Namjoon Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part two, part one can be found here

✧.* 18+

the moment you bolted from the palace, the weight of what had just transpired pressed heavily on your chest, propelling your legs to move faster. your breath came in ragged gasps as you dashed through the corridors and out into the open, the grandiose walls of the palace growing smaller in the distance. each step you took felt like a desperate plea to escape the nightmare that was now your reality. the announcement that king taejo intended to make you his wife had echoed in your mind like a cruel taunt, and you could hardly breathe under the suffocating thought.

as the grand gates of the palace loomed ahead, your legs burned with exhaustion, but you couldn't stop. you wouldn't stop. not until you reached hansol. not until you found safety. the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the throne room as possible. the cool night air stung your lungs, the world around you a blur of shadow and dim lantern light as you sprinted through the palace grounds.

news of the marriage swept through the palace like wildfire, sparking outrage, disbelief, and determination in equal measure among the princes. hansol was the first to react, eyes wide with shock as he blurted out, “is it true? this can’t be happening.” his voice wavered with a mix of denial and fear, the thought of you being taken away by the king unbearable to him.

baekhyun, his eyes distraught and panicked, whined, “there must be a mistake! something has to be done!” his usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by genuine concern. daniel furrowed his brows, his expression darkening with anger. “we need to act,” he muttered, his voice low but resolute. “we can’t just stand by and let this happen.”

across the room, chaehee let out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “this is none of our concern,” he sneered, dismissing the growing tension among his brothers. his words were like a slap to the face, cold and unfeeling. but before anyone could react, hansol snapped, “shut up, chaehee,” the force of his words stunned everyone into silence. even chaehee himself was left speechless, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother with newfound wariness.

hansol, breathing heavily, looked around at his brothers, his eyes burning with determination. “we’re going to save her,” he declared, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “no matter what it takes.” the room was still, the air thick with the weight of his words. one by one, the other princes nodded, their resolve hardening. they had made their decision. they would not let the king have his way. not this time.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the urgency in your every movement. you couldn’t let this happen. you couldn’t let king taejo take you, bind you to him in a way that would forever benefit him, yet imprison you. as you ran, a silent prayer formed on your lips, begging for someone—anyone—to stop this.

suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air, the thunderous rhythm sending a jolt of terror down your spine. you glanced over your shoulder, fear gripping you tightly as you saw the figure approaching rapidly on horseback. for a moment, you feared it was one of the king’s guards sent to drag you back to your fate. but as the rider came closer, the familiar face of namjoon materialized out of the darkness, his expression hard as steel. “get on,” he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

you stumbled to a halt, your breath catching as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. the shock of seeing him, of all people, froze you in place. “i’m not marrying the king,” you stammered, panic threading through your voice. namjoon scoffed, his gaze flicking back toward the palace, where the looming threat of pursuit seemed imminent. “i know,” he replied, the words clipped. “now get on, unless you want to marry him.”

his words cut through your fear, snapping you out of your hesitation. you knew he was right; you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t risk being caught. with trembling hands, you reached out and grasped his arm, letting him pull you up onto the horse behind him. as soon as you were settled, namjoon spurred the horse forward, the animal lunging into a full gallop that sent the world around you racing by in a blur.

the wind whipped against your face, tears springing to your eyes as you clung to namjoon’s waist. the forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was a welcome sight—anything was better than the palace, than the nightmare waiting for you there.

but your relief was short-lived. the distant sound of more horses pounding the earth reached your ears, and when you turned to look, your heart leaped into your throat. hansol, baekhyun, daniel, and younghyun were chasing after you, their horses closing the distance with every passing second. you could see the determination etched on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. namjoon noticed them too, and with a sharp command, he urged his horse to go faster, the beast pushing itself to its limits. but hansol was relentless, his horse surging ahead until he was neck and neck with namjoon.

