Guilty Pleasure Chapter List

“Guilty Pleasure” Chapter list

Pairing: Jihoon x f!reader x Mingyu

Genre: angst, suggestive content, smut

Tags: situationship!mingyu, roommate au, love triangle, mentions of insecurities, angst, pining (mutual and one sided), suggestive language and content, explicit sex, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You know what’s shittier than liking someone taken? Liking someone taken by your best friend.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

———

[COMPLETED 1/15/23]

NAMJOON x ‘INDIGO’ ALBUM MAGAZINE film teaser

Shades of Red | KNJ

Summary: With a cyclic string of false promises keeping you tethered to your job for two long years, you finally start the three month countdown to freedom. When you stumble across a handsome stranger who you start to care for dearly, will you successfully be able to keep him safe from the harm that inevitably follows you?

Pairing: Namjoon x Female!reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok, with mentions of ot7)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Genre: spy/mafia, action, strangers to lovers, s2l, (eventual) smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 20.5k (I'm just as horrified as you, dw)

Warnings: knives (guns don't exist in this AU lmao), stabbing/slitting, self defence, minor character death implied, blood (not in too much detail), someone gets poisoned (but they're ok), chains with crosses mentioned but it's NOT a religious reference (look at the banner for clarification), hints of absurdism, sexual tension, pining, unprotected sex, fingering, Namjoon has a HUGE dick, OC loves sucking it, lovemaking, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, praise kink, slight themes of Namjoon the brat tamer

A/N: It's my first time writing action/spy/mafia - hope it’s not too shabby. Also, I didn't plan on making this so personal but there are lots of little bits based on real life events in here...oops... p.s. apologies for any mistakes, I've only got me and my empty brain to blame for them

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“Monet, huh?” 

You’re interrupted by a deep voice from behind you. You blink several times as you inhale deeply.

How long had it been? Ten minutes? Ten hours?

“I believe you’ve broken my own record. Two hours.” You hear the voice pan into your left ear as two rubber soles squeak against the porcelain tiles.

Ah, right. Two hours.

That still left you with twenty-two hours to go. But who was counting anymore? Time was just an inconsequential, arbitrary loop with no measure of progression to you.

You see the shadow of a tall, broad man cloud the artwork you were supposedly admiring for the past two hours. It’s intimidating. Imposing. 

But, what fill your vision first are dimples. Intoxicating dimples that decorate his bright smile. Dimples that falter when you offer back a curt, “who’s Monet?”

His whiplash is almost comical as he stutters for his next words.

“O-oh, sorry, I thought you were…” he trails off, an apologetic smile on his lips as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m just hiding,” you finish for him. 

He doesn’t respond. Or maybe he does. 

But you don’t stay to find out.

The next time you hear the same voice a few days later at the local library, you purposely ignore it.

“Do you hide out here too?”

You make no move to tear your eyes away from the book you’re pretending to read and he takes that as an invitation to continue. “I really like that book -“

“Do you want it?” You finally look up at him, holding out the book in your hand and sighing irritatedly. It hits you for a second time how handsome he really is. This time it’s his plush lips that capture your attention.

He’s taken aback at the abrupt gesture, presumably because no one had talked to him like this before. He did look like the soft, gentle type that everyone would swoon over.

“Come on, Dimples, I don’t have all day.” A lie. You did have all day. You mentally count to three before placing the book on the table and walking out.

“Wait! My name’s Namjoon…” he jolts into action once he sees you walking out but doesn’t follow you out.

You’re out of the door before you catch the second half of his name. Nam it is, then.

—-

“Y/N, you need to be more careful,” Hoseok reprimands you as the last step of his night time routine. It’s his eighth step. Or ninth. You can’t be sure, you’ve lost count of all his serums and lotions before this.

“How much more careful can I be, Hobi?” You retaliate, stamping your foot on his shaggy, sage rug. “I already spend my days hiding in the most obscure places that no one under the age of fifty would ever go to!”

“Not good enough,” Hoseok continues, carefully peeling his under eye masks off. “I saw you get on the train today. Did you already forget the first rule? Never put yourself in an enclosed space with no exit.“

“Enclosed space, my ass! How the fuck do you expect me to get home then? Fucking walk?” Your patience wasn’t just running thin. It had already run out.

To be honest, your patience had run out two years ago. Your engine had been running without oil ever since.

“I don’t need this negative energy right before I go to sleep, Y/N.” Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to bundle you up and direct you swiftly out of his room. “You’re lucky I saw you, not Yoongi.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s Yoongi gonna do, huh? Let me go?” You bitterly spit at his rapidly closing door until your’re answered by the man himself.

“It’s getting late. Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You don’t have to look around to visualise Yoongi’s disappointment written all over his face.

But you do anyway.

Because you want him to see the anger on yours.

“I’m sick of this, Yoongi. And It’s not my fucking fault.” Your fists are in tight balls now, feet mindlessly leading you towards the kitchen island where Yoongi had just dropped off a takeaway box. 

“I won’t repeat myself. Go home now and we can talk later.” His look is deadly. Nothing you weren’t used to. 

You let his words flow in through one ear and out through the other as you grab his chopsticks and dig into his ramen. 

“I couldn’t even eat because I was stuck in a library for most of the day.”

Yoongi watches intently as you disobey every order of his with such defiance. If it were anyone else, their head surely wouldn’t be on their shoulders long enough to get his favourite ramen down their throat. But with you, he can’t help but feel sorry.

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms as he sighs in defeat. 

“Three more months, Y/N,” he pleads, “just…please.”

You drop the chopsticks and bang on the table with both hands as you get up, towering over him. “That’s what you’ve been saying for two fucking years!”

Yoongi can’t help but chide lowly, “Y/N, control your anger.”

“It’s always ‘Y/N, control your emotions’ or ‘Y/N, don’t go out’ or ‘Y/N, don’t do that’. Well then what do you want me to do?” All you can do is growl in pure frustration.

He gets up to his feet and approaches you with intent, surprising you entirely when he plants two firm hands on your shoulders. “I just want what’s best for you, Y/N.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off me, Yoongi.” You weren’t used to such affection. Simply put, it irked you.

You jerk your shoulders back out of his grip and head for the main door.

“The car’s waiting for you -“

You shut him up with a stern look back before you reach for the door handle. “Three more months.”

—-

It’s a lazy Sunday and with Hoseok’s last reprimand in mind, you find yourself at your local park. It’s brimming with kids, couples and dogs. All things you hate.

Whether it’s pure jealousy or an intrinsic trait of yours, you can’t be too sure. What you do know is that you’ve picked the right spot; as far away from the crowd as possible. This way, you get a view of everyone but supposedly no one has a view of you.

In your hyperawareness, what you don’t anticipate is an unsuspecting, shorts-clad man approaching you openly. You nearly jump out of your skin when the first words reach you.

“Another hiding place?”

Knowing how disappointed Hoseok and Yoongi would be at your startled state, you breathe out a relieved puff before offering him a curt smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. A smile like that exclusively belongs in a business setting and feels wildly out of place at a park.

With his back to the sun, you can’t see his face clearly, but even the darkest of shadows are no match for his deep dimples.

“I’m clearly not doing a good job if you keep finding me like this.”

He takes this as his invitation to plop down next to you and you realise he’s holding a book.

“You never said what you’re hiding from.”

“People,” you deadpan, utterly disinterested in the conversation, yet intrigued as to why someone like him would try to converse with someone like you.

Clearly, you weren’t sending the right vibes.

He surprises you with a laugh and you feel your heart squeeze in endearment at the crinkles around his eyes. Only years of mirth could have painted such beautiful strokes of art on the purest of canvases.

You belatedly realise that you’re staring at him for a beat too long to be considered casual and snap your head back.

Since when did you think about art? Get a grip, Y/N, you think to yourself.

“A museum, a library and a park…” he starts, still chuckling lightly. “How were those your best ideas…?”

“Well, who even under the age of fifty would go to those places?” You decide to be honest to him, face still serious.

He takes one look at your seriousness and feigns hurt. “Ouch! How old do you think I am?”

When you say nothing, he continues, “are three meetings enough to ask for your name?”

This time, it’s your incredulous chuckle that fills the air. “Absolutely not.”

He pouts and it takes all the willpower you can muster to refuse him before it melts you like a wax under flame. Damn, how can someone be so cute?

“Look, Nam, it’s good to see you ag-“

“It’s Joon.”

“What? No, it’s August…” You shoot back, confused.

He smiles at you so sweetly and you worry that you might have withdrawal symptoms if you don’t see it again. So you leave before the damage is irreversible.

“As I was saying, this was a fun chat but I need to go now.”

You sweep the area carefully, taking in the change of surroundings as you get up. A habit engrained into your brain by Hoseok since before you could question why.

“I look forward to finding you at your next hiding place, then.” Does he sound sad or is it just a figment of your imagination?

You don’t wait to dwell on it. 

As you’re walking home, you hear one sharp ping emanate from the pocket inside your jacket. You groan inwardly as you turn on your heel to head the opposite way, straight to Yoongi’s.

You know what this means.

You marvel at the soundproof door that hides everything going on inside. One second you’re out in the hallway, listening to the indolent evening birds rise and the next, you’re hauled into pure chaos.

You barely take one step inside and commotion fills your senses. Hoseok’s gearing up, mildly annoyed that his under eye pads had to go to waste so soon, and Yoongi’s on the comms, giving orders as if it were more natural to him than breathing.

There are five more geared and masked members, testing their own comms systems. You have half a mind to slip out. Who would even notice you gone?

“Y/N. You’re late.” Hoseok doesn’t even look up as he brushes past you, reaching for a snack that he stuffs right next to his concealed knife.

Yoongi just clenches his jaw in annoyance and glares at you until you get the hint and lug yourself to the studio.

The chair feels cold, your headset doesn’t feel like it’s yours and the adjustments always seem off. Every move feels wrong. You don’t want to be here at all.

Three more months.

—-

The dimpled smile still hasn’t left your mind by the time your fourth meeting takes place. You’ve never believed in luck or fate or coincidence, even. So you do what you’re best at; you start thinking in numbers. You calculate the chances of you running into the sweet, handsome stranger for the fourth time just a week later. The answer: very damn low. 

Yet, here you are, walking into a bookshop in the neighbouring area after receiving a red alert in the form of a ping from your inside pocket. It’s not an area that you usually find yourself in and you’re confident about your hiding place this time.

“Thank you! You’re the best, Joon!” A saccharine voice ricochets off the walls in the small space as you enter, bell dinging to alert the shopkeeper of your arrival.

It blows your mind that people actually frequent a shop like this. There are a million things more appealing to you than being surrounded by old, crumbling story books. Isn’t everything online now anyways? You grab one, regardless, holding it at arm’s length and surveilling the street through the glass windows.

At the back of your mind you register a word you’d heard not too long ago but the bubble never surfaces.

The woman at the till turns around, strutting in her bold red stilettos to the door, sending back a flying kiss. “See you, Joon!”

June…?

“See, you Nari,” comes an extremely familiar voice.

Your eyes whip to the sole cashier at the till, only to be smacked in the face with dizzying dimples. You immediately feel a pang of something in your chest at the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of his beautiful smile.

His eyes widen in recognition as they land on you, his grin only deepening. “You know you’re holding that book upside down, right?”

“Why did she call you June?” Your ears burn with embarrassment as you recall your quip to him about it being August.

“Joon, as in Namjoon. But you can call me anything you want.” He makes his way around the counter, stalking towards you. “The real question is, what can I call you?”

You snap it shut and you’re about to head out when he calls out, “stay. Please.” It’s as if he can read your mind and you wonder what Hoseok would say if he saw you right now; guard low and practically melting for this handsome stranger. Especially in a period of red alert.

The closer he gets, the more you shamelessly ogle at him. He is big, so big that you have to crane your neck in the slightest to get a good look at him. Wisps of his thick, long hair frame his face and you have the sudden urge to tuck the strays behind his ear.

“What do you want from me?” Given your area of work, you always have your suspicions.

“Your name because I think you’re really pretty and I want to get to know you.” His reply comes so easily that you nearly choke on your own saliva. His heady cedar cologne mingles with that of old parchment on the shelves and invades your nostrils in the most intoxicating way. 

You’re one breath away from losing yourself to him when a flash of silver catches your eyes through the window. You snap yourself out of your daze and scan the entire street twice, your suspicions confirmed.

They were here.

Panic rises up your oesophagus in the form of bile as you think of your escape plan.

Hoseok’s words echo in your brain as you frantically look around at the small, enclosed space you’d trapped yourself into. What had made you think this was a good hiding place?

With the figures rapidly flooding the outside of the shop, you grab Namjoon by his t-shirt and pull him roughly into you, crashing your lips onto his and taking him fully by surprise. You manoeuvre him so that his big body covers yours entirely and silently pray that this plan of yours works. You’ll just have to apologise later.

In your flustered state, it takes a second to realise that Namjoon is kissing you back, his plush lips locked onto yours tentatively as he lets you win the battle for dominance.

