor party for the museum is complete with celebrity appearances (including Namjoon) on a red carpet, a silent auction on rare prints and originals, and an expensive plated dinner you’re usually excited about eating with your boss and Taehyung by your side. This year though, it’s different. None of the prints for auction seem as special, the food doesn’t taste as good, it’s not even much fun to make fun of the stupid shit famous people wear because some designer said they should. 
You’re sulking and you know it. 
The weird thing with Namjoon turned into a sour mood for you, and it’s been made worse watching him flash his dimpled grin to models and singers and artists across the room. You hadn’t been on the receiving end of it all day (or the night before), and it’s throwing you off. Seems like a gift he can give so easily, like something you’re missing out on. 
An ugly pit that feels like resentment starts to settle in your gut where your food should be. Instead of eating or talking or having a good time, you sulk more; you push the food around on your plate, and you try not to watch him in an obvious way. 
Taehyung solidifies his status as one of your best friends when he smoothly talks around the idea of you grabbing Namjoon for an interview even though your boss suggested it. Tae is the best because you haven’t even talked about it, but he knows something isn’t right. He knows on instinct that you shouldn’t be trusted with that job tonight. The last thing you need is to have to interview Namjoon when things are already weird with you. You’d probably pull it off just fine under usual circumstances, probably be able to control your face when you think about all the times you’ve seen each other naked, all the times you’ve pressed laughing kisses to his lips and his dimples, all the times you’ve tripped and stumbled and fallen further further further for him. 
But not like this. Not with the questions you didn’t ask (and can’t right now) hanging between you, not with your brain fixated on the way he pulled your hair and bruised your neck enough that you’re wearing your least favorite turtleneck dress. 
All you want him to tell you is why, all you want to tell him is that you love him so much that why doesn’t actually matter. None of it matters and you wish he knew and you wish you’d said that. But you can’t say that in an interview, can’t tell him that all you need is for him to love you and to say it so you can safely say it back. You need him to be brave, to make you feel brave in turn. You can’t print that, though.
The problem with you not pulling him for a few questions is that someone has to. You can’t be an art magazine and not talk to him here. So, if it’s not you, it will be someone. Someone who won’t be as gentle with their questions, someone who won’t know what to ask about his collection, what he’s passionate about right now. You know you could do the job best, if only you could ask the professional questions, if only you could get him to look you in the eye. 
You’re about to change your mind, about to tell Tae you can do it when you see your boss and your asshole, book-writing colleague approach Namjoon. There’s no way it’s going to go well—you know Namjoon doesn’t like him. It had basically been the first thing you’d ever talked to him about. 
That knowledge in mind, you can’t stop yourself from getting a little closer to where they are. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not like you can or would intervene if your co-worker asks something weird. Not like Namjoon needs you to protect him. But you know your colleague. You know why Namjoon doesn’t like him. You know he treats celebrities like commodities, their private lives to be bought and sold. You know he’ll directly ask Namjoon about his personal life, and if Namjoon doesn’t answer, he’ll look for the answer elsewhere. It’s why he’s successful—there’s a never-ending parade of people willing to trade in peoples’ secrets. 
Someone’s always willing to be bought. People are always willing to consume rumors paraded as facts. 
You linger close enough to hear, but not close enough that your boss realizes you followed. Tae tugs at your arm, hisses, “What’re you doing?” in your ear so only you can hear. But he knows. So, before he even waits for a response, he adds, under his breath, “Just don’t let her see you.” He’s right, you don’t know how you’d explain to your boss that you were eavesdropping instead of doing your actual job. 
The first couple questions are the right kind: “Anything you want to bid on tonight?” And, “You’ve seen the upcoming exhibitions for the year, which are you most excited about? Why?” And then you hear the next question, “Who’s your plus one tonight?” 
Namjoon, even though you can’t quite hear him, seems to brush it off. Says something about just spending the evening among friends. It’s the right answer, the one he’s given a million times, the one that’s actually true as far as you know. Your colleague seems unimpressed, seems like he wants more. He presses into the subject as you press closer to them. “Come on, there are rumors you’ve been spotted out with someone recently.” 
That’s true, too. Namjoon’s management has a policy of ignoring them, but they’re out there. LIttle snippets on social media, people saying they’d seen him leaving restaurants with someone, seen him in the back of a car, but not alone. They’re probably true. You’ve been careful—no one’s mentioned you, no one has pictures, but you’ve also been out a lot. He’s told you he’s getting older, he’s not an idol, he doesn’t care if people know he’s dating. He’s an adult, he’ll do what he wants. You mean too much to him to stay tucked away in his apartment or his studio… He’s said all those things and you’ve gone on living your lives, and someone’s probably seen you doing it. 
Sometimes, to your colleague’s fortune, rumors are facts. 
“I don’t pay much attention to rumors,” Namjoon says in response. That’s true, too. He’s good at this, the deflection that’s also honest. He’s not often accused of being untruthful and there’s a reason for that. 
“Well, just for the record, we’d love to know who you’re dating. If there’s anyone special…” Your boss adds that one on. It’s far more direct than your colleague would normally be. She doesn’t like feeling manipulative, she’d rather just ask the straightforward question and hope to get a straightforward answer. She won’t get it, you think. 
Then Namjoon spots you watching, eyes you over the rim of his glasses as you take a drink from your champagne flute. At every other event, this is when he smiles at you, small and private, the kind of smile that makes him look his age with the deep lines of a practiced movement forming around his mouth. You smile first—it’s almost Pavlovian. You���re anticipating his move. 
But you’re wrong this time. He doesn’t smile back. He swallows and smooths his tie and looks back to your boss and gives her the straightforward answer she wanted; the one you absolutely weren’t expecting. 
“No, not dating anyone seriously. There’s no one special.”  