“give her to me!” hansol shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice laced with both authority and concern. namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the reins tightening. “what makes you think i’ll do that?” he shot back, his voice cold.

hansol’s gaze burned with intensity as he locked eyes with namjoon. “because she doesn’t belong to you,” he replied, the words heavy with meaning. the silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. you could feel the weight of their standoff, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air. but before anything more could be said, the sound of more horses filled the night, and you turned to see the king’s guards closing in, led by jisoo.

your heart sank at the sight of the soldiers, their faces set with grim determination. jisoo rode at the front, a wooden contraption strapped to the back of his horse—a box. you knew what it was for, and dread curled in your stomach. “come with us,” jisoo called out, his tone authoritative. “king’s orders.”

namjoon’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing as he prepared to fight. “she’s not going anywhere,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. but you saw the reality of the situation, the hopelessness of it all. the thought of all the princes getting in trouble, of them suffering because of you, was too much to bear. you couldn’t let that happen. with a heavy sigh, you made a decision.

“i’ll be okay,” you said quietly, the words catching in your throat as you slid off namjoon’s horse. “no,” namjoon protested, his hand reaching out to stop you. “don’t do this.”

you forced a small smile, though your heart ached. “i’ll be fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing. “it’s better this way.”

hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, his hand twitching as if he wanted to pull you back onto the horse. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice strained. you shook your head, your resolve firm. “i do,” you replied softly, stepping away from them. “i won’t let any of you get hurt because of me.”

the disappointment and worry in their eyes were like daggers to your heart, but you knew this was the only way. you couldn’t risk their safety—not for anything. with slow, reluctant steps, you approached the box, the guards flanking you on either side. you glanced back one last time, meeting namjoon’s gaze, then hansol’s. the pain in their eyes mirrored your own.

as the guards lifted you into the box, jisoo’s voice cut through the air, a solemn promise in his tone. “she’ll be fine,” he assured them. “i’ll make sure of it.” the box door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in your heart as the darkness enveloped you. the sound of the guards’ horses moving away signaled the end of your brief escape, the end of your hope. and as the box jostled and bumped on its journey back to the palace, you could only pray that somehow, someway, this nightmare would end.

the palace seemed like a different world as you were ushered inside. your mind swirled in disbelief and fear, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. the court ladies, their faces masked with practiced neutrality, led you to a room adorned with ornate silks and lacquered wood. you felt as though you were moving through a nightmare, each step heavier than the last.

they seated you on a cushioned stool, their hands moving with a mechanical efficiency as they began to undo the fastenings of your dress. “please, just sit still,” one of them said, her tone more of an order than a request. “what are you doing?” you whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of dread and defiance. “i don’t want this, i don’t want any of this.”

the ladies exchanged glances before one of them spoke, her voice cold and detached. “we must examine your body for any scars. nobody with scars can marry the king.” panic surged through you, and you tried to push their hands away. “stop it! i said no!”

but your protests were ignored. they grew more insistent, their hands rougher as they forced your garments off, layer by layer, until you were left bare and shivering. You whimpered, helpless under their unyielding grip, your dignity stripped away along with your clothing. their eyes swept over you, clinical and impersonal, as if you were nothing more than an object to be inspected. tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as the humiliation tore through you. you were powerless to stop them, and it felt as though a part of you had been torn away, never to be returned.

after what felt like an eternity, they finally seemed satisfied that your skin was unmarked. the realization that your body had passed their cruel inspection brought no relief, only a deepening sense of despair. they dressed you next, their hands just as brisk and efficient as before, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face. you were adorned in the traditional wedding attire—a vibrant, intricately woven hanbok, its bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness you felt inside. the fabric was heavy, suffocating, as they tied the last ribbons in place. they pulled your hair back, weaving it into an elaborate style that felt too tight, too restricting.

you were barely able to see through the veil of your own tears, but they paid no mind. to them, you were just another duty, another task to be completed. they adjusted the final touches on your face, the paint smearing as it mixed with your tears, but they ignored it, pretending not to notice your distress. finally, they stepped back, their work complete, and motioned for you to leave. your legs felt like lead as you rose from the stool, the weight of the garments and the situation bearing down on you. as you moved down the corridor, the air around you thickened with a suffocating sense of inevitability.

the hall stretched out before you, long and oppressive, each step forward bringing you closer to a fate you did not want to accept. you felt so young, too young to be forced into something like this. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a desperate plea to escape. as you reached the midpoint of the hall, you saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows. namjoon. your breath caught in your throat, a spark of hope flickering within you, only to be quickly doused by the reality of your situation.