When the first hint of coffee on his tongue hits your tastebuds, your decades-old aversion to the drink is thrown out of the window and you involuntarily moan into his mouth. For a second you question why you waited so long to taste him, his lips, his mouth. And for a second you forget what got you into this position in the first place.

It’s Namjoon who breaks away first, chest heaving and lips swollen the prettiest shade of red. You blink rapidly to pull yourself back down to Earth, eyes scanning through the windows once more, breathing a sigh of relief once you confirm the absence of the figures in question.

Namjoon’s eyes are still glued onto you, pupils blown out and this time, you do tuck his strays behind his ear. He goes to say something but you get there first.

“Y/N.”

A million voices in your mind scream at you, funnily enough resembling that of Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s, telling you that this is a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“Y/N.” Namjoon tests out the name on his lips, seemingly content just looking at you and taking you in.

To say it felt foreign would be an understatement. You can’t remember the last time you had heard your name in a voice that wasn’t Yoongi’s or Hoseok’s. 

Fuck it, you think. Two and a half months left.

“Is one kiss enough to ask for your number?” He abashedly looks at you, cheeks tinging a light red as his demeanour turns shy. “You should know, I don’t normally do this…”

Just then, a ping from your inner pocket fills the silence.

“So, is this your shop or do you just work here?” You ignore both the phone and him as you look around the bookshop once again, in a new light this time.

“It’s my grandmother’s shop. She’s about to retire and wanted to shut the place down but I convinced her to keep it open for a little longer. She agreed on the condition that I take over.”

Ping.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get that?” Namjoon pointedly quirks his head at your jacket.

“I know where to find you now,” you make your way to the door before throwing him one last look and muttering, “Joon.”

You don’t stay to find out his response.

—-

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi seethes as you saunter into his apartment.

“Where the fuck do you think, Yoongi?” Your voice stays indifferent. “Hiding.”

“Y/N, I know you don’t want any part of this but we have an agreement. Three months is all I asked for.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, challenging, and he swallows the rest of his admonition.

“They nearly found me,” you casually state whilst hanging your coat up. “Or rather, I nearly found them…whichever way you want to look at it.”

You feel the atmosphere in the room shift dangerously. A tiny gasp leaves Hoseok’s lips and Yoongi’s chair scrapes the floor as he shoots up.

“And you didn’t think to tell me this until now?” He speaks through gritted teeth but it doesn’t affect you one bit.

“How did you get here? What if they followed you?” Hoseok’s on his feet at once, his personal comms already ringing with the voices of the security team downstairs.

“Get to it, I don’t have all day.” You yawn, putting on your best show and exaggerating just a little more than necessary. “Need to get back into hiding at a boring museum or library or whatever."

“There’s a new boss.” Yoongi paces across the room to the kitchen counter to pick up a piece of paper. “No one knows what he looks like.”

“He’s made a lot of changes in their organisation…a lot of new tactics that we haven’t seen before.” Hoseok’s back now, snacking on a banana.

“They’re onto us.” Yoongi offers you the piece of paper in his hand and you take it.

‘Don’t play with rain,

For it will only cause you pain.’

You reread the note a couple of times in quick succession, inspecting it thoroughly upside down and on its back for any other clues. It strikes you as bizarre that there’s a faint yellow path drawn on it, almost like a dwindling road, leading to a silver cross on the top right corner.

“What in the Wizard of Oz bullshit is this?” You squint your eyes, trying to decipher the hidden meaning of the riddle, coming up empty. “How do you know this was intended for us?”

“They found Park. Left him with a couple of fractures and this.”

Your eyes widen and it’s the first time you’ve shown any real emotion since you came here today. Park was one your best. Even you know the seriousness this implied.

“So this is a warning?” You ponder out loud, only to catch Hoseok nodding out of the corner of your eye.

“It means it’s time to level up.” Yoongi decisively reaches for his gear.

—-

You’re still technically on red alert when you find yourself outside the bookshop again the next weekend. 

Last night had drained you entirely of both patience and sleep, your ass glued onto your studio chair all night. Upon their return, Hoseok had exhibited a few scrapes too many and Yoongi had looked dishevelled in every sense of the word. The night ended with Yoongi scheduling in more meetings for tactical planning over the coming weeks, all heavily involving you.

And that left you cranky as hell.

Too cranky to wonder why Namjoon was the first person your mind conjured up in your distress. 

You spot him easily, being as hunky as he is. His hair is shorter now, and you lament for the long strays that you won’t be able to tuck back anymore. 

His eyes light up through the shop window upon landing on you and you feel your lips curve up on their own accord. He mouths your name and you feel an invisible tug towards him, feet already moving to lead you inside the shop.

“Y/N!” 

Namjoon makes his way around the counter and bundles you up in his arms. Although you would have recoiled at anyone else touching you like this, you surprise yourself by doing the complete opposite; you sag into him. A feeling of calm washes over you as you breathe in his cedar scent and you realise you quite like being held by him.

But you couldn’t tell him that. You could never have nice things, given your situation.

You jump back, clear your throat, put on your formal smile and offer a civilised “Hi.”

He frowns immediately. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You ask, eyes roaming around to find the shop empty.

Namjoon’s already locked up by the time he finally replies. “Come on, let’s go to the back.”

Hoseok would be fuming if he saw you right now. A small, defiant part of you revels in that thought. It’s a dangerous combination of wanting to violate every rule thrust upon you for years and Namjoon’s intriguing presence that makes you follow his footsteps.

You find yourself in a cosy room, piles of books scattered haphazardly and too many unfinished coffee mugs taking residence on the soft oak wooden flooring.

Namjoon swerves past the modest kitchenette, heading towards a corner where two fluffy beanbags lie awaiting two warm bodies. He plops down, patting the empty one next to him. “Come on.”

You make your way across the room, agile in the way you manoeuvre through the caffeine filled hurdles on the floor, before settling down next to him.

“Why do you fake smile when your real smile is so pretty?” He turns to you, head propped up on his hand, pulling your beanbag closer to his.

“Make me smile for real and I will,” you reply, witty as always.

“Is that a challenge for our fifth date?” He’s smirking now and you bark out a laugh at his confidence.

“Is this a date to you?”

“I’ve learnt something about you on every single one of our dates so far.” He looks like he’s proud of himself.

“Go on…” You urge him.

“On our first date I learnt you have no respect for art.” Namjoon starts, dimples deep and lips curved mischievously. “On our second date I learnt you have no patience for reading books. On our third date I learnt you don’t like people.

“And on our fourth date,” he eyes your lips briefly, his face suddenly a lot closer to yours than you’d realised, “I learnt your name."

If he notices your ruffled feathers, he says nothing on the topic. Instead, he gets up and asks, “would you like a coffee?” 

Only from your lips. “No, thanks.”

“Tea?”

“I’m good, really- “

“Before you try to leave again, please stay.” He pleads, almost predicting your next action as if he’s known you for a long time. “This is a perfect hiding spot…if that’s still what you’re doing…”

Ping.

The events from last night cloud your thoughts at the mention of your hiding spot. Frowning, you reach inside your pocket and turn your phone to silent before shoving it right back.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Your name on his lips sounds melodious and you want to hear it again, but you’re reminded of exactly why you can’t get involved. 

Sensing the tension on your facial muscles, he takes a different approach. “Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?”

You can’t quite put your finger on the emotion that fills your chest when he asks you that. You’ve been drowning within your captivity for two years with no one to pull you out; the more you’d tried to escape, the more it had swallowed you like quicksand. You’ve yearned for a hand to pull you out of this maddening reality for too long, but, as time went by, you realised you were alone, and eventually, you had succumbed to it.

If you couldn’t get out just yet, who were you to say no to a distraction that was voluntarily offered to you?

“How can you willing spend time in a museum?” 

Returning with two mugs in hand, Namjoon thrusts one into yours as he takes his place next to you again. He smiles as you tentatively take a sip of your tea. 

“To put it simply, art is inspiring. Understanding the journey of the artist evokes a myriad of untapped emotions within myself that would have otherwise stayed buried deep down.”

You snort unapologetically. “There’s no reason to torture yourself in a museum for that. Can’t think of anything worse really…”

“We’re not so different, you know.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I love art and you…strongly dislike it?” He waits for you to roll your eyes at him. “Love and hate are a lot more alike than you think. It’s indifference that’s the opposite of love. Out of all places that occurred to you, if you didn’t feel anything for museums, you wouldn’t have ended up there at all.”

Handsome and intellectual. Damn. Filled with arrogance, you simply squint suspiciously at him, not wanting to admit his point was more than valid.

“Okay then, what sounds fun to you?” There's a glint of determination in his eyes and he looks genuinely interested in what you have to say.

Just then, it hits you like a freight train that no one in your life had asked you what you were interested in. Your whole life had been planned out for you with no leeway to keep a piece of your true self.

You think back to your younger years, the path you could have pursued if it weren’t for your predetermined life. It’s like scraping an old wound, digging through layers of scabs to find a piece of you that’s still alive and still runs warm. A piece that’s still life in this unliving shell of yours.

Swallowing down your unearthed emotions, you give him a nonchalant response. “Stargazing.”

Namjoon stares at you intently, eyebrows raised in awe before relaxing into his signature boyish smile. “Thanks. That makes it easier for me to plan our next date.”

“Bold of you to assume there will be a next date,” you joke, biting your lip to suppress a smile and failing miserably. In truth, you’re buzzing at the prospect of spending more time with him, butterflies swarming uproariously in your stomach.

“There it is, your beautiful smile.” His voice is low and has hints of cockiness. This time you don’t hold back your laugh.

“So, I’d say: mission accomplished?” He’s joking and you know it but you freeze up at this choice of words nonetheless. The guilt comes rushing in and you know it’s time to go.

Namjoon rolls over to get up, offering you a hand up. You don’t really need his hand for support but you take it anyway, craving his touch. When you do get up, though, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I had a great time today.” His eyes are locked onto yours and you could swear a lifetime and a half wouldn’t be enough to explore his deep brown pools. “I wish you could stay for longer.”

“You kicking me out already?” You’re humbled by how quickly he’s able to read you. 

“Never, Y/N,” Namjoon squeezes your hand gently. “You just have that look on your face… the one you always have before you leave every time.” 

It’s half panic and half embarrassment that colours your cheekbones. How much had you already bared yourself to Namjoon? Was it too much? “What do you mean?”

“It’s almost like you’ve got this timer that’s always ticking and it’s written all over your face…” he trails off, pensively.

Your breath hitches. You want to say something but no words come out.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me anything now if you’re not ready. Just know I’m here to listen whenever you want.”

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to you and you had to work hard to blink back the rapidly forming tears. 

By the time you make it back to a livid Yoongi, every synapse in your brain is overloaded with memories of your time together with Namjoon.

—-

In hindsight, Yoongi should have been more modest with his code declaration early on. You’ve been on red alert for weeks now but it seems rather misleading considering the increasing number of attacks your team have been facing. Maybe scarlet, ruby, wine and maroon would have been more informative. Instead now, you’re sat at the table with Hoseok recommending ‘Code Purple’.

“What comes after purple then?” You ask, playfully.

Hoseok contemplates for a moment, before offering, “I don’t know. How about indigo?”

You crumple your face disapprovingly. “Just say blue, Hobi. No one likes a try hard.”

Just then, Yoongi returns, gripping the comms in his hand so hard his knuckles turn a deathly white. His chest is heaving, breath ragged and face red. Or scarlet, to be more precise.

“They’ve managed to infiltrate our secondary base. That fucking bastard.”

Hoseok nearly jumps out of his seat in surprise as you get straight to business.

“Any more notes this time?” 

“How many more injuries?” Hoseok’s already pulling out his phone, getting the car ready to take him to the hospital.

“Ten. Jeon and Kim are down too. And no notes this time.” 

It’s as if Yoongi’s on autopilot, answering all of Hoseok’s subsequent questions with no emotion. You could see the gears shifting in his head as he tried not to let blinding anger overwhelm him. After all, this was his job. 

Over the past two years, he’d grown accustomed to being at the top. There was very little need to leave his comfort zone, so he didn’t. That was until they had resurfaced again. 

If it weren’t for the new boss or change in management, he would have taken them down in a few mere hours, just like he nearly did last time. Instead, now, his own team was suffering whilst he himself was sinking.

Yoongi inhales deeply, turning his gaze onto you, just staring for a while. It’s as the guilt creeps up on his face that you sit up straighter in your seat.

“Y/N, I’m gonna need you in the field-“

“Absolutely fucking not, Yoongi.” You weren’t having any of this. Not again. Not when you were winding down. Not when you had a month and half left of this bullshit.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I had another option. Our best are out of the game. I know I promised to keep you out of it but…please.”

Yoongi had been using the word ‘please’ a little too frequently lately for your liking.

It’s at this point you know you have no other option but you put up a little fight anyway. “Don’t beg, Yoongi, it’s not a good look on you.”

He accepts your blows. “Y/N, you’re the best we have -“

“What are you talking about, Yoongi? It’s been two fucking years. I can’t even remember where my gear is, let alone say I’m rusty.”