It feels like a mistake. All of it. 
You don’t move, not a muscle. Your champagne flute hangs in mid air, your eyes are stuck on him. Behind you, Taehyung is saying something whispered and frantic, but you don’t even really hear him, just pieces of it. “...what he has to say… Not a big deal… reading too much into it.” 
The sentences finish themselves, and part of you knows he’s right. Namjoon probably does have to say something like that, it probably isn’t a big deal, you probably are reading too much into it. And you’d believe him, believe yourself, if things hadn’t already felt wrong, if he’d just smiled back at you. All he had to do was smile back. 
“I think I should go,” you say, voice low and talking to no one in particular. 
“Okay, yeah. Let’s get you home,” Taehyung says, and he grabs your elbow, right where Namjoon had the night before but in a softer, kinder way. As he starts to walk, he guides you, and you indulge yourself, let yourself keep your eyes locked on Namjoon, the person you love, the person who might not love you. The person who was jealous when you wanted an autograph from his friend, but who won’t hold your hand on the sidewalk. The person who raps and writes and says words words words but never really talks to you. Never tells you the one thing you need to hear. The person who says so much and so little at the same time. You watch him and it’s like you’re willing him to look back, to see you. 
But he doesn’t. He fidgets and messes with his cufflinks and you know he knows you heard him, you know he saw you there, and he can’t even bring himself to give you a non-verbal denial or confirmation of what he said. 
It feels like a mistake. 
It feels like heartbreak. 
Feels like shattering into a million petal pieces and no amount of gilded glue will be able to piece you back together into something as pretty as you were before. 
Namjoon texts you that night—a string of messages that you don’t read come after you’ve cried into Jimin’s chest on your couch, after Tae has wrapped himself around you in your bed and let you tell him every secret thing you love about Kim Namjoon as you sob and mourn something you’re not sure was ever really yours. 
Namjoon calls and you don’t answer. Calls you again while Tae sweetly suggests you could just give him a chance. That it didn’t mean anything. That you know Yoongi says it all that time, too, and you’ve met his partner. That maybe you don’t have to take it so personally. 
You fall asleep with Tae’s arm around you, pulling you close, and your tears drying on your cheeks. 
You wake up to a new message from Namjoon. “Please don’t push me away, baby,” it says. 
A long time passes while you stare at the message. A million thoughts run through your head of what you should or shouldn’t do, of how upset you have the right (or not) to be. But the one thought you can’t kick is wondering how hard you can really be pushing someone away if they were already pulling back. 
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daechwitatamic · 1 year
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IX. Heedless and Willful || KNJ
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(banner by @/itaeewon)
Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)
Rating: NSFW - minors dni
Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns
Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader
Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!
Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 
Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.
//
Things accelerate between you and Namjoon, but complications linger.
Section Warnings: language, kissing, groping, breast play/nip stim, fingering, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), multiple rounds
WC: 8k
The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Saturday December 1st
The weekend brings with it a deluge of rain, a slow-moving weather system that has the streets holding inches of water, the road-side drains overflowing. 
You stay inside all day, and so does Namjoon, but you largely orbit around each other, working on your own things, leaving the other alone.
Things had accelerated so suddenly between you that now you feel like you had slammed on a brake, inertia carrying you to teeter dangerously over an edge. You’re not sure if Namjoon is feeling the same way, but you think it’s probable. 
You kind of want to tip over the edge, is the thing. 
You work in your room, sitting at your desk, your bedroom door wide open. You’re kind of working, kind of watching water rush down the road below the apartment. It’s well after dinner, pitch black outside, but the streetlights illuminate the flow as the rainwater moves along beneath you. You’re having trouble focusing because of the rain - it lulls you to sleep, tricks you into thinking it’s bedtime. You can’t remember ever seeing rain like this, and the sound is all-encompassing, like you could wrap yourself up and exist within it.
You’ve just given up on focusing and closed your laptop for the night when there’s suddenly a huge boom from outside, loud and close enough that the floor shakes beneath your feet, and everything goes black around you. You scream, startled, and jump to your feet, knocking your desk chair over behind you with a loud clatter. That startles you a second time, and you scream again, clutching at your chest and backing yourself against your bedroom wall, heart pounding. 
Across the apartment, Namjoon shouts your name, his voice deep and commanding, clearly alarmed.
The dark presses in around you, little fingers on your ankles and arms. You can’t see anything - not your bed, not the chair on the floor, not your hand in front of your own face. The silence is suddenly so loud it throbs around you - the sudden lack of normal noise toying with your senses. You’ve never been in quiet like this - no hum from the refrigerator, the central air system, your devices. All you can hear is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears, the angry, relentless sound of rain, and the echo of Namjoon’s voice calling your name, playing back and looping through your mind so loudly that it’s almost like you’re hearing it again.
You are hearing it again - his alarmed voice cuts through the darkness, calling your name with a little bit of an edge, a tinge of fear this time.
“I’m here,” you manage, your voice coming out like a gasp.
From the living room, you can see a small point of light coming rapidly closer, and then Namjoon appears in your doorway, guided by his cell phone’s flashlight. He seems a little out of breath as he pauses in the doorway, taking in the scene before him - you pressed against the wall, a hand still pressed to your racing heart, the chair askew on the floor, the rain pelting the window like it wants to break the glass.
Once he can see that you’re unharmed, Namjoon clicks his phone off, and you both let your eyes adjust. In the dark, everything various shades of black, his shape seems so large, taking up so much of your vision. He steps around the chair, not bothering to right it, and stops about two feet from you. 
“I think a transformer blew out there,” he says, his voice odd, like most of his brain isn’t even aware that he’s speaking.