Hoseok walks into view, a bundle of your familiar looking gear dropped on the table as he walks out of the door. “I’ll retrain you.”

Yoongi drops his head into his hands. “For them to have found our base, they must have been on our tail for a lot longer than I thought.”

—-

You’re on your way to see Namjoon again, as you have been doing for the past few weeks.

You’d grown to appreciate your clandestine adventures in the back room of the bookshop, however much you knew you couldn’t have too much of a good thing.

Namjoon had tried to talk you through his favourite artwork once, only to find you snoring on his shoulder not even five minutes in. He didn’t wake you. It was the best nap you’d had in months.

In turn, you’d tried to argue your case on why physical copies of books were redundant in an era of technology. He’d almost gone the whole hour without showing you his dimples. You never made a mistake like that again.

Most importantly, he had never once pressed you on anything.

He never asked who you were hiding from, nor did he hold you back when it was time to go, only a forlorn pout on his face as he bid you an innocent goodbye.

It’s part of the reason you craved his company; he fuelled your illusion of liberation. He offered you the perfect escape that no-one or nothing else could. 

The other part was his charm. Once or twice you’d caught customers flirting with him while he was behind the till. All the way from the saccharine voice of a repeat customer pushing her boobs together, to a grandmother complimenting his broad chest.

It served as free entertainment for you, watching him flush a dusty red and flash you an apologetic look, whilst you loitered around the shop, random book in hand, waiting for him to lock up and pull you by the hand to the back room.

You’d even bought a burner phone just to give him your number. The way his eyes lit up when you pulled his own phone out to enter your number, you’d nearly kissed him again. 

You hastily walk down the packed street, hyper alert of the hooded figure that had been following you for the past five minutes. If it were anyone else, they might not have realised they were being followed. But it was you.

Hoseok had been training you vigorously. Ruthlessly, even. If the figure got any closer, you were well equipped not only to defend yourself but also cause some serious harm. You just hoped it didn’t get to that.

You make unexpected turns, meandering through alleyways and side roads, in a bid to lose your stalker. Every time you think you’ve lost them, the same shadow appears a minute later, still keeping a safe distance from you.

Time to change tactics.

You join a group of rowdy teenagers, walking a few yards in their company, blending in seamlessly in plain sight. Passing an alleyway on your left, you make the rash decision to slide inside. It’s when you bump into a solid body that you freeze.

“Y/N!” 

“Joon?” You stare at an ecstatic Namjoon, your eyes wide and heart racing due to the shock of being caught off guard, and definitely not due to his deep dimples. It takes a second for your expression to morph into confusion. “What are you doing here?”

He stills, cheeks colouring a telltale dusty red as he absentmindedly scratches the back of his neck, as he always does, you’ve come to learn, when he’s feeling particularly shy.

“I…I was walking to the bookshop…” 

“Aren’t you already meant to be there?” You ask, perplexed. “I was on my way to meet you there.”

Namjoon gives you an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t actually working there today. But I still wanted to see you so…”

You don’t even realise when your mouth falls agape, unwilling to accept the obvious. “You came all the way to the shop just to see me?”

He hums timidly, a small pout forming on his face and you mentally count to five to restrain yourself from kissing it right off his face. Instead, you shove him playfully, unable to hide your smile any longer. “Joon, we could have met anywhere! A museum, a library, a park…you didn’t have to come all the way here for me!” 

He reciprocates your smile, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers as if it were second nature. “Firstly, you don’t like any of those places. Secondly, I don’t live too far away from here. And finally,” he clears his throat, voice dwindling down to a murmur, “I would travel anywhere to see you.”

You blush at his confession, keeping your gaze on the cobblestone underneath your feet, wondering how you could ever admit to him that you’d do the same.

“Come on, I know a shortcut.” He confidently leads you through the side roads, avoiding the masses of crowds that had started forming on the main roads. A quick glance over your shoulder and you let out a curt breath of relief as you spot no signs of the earlier hooded figure.

As you let Namjoon weave you through the neighbourhood, you couldn’t stop the premonition that built up at each turn. Suspiciously, you glance back every few seconds. Was it really that easy to get rid of your stalker? Your stomach lurches in its own way of alerting you. It felt all wrong.

It’s at the next fateful turn, a road littered with multiple local cafes and outdoor seating that you see the familiar black hood. This time,  sat at a table outside, with a newspaper spread out wide to cover their face. 

Your grip on Namjoon’s hand instinctively tightens. It’s the first time you’re hit with the realisation that your attachment to him could get him in serious trouble. Before you could let that thought fully occupy your brain, your survival instinct kicks in.

You drag him across the road, face still pliant to his occasional jokes and anecdotes. Tugging on him a little too harshly, you quicken your steps, desperate to remove both of you from this compromised position.

With your own hood up now, you rush past, sweeping your gaze over the figure for the dreaded silver cross. The silver cross they all carried proudly. The silver cross that was seared into your memory with piping hot iron rods. 

When you spot no signs of one, your eyebrows knit together, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. If it wasn’t them, then who was it?

Maybe you weren’t in as much trouble as you thought.

Long after you’ve passed all the cafes and are about to make another turn, Namjoon still oblivious, you glance back to see the right corner of the newspaper folded down to reveal the extremely familiar heart shaped lips you’d been seeing every day from the asscrack of dawn through to the last purple hues of the evening sky. 

Hobi?

Hoseok doesn’t make a move to follow you, but the look on his face is a lethal combination of disappointment and indignation. It’s a look you’ve never been on the receiving end of. Anxiety grips your stomach in a tight fist until you can barely breathe, heart thumping fearfully against your ribs at the thought of explaining your unacceptable antics later. But, with Namjoon’s hand in yours, you let the rush of adrenaline animate your steps onwards without another look back.

Maybe you were in a lot more trouble than you’d imagined.

First, you had to get Namjoon safe and far away from Hoseok’s wrath.

“Sorry!”

The casual brush of a shoulder against your own flies past your defences. You raise your free hand noncommittally, mind still preoccupied with confronting Hoseok later. “It’s okay.”

It’s only when you feel the sweaty tug of Namjoon having stopped dead in his tracks that you look up.

The sun had begun its descent into the horizon a while back, leaving the sky raw and vulnerable. Illuminated by the dim street lights, you make out four other figures in front of you with matching knives in hands, all dressed appropriately to hide in plain sight. Unsuspecting chinos, white trainers and a jumper had formed the ultimate invisibility cloak.

This time, you don't miss the silver chains with a dainty silver cross resting heavy on their necks. Your blood runs cold as you push down a gulp of despair. 

Fuck.

If you were alone, you were certain you could escape unscathed. But with the added cargo of your six foot gentle giant, you weren’t so sure anymore.

“It’s okay, Y/N, stay behind me,” Namjoon whispers shakily to you as he takes a hesitant step towards the men, simultaneously pulling you behind him.

Your poor, already battered heart squeezes for him and you feel goosebumps prickle your skin at the protectiveness you suddenly feel towards him. You vow to yourself that you would protect him with everything you have.

“There’s nowhere to go,” one of the men sneers, strolling towards you as if he’s got all the time in the world. Three others stealthily circle you, blocking your exit.

“You want our money? Our phones? We’ll give them to you.” Namjoon’s voice falters and you feel the sweat from his palm seep into yours. “Just stay where you are.”

The man on the right guffaws as you hastily look around for any CCTV cameras. 

“No cameras here either.” He ignores Namjoon, eyes glued onto you as he waits patiently for your move. It’s just a matter of who breaks first. And it looks like they were giving you the honour of the first move.

The way they all look at you, it’s obvious they know who you are. But how? You hadn’t been deployed into the field again just yet. The last two years had been remote work, specifically to protect your identity. So how did they find you?

You feel a sharp pang in your temples, a painful memory flashing before your eyes, making you wince in pain. The last time you were in a situation like this, you lost more than you could bear.

“Throw your phone at them and run the other way,” Namjoon whispers valiantly. His soft breath on your temple acts as a balm, a reminder of what you have to fight for.

You shake out of his grip, mentally transporting yourself to Hoseok’s training sessions. “Joon, stay close to me, okay?” 

When Namjoon nods his head uncertainly once, you continue. “When I tell you to run, head straight for the main road. Get into any shop. I’ll meet you there.”

You only had to defeat the men blocking the exit to the alleyway for Namjoon to reach safety. You could deal with the others on your own.

You don’t let him contest, shooting him daggers with your eyes. “Promise me.”

“I’m not abandoning you here, what the fu-“

“Don’t be so fucking difficult.” Your hiss is unnecessarily harsh but you couldn’t care less. He had to listen to you.

“Bu-“

The air behind you whooshes as you catch a twinkling piece of metal heading straight for Namjoon’s head. Ignoring his yelp, you smack his head out of the way, turning on your heel to block the knife. With two expertly practised chops; one to the back of the hand and one to the wrist, the knife flings out of the man’s hand. 

You take advantage of his startled state, stepping into him, bringing his head down so you could knee him in his nose and then in the balls.

“Y/N, look out!” Namjoon shouts, cowering with his arms around his head, alerting you of the first man charging at you.

You duck out of the way, sticking your leg out to trip him up before the knife could reach you. His head unceremoniously meets the curb, a disconcerting crack of a skull ringing through the air. 

You risk a quick glance at Namjoon to find him staring at puddle of pooling blood by the curb, pale and ready to throw up. 

“Joon, baby, you’re doing really well.” Your coo comes out as a grunt as another man comes at you with a swinging roundhouse this time. Classic mistake. You aim your punch straight at his centre before the knife could make it to you. “I need to you to pick up that knife.”

“Wha-W…I-I…” You pick up his signs of hyperventilation and you wish you could hold him tightly, comfort him. The blunt blow of a punch landing on your stomach nearly winds you as another kick lands on your side.

Coughing, you glance at the last man who was blocking the entrance so far, now wickedly making his way towards Namjoon.

“Pick up the goddamn knife and stay behind me.” You’d just have to apologise for your tone later.

Namjoon gingerly picks up the larger than average knife and scurries behind you, brandishing it loosely 

“Don’t hold it like a baseball bat,” you huff in between a particularly strong fist to your shoulder. “Hold it like a javelin.”

You push Namjoon further behind you to let the instruction sink in, making room for yourself to execute your kick and punch combination as both men relentlessly attack you.

“I’m-I can’t-…I can’t use a knife…” Namjoon whimpers breathlessly from behind you.

“I know, baby. You don’t have to.” You kick back the already disarmed knives on the ground towards Namjoon’s feet. “Just pick these up for me.”

He does so, standing close to you again as he fishes for his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the police.” 

With your back to him, your eyes widen in fear but the possibility of an infiltrated police force is too much to explain to him right now. Instead, you push him back with your hand again, in the disguise of preparing for your next move, uncaring of the fact that you accidentally knock his phone out of his hand. 

It falls violently on the concrete, a crack confirming its doomed fate. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Joon,” you feign innocence as you finally get one of men in front of you in a headlock. One swift knee to the balls and he’s down in agony. “I’ll pay for that.”

“Y/N!” Namjoon’s screams, frozen to the spot, and it’s as if time slows down.

The final man - the only man with a knife still in this hand - lurches forward. You could map out the knife’s trajectory to Namjoon’s neck before it could complete its journey. As it cuts through the stagnant air, you throw a chop to the man’s wrist, effectively throwing a spanner in the works. 

His wrist contorts painfully as he lets out an agonising yelp. But it’s not enough.

You watch in horror as the knife slashes Namjoon’s bicep instead, horrified at the streaks of crimson that seep down his forearm. Panic boils into fury as you hear Namjoon’s wounded whine.

You turn around, ready with a flaming punch, only to be caught and restrained by the man you were fighting earlier. The man with the knife forcibly lodges the blood stained blade into your right shoulder before roughly pulling it out again and letting it clatter onto the ground. 

As they take off, you fall to your knees, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a blood curdling scream. You clutch onto your shoulder, agony electricuting you in spasms as you feel hot blood spill out profusely.

“Y/N!” Namjoon is on your side at once, his tear streaked face close to yours as he caresses your cheeks gently. “Fuck, you’re hurt…I’m so sorry…I-I should have helped…”

You grind your teeth through the pain, not wanting him to worry any more than he already was. You furiously blink back the tears, angry at yourself for not doing better. For not anticipating the final attack. For letting Namjoon get hurt. 

“I’ll take you to the hospital. Where’s your phone? Let me call the ambulance. And police. Fuck.” Namjoon babbles mindlessly, words coming out in a slur as he feels for your jacket pocket.

“Joon,” your hoarse voice stops him and his attention is back onto you in a fraction of a second.

“What is it, Y/N?” His face is close to you again, your foreheads almost touching.

“Y-you said you live close by…” 

He nods fiercely.

“Take me to yours.” You plead at him with your eyes.

“But-“

“Please.” A lone tear escapes and it breaks Namjoon. He wraps his arm around your waist to get you to your feet, his lips ghosting over your forehead as he takes great care to not touch your wounded shoulder.

Your eyes graze over his gash and you choke back a sob.

This isn’t how tonight was meant to go.

—-

Namjoon’s flat was uncannily similar to the back room of the bookshop. In an inebriated state, it would be far too easy to confuse the two. The only striking difference was the number of plants littered around the flat. 

It had taken half an hour of you convincing him that you didn’t need to go to a hospital for him to give in, with a returned promise that you’d go to a doctor first thing tomorrow. 

He’d bandaged you up and given you pain medication from his first aid kit. In turn, he let you take care of his gash, guilt eating away at you the more you looked at it. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding long before you got to his flat.

With a sickening brew of shock, fear and adrenaline still circulating your bloodstreams, you both find your own way to process the trauma.

Namjoon had refused to let you go for another half an hour, tugging you onto his lap and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, profusely apologising for not stepping in earlier; a much needed catharsis on his part. Wet murmurs of “baby, I’m so sorry” filling your ears as you lie through your teeth that 'it doesn’t even hurt' just to slow down his tear streams.

It wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t even have been involved, let alone expected to step in to save you.

He’d taken off to the attic shortly after, where his bedroom was, in a bid to get you some clean and comfortable clothes to change into. 

As you step into the bathroom, you hear the familiar ping from your inside jacket pocket. Hastily clicking on Hoseok’s contact, you resist the temptation to scroll through the hundreds of texts you’ve already missed this evening. With shaking fingers, you send him two words you never thought you’d be sending.

Y/N [20:43]: ’Code Indigo.’

You share your location and within ten seconds you get a curt reply from the man himself.

Hobi [20:43]: ’Security will be there in five. All night surveillance. Stay inside. See you tomorrow.’

You hesitate for a beat.

Y/N [20:44]: Thank you, Hobi.

When your phone doesn’t ping again, you aren’t all too surprised.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Namjoon knocks on the bathroom door softly, feet shifting anxiously outside. “Does it still hurt a lot?”

“I’m okay, Joon. I can barely feel it now.” You open the door to find him holding out a pile of his clean pyjamas for you. Namjoon’s fluffy hair falls into his puffy eyes as he flashes you a nervous smile. He’s changed into a pair of shorts and you openly ogle at the thick thigh muscles he’d been keeping from you all this time.

“Thank you.” You look up at him in time to catch his signature shy blush.

“You can change in my room if you want.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, and you can sleep in my bed tonight. I’m sleeping on the sofa.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking his hand in yours and ascending the stairs to the attic. “No, you’re not.”

If you want to get any sleep tonight, you need him close to you. His warmth pressed against you to remind you he was safe. Hurt, but safe.

He respectfully turns around when you start to change into his clothes. Shorts first, you manage to use your left arm to navigate one leg after the other into the holes of the garment and pull the waistband up.

“Joon, I need your help with the t-shirt.”

He turns around, blushing deeper than wine red as his eyes fall onto your near naked torso, the warm glow of his bedside lamp casting soft, dancing shadows on your smooth skin.

“Oh come on, I still have my bra on,” you begin to tease him in a bid to lighten the mood, praying the shadows hide your nasty bruises from the fist fight earlier. “This is nowhere near as slutty as your shorts.”

You laugh as Namjoon mockingly throws you a scandalised look. The blush on his cheeks, however, shows no intent to leave. He carefully threads your head and arms through the t-shirt. Once or twice he catches the ugly green blotches decorating your torso, a pained expression returning on his face. You shake your head at him, your left hand on his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek gently in assurance.

“This isn’t how I expected to get you into my bed,” he jokes lightly as you both clamber onto his double bed. You snort in response, eyes falling onto his exposed skylight window above the bed.

“If you told me you get to see the stars every night from your bed, I would have been convinced much earlier.”

“I don’t want you to make do with this.” He turns around onto his good side, facing you. “I wanted to take you on a real stargazing date.”

The faint speckles of light, powerful enough to travel unimaginable distances, boldly shine through the city’s layers of pollution, giving you the faintest reprieve from life on Earth as you lose yourself within them.

You two lie in companionable silence for a while as you take in the sights above you, Namjoon’s eyes are stuck to your wounded shoulder. You could almost hear the noisy gears shift in his head. 

Namjoon takes in a deep breath, holding it for a second, almost debating, before letting it rush out.

“When you said you’ve been hiding…were you hiding from those men?”

You freeze up. You weren’t expecting him to be so direct. He’d never even alluded to his curiosity, let alone make any passing observations before.

You couldn’t tell him. Not yet, at least.

“Do you know why I love looking at stars?”

In your peripheral, you catch Namjoon’s chest deflating in disappointment. He knows what you’re doing. You’re distracting him, as you always do. But, he responds nonetheless. “Why?”

“When I was eleven, I remember this one science class where my teacher put on a video about nuclear fusion and nuclear fission. It had this really cool alternative rock song in the background.” A silly, wistful giggle escapes your lips. “That’s when I knew I wanted to be a physicist.”

The revelation takes Namjoon by surprise. It’s the first truly personal thing you’ve shared with him. He props his head up on his hand, as he often does on the beanbags in the back room of the bookshop, his dimples on show for the first time this evening.

“Wow…I suppose your need for logical reasoning in almost everything makes sense now…the laws of physics -“

“The laws of physics don’t exist.” You’re quick to intersect and Namjoon sees a twinkle of excitement in you that he’s never seen before. “They’re actually just a set of mathematical equations that happen to fit the nature around us.”

He lets you blabber on for a while, just listening to you express your love in a way he’s never seen before. It makes him wonder why it’s been locked away in a box and shoved to the ends of your soul.

“So…did those guys earlier stop you from being a physicist?”

It’s a dumb tactic and Namjoon knows it. But he also needs to know what exactly happened earlier.

The light in your eyes dulls into a dreary midnight darkness; a flinch of your eyebrow followed by a sigh.

“I had to quit university after my first year,” you resignedly admit, eyes low in shame. “Let’s just say I had a job lined up for me.”

“What kind of job?” Namjoon’s pressing and he knows it but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. He can’t stop now.

You ponder the wording for a second.

“A desk job.” You punctuate your reply with a mirthless laugh. “Physics was always just a hobby. I could never have done anything with it…not with a job already lined up for me…”

“Hey,” he begins to coo, shuffling closer to you. “It’s okay to want to leave a mundane life behind to follow your dreams.”

“Oh, and you speak from experience?” You quirk an eyebrow up at him, enjoying the proximity, the heat. His heat.

“Guess what I studied at university.” He smirks at you, challenging you.

You perk up, intrigued at the prospect of learning more about him. “English literature? History? Art History? PPE?” He shakes his head at each one before you give up.

“Chemical engineering.” He bursts out laughing, his warm baritone vibrating into your body via your own kind of osmosis, and you find yourself mirroring him quickly.

“No fucking way!” 

“I worked at an energy company since I graduated university but I finally quit last year.”

You turn on your good side to face him and Namjoon’s hand quickly finds your waist, aiding you in your minimal movement. He keeps it there in the aftermath, thumb subconsciously stroking your hipbone as he shuffles even closer to you.

“I’ve always dreamt of being a songwriter and rapper,” he shyly admits. 

“You…a rapper?” Your lips part in incredulity as you take in the gentle man you’ve come to know and adore over the past couple months. “I don’t believe you.”

He’s even closer now, your noses touching as his voice playfully drops an octave. “Want me to prove it to you?”

You rub your thighs together at his quip, your underwear suddenly feeling stickier than it did two minutes ago. With how warm his breath feels on your lips, you don’t trust yourself to speak. So you nod.

He raps his favourite song for you, the rumble of his each syllable bringing his chest closer to yours. You eye his push lips, the very same lips you’d noticed at the library on your second meeting. Or rather, ‘date’.

You’re hit with a sudden desire to taste them and you react before you can count to five this time. Tongue flicking out to lick your own lips, you don’t even let him finish the bar before you crash onto his. 

Unlike last time, he doesn’t let you win the battle for dominance. This kiss is everything the first kiss wasn’t; fast, urgent and heated. Gone was your sweetheart Joon, the gentleman who kept your goodbyes to chaste hugs. This was Namjoon, the man who just slotted his thigh between your legs as he devoured you in the best way possible.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you again, baby,” he breathlessly confesses, pulling back for a moment to address his heaving chest. His pupils are blown out as he drinks you in, giving you a small peck on the lips and chuckling as you practically lift your head off the pillow to chase his departing lips.

You whimper and he kisses your face in condolence. He trails his kisses down to your neck before flopping onto his back next to you, the absence of his thigh leaving your core feeling cold and empty.

“Joooon.” You whine like a petulant child, already reminiscing the feeling of his soft lips against yours. “Come back.”

“I promise I will, baby,” Namjoon’s tender voice makes a return. “But only when you explain what kind of desk job teaches you how to correctly hold a knife.”

The heat of the moment dissipates in an instant.

Your stomach drops ominously. Could you even get out of this one?

“I-I…uh…sometimes they send me into the field…” you grimace at him, every word leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Namjoon just chuckles. 

“Baby, I meant what I said. Take your time. I’ll be waiting patiently for you.” He makes a pleading face and adds in, “but please don’t make me wait too long. Now that I’ve finally started to get to know you, I can’t wait to get to know all of you.”

Your heart melts and you have to physically squeeze your eyes shut to stop the waterfall that threatens to spill over.

You don’t open them again and Namjoon shifts closer to you, turning on his side to splay a gentle arm over your waist, lips on your neck.

You feel him mumble in your neck and if you’d so much as breathed over him, you would have missed it. 

“Please, just let me love you, baby.”

—-

“An ambush with so few of them,” Hoseok muses, leaning back on his chair. “Which means they just wanted to send a message.”

You shudder in Yoongi’s scrutiny. The harder his eyes bore holes into you, the more you failed to keep eye contact. He hasn’t said anything since you limped in this morning.

You’d woken up in Namjoon’s arms in unbearable pain. The pain medication had worn off at some point in the night and the bruises had marinated further into your muscles, leaving your body too sore to move.

Desperate not to rouse a blissfully snoring Namjoon, you’d tried to wiggle away, only for him to stir in his sleep and mumble “you’re so far away, baby. Come closer,” before pulling you back into his warmth.

Despite the tremendous pain you were in, you knew in that moment that you’d give up everything to wake up like this every morning.

By the time he’d eventually awoken, disoriented and momentarily unaware of the events of the night before, the memory foam on your side of the bed had already erased all traces of your body.

You’d left behind ruffled, cold sheets and a note.

‘Work came up urgently. I’m sorry. I’ll be back to check on your wound.’

“They didn’t say anything worth importance to me…” you wrack your brain, sifting though the little conversation you had with the men.

Hoseok eyes you for a second, debating whether to bring up yesterday evening’s encounter just yet.

“And who was he?”

You choke on your saliva, unsure of how much Yoongi knows. With the way he quirks up an inquisitive eyebrow, you get your answer. He didn’t know anything. Yet.

“An acquaintance. Why were you following me?” You brush over your response, emphasising your question instead.

“You hadn’t complained about hiding in a boring museum for a while.” Hoseok shrugs, uncaring of the way Yoongi crosses his arms intimidatingly. “I had to check.”

Saved by the bell, you hear Yoongi’s comms system come to life, leading him away from the dining table. 

“An acquaintance, huh? We’re acquaintances, wouldn’t you say, Y/N?” 

You squint at Hoseok, unsure as to where this was leading.

“But you’ve never held my hand before…” he trails off conspiratorially. 

You roll your eyes, both embarrassed that he decided to bring this up and grateful that he waited for Yoongi to leave first.

“I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I’m extremely disappointed in you. This isn’t how I brought you up.” You still at his change in demeanour, only to hear Yoongi’s footsteps pad into the room again.

“They ambushed me, Hobi.” You try to reason, with little faith in your argument. “With the organisational change, they shouldn’t even know who I am…I’ve never seen them before.”

“Are you saying we have a traitor in our midst?” 

“You know…they don’t wear those awful black hoodies with the cross on them anymore…these men were all in normal, unsuspecting clothes…they’ve switched to silver necklaces with crosses on them.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?” Hoseok leans forward in his chair, interest piqued.

“It means, their new brand is hiding in plain sight.” 

The moment you utter your words, the air thickens, all three of you in deep thought.

“And you’re sure they didn’t slip in any notes?” Hoseok gets up, heading towards your discarded jacket. He pats around it, giving you a pitiful look when his fingers trace the cut at the shoulder.

Your breath hitches as he pats to the hidden pocket where you keep your burner phone for Namjoon. He says nothing as he keeps feeling around, eventually fishing out a stained piece of paper.

You jump to your feet, Yoongi following suite as you crumple your face at the dried crimson mess bleeding the dainty writing together. Same as last time, there’s a faint yellow path that leads to a silver cross on the top corner.

‘Hope you enjoyed August yesterday

For it’s June tomorrow’

“What the fuck?” Hoseok frowns at the note disapprovingly. “It’s autumn now. What the fuck does this shit mean?”

The memory of your third date with Namjoon at the park slaps you ruthlessly across the face.

Cotton rapidly fills up your airways as spiky icicles invade your bloodstream. You feel winded, terror paralysing all your muscles in less than a second.