Two feet from him, your hands itch to reach out and touch him. Your feet beg to close the space between you. Your heart continues to throw itself against your ribcage, furious and demanding to be heard. The darkness takes its tiny fingers off your limbs, presses guiding fingertips to your back instead, nudging you forward. 
If you’re going over the edge anyway, isn’t it better to jump than to fall?
Two feet from him, in the most profound darkness and silence you’ve ever experienced in your life, you find yourself nearly gasping for each breath as you fight your body’s every urge.
A line of St. Vincent Millay’s poetry leaps into your head, unbidden:
in me alone survive the unregenerate passions of a day when treacherous queens, with death upon the tread heedless and willful, took their knights to bed
Heedless and willful, you jump, crossing the space in a single stride. Namjoon’s hands coming to your waist like he was waiting for you. 
He can kiss you only for a moment before he’s interrupted by you tugging his shirt up; he breaks away from you to pull it the rest of the way off and tosses it behind him, coming back to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking and kissing a line down to your collarbone. You run your hands along his chest, over his pecs, down his stomach, up his sides, your head thrown back to make room for him as he nips and soothes at your throat. 
He groans happily as you dip your fingers towards the waistband of his jeans, then tugs bossily at your own shirt. You peel it off, dropping it to your feet, and move to kiss him again, but he’s busy reaching around your back and deftly pinching the clasp of your bra. It falls away, and you shake the straps loose from your arms, hearing it hit the ground. Cold air assaults your chest only a second before Namjoon’s large hands cup you, his mouth searing against yours out of nowhere.
Everything’s heightened in this total dark, total silence. You can hear every hitch of his breath, the thud of your own pulse, can feel every tiny movement of his hands, of his mouth. He toys lightly with your nipples, running his fingers in circles around them before plucking at them lightly, then abandoning your chest to run his hands over all the newly uncovered skin - your stomach, your back, your arms. 
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I’ve thought so the whole fucking time, you’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t think straight sometimes.”
“Namjoon,” you gasp quietly, half a reaction to his words and half a reaction to him gripping the waistband of your joggers and pulling them down over your ass in one motion. You kick them off and he walks you backwards to your bed, pushing at your shoulders until you fall backwards. You hear his zipper as he removes his jeans, and when he climbs up next to you on the bed you can feel but not see him straining against his boxer-briefs. 
He brings his mouth to a nipple without warning, giving it one experimental lick and taking it between his lips when you whine in appreciation. You can feel yourself getting impossibly wet as he alternates licking and sucking, and his spare hand rubs circles down your body until he reaches the lace edge of your underwear, and he pauses. It’s the first time tonight he’s shown any hesitation. 
He removes his mouth from your breast and moves back up where he can kiss you. His fingers skim the lace, a ghost of a touch, barely there.
“You good, baby?” he murmurs, so low, and you feel yourself clench - over the timbre of his voice or his cocky use of the pet name, you’re not sure. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Touch me. Please.”
It’s wild how dark it is, how you can’t see anything on his face, can’t see which way he’s moving; the dark seems like it’s pressing in around you, like it’s the very thing shielding you from the onslaught of rain that you can still hear loud and clear. 
Namjoon’s fingers skim over your slit so lightly it almost tickles, and you squirm, needing more. He presses harder on his second pass through, pressing the lace against your entrance. He moans when he feels how wet you are even through your panties, pressing himself harder against your leg as he swipes his fingers through again. Then he’s hooking his thumbs under the waistband and pulling your panties down your legs, cupping your sex with his whole hand.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers hoarsely, and presses his middle finger into your heat up to the last knuckle. You suck in a breath, fingers curling in your bedspread, as he fucks you that way - middle finger only - for the barest of minutes before adding a second digit.
“God,” you groan, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate it. “Damn it.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You’re so wet, what the fuck.” He’s right - you can hear it each time he pushes back into you. Your back arches, your body trying to press his fingers even deeper. When his thumb grazes your clit, you gasp out loud. 
He swallows the rest of your noises with a kiss as he continues, and when the crest of your orgasm snaps a few minutes later you moan messily into his mouth as his fingers fuck you through it, steady and unyielding. 
“Holy shit,” he groans when you clench around his fingers as the waves hit you. “That’s right, baby, fuck.”
You’re reaching for his briefs the second you’re back in your body, down from your high, and he pulls his fingers from you gently to help wiggle them over his hips and off his body. You slide your hand over him lightly and he hisses through his teeth as you wrap your fingers around him and rub him base to tip, sliding your palm over the wet head of his cock, using his own pre-cum to slick up your hand as you continue. 
He’s hot in your hand, bigger than you’d expected, and you revel in listening to his light moans turn breathy as you toy with him. Finally, he grabs your wrist, pressing a kiss to your jaw.
“Should I go get a condom?” he asks, voice so low it’s almost a growl. 
“I have some,” you tell him, rolling away from him and sliding your nightstand drawer open. You lay on your stomach so you can use both hands to rip a new one from the strip, and Namjoon rises to his knees behind you, one hand tracing the curve of your ass.
You reach over your shoulder to hand him the foil packet, and you’re startled by his phone light again when he turns it on so he can see what he’s doing. His phone lays on the bed, illuminating him from below, and you take a minute to take in how good he looks. You’d had no idea he had that body under his sweaters and baggy t-shirts. 
He turns the light off again, the darkness surprising you with its intensity all over again. Your eyes are so busy trying to adjust again that you miss him moving until you feel his hands guiding you to lay back, his legs stretching between yours, his tip prodding your entrance as his lips find yours again.
“You’re okay?” he checks in a whisper, reaching down and squeezing himself at the base. 
You kiss him in answer, pressing your core against him, letting your body tell him yes, I’m fine, yes, I’m ready.
He rocks into you slowly, an inch at a time, and the sensation tears a low, long groan from you. It mingles with his own; he breathes through his mouth in short pants, tinged with half-formed moans, until he bottoms out and he stills. 