You fail to notice the way Yoongi stands behind you, his senses fully attuned to your reaction.

However, it’s Hoseok who speaks first. “Does this mean anything to you, Y/N?”

You attempt to swallow, choking on your own spit, despair pouring out of every pore in your body.

No fucking way would they dare to hurt your Joon.

“No.”

It sounds so pathetic, even you wouldn’t believe yourself.

“End it.” It’s the first time Yoongi has spoken, his voice deathly low and authoritative.

You spin on your heels, undisguised surprise etched onto your face. “W-Wha-?”

“I don’t care if he’s your acquaintance, your boyfriend or the love of your life.” The calm in his voice only signals to the incoming storm. In a way, you wish he openly unleashed his anger instead. “I don’t want you seeing him ever again.”

You set your jaw, ready to retaliate when Hoseok puts an arm on your good shoulder, silently begging you to calm down.

“After the fucking shit you just pulled off, you’re not fucking leaving this apartment until I fucking say so.” Yoongi’s voice trembles with outrage as he takes a step closer to you, looming over you. “Do you fucking understand?”

Hot tears stream down your face, your eyes bloodshot and knuckles white with how hard you were clenching your fists.

Yoongi slams down a set of keys on the table next to you before storming off. You recognise those keys to belong to the spare room. Or rather, your room, before you begged for an apartment of your own.

You should have known. Yoongi had spent far too many years in his role at his level to not see through you. All you’d done was broken the trust he’d put in you. It was that simple.

“You were our secret weapon, Y/N.” Hoseok’s patience isn’t lost on you. “Now that they know about you, it changes everything for us.”

You don’t realise when you draw blood in your palms, crescent shaped marks causing ruby red rivulets to run down your fingers.

“Hobi, please,” you plead with watery eyes. “You don’t get it. It’s him. They’re after him because of me. Please don’t leave him unguarded.”

Hoseok reaches into his pocket to fish out his comms device, tapping rapidly and sending curt instructions to who you know to be the security team that escorted you here from his flat this morning.

“He’s covered.” 

“What about the bookshop where he volunteers? Or the museum he sometimes goes to? Or the library? Or the park?” You break down on Hoseok’s shoulder, a wet patch beginning to pool on his jacket.

In all the years Hosoek had been your colleague and friend, he’d only ever seen you break down like this once before. So, it doesn’t surprise you that he doesn’t quite know how to comfort you. He awkwardly rests his hand on your back, alternating between rubbing and patting.

“I can’t lose him too.”

Hoseok winces at your words, knowing exactly what you mean.

—-

Y/N [12:03]: I don’t think we should see each other anymore.

Joon [12:05]: What? Baby, are you okay?

*1 missed call from Joon*

Joon [12:05]: Pick up, Y/N.

*2 missed calls from Joon*

Joon [12:09]: Is it something I did? I’m sorry. Please don’t shut me out.

Joon [12:10]: Is this because of what happened yesterday?

Y/N [12:11]: No, it’s not you. I just think we’re very different people.

Joon [12:11]: And???

Y/N [12:12]: I’m sorry. I should never have led you on. I wasn’t looking for anything serious anyway.

You wipe the tears on the screen but do nothing to stop them at the source.

Joon [12:14]: I know you’re lying.

Joon [12:14]: I’m at the shop right now. Come see me afterwards. Let’s talk.

Joon [18:01]: Baby, where are you?

Joon [19:10]: I’m still here…let me know when you’re outside.

Joon [20:37]: The lights are off but I promise I’m still here.

*1 missed call from Joon*

Joon [23:41]: Take your time, Y/N. I’ll be waiting.

By the time it’s midnight, Hoseok has to physically scoop your weeping figure off the floor to to change your wound dressing. You remember the promise you made to Namjoon in your note and wonder whether he’d remembered to redress his own wound.

—-

“You look like shit,” Hoseok speaks through mouthfuls of his lunch as you saunter into the living room weakly. “You should try out this under eye cream I’ve been using lately.”

You ignore him, staring daggers at Yoongi instead, who you haven’t spoken to since last week. You’d made sure to make a show of your abstinence from breakfast too. It was your form of a protest for the harsher than necessary punishment that was imposed upon you. The way you’d more than make up for it at lunch, however, didn’t escape his notice. 

You’d almost been confined to your room for a whole week, not too dissimilar to a quarantine. Knowing Yoongi, though, it was all surely a tactic. The punishment was probably just an added bonus.

The worst of your shoulder wound had healed, leaving you with a physical reminder of your failure to protect the man you’d unknowingly given your heart to.

Your physical training with Hoseok had dwindled down into nothing while you recovered. As had the messages and calls from Namjoon. 

Or so you think.

Or so you’d hoped.

Hoseok had spared your broken heart by taking your burner phone off of you and you hadn’t asked for it back. You try not to think too much about Namjoon. Unfortunately, he’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You occupied your free time reading the books you’d once mocked Namjoon for reading and studying the works of art that had once put you to sleep, imagining the narration in his voice. It was the only way of still keeping a part of him close to you.

Although you couldn’t leave the apartment yourself, you were close enough to the three men who were stationed outside Namjoon’s flat when he was home; Park, Kim and Jeon.

Using a delicate ratio of bartering and begging, you’d gotten them to send you daily updates of Namjoon on your comms device. Although it came across creepy on the outset, you assured them and yourself that it was for his own safety, knowing full well that you were in no position to run to his rescue should the need arise.

Once, when you hadn’t heard anything all day and stayed awake all night, Park had texted you at four in the morning that Namjoon had finally stumbled home. Your blood pressure and heart rate simultaneously shot through the roof before Park confirmed he was just drunk, and not hurt.

Needless to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night.

Another time, Kim had texted you he had eyes on Namjoon limping home in pain. You’d nearly finished planning the escape route from your room when you got the belated second text saying he’d just tripped up over a tree branch. 

That night, you got some much needed at-home exercise done to release the residual adrenaline.

Yesterday evening, Jeon had texted you that Namjoon had a girl in his arm, and they were both walking to his flat. You’d immediately turned your comms device off.

Needless to say, you got no sleep at all last night.

“My best men are needed elsewhere. Sorry, Y/N.” Hoseok had just broken the news to you that Park, Kim and Jeon had to be restationed as per Yoongi’s new plan of action, meaning Namjoon would be completely and utterly exposed. 

“But, they’re after him!” You look at Hoseok incredulously, arms flailing in the air to make your point.

“I know, I’m sorry, Y/N, but based on the past week, he seems to be safe and -“

“Safe my ass, Hobi. Lying isn’t a good colour on you.”

You hear a defeated sigh, one that you always hear when Hoseok gives into your demands. “Fine, 5pm.”

—-

You take a tentative sip of the tall latte sitting in front of you and nearly gag. 

It only tasted good on Namjoon’s tongue.

Speaking of the man in question, you peer out of the tinted windows of the coffee shop opposite Namjoon’s bookshop. It’s 5:10pm and Hoseok had allowed you one sympathy visit.

You’d been narrating Namjoon’s routine to Hoseok in real time for the past ten minutes, eyes lighting up whenever you recognised a repeat customer.

“He looks like a nice guy,” Hoseok comments casually and you snort at his consolation attempt.

“You know what? No, he’s not.”

He quirks his eyebrows at your change in tone.

“You know my view on life, right?” You look sincerely into Hoseok’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, everything is inconsequential in the this vast universe, nothing matters,” he rolls his eyes. “Time is made up etc.”

“Well, no one had ever made me question my core beliefs until he had the fucking audacity to just waltz into my life and make me feel like…like… I mattered?!” You bang your fist on the table in disbelief. 

“Time flew by when I was with him and when I wasn’t, time painfully dragged on. And, yet somehow, no amount of time I spent with him ever seemed enough…but, Hobi, I don’t understand…if time isn’t real…” You weakly trail off, eyes the slightest bit glassy as you furrow your eyebrows.

The fact that you look genuinely confused amuses Hoseok. He listens to you confess your love in the most convoluted and Y/N way possible. For a second he wonders if that’s how you confessed to Namjoon too. Chuckling and shaking his head, he merely asks, “where did you even find him?”

“A fucking museum,” you laugh at the irony of it all. You spend the next few minutes explaining each of your dates.

Hoseok can’t ignore the way your spirit inflates, the aura around you almost jolly. It’s the first time in a very long time that you sounded…happy. He also can’t ignore the way your chest deflates at the melancholic ending, shoulders sagging into yourself as you admit your deepest fears to him.

“People like me don’t deserve a good life, Hobi.” You sink down into your seat, pulling your cap down low and adjusting your sunglasses. “My Joon is so full of innocent love…I can’t poison him with my presence. Wherever I go, I always risk putting him in danger.”

“Y/N…” Hoseok’s reprimand is weak, earning him a scoff.

You look over at Namjoon, across two shop windows and a whole road, straining your eyes through the sunglasses to catch a glimpse of the scar on his bicep.

What you don’t expect to see is a tender hand caressing his bicep. Even through the thick glass and the cars in between, you could spot the culprit.

“Fucking Nari,” you fume, “she’s been trying to throw herself at him since I first stepped into the bookshop.”

Truthfully, you know it’s for the best if he moves on. Namjoon deserves someone who can give him unconditional and limitless love. Someone who loves books as much as he does. Someone who appreciates art as much as he does. Someone whose scars don’t burden them with each step forward. Someone who doesn’t endanger him every second by just being around him.

“He doesn’t really seem to be enjoying her company,” Hoseok offers with a grimace. And that’s exactly what you convince yourself to believe too.

—-

Whether it’s pity or a shred of humanity, you manage to convince Hoseok to accompany you to the coffee shop again a week later. 

On the last day of your three month notice, as your leaving present.

As soon as you glance across, your sixth sense whines with trepidation. Instead of a fluffy haired, jean-clad Namjoon, you see his long locks gelled back to reveal his forehead. Deciding to forgo his usual baggy t-shirt, he dons the most elegant white shirt with the top button undone. He looks nervous and you wonder why the shop is empty so early.

“Why has he locked up so early?”

“Looks like he’s about to go on a date,” Hoseok jokes, not initially catching your death stare at him. “Sorry.”

As if to answer your question, a car pulls up right outside the shop, obscuring your view for just a few moments as you scramble to keep your eyes on Namjoon. Hoseok roughly pulls you back down, shooting you a glare which silently translates to ‘behave’.

You see a beautiful female dressed in a black midi dress, hair held up delicately with two metallic alligator hair clips criss-crossed together. One look at her ruby stilettos and you recognise Nari immediately.

If it weren’t for your growing apprehension, you’d have felt the hard slap of jealousy. In a fleeting moment of realisation, you register that you’d never actually been on a proper date with Namjoon before. A normal date. Like the one he was about to go on.

Shaking yourself out of your self-pity rabbit hole, you look around, trying to put your finger on what seems off.

“Hobi, something isn’t right,” you whisper to him, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Let’s look around.”

Hoseok agrees easily, already up on his feet and ushering you out. Pulling out his comms device, he immediately calls for back up.

“It’s the new barista at the coffee shop. Chain with a silver cross. She came out from the back when the car pulled up,” he states mildly, keeping his expression neutral in public. “They didn’t just know we were here, they’d been expecting us long before we got here.”

Your blood runs cold at the near encounter. Whoever the new boss was knew exactly how to keep tabs on your location and it scared you to the bone. They were always one step ahead.

“Is there an event going on?” You look around the street, trying to find any indication of a gathering.

“Why?”

“There are so many new cars here.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is a controlled parking zone for residents only, so I know which cars usually park here. But most of these cars are new today, suggesting we have a lot of visitors.” You quickly feel the hood of an old SUV. “It’s still warm, which means it didn’t arrive too long ago.”

You feel a few more hoods, confirming your suspicions.

“But they look like normal, personal cars, nothing like the black saloons we’ve been seeing for years,” Hoseok points out.

“Plain sight, Hobi,” you reiterate. “Theyre hiding in plain sight.”

By the time you trace a vague silver cross on a modern hatchback, Yoongi appears in plain clothes. It’s almost comical how boyish he looks in jeans and a white t-shirt. 

“They’re expecting us to follow.” He takes a sip from his presumably empty cup, to play the part. Missions gave no opportunities for mid-action bathroom trips. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’ll use their own trap to trap them.”

Hoseok gives a curt nod before flicking his eyes towards Namjoon and Nari, quietly advising. “They’re leaving now. We should follow them.”

—-

“What are they waiting for?” You impatiently shift from your hiding spot, keeping your eyes on the restaurant Namjoon and Nari had stepped into. 

“They used Namjoon as bait to bring us here,” Hoseok whispers, tapping away on his comms device.

“No, I get that. But, we’re already here. And so are they.” You gesture to all the cars that you had spotted earlier and had unsurprisingly followed you here. “It’s like they’re waiting for something or someone…”

“Gear up,” Yoongi hisses at Hoseok, strapping his own gear on.