“Give me just a second,” you request, whispering, and he nods, running a hand reverently down your face, down your side, coming to rest under your ass, hitching you up slightly as he adjusts. You hiss as the movement forces him just a touch deeper as you struggle to relax. 
He kisses you again, deeply and sweetly, and as you grip his shoulders and feel yourself relax, you start to move, little bits at a time.
“Okay,” you whisper, when you’re ready. “Thanks.”
He scoffs, like it’s ridiculous of you to be thanking him, but he starts to move. It’s slow, and even though you can barely see him you get the feeling that his eyes are on you. In the amplified silence, each breath seems to echo between you, each tiny moan or hitch of breath coming through loud and clear. You kiss sloppily, your hands exploring as he keeps the slow rhythm. His cockhead drags against you, the feeling agonizingly sweet, and you arch against him, trying to bring him closer.
The rain beats against the windows in waves as he fucks you slowly, like it wants in, like it has a score to settle. You press fingertips gently to Namjoon’s face, blindly feeling your way to the flat of his cheekbone, down to his jaw. Everything feels so intense, your fingers shake a little as they trace his jawline, reverent. 
“Namjoon,” you whisper, and he answers you by sheathing himself completely, pressing his mouth to yours, and doubling the pace. He’s so large, it feels like he’s everywhere - inside you, around you, above you, everywhere. 
You cry out when he finds an angle that has you seeing stars with each stroke, and he grunts, working hard to keep hitting it the same way. You lock your legs around the back of his thighs, trying to keep him close. You cling to his shoulder with one hand and tangle the other in his hair, holding tight as he pounds into you. When he feels you start to pulse around him, the beginning of an orgasm starting to build up, he actually laughs, once.
“Close, baby?” he asks, reaching down to press his thumb against your clit.
“Y-yeah,” you gasp, the feeling of electricity racing clear down to your toes. “Joon, please, oh - god -.”
He hums, pleased, and shifts you so he’s holding you up by the hips, the angle changing just slightly.
“Ohmygod, yes,” you cry, and the circles he’s been rubbing into your clit suddenly send you flying, your eyes screwing shut, a single, wordless wail leaving you as every muscle in your body goes taut.
“Fuck,” Namjoon hisses as you squeeze around him, dropping his forehead onto yours and gasping your name as he spills into the condom inside you. He pumps into you a few more times as your muscles relax by degrees, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.
You lay tangled together for a few minutes, both breathing hard. Namjoon slips out of you gingerly and shifts like he’s going to get up. You kiss him quickly, before he can get too far, and he stills, letting you.
When you’re content, he disappears into the bathroom, dealing with the condom and cleaning up. He returns with a damp cloth for you, turning the light on his phone back off again when you’re done.
In the total darkness, he pulls you close. You rest your head against his chest, his arms around you, and listen to his heart. Despite the storm and the power-outage, you’ve never felt so safe. You can’t imagine ever feeling anything else while he’s wrapped around you like this.
“You called me baby,” you tease after a little while, and he snickers.
“It just slips out,” he laments, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Sex makes me… affectionate. I have trouble untangling the two.”
You hum against him. “I think I like that,” you observe, and he hugs you a little tighter.
You’re starting to drift off when he says your name again. 
“Hm?”
“I promise this isn’t the post-sex chemicals talking,” he says carefully. “But I wanted you to know. I think… I’m really falling for you.”
You press your lips together, wrap an arm around his middle and hold him close. Your chest feels like it’s caving in, your eyes suddenly burn, you can’t inhale.
Because you’ve felt it, too. And you don’t know what to do with it.
He takes your silence the wrong way. “You don’t have to - don’t feel pressure to say anything -.”
“No,” you say quickly. “I promise, it’s very much not that. I’ve… maybe been thinking the same thing. It’s just… scary. You know?”
He presses his lips to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he says. “It can be. But I’m here. We’re in it together, okay?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, tangling your feet in his legs, searching for a warm spot for your chilly toes. “Okay.”
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Sunday December 2nd
The lights come on hours before dawn, your lamp illuminating the room in a yellow glow, your laptop dinging as it starts to receive charge again, your alarm clock numbers flashing 12:00 over and over again. You lay there, still, coming to your senses by degrees. 
Namjoon is still in bed with you; you can feel his body, warm and solid, behind you. Minutes pass and it becomes clear by his steady deep breathing that the lights aren’t going to wake him up. You roll slowly, trying not to disturb him. He’s sleeping on his back, his face turned away from you, one arm flung up over his head. You feel yourself smile as you look at him. 
There’s not a doubt in your mind that you want this, that you want him - wholly, completely, without boundaries or limitations. There’s not a doubt in your mind that the way he treats you - the way he gives you such openness and understanding, the way he listens and asks questions, the way he hears you and cares for you - is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. When you’re with him, you feel like he’s by your side, like he’s got you. 
And while Taehyung had been physically next to you for the last seventeen or so years of your life, it’s never felt like this. 
You scoot closer, lining your body up against his side, and reach an arm over his stomach, pulling yourself as tight to him as you can and laying your head on his chest. In his sleep, he shifts, sensing the difference, the arm that was over his head coming down over your back and pulling you in. Then his head lolls back to your side, his eyelids fluttering. He reaches to press a kiss to the top of your head, and then flops back down against your pillow.
“Lights’re back?” he tries to ask, the words slurring together with sleep.
“Mhm,” you answer. “Do you want me to get up and turn the lamp off?”
“No,” he says, voice low and scratchy. “Stay.” Then he reaches over, guiding your chin up gently so he can lean down and kiss you again. 
You open for him immediately, leaning up on an elbow to reach him better. It’s different this time - slow and sensual, explorative, relaxed. There’s no rush, no pressure for it to go further. His fingers run through your hair once, twice, then release it, skimming down your bare back instead. You realize with a shiver that you hadn’t gotten up to find pajamas in the dark. 
He keeps you warm anyway, his hands roaming your back, your arms, your ass, your back again. You have a lot of things you want to tell him, but you save them, store them for later, as your body responds to his touch and you give yourself to him again. When he pants your name against your lips you feel the words bubbling up inside you, beating against doors to be let out, but you lose them along with your senses when he tips you over the edge again.
You clean up better after this time, waddling to the bathroom to pee and then stopping at your dresser to pull out pajamas. Namjoon hovers near your bed, clearly unsure if he should head to his own side of the apartment or not.
You scoff at him, like he should know better. “Get back in that bed,” you demand teasingly, and he listens, running a hand through his messy hair and looking around like he’s a little dazed, a little unsure of how he got here. 
You click the lamp off and make your way back to him. 
He wraps his arms around you immediately, and you eventually fall asleep matching your breaths to his slow ones.
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Wednesday December 5th
I know my many failings I just can’t be the girl I should But I hope you know despite this In my life, you’re everything good
It’s certainly not good writing, and you have zero intention of turning this in for anything - zero intention of another living soul ever seeing it. But it feels good to put the words to paper.
You close the notebook when Gloria and another girl from class join your table. You’ve been assigned the task of workshopping your classmates’ portfolios as the semester crawls to a close, and today you’re meant to sit around and talk through your notes with each other.
“I want to go first,” you say immediately. “Gloria, you are out of your mind.”
Gloria beams, knowing exactly what you’re referring to.
“Catch me up?” the third girl, Sharmin, asks.
“Gloria’s entire portfolio is in iambic pentameter,” you tell her dryly. “Honestly, Gloria, I’ve got to know why.”
Gloria giggles. “Okay, okay - it really was just for the challenge. Like, it’s super great that poetry is all no rules but sometimes the challenge of saying what you’re trying to say within the framework of existing rules is… kind of fun?” 
“I shall call you The Bard. Or maybe Bardess,” you joke. 
The three of you move on to discuss the actual content of Gloria’s portfolio and then Sharmin’s - asking questions, noting lines you really liked, pointing out patterns and themes and hedging guesses on their meanings.
Finally, it’s your turn. 
“Your voice is really sharp,” Sharmin compliments you. “I mean… maybe I don’t mean sharp. Clear? Crisp? Something like that.”
“I thought so too,” Gloria agrees. She pulls up a document on her laptop, referring to some notes she took. “I also noticed - and really liked - that while your topics were all different from each other, you had this recurring theme of life and death.”
You stare at her blankly. “I do?”
She gives you a sideways smile; it’s not uncommon for you two to pick things up in each other’s writing that you hadn’t noticed.
“Sure,” she says, and her finger goes to her screen as she reads a few examples, “Who would try to fight the tide, / the dark, the depth, the chill? That’s from your first one. 
“Then, the second one: On Sundays I leave stones / atop marble markers to memorialize / those that you and I chose / to leave unturned. That whole entire poem is about a graveyard, so, yeah.”
“Oh! And your latest one!” Sharmin adds. “Where you’re, like, growing bones in your chest?”
You cover your face. “It sounds so dumb like that.”
But even as you’re speaking, other lines spring into your head:
Autumn leaves me hollow.
but my feet itch and beg to go, / into the night where the wolfpack hunts, / into the storm of wind and snow.
Nothing grows here that isn’t dead.
Gloria’s right. You do have a recurring theme about death.
You hadn’t realized. You hadn’t known you were weaving this single thread through everything you put to paper.
What you did know, the part you were aware of was that every one of those poems was about Taehyung.
You press your fingers over your mouth and take a slow, steadying breath. Somehow, everything hurts. It feels like you’re coming apart. It feels like your sutures have been cut too soon as you wrestle with this truth laid out for you:
Every metaphor you ever wrote with Taehyung in mind was somehow connected to death.
Like something inside you knew, long before you did, that whatever was between you was dead before it started. 
Like something inside you knew that no matter how many words you devoted to him, you could never breathe life into it. 
Like something in you knew the situation had a failure to thrive from the very beginning. 
“And life?” you finally manage to ask through your fingers. But you already know every line you wrote about what comes next, about moving forward, about better possibilities.
If autumn can’t make me happy, / I wonder if winter might.
I know despite the dangers, / I can’t afford to stay inside.
This one, they say, will live.
And, most recently - that the girls hadn’t even seen, in my life, you’re everything good.
You didn’t need someone to point these lines out to you. You knew exactly what you’d been writing about - Namjoon, and the way his very presence seemed to represent the promise of something better. 
You hustle home after class, walking so fast that you actually get your heart-rate up. Inside, you drop your bag on the ground and call Namjoon’s name, crossing the living room.
“Yeah?” he calls back, turning at his desk, but you’ve already entered his room, approaching him at a clip.
He’s got about a hundredth of a second to look surprised before you’re kissing him, hands coming up to cup his face firmly. He leans up to meet you, grunting with happy surprise, his hands coming to rest on your forearms.
When you break away, he smiles at you quizzically. “What was that for?”
You shake your head, indicating that you know your reasons are silly. “Because I wanted to,” you tell him truthfully. “Because I like you, and I missed you today, and….”
And you’re everything good.
“And I’m just… happy to be with you,” you finish lamely, nibbling with your bottom lip, a nervous habit.
He slides one hand down your arm and takes your hand. His smile softens from something teasing into something sweet, those dimples winking at you.
“Well,” he says, looking up at you, “speaking of how much you like me… you don’t have class on Friday, right? What about work?”
Friday is a day off at the university - some kind of training day for staff. 