“No, wait. It feels too convenient,” you muse, still unconvinced of the whole situation. “Joon isn’t just bait…he’s a part of their plan…”

“We’re not risking our biggest mission for your pretty boy,” Yoongi taunts, only to have Hoseok physically restrain you.

“Yoongi, I will fucking fight you right here if that’s what you want.”

“Park, Kim and Jeon are here with their units.” Hoseok comes to the rescue, giving you both stern looks.

You look over at Namjoon and Nari through the restaurant, laughing over their meal, Nari’s arm outstretched over the table to caress his clothed bicep. You feel the bitterness brew in your stomach, unable to stop it from bubbling up to the surface. 

The truth is, you could never have given Namjoon any of this; what he deserved. Yet, you still felt the green shade of jealousy taint your skin from head to toe, as if you were Wicked Witch of the West.

“Hobi, come with me.” You start dragging him by the elbow, out into the open as he glares at you in disbelief.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“We need to get into that restaurant. Undercover.”

“What the fuck for?” He’s wiggled out of your grip and stopped walking with you altogether. “Look, Y/N, I know it’s hard to see him move on when you love him -“ “Love? I don’t do love, Hobi.” Your rebuttal comes on way too strong but you spit out your plan unabated. “Look, they’re all waiting for something inside that restaurant.”

You gesture at the cars, all manned and armed. All attention towards the inside of the restaurant.

“They know we’re here, yet they’re still waiting for something…” you reason. “Like an instruction. And it looks like it’ll come from within the restaurant.”

“I’ll come with you.” Yoongi’s deep voice surprises you. You two weren’t exactly on talking terms since the banishment. The petty dispute a couple of minutes ago, you thought, was the final nail in the coffin.

Apparently not.

As Yoongi furtively flashes his ID at the entrance to skip the queue, you thread your arm through his, tucking your hair back in an attempt to look presentable.

“Why does this have to look like a date again?” Yoongi grunts, surprised by the way you’re so open to touch now. He wonders if he even knows you anymore. The new Y/N.

“We’re hiding in plain sight,” you speak your words through a gritted smile, allowing the server to seat you at a table a safe distance away from Namjoon and Nari. 

You hear Hoseok’s curt affirmation through your almost invisible earpiece, confirming he’s at the back door, with the rest of the units scattered around the building. You both wait for confirmation from Park, Kim and Jeon.

Before walking in, Yoongi had made you vow not to let your personal feelings get in the way of the mission and you’d agreed. Now, as you sit down, making sure to angle your chair slightly away from the couple, you realise it’s not something you’re ready to do. In a single blurred moment, every one of your dates with Namjoon flashes through your mind like a fever dream and you realise you might never know happiness like that again.

“Hoseok told me about him.” Yoongi, ever the observer, rips your attention away from the couple and onto him. “I didn’t know it was this serious.”

“Serious?” You scoff bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “It was just a few dates…looks like he’s moved on anyway.”

The chuckle that leaves Yoongi’s lips frustrates you but you let him retort anyway. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what? He’s happy, Yoongi. And I’m happy he’s happy. He deserves to always be happy. Even if it’s with someone else.” Your eye contact wavers at the last part.

“Is he, though?” 

You prepare to snap back at him but you’re both interrupted by Park on your earpieces confirming he’s in the kitchen. Kim shortly follows, confirming his status as an undercover waiter, whilst Jeon takes his undercover position behind the bar. With all comms channels open, you knew they’d all just heard the conversation you and Yoongi had had.

You take Yoongi’s hands in yours across the table, raising them to your face to block your lips from view as you whisper your words into your earpiece. “Vet every last customer and staff, they’ve always been one step ahead of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they beat us in here.”

You beckon Yoongi closer, leaning over the table to meet halfway. To an outsider it would look like a lover’s moment. Something special, something sweet.

“You should use a blackhead mask. Hobi has a good one,” you whisper to him, conspiratorially, as you hear Hoseok snicker in your ear.

“Stop fucking about or else I’m leaving.”

“Ok, ok.” You lean your chin in your hand, elbow resting on the table as you quickly list off your findings. “Six o’clock, four o’clock, tipsy guy at the bar with Jeon and the couple who just walked in.”

Yoongi quirks his eyebrow, taking in the information you’ve provided, as do the rest of the team in their earpieces. Park and Kim add on another couple of suspects with the signature silver cross necklaces. At this point, everyone was a suspect.

“You know, I was thinking about the two messages we got.” You keep him close, not wanting to raise your voice above a whisper. “The second one was so obvious, but why is it that the first one makes absolutely no sense?” 

“You’re the brains, Y/N. You tell me.” Yoongi surveys the floor once again as Jeon updates the team on another suspect. When his eyes come back to you, he doesn’t hesitate before dropping the very words that make your blood run cold. “Your pretty boy just saw us. He’s walking over.”

Your eyes widen but you can’t move. Not until you hear your name in the warm baritone that fills your heart with so much longing.

“Y/N?” 

Steeling your nerves, you hastily blink back the tears that don’t escape Yoongi’s watchful gaze. Acting pleasantly surprised, you look up to find Namjoon staring at you and Yoongi with so much betrayal in his brown orbs that your heart nearly rips at the seams.

“Oh, is this what you meant when you said you weren't looking for anything serious?” If it were anyone else, it would have sounded bitter and attacking, but the hurt in his voice pierces your heavy heart with guilt.

“I-I…Joo- Namjoon,” you stutter, “it’s not like that…”

“Not like that? What is this then? Are you hiding again?” When you look at him silently, pleading, he rolls his eyes, clearly coming up empty in the patience department. “Save it, Y/N. You don’t have to explain yourself. Your actions speak a thousand words.”

The way your guilt morphs into anger takes you by surprise. Who was he to blame you for being on a fake date when he was the one on a real date?

“That’s rich coming from you,” you darkly laugh. “As if you’re not on a date yourself. Speaking of your date, where is Nari?”

You look over him to find the table empty, assuming she’d excused herself to powder up.

“Don’t flip this on me, Y/N. I waited.” You didn’t want to hear the rest of it, but he gave you no option. “Three weeks, Y/N. All day and all night, I waited for you. I called you, I texted you but you just disappeared one day without giving me a reason.”

Yoongi listens silently, taking in every last reaction of yours. He’s only ever seen you in so much pain once, yet he believes this is a different kind of pain. One that he partially blames himself for. If only he’d let you go two years ago, you could have already built your life by now. Instead, he’d asked you to cut off the only living part of your otherwise dead life.

“Please believe me, it’s not like that…” You’re biting your lip now, clenching your fists helplessly on the table.

“You know, Y/N, sometimes I wonder if you’ve been using me from the start. Like when you kissed me for the first time because you were so obviously trying to hide from someone. I’ve always just been a tool to you.”

Unable to speak without breaking down, your nostrils flare as you dig your nails into your palms furiously, knuckles turning white. Yoongi finally steps in, figuratively, in the form of his comforting hands over your knuckles, to stop you from drawing blood.

“I can’t believe I fell for you.” Namjoon mumbles his final words as he walks away, your face immediately contorting to reflect the anguish you felt within. You exhale through your mouth, reminding yourself that the pain is worth it if it guarantees his safety. 

“Y/N…” Yoongi gently brings you back to reality. He opens his mouth to offer consolation, although he doesn’t know how, before you interrupt him.

“Sorry, yes, I know. Mission.” You shake your head, effectively shaking the feelings out of you, although a couple of tears leak over. “The yellow path with a cross at the top.”

“You said it reminded you of the Wizard of Oz, didn’t you?” Hoseok chimes in from the earpiece. 

“Yeah, like Dorothy walking down the yellow brick road…” You deliberately focus on deciphering the riddle, using whatever you can to keep your mind off Namjoon’s brazen words.

Just then, Park cuts in, with a brief update that Namjoon’s date had lost her way back from the toilets and accidentally ended up at the kitchen.

“What a dimwit,” Hoseok jokes, and you sense it’s his own way of comforting you after everything he’d just heard over the comms channel.

Your mind wanders to how beautiful Nari looked in her midi dress today and you wonder what Namjoon sees in her. Whether he’d asked her on his date or she’d asked him.

“Repeat the first message to me, Hobi,” you request, although you know it off the top of your head.

“Don’t play with rain, for it will only cause you pain.”

You had a gnawing feeling that the answer was staring at you point blank in the face.

“So poetic…” Yoongi mutters with a sigh. “Didn’t know their new boss was into poetry.”

Nari walks out from the back, looking a bit too content for her own good and you feel your stomach lurch. You wish your stomach could speak to you instead of sending you mere omens. Your brain was taking a second to catch up.

“Don’t play with rain?…Rain…?” You wonder out loud for the channel to hear. “Why did Nari style her hair like that?”

“Focus, Y/N,” Yoongi hisses at you.

“No, look at it,” you insist. “No one wears two alligator clips together like that in a cross…it defeats the point of wearing one…”

You feel the palpable silence ring in your ear as both you and Yoongi scrutinise the metallic cross in her hair.

“Hobi, what colour were Dorothy’s shoes in the Wizard of Oz?” 

You know the answer. Everyone on the channel does. But you wanted someone else to confirm it. 

You hear a gulp before Hoseok answers “Red.”

Neither you nor Yoongi breathe as both pair of eyes fall to her feet.

And the penny finally drops.

“Rain…” you whisper to the channel. “Anyone good at anagrams?” 

You’re met with deafening silence.

The silence stretches to infinity as time slows down around you. You catch Nari wickedly grinning at you before the main doors of the restaurant burst open, a flood of people in plain clothes invading the floor to create a distraction for her to safely slip away. In one ear, you could register Yoongi ordering the units to seep in through the back. Through it all, only one thought persisted in your mind.

You had to get Namjoon out of here.

He looks visibly perplexed at the new flood of people as you race over to his table, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“What do you want now, Y/N?”

You ignore Park’s update in your ear about several collapsed bodies in the kitchen as you try to speak over the sharp crescendo of voices on the restaurant floor.

“Joon, can we talk? Please?”

He scoffs, uninterested. “Talk about what? I think we’re don-“

“I can’t hear you,” you plead with your face, hoping he’d give you one last chance to get him out of the mess you created. “Please, can we go outside? Just one minute. That’s all I ask of you.”

The moment his vulnerable and dilated pools of brown meet yours, you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and leading him outside with a sense of urgency that you’d just have to explain later.

In the crushing proximity of the ever-growing crowd of people, you don’t catch Namjoon swaying on his feet; your only goal to exit unscathed.

“I’m getting Joon to safety. No eyes on Nari.” You inform the channel as you make your way out of the fire exit.

“Y/N…”

You’re halfway to your surveillance vehicle on the lawn outside, when you hear your name fall from Namjoon’s lips in a slur. Had he been drinking? You couldn’t recall seeing any alcohol on his table.

He roughly snaps his hand out of yours, making you spin around in surprise. With multiple escape routes swirling in your head, you’d failed to notice Namjoon’s breath quickening, sweat dampening his forehead and gluing his dark strands to his temples. Chest heaving, he doubles over, hands on his knees for support as he tries to speak.

“Y-you hurt me…I w-waited…w-w-why-“ He coughs ominously and you feel your heart jump up to your throat.

“Joon, what’s wrong? You lean down, cupping his face to look into his dilated eyes. “Baby, talk to me.”

“I-I mean n-nothing to you…” he rasps for air, struggling to breathe now.

“Joon, you mean so much to me. I promise I’m not going anywhere again,” you assure him, choking on your words.

Within a second, Namjoon’s warmth departs from you as he unceremoniously collapses onto the cold, hard ground. You crouch down, checking his vitals when his limbs start seizing up and his face loses colour.

“Fuck!” You all but scream into the earpiece. “Man down. Bring me the med kit ASAP. Joon’s been poisoned.” With shaking fingers you send your exact coordinates to the group and within the next minute you see the muscled physique of Jeon jogging towards you with a bag.

“Still no eyes on Nari. Everyone report.” You hear Hoseok’s crackled voice pierce through your ear, the havoc in the background clear as day. One by one, you hear a defeated ‘no’ from all units until it’s your turn.

You’re still on the ground when you hear the rustle of leaves and a scurrying of feet behind you. You whirl in a rush to find the pair or ruby red heels hanging from the tree behind you and a figure scuttling into the dark.

“Sighting confirmed. She’s heading south-east.” You take one look at Namjoon’s now limp body on the ground and then at Nari’s agile figure disappearing into the trees. With a pained expression, you take your call. “I’m going after her.” 

You take off, just to be startled a second later by Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder as Hoseok whizzes past you with his units in tow. Nothing in all your years of working this job could have prepared you for his next actions. Instead of barking orders down your neck, he holds up his hand to you in his signature authoritative manner.

“No, Y/N. You’re done. This isn’t your job anymore. Go be with him.”

You find yourself speechless, staring at the space he occupied long after he rushes off to join Hoseok. With next to no time to process your farewell speech, you rush back to Namjoon to find Jeon’s swift fingers administering the antidote.

“We’ll need to get him in the med van so I can hook him up to the ventilator and give him sedatives if needed. You caught it early so he should be fine but I’ll also need to do a toxicity screen when he wakes up before you can take him home."