“Nope,” you say. “Kris is on, not me. Why, what’s happening?”
Namjoon’s hand goes to the back of his neck. “I, uh,” he says, a little bashfully, “I wanted to take you out. Like, for the day. On a date. I had some ideas.”
You press your lips together, trying to fight back the smile that’s breaking across your face. 
“Yeah,” you say, your voice coming out small. “That sounds really nice. On Friday?”
“Mhm,” he says, his smile growing cockier now that you’ve said yes. “Wear comfortable shoes. And something warm - it’s supposed to snow a little.”
You’re still practically fighting the pleased smile off your face with a broom. “Okay, I will,” you tell him. You feel like you need to get out of there so you can squeal and hop around and maybe text Kris. “I’m gonna go change. Come hang out if you want?”
You tap his wall twice in goodbye and head to your room, closing the door while you change into sweatpants and a hoodie. You’re aware that he’s seen you naked now, but it still feels necessary. You text Kris as you change, and they send you back a row of exclamation points and a “#TeamDimples!”. You send them back an eye-roll and head to the living room couch. 
[5:22 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’m going into the city friday to do some holiday shopping [5:22 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: you in? [5:23 PM] You: i have plans already :( i’m sorry [5:25 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: we could come back early [5:26 PM] You: my thing’s all day :(  [5:29 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: ok [5:30 PM] You: sorry tete :(  [5:34 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: it’s fine. dinner tonight? [5:35 PM] You: only if i dont have to walk my ass back to campus… [5:37 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: youre such a complainer 🙄 [5:37 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’ll pick you up
You chew on your pinky nail, staring at your phone screen. Do you need to see if Namjoon has dinner plans? Do you need his permission to go eat with Taehyung?
You don’t know the rules to this middle-ground you’re in. 
But in light of everything you figured out today, you err on the safe side.
Namjoon’s in the kitchen, opening a beer by the sound of it. When he wanders back through the living room, you catch his eye.
“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately. You must look worried. 
“Is it… um… Taehyung wants to grab dinner on campus. Are you - can - ?”
Understanding dawns on Namjoon’s face, and he comes over, sitting on the couch next to you and setting his beer on the coffee table. 
“You don’t need to ask me before you spend time with your friends,” he says seriously. “Even that friend. You said you’re in this… so, I trust you.”
It’s such a simple thing, but it almost chokes you up. “Okay,” you whisper, so your voice won’t break. “And you’ll be okay? You can order or something?”
“I fed myself for years before we lived together,” he reminds you gently. 
“Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling a little foolish. “So, I’ll see you after dinner?”
He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be here,” he promises.
At dinner, surrounded by noisy groups of other students, you and Taehyung each pick at your plates, chatting in between bites. 
Finally, as you scrape some sauce absently around your plate, he shoots you a baleful look. “I’ve really missed you lately,” he says, voice low.
Your stomach sinks. “I’ve been here, Taehyung,” you protest. “I didn’t go anywhere.”
“I know,” he says. “I know that. It just feels like we don’t talk as much anymore.”
You twist your lips to the side. There’s truth to what he’s saying, and you know it. 
“If you want to talk to me, talk to me,” you insist. “Nothing’s different.”
He looks at you flatly. “You know that isn’t true.”
“I love you, Tete,” you tell him, and it’s the first time you’ve said it to him without feeling like you’re hiding layers, slipping secrets between the vowels. “I’m right here. I promise.”
He purses his lips, looks away from you. “What’s new with you?” he asks, finally. He must have been thinking about how little he’s asked you that, over the past few months, how happy he was to let you exist just outside his orbit. “Have you heard from Lin lately?”
You fill him in on what you can - Lin, Kris and the bookstore, even finally telling him a bit about your thesis work on St. Vincent Millay’s anthology. He tells you about a fight he had with Jimin, about how he almost failed a required biology class this semester, how his mom had the flu last week but is doing better now.
He doesn’t mention dating, so neither do you.
The guilt eats at you all night long, even after you’ve gone to bed. You lay in the dark, your stomach hurting with it.
You’re not sure if you feel bad because you and Taehyung aren’t supposed to keep secrets, or if it’s because you know you’ve done Namjoon wrong by keeping quiet.
Both, you decide sometime around two in the morning. You text Namjoon, “are you asleep?” He answers almost immediately, “almost. you ok?”
You brace yourself and send, “can i come over there?”
When he sends back, “please do” you grab your phone charger and make your way across the dark living room, lit only by the streetlights outside. You make your way into Namjoon’s room, into his bed, into his embrace. You fall asleep between his arms, feeling entirely like the least deserving person alive. 
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Friday December 7th
You follow Namjoon’s directions on Friday, wearing something warm, and sneakers. But when you head for the kitchen in the morning - he’d told you to be ready early - there’s no Namjoon in sight.
“Namjoon?” you call through the quiet apartment. “Hello?”
There’s no answer. You pull out your phone, ready to text him, when you hear footsteps and then the jangle of keys outside the front door. 
Namjoon comes in sideways, shouldering the door open, a tray with two coffees in his hand.
“I tried to get back before you were up,” he says sheepishly.
“We have coffee here,” you say in answer, trying to catch up to whatever is going on.
He gives you a mischievous smile. “We have a train to catch. We needed them to be to-go. You ready?”
It’s cold out; you’re immediately glad for your big puffy coat and the scarf around your neck. You walk with your hot coffee in one hand and Namjoon’s hand in your other. The walk to the train station is only minutes, and soon you’re standing on the platform, peering in the direction that the train should come in from. When the wind picks up, you scoot closer to Namjoon, scavenging for body heat. He smiles down at you and gives your hand a squeeze.
When the train rushes in and the doors slide open, Namjoon lets you go first as you step out of the cold and head down the corridor, looking for two empty seats. You find one in the second car you walk through, and you slide over to the window seat. You both settle in, rearranging heavy coats and coffee cups.
“How long are we on for?” you ask Namjoon. He’s refused to tell you anything about the day, wanting it to all be a surprise. 
“Around half an hour,” he tells you, and offers you an earpod. Quiet beats fill your ear as the train starts to move, buildings rushing past faster and faster until they give way to the browns and greens of less urban areas. 
Namjoon taps your thigh when your stop comes, and you slide out and follow him towards the doors and back into the sharp, December air. 
“Where are we?” you ask, as the train pulls away. Namjoon waves a hand at the train station’s sign, which reads the name of a quiet town west of your university. You’ve never been here before, but you know of it. 
Namjoon leads you by the hand away from the train station and towards town. You spend the morning ducking in and out of little niche shops, a few art galleries, and one extremely cluttered antique store just for the hell of it. You talk the whole time - pointing out funny items, telling stories when something sparks a memory, joking and laughing quietly.
Around lunchtime, you stop on the sidewalk. Snow flurries drift down around you; not enough to stick, just enough to get caught in hair and eyelashes.
“What do you feel like eating?” he asks you, blowing on his fingers to warm them. “There are actually a lot of decent options along here.”
“Somewhere warm,” you joke, and he gives you an indulgent smile. Then he wraps an arm around your shoulders as you continue up the street, reading a few menus until you settle on a little cafe. You share a hot meal, watching the snow fall lazily outside. 
“What else do you have planned?” you ask curiously, as you finish up eating.
“One more stop,” he says. “It’s the piece de resistance of the day.”
“Ooh,” you say, eyes wide. “Can’t wait.”
Namjoon pays and you zip yourselves back into your coats, heading back into the snow. He leads you, to your surprise, off the main strip and down a narrow side-street. A weathered sign swings in the winter wind, the paint so chipped and peeled that you can’t read it anymore.
He pulls the door open and holds it for you as you step through the threshold of the most beautiful antique bookstore you’ve ever seen.
“Oh, my gosh,” you whisper, reverent, eyes scanning the walls of shelves, the tables, the stuffed armchairs. 
“I know you love books as much as I do,” Namjoon’s low voice says, close to your ear. “I wasn’t sure if you love old books as much as I do.”
“I do,” you breathe, running a hand just above the covers of the displayed novels to your right. 
You walk together through the display tables, deeper into the belly of the shop. The register is currently unmanned, a little bell on the counter meant to summon whoever operates it. 
“I have an idea,” you say to Namjoon, looking over your shoulder to smile up at him. “Let’s play a game?”
One of his eyebrows jumps. “What kind of game?”
A giggle erupts from you, and you try to stifle it. “Not that kind. Let’s shop alone. I’ll pick out three for you, you pick out three for me. Then we can meet back here in… twenty minutes? Or so? Then we can swap.”
Namjoon’s smile is open and wide, practically taking up his whole face. “I like it. Twenty minutes? I’ll set a timer on my phone.”
You go in separate directions as you browse. At one point you have six books in your arms, and you stop and set them down, examining their spines for which you should keep and which you should put back. The smell of old pages permeates the air, along with something Christmas-y - pine, maybe a touch of peppermint. You make your way further into the store, climbing a set of open, metal stairs that lead to a balcony of sorts, with more shelves at the top. 
You can see Namjoon down below, crouching next to a shelf, his finger tracing the spines of the books on the bottom shelf, clearly looking for something specific. You smile softly, watching him. Then you bustle on to the next section you’re interested in.
When your phone buzzes in your pocket that your twenty minutes are up, you make your way back down to the spot you’d chosen to meet back up. You hold the books behind your back, smiling. 
He does the same. “Trade on three?” he asks. “One… two… three!”
You hand him the stack and he hands his books over to you. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you read the titles. You’d both done the same thing without knowing - one fiction, one non-fiction, one poetry. 
“I think we spend too much time together,” Namjoon jokes, faking solemnity. 
“Agreed,” you say, grinning up at him. “What do you say we buy what we want to buy and go across to that coffee shop to read?” You point out the window, eyeing the coffee shop across the street. 
“I like this plan,” he tells you happily, and takes your hand to lead you to the register. 
The coffee shop is a good choice - it’s got a fireplace on one wall, and you and Namjoon manage to score a small table not too far from the circle of warmth. Just as he had on the train, he hands you an earpod, and you spend several hours easily - chatting some, reading, watching the snow out the window.
You haven’t felt this at peace, this understood by somebody, perhaps ever in your life.
It gets dark early, making it feel late at night when it’s still early evening. Namjoon holds you close as you walk back down main street, back in the direction of the train station. Halfway down the block he stops, looking down at you, something warm in his gaze.
“What?” you ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 
He doesn’t answer, just leans down to kiss you sweetly, his thumb stroking your jaw whisper-soft. 
You’re sleepy the second you sit down on the train. You lean against Namjoon’s shoulder, eyes heavy. You’re not sure if you actually drift off or not, when Namjoon gasps beside you.
“What?” you ask, sitting back up. He looks back at you, eyes wide, clearly horrified. “What? What happened?”
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, eyes flashing to his phone and then back to you. The panic in his voice is evident. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?” you repeat, feeling your own nerves start to tingle. 
“I texted the wrong group chat…” he says quietly, still sounding horrified. “Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry. I thought it was the one with only Yoongi and Hobi…”
He turns his screen to show you. The groupchat is clearly the one with all the guys, the bubbles at the top numerous. 
[6:02 PM] Hoseok: Namjoon you’ve been quiet all day
[6:03 PM] Hoseok: what’s the story?
[6:05 PM] Namjoon: took y/n on a date today to that antique bookstore 😊
[6:09 PM] Seokjin: wait….. taehyung’s y/n?