You feel tonight’s strongest punch to your gut when you realise that you’ll be taking a hurt Namjoon home once again.

And it was all your fault.

Once again.

—-

Comforted by the faint rise and fall of Namjoon’s chest on your bed, you look towards the bright green LED lights on the bedside table flashing 6:13am. 

Sitting on the bedroom floor with your head on your knees, you’d listened to the chase through your earpiece all night before unceremoniously disconnecting it at the end. Not talking back, just listening. You knew you’d have to return all your equipment back eventually. You might even lose your flat.

You sigh, looking at the bare white walls and wooden floorboards. You’d always liked the idea of minimalism, or so you told yourself. It was to conceal your real identity from any visitors. Not that you had any. 

Now, you think it gave everything away about you. Empty. Bland. Barely functional.

You think back to Namjoon’s flat and the plants that littered every nook and cranny. Love poured out of each and every corner of his flat. It was his home. This was not your home.

The soft murmur of Namjoon stirring in his sleep propels you off the floor and straight to him. He’d stirred numerous times throughout the night. Although Jeon had cleared him, saying Namjoon just needed rest to recover, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave his side just in case he woke up and needed something.

That’s if he wanted to see you again.

“Y/N?” Namjoon croaks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Joon, I’m right here,” you smile reassuringly at him, mentally taking a note of his vitals as a force of habit. “What do you need?” 

He groggily takes in his surroundings, eyes landing back on you questioningly. 

There was no easy way to say it. “Uh…you were poisoned by the head of the biggest criminal organisation in the country.”

You don’t blame him when he chokes on his spit, rushing to get him a glass of water in the meantime. “Here. Are you in pain?”

He gulps down the water as he slowly comes to his senses. “Head? What? Where’s Nari? Where are we?”

“Joon…I’m sorry to break it to you but Nari isn’t who you think she is. I’m sorry I should have spotted it before; the signs were all there but I was stupid and I put you right in the middle of all this mess. I’m so sorr-“

“Y/N, what are you on about?”

“Nari tried to hurt you.” With a heavy sigh, you try to come clean. “I guess I have a lot I want, no- need to explain to you.”

Namjoon chuckles dryly, seemingly still upset with you. “And what if I don’t want to hear it? I mean, why would I believe you anyway?”

“Then I’ll happily accept your decision.” You look away before it breaks you. “But please rest for now and let me know if you need anything. I’ll be on the sofa…my flat’s quite small so you’ll be able to see me from here.” You point at the rugged two seater through the open doorway.

You’re just one breath away from sinking onto the dingy sofa when you hear Namjoon chuckling again, this time with enough humour to concern you. You run back to him, worry painted across your face, when you see him holding up your art history book he’d fished from the bedside table.

“Are you sure this is your flat? Since when did you read about art?” He looks at you incredulously and you flush a deep beet red. 

Sheepishly snatching the book off of him, you safely tuck it away, not wanting to admit to him how hard the past three weeks had been for you.

“Y/N. I asked you a question.” 

“Since three weeks ago,” you snap back at him.

Namjoon simply looks at you with an expression you can’t place.

“Why did you bring me here?” He intently searches your eyes for something.

“Because I…I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“What do you mean? I couldn’t just leave you…I’ve been worried sick all night…” 

You feel your irritation building.

“But, why? You were on a date with someone els-“

“Because I care about you so fucking much it hurts to see you like this, okay? Does that answer your fucking question?” 

The words come tumbling out of you before you can censor them. Annoyed at how easily he can break you, you attempt to huff away, cheeks burning in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Before you could get too far, though, you feel his fingers encircle your wrist. 

“Stay.” When you don’t move, he tugs again, a little harder this time. He flashes you his pretty dimples and despite all your willpower, you melt. You perch on the edge of the bed respectfully, not wanting to invade his personal space, but he pulls you closer, as he’s always done.

“I’m officially unemployed as of today.” Somehow, saying it out loud makes it seem more real.

“Does it have anything to do with me being here?”

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t fallen for you…” you trail off, not realising the way Namjoon’s eyes shine with a sliver of hope in them. “I got too complacent…I went against all my training.”

“You’re so far away, baby. Come closer.” He tugs at your thigh so you lie down next to him. You preen at the pet name you haven’t heard in a while, letting him mindlessly throw his arm over your waist as if it’s something he does everyday. It all just feels so natural, you can’t stop the goosebumps that raid your skin.

“What kind of training was that?” Namjoon asks, tentatively.

“As a special agent…in a private secret service.” You let the news marinate, not sure what his response would be.

Namjoon stares at you with wide eyes, and you realise you might have to give a bit more background.

“My parents and their friends founded it and I was thrust into when I was nineteen. There were four of us, and we all grew up like siblings, training together our entire childhood for when we’d finally be in the field.”

Namjoon nods, piecing together the information he already knew about your incomplete university studies.

“I should have known better…I really shouldn’t have even stepped into the bookshop at all. I was under strict instructions to be at open public places only. If I’d been more careful, you wouldn’t have been in that alley with me…” You gently skim over his bicep, resentment eating you alive at the scar that had formed. “I’ll never forgive myself for letting you get hurt.”

Namjoon cups your face, caressing your cheekbone and shaking his head, just as you did to him that night. “I’ll think of it like a cool tenth date tattoo we got together,” he jokes lightly, just to see you smile, albeit sadly.

“I…I-I…I was under strict instructions not to see you again after that, for the sake of the mission. I couldn’t let you get hurt again because of me.” You let one rogue tear slip down the bridge of your nose as a twin tear streams down his own. “And if I’d been more careful, you wouldn’t be here, poisoned. Hurt. Again. Because of me.”

Namjoon’s kiss to your forehead takes you by complete surprise.

“Y/N, from everything you’ve just said, all you’ve tried to do is look out for me. How does that make you the bad guy?” He looks at you sincerely, waiting for your response. You stare at him with disbelief swimming in your eyes, utterly nonplussed. This is not how you expected the conversation to take shape.

“There was a criminal organisation that started wreaking havoc a few years ago. We had our fair share of encounters with them and we quickly found out how dangerous they were. I even lost…” you gulp as Namjoon rubs your back, sensing the sensitive nature of the topic.

“Y/N, it’s okay if you’re not read-“

“No, Joon. No more waiting. I want to tell you. I just…I’ve not talked about it for a while…”

“Take your time, baby. You’re doing great.” He kisses you softly on your jaw and you let yourself relax in his embrace. Numbing yourself to the feelings, you try to merely state the facts as they were. 

“Jin. He was like my eldest brother. Brilliant mind for planning attacks but weak in the field. We were ambushed one day…” your voice wavers and realisation dawns on Namjoon’s face. “Not too dissimilar to what happened with us. Except, back then, I wasn’t as experienced as I thought. And it was all over before I could call for backup.”

Namjoon holds you tighter in his own way of offering condolences, letting you nose the crook of his neck and find comfort in his scent.

“I wanted to quit ever since then. But, when you work in a job like this, it’s not that easy.” 

“Why not?” Namjoon sounds genuinely curious.

“They’d seen my face, Joon. Once you quit this job, you don’t get any protection.”

“Fuck, I never thought about that…” Namjoon’s lips part, deep in thought.

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah, well, that’s why I’d been in hiding for two years. In the hopes that I’d eventually fall off their radar. Until we could plan a safe exit route for me.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t work?”

You shake your head in defeat. “I missed all the signs. She was right in front of my face…she was always one step ahead of us and now I know it’s because she knew you. And she used you to get to me.” 

It takes a second for Namjoon to realise but when he does, you feel him stiffen uncomfortably. “Wait… you were being serious earlier? It was…Nari?”

You recount the tale of last night, Namjoon’s eyes peeled wide open throughout as he conveys his own version of events with her. From her repeatedly visiting the bookshop for poetry books, to her dog walks at the park that conveniently coincided with Namjoon’s walks, to her persistence to go on just one date with him.

“Did you guys catch her in the end?”

“Nope.” You recall the chase ending the same way it’d always done with them, no matter who the boss had been.

He visibly freezes in fear and this time you plant a brave kiss to his cheek. “Hey, hey. Look at me. I’m not leaving you unprotected. I’ll be on guard every second of every day if that’s what it takes to make you feel safe. I’ll be your personal bodyguard.”

“But…you just quit your job so that you could leave all that behind…”

You let out a humourless chuckle. “People like me, we don’t get a normal life, Joon. That can’t happen unless…” you ponder lightly, “unless I move far away from here. But I can’t do that because…”

Your breath quickens as you feel him press his chest to yours. “Why not?”

“Because it hurts to be away from you.”

“Then don’t.” His hands wander down your back, seeking purchase on your ass, using it as leverage to pull you into his crotch. You’re impossibly close and it takes your breath away. 

It’s exactly what you need; to be overwhelmed by him. To have all of him.

“What if I’m not enough? To protect you…” You’re gasping for air when you feel his mouth on yours, filling your lungs with his own. You’re dizzy, intoxicated even, and you ironically wonder if you’ve been poisoned instead. Poisoned with raw need to have him.

Namjoon kneads your round globes, rutting into you so that you could feel his solid erection rub against your thigh.

“I don’t want to be away from you any longer, Y/N,” he confesses, his half lidded dragon eyes boring into your own. “Fuck, baby, I can’t get close enough to you. I want to be closer.”

Namjoon sounds delirious, covering your face and neck in open mouthed kisses, unsure of the map he’s drawing, but keen to get his mouth on everything everywhere all at once.

You throw your head back, panicked tears prickling your eyes as you let your fingers sink into his long locks. “Joon, baby, what if you get hurt again? I-I..ah-I can’t see you hurt again…”

“You know what really hurt me?” He stops his ministrations, pulling back his face to show you the anguish that still plagued him. “Seeing you on a date with another guy.” 

The last thing he expects you to do is chuckle airily and kiss his jaw in response.

“That wasn’t a real date. We were undercover.”

His dimples pop out and you surrender to their pull, kissing them over and over again.

“Good, because I want you so fucking bad, Y/N. Do you want me?” He fingers hook onto the inside of your waistband, awaiting your approval, which you provide in the form of a furious nod, before snaking down into your dripping core.

You can’t help the moan that slips out of you as you feel his fingers toy with your clit. He dips a finger in, then two, then three, pumping you open for his cock. He keeps his eyes locked into yours as he pulls out and sinfully licks his fingers clean of your essence, nearly making you cum on the spot.

“Joon, I need to taste you, baby.” 

You guide him gently on his back, shifting down to nose the wet patch on his crotch as you rid his trousers and boxers both at once. His thick cock slaps his stomach and your jaw falls slack at his size. It’s thicker and longer than you’ve ever had and you gulp at the impending challenge. His deep red tip weeps to be worshipped, his weighty shaft throbbing in need. You vow there and then to be his cock’s biggest devotee.

“Fuck me, you’re so big.”

Namjoon blushes, the tip of his ears a dusky red as he lovingly cups your cheek. “Baby, we don’t have to -“

He hisses as you take him in whole the very next second, desperately wanting him to fill your mouth. The first bead of precum on your tastebuds elicits the softest groan from Namjoon and you know right then that you’re addicted to the way he sounds. And the way he tastes.

Your hands wrap around his thick shaft, making up for the inches you mouth can’t reach, his wrecked face giving you a newfound motivation to take him deeper. You’re still barely just past the head.

“Y/N, if you carry on like this, baby, I-ah…I won’t be able to…fuck- hold back anymore…” He rounds it off with the sexiest groan you’d ever heard from a man and if he thought that would make you stop, he was sorely wrong. 

It takes one particularly wet slurp for him to choke back a cry in his throat, immediately pulling you off his cock. You pout at him like a petulant child who’s been denied candy and he chuckles at the way you chase the string that connects his tip to your lips.

“Want your cum…” Your words turn into a hum as you lick his oozing tip.

“Another time, baby. Right now, I need to be inside you.”

He pulls you up, prompting you to get on your side facing him as he does the same. With one leg thrown over his hips, he rips your panties apart to align himself to your leaking hole.

You grip onto him, fisting his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck as you feel the first intrusion of his blunt tip. You gasp out at the stretch and Namjoon rubs your back soothingly as he peppers your shoulder with kisses.

“Baby, you’re doing so well.” Another minute push and you’re squirming. His overbearing cock spears into you, quite literally rearranging your insides to make space for him to fill you up to the brim. He’s really fucking big and for a moment you fear he might not fit.

Namjoon brings his fingers down to rub your clit, coaxing your walls to relax. What you don’t expect is the band within you suddenly snapping in half, slapping you in the face with your first orgasm while he’s only half sheathed in you. You clamp down on his length mercilessly as you flood his shaft with your juices, making the subsequent slide easier. “Fuuuck, that’s it, baby. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Joooon…so big…” you’re babbling incoherently, breathlessly, clutching the nape of his neck to bring him closer to you.

“I know, shhh baby, I know. Just a little bit more.” He coddles you, praising you into oblivion and you worry you might be addicted his sweet praises. “My good girl…”

Namjoon’s guttural moan signals the end of your struggle, the line between pain and pleasure blurring as he bottoms out. For a moment neither of you move, only staring at each other.