[6:09 PM] Jungkook: OOP-
Your stomach sinks. “Oh, my god,” you say, eyes on his phone screen. 
“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, sounding pained.
“No, it’s okay,” you say automatically, even though it probably isn’t. You take a deep breath, rub a hand over your face. “He was going to find out eventually. And, honestly, I didn’t want it to be a secret forever, you know? This isn’t… this is real, it’s not a stupid friends-with-benefits thing, it deserves to… be.”
You trail off, not sure what you mean, but Namjoon leans forward, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. 
“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs into your hair.
“It’s okay,” you tell him. “It really is.”
On your lap, your phone buzzes.
[6:12 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: wow.
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Sunday December 9th
You try for two days to get Taehyung to answer you. He ignores text after text, call after call.
On the first day, you feel terrible. You’re sure he’s feeling betrayed, confused, hurt.
By the second day, you’re pissed. 
[9:57 PM] You: taehyung, please talk to me
[11:08 PM] You: tete. please?
[12:33 AM] You: seriously, can you answer?
[9:41 AM] You: morning. Can we talk today please?
[2:12 PM] You: the silent treatment’s getting old. Pick up.
[5:57 PM] You: i’d LIKE to apologize to you in person but its kind of hard when you’re ignoring me!!!
[8:49 PM] You: fine, i’ll do it this way [8:54 PM] You: i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you found out that way. [8:56 PM] You: for what it’s worth, we aren’t like…… officially official or anything [8:57 PM] You: it’s been heading that way, yeah, but…. not yet [8:59 PM] You: i think… telling you would have made it realer, and i didn’t know if it was real enough for that yet [9:03 PM] You: and if i’m being honest… i didn’t know how to tell you
[9:32 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: can i come over
Relief floods through you so heavy that you exhale everything inside you, eyes closing, head sagging towards your chest, the hand holding your phone going limp. Namjoon looks over at you from his side of the couch. 
“He answered?” he asks. 
“He’s coming over,” you confirm, typing in an answer to Taehyung. “You don’t mind, right? I owe him some answers.”
“No,” he says evenly. “I don’t mind. Do you want me to… I mean, I’m just thinking of when I talked with Elyse. Would me being there… help? Or make it worse?”
You let out a bitter laugh. “It’d help me tremendously,” you admit. “But I think it’d make it worse for him. Thank you, though. I appreciate the thought.”
“Okay,” he says quietly, and reaches out to give your hand a squeeze. “Well, you know where to find me.”
Outside, the December night is cold, but dry, the air tickling your throat on its way to and from your lungs. 
“Listen,” you say softly. You and Taehyung are sitting side by side, a foot apart, on the stairs in front of your apartment. The stone step feels like a slab of absolute ice underneath you, but you can’t care about that right now. “I’m sorry it happened like this. I was trying… I was trying not to let anything change between us.”
Taehyung doesn’t answer, just stares at the road. From the side, you can see the tightness in his face, the clench of his jaw, the movement of his throat as he swallows. You’ve known him almost your whole life. You can read him like a book.
He’s hurting.
He’s trying to pretend he’s not.
“I mean,” you continue, your heart aching, “you never tell me about your girls.”
“That’s different,” he croaks. 
“How?” you ask softly. “How is this different?”
“I wasn’t actually dating any of them,” he says.
It’s not the whole reason, and you both know it. 
“So, what is this?” he asks. “Is he your boyfriend now?” He positively sneers the word.
This stops you. You don’t know how to answer. Technically, no. But essentially… yes. You just hadn’t talked it through yet. “He… I…”
Taehyung stands suddenly, shoves his hands in his pockets, paces to the curb and back. “Well?” he demands, facing you. The hurt is practically dropping from him, and you’re reeling to fight the instinct to make it better, reeling trying to determine at lightning speed if you’ve actually done something wrong.
“Not technically,” you whisper. 
He stands there, surrounded by the dark, staring you down, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen it. You stand too, taking a few steps to stop before him. 
“What does this mean for us?” Taehyung asks. His voice breaks on ‘us’. “What are we now?”
You reach out, fingers skimming along his arm, wanting to comfort. “Taehyung, it doesn’t mean anything for us. We’ll be the same as we’ve always been.”
You watch it cross his face as he decides to make you prove it, but you don’t have enough time to react before he’s doing the thing you’d day-dreamed of time after time after time - before you knew Namjoon. He’s closing the gap between you, his hand curling in the fabric of your jacket, his lips finding yours, searching for something that three months ago he probably would have found. 
Upstairs, Namjoon can’t let go of the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He can’t get that day with Elyse out of his head - how his eyes had found yours and he’d felt steady, had literally felt the fist of anxiety loosen on his lungs. What if you needed him out there? Finally, he can’t take it anymore. He crosses the living room and peeks out the window, just to gauge how it’s going - he’s sure he can read your expression or your body language enough to tell if you’re okay or not.
He leans over, looking out, and the blood in his arms and legs turns in an instant to ice.
Outside on the sidewalk, you’re kissing Taehyung. His dark hair hangs over your face, where one of his hands rests. Your bodies are impossibly close together, seeming to meld into one in the shadows.
He stumbles away from the window, trying to get away from it, but the image burns in his brain. He makes his way blindly back towards his bedroom. His heart pounds, and he finds himself nauseous, his eyes suddenly burning like he’s walked through smoke. 
“Fuck,” he hisses, punching his doorframe. Then he slams his door shut, and locks it for good measure. 
He should’ve known, he thinks. He should’ve seen this coming from day one. 
Elyse had made him feel stupid, yeah. 
But it was nothing like this.
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I'M GOING INTO HIDING BYE!!!!!!! <3
love y'all thanks for reading!!!
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