“Please don’t leave me again,” he begs, baring his soul to you.

“I promise I won’t,” you whisper. 

You clench around his length, making him growl and jump into action. He begs your walls for permission with each harsh stroke and they acquiesce, welcoming him home.

The remnant of your first orgasm alights the beginning of the next as Namjoon sets a punishing pace.

“Joon…I’m gonna c-cum-ah…again…”

“Me too, baby. Look at me.” He gives you an eskimo kiss, forcing your attention on him as his fingers find your clit again. “Look at how you make me cum for you.”

As if it triggers a trip switch, you feel your second orgasm wash through you, lasting a lot longer than the first as your walls flutter around Namjoon’s pulsating cock. 

You force your eyes to stay open as you take in his furrowed eyebrows and parted lips. He pumps twice more before emptying his seed deep within you.

Neither of you move for a while, his cock slowly softening out of you and sending globs of his thick white cum onto your thigh.

Namjoon is the first to break his silence. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “And go where? To yours?”

“No, Y/N,” he chuckles, the post sex glow making him looking more angelic than ever. “Let’s go somewhere far away. I want to take my songwriting and rapping more seriously and there are no opportunities for me here while I’m at the bookshop.”

You stare at him with wide eyes, brain still empty from the deep dicking he’d given you not even two minutes ago. “You’d come with me?”

“Remember when I said I’d travel anywhere for you?” He lets the words hang in the air.

As you lay cuddled up in his embrace, warmth blooms in your chest at the possibility of a new life with Namjoon. A fresh start on a fresh slate with the person who holds your heart in his own two hands.

“Let’s go somewhere where we can see the stars.”

“And somewhere with lots of museums…how about France? Monet’s birthplace.”

“Who’s Monet?” You deadpan, trying to keep a straight face.

“‘Who’s Monet?’!” You barely hear your giggle over Namjoon's harsh slap to your ass.

—-

-Epilogue- 

[a year later]

Sticky, in more than just one way, and uncaring of your grossness, you lay your head on Namjoon’s naked chest. The warm, humid August breeze does nothing to dry the sweat on your skin.

Reaching down, you grasp his semi and Namjoon hisses at the oversensitivity. “Y/N, don’t be greedy. I already gave you two loads of my cum. Be a good girl and behave.”

Snickering, you press down on your lower stomach until his cum starts leaking out of you. “Oops, I guess you’ll have to fill me up again.”

He groans, indicating that you’ve successfully penetrated his defences, and you feel his length harden in your hand as you begin pumping him. You look at him with innocent eyes and he instantly caves, like he’s done for a whole year.

“If my dick falls off, it’ll be your fault.” His attempted joke turns into a moan when he feels your lips on his cock. He swears he’ll never tire of them. Of you. 

The vibrations of your moan short circuit his brain and he bucks his hips up into your mouth. Even after all this practise, you still weren’t truly used to his size.

You gag, swallowing around his tip as it touches the back of your throat, the light breeze carrying his expletives away. You see the way his face contorts in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together and lips parting the way they do just before he climaxes.

“Alright, Joon, fill me up, baby.” You abruptly pull off of him, ignoring his glare and clambering on top of him with a knowing smirk.

Namjoon slips right in, snapping his hips into you without giving you a chance to adjust. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The squeaking of your makeshift truck bed snaps you back to reality. But Namjoon knows exactly how to get your attention back on him.

He thwacks your ass and you tumble onto him, boneless, as you take his pounding, your pleasure fast approaching its peak.

“I told you to be a good girl but you just had to be a brat, didn’t you?”

“Joon…I-ah…I really…” You mewl shamelessly, louder than you normally would but still not as loud as Namjoon would like.

“Louder, baby,” he demands. “There’s no one here but us.”

He’s right. The breeze whistles through the wild flowers in the empty meadow, ruffling the bedding you’re both sprawled out on in the open boot of your truck.

Namjoon flips you over, his cock still buried deep inside, and you mewl at the change in angle. Your gaze flicks past his face, to the astounding speckles in the background, a billion stars illuminating the midnight blue sky.

But why would you look at any one of them when you have the most precious twin galaxies staring right into your eyes, making love to you?

You were halfway across the world with Namjoon, far away from any danger. You were safe. Content. Grateful.

You’d enrolled into the local university, keen to finish your Physics degree and Namjoon had finally kickstarted his career in rapping, already having gained a substantial amount of success. 

Of course, you’d been there from the very start, his only fan who had the privilege of not only giving him stress relief blowjobs backstage before his performances but also taking him home and making love to him until he fucked you to sleep in his arms.

In turn, Namjoon had helped you practise for multiple lab presentations, blissfully unaware of the subject matter, just listening to you with heart eyes and a hard dick at how sexy and smart you’d sounded. So, it was only natural that he ended up with his head in between your thighs each time you lectured him on the work function of photosensitive tertiary alloys, spanking you each time you stuttered in your speech.

It'd taken a while to open up completely to Namjoon and catch him up on every minute detail of every story you had to tell. He'd held your hand through all of it, eventually helping you to get over some of the most deeply embedded trauma.

“A-ah!” Namjoon flicks your clit the way he knows you like and it has you whining under him, pleading him for more. “Please, Joon, please…”

“I love you, Y/N.” His tenderness takes you by surprise, just as he flashes you his million watt smile.

The kiss he places on your lips has you seizing up under him, legs shaking as your orgasm floods you from head to toe. 

“Ahh fuck, Joon! I love you too.”

You feel him twitch at your words, your vice grip on his shaft milking every last drop of his thick release. You do everything in your power to keep all of it in as he slips out.

He flips onto his back, pulling you into him and wrapping both of you in the duvet as he gives you a quick peck. You sigh contentedly, heart brimming with love for your gentle giant as you give him the goofiest grin.

“Y/N, stop looking at me and look up.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Apologies in advance for the longer A/N pt. 2. Feel free to ignore, it's not important in relation to the fic.

To be completely honest, my mental health has been at an all time low recently. I've really struggled to carry out basic daily tasks and on top of it all, I've been inundated with work deadlines. I have about 5 WIPs that never came to fruition as intended - hopefully soon they will. So, the fact that this is up is a miracle and also a small win.

I've thought a million times about writing a piece of me and my first love in this fic and truthfully, it makes me uncomfortable as fuck. However, given how empty I feel right now, this serves as a great reminder of the things that used to make me feel like me.

So, if you do read this, let this be your sign to consolidate your beliefs, fall head over heels for your old passions again and never forget your first love (whoever or whatever that may be).

© e-cm 2022. I do not give permission for my work to be stolen, reposted, translated and/or uploaded to any platforms (including Youtube).

---

☆ the necklace: closer ☆ #D5

Chan has never seen you like this. In the months you've finally turned your friendship into something more, it's the first time you've ever shown him this side of you.

And he's beyond turned on. Flustered, even.

Chan's pretty open with his emotions. When he misses you, he'll say it, show it. But you're a little different. Subtle. Shy. Almost scared to verbally tell him how much you miss him. And that's okay.

Chan understands. He really does. Because your his girl and he loves you, no matter how different you both are.

But now, right now, you're frantically grabbing onto him, small hands tugging onto his necklace as soon as he walks into your apartment door, his luggage stranded outside, both of you not even bothering about it anymore.

"Miss you," you breathe in between kisses, your soft lips massaging his as the both of you try to walk to the nearest flat surface.

Chan has definitely been thinking about you. A lot. Three weeks without you physically present makes him yearn you even more than he already does.

But you... his sweet, shy girl. All grabby and needy. For him. Fuck, if that isn't the best way to be greeted, Chan doesn't know what is.

"I miss you too, baby," Chan tells you, easily picking you up and placing you on top of the kitchen counter. Bedroom's too far. The both of you need each other now.

"Miss you most," you tell him, voice soft, frail. Chan knows it's hard for you to tell him this, so it means so much more when you do. Your fingers play with his necklace again, somehow so fixated on it.

He doesn't argue. He wants to. But he doesn't. He badly wants to say that he's the one who misses you the most. Wants to tell you all about how he missed you. But he knows you need to release your feelings right now, and he's too much of a sucker for his baby to deny you of it.

Your free hand is on his pants, earning a chuckle from him. It's just hanging there, unmoving, wanting green light before you try and take it off while your other hand is still busy fidgeting with his necklace. Chan doesn't think much of the latter.

"Good girl. So patient, aren't you?" Chan praises, giving you another kiss, helping you with his pants. He drops it enough until you can fish his cock out, which you do, and expertly at that.

Your small hand can't wrap around him and it's the hottest fucking thing. Fuck, he can just manhandle you all he wants and you'd take it. He knows you would.

Chan flips the skirt you're wearing and he groans at the sight. He can't believe it. You're fucking bare. Naked, wet cunt all for his eyes to feast on.

"What the fuck, baby- for me? For me, yeah?" Chan groans, one arm hooking under your waist to bring you closer to the edge of the counter, making you whimper in surprise.

"For you," you tell him, with that sweet soft voice.

"Fuck, I wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you. But you're being so cute, so fucking needy for me, I need to tease a little. I have to," Chan says, as if he's asking for permission.

You whine at, your small hand squeezing his dick, playing with his precum. Fuck, even the littlest gesture is able to make him nut on the spot.

"Stop that," Chan warns, trying to be as strict as he can. When his girl is being like this, it's hard to not just give her what she wants.

"Stop teasing," you giggle, now lowering your hips so that you can rub the tip of his cock onto your slit.

"Naughty baby," he moans, feeling like he's really going to cum even before he gets to fuck you and he can't let that happen. Your cunt is where he's gonna cum in and that is non-negotiable, no matter how much he knows you love it when he loses control.

He's about to pull your hand off of him and trap it behind your back but the moment you realise that he's going to do that, you pull him by his dangling necklace, catching him off guard.

"Been waiting for you," you whisper right into his mouth, kissing him right after. "You should really fuck me now. Sink your big cock inside me, Channie. Been thinking of it so much. I need you. Inside. Need your cum. I need it. You have to, okay?"

Your soft voice speaking such dirty things completely enchants him, like he's hypnotised.

Suddenly his brain just stops.

"I need you, Chan. You have to fuck me now, okay? I really need you. I'm so wet. I'm so needy. For you. You, Channie. You'll feel good too. Promise. I promise that my pussy's all ready for you," you continue, small hand coming back down to wrap around his cock and it makes Chan shiver.

You pull him closer, tugging the necklace again.

"Wanna hold you like this while you fuck me. Make you remember everytime you wear it. Fuck me, please, Chan?"

Chan's not Chan if he doesn't fulfill his baby's wishes, especially when she's being so honest with him. He lets out a low growl and lets you hang onto his necklace like it's a leash - because he's really a loyal dog to you. He'd do anything.

"I'll fuck you, fuck you so good," he promises and instantly snaps his hips into you, his leaking cock finally stretching you out like he's been dreaming of.

The both of you let out unrestricted moans, uncaring about the neighbours. Chan starts fast and hard, unable to stop himself from fucking into you like a madman - and that's exactly how you want to be fucked.

Your back is arched, hand still holding onto the necklace, tugging everytime Chan fucks up into you. The dog tag feels so cold in your hand and it feels so good when it gets in contact with your nipple everytime Chan gives you a particularly hard thrust.

You exchange praises, knowing none of you are gonna last long. Chan's really going feral, he's just fucking into you like you asked him to and it makes you so satisfied. Your cunt is clenching around him so tight and by Chan's reactions, you know he's having a hard time trying to not cum first.

Your ass is definitely bruised from the impact but you don't care. Your boyfriend's fucking you like there's no tomorrow, so you'd let him bruise you anywhere.

The moment Chan steals the necklace from your hand, you think you were gonna cry. But you should've known that Chan's the best boyfriend there is and he knows what you need.

He expertly takes it off of his neck and uses the cold dog tag to circle your clit, making you moan the loudest you ever have. His expert thrusts hitting that yummy gummy spot inside you and the damn fucking necklace rubbing your clit - it didn't even take ten seconds before you're shaking, cunt convulsing around his girthy cock, cumming so hard that your vision blurs.

Chan whispers dirty things into your ears but never slows down.

"Gonna remember you cumming like a bitch in heat everytime i wear this necklace, baby."

"Fuck, you're shaking. Feel good? Hmm? Love my dick inside like this while i play with your clit?"

"I'm gonna fucking cum. Gonna fucking cum inside this pretty cunt- oh my fuck, fuck baby, take it, take my fucking cum!"

And you do, all pliant and happy to receive his load inside you. Chan slows down a little, the both of you content with your perfect fuck session.

Chan looks at you, brushing your hair from your face as he brings the necklace to his mouth. He kisses it softly, as if he's kissing your clit.

"Wear your necklace for the next round, okay, baby?"

♡♡♡♡♡

Author's note: Thank you @5sos-wdw for this idea ♡ love you lots! Also... I got carried away... i'm so sorry.

---

this hoseok is so dangerous 🥵

a family ♥