“don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and urgent. his eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own. you shook your head, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. “i have to,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to maintain your composure. “i don’t have a choice.”

before namjoon could respond, the king appeared beside him, his presence commanding and suffocating. “are you ready?” king taejo asked, his voice steady and authoritative, as though this was just another routine matter to be settled. you met the king’s gaze, the weight of your impending fate pressing down on you from all sides. you nodded, your voice barely audible as you responded, “yes, your majesty.”

but even as the words left your lips, something within you snapped. desperation took hold, a final surge of defiance rising from the depths of your being. you turned abruptly to the small table beside you, your eyes locking onto the delicate vase that rested there. without a second thought, you seized the vase and smashed it against the edge of the table, the shattering sound echoing through the hall like the cry of your breaking spirit. the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, but your hand reached down with a singular purpose.

the sharp edge of the broken vase gleamed in your hand as you brought it up to your wrist. time seemed to slow as you pressed it into your skin, the pain slicing through your thoughts like lightning. blood welled up, red and stark against the white porcelain and your pale skin.

“stop!” hansol’s voice rang out from behind you, filled with horror, but it was too late. your vision blurred as the blood flowed, your body swaying as the strength drained from you. you heard namjoon call your name, his voice distant and desperate, but everything was fading fast. the world around you dimmed, the sounds of the palace growing faint as you slipped into darkness. the last thing you felt was the coldness of the floor as your body collapsed, and then, nothing.

you woke to a hazy, throbbing sensation in your head, the disorienting jumble of noise and light mixing together. as your consciousness slowly sharpened, you became aware of a heavy, comforting presence beside you. you turned your head, your vision still blurry, and saw hansol sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen, his expression a mix of sorrow and relief. the room was lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the walls. you could feel the warmth of the bed beneath you, the soft texture of the sheets brushing against your skin. your wrist, bandaged tightly, throbbed with a dull ache—a stark reminder of your desperate act.

hansol’s face, though tear-streaked and weary, was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision cleared. he looked at you with a blank, almost defeated expression, as though the events of the past hours had drained all the life from him. his eyes were full of unshed tears, and his gaze, though filled with concern, was tinged with an almost resigned sadness. you attempted to lift your head, but a wave of dizziness made you settle back into the pillows. weakly, you asked, “is the marriage stopped?”

hansol's eyes filled with fresh tears at your question. without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fervent desperation that spoke volumes. his hold was firm, as though he was afraid you might disappear again. the warmth of his body against yours was a balm to your wounded spirit. he nodded into your hair, his voice muffled but earnest. “yes, it’s stopped. never do that again,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

you could only manage a soft sob against his shoulder, your tears mingling with his. you hugged him back, the raw comfort of the embrace a balm for the deep despair that had taken root in your heart. jis words—desperate, pained—were a stark reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. “i thought i’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice heavy with relief and sorrow. “please, never do that again.”

you whispered a shaky promise, your voice barely audible. “i won’t. i promise.” hansol’s hold on you tightened briefly before he pulled back slightly, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. he looked at you with a solemn expression and said, “you’ll be working as a court lady in the palace. that’s your punishment.”

you nodded weakly, accepting the judgment. the prospect of working as a court lady felt like a small price to pay compared to the chaos you had narrowly escaped. you weren’t sure what the future held, but it seemed like a less bitter pill to swallow than the marriage you had so desperately sought to avoid. as you stepped out of the palace’s maiden room, you caught sight of namjoon standing nearby, his figure silhouetted against the corridor’s light. the sight of him sent a jolt of mixed emotions through you. he looked as though he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

you remained silent as he approached, your gaze dropping to the floor. namjoon’s face was stern, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he reached out and took your bandaged wrist in his hand. the touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, as though he was trying to steady himself in the face of his own emotions.

“how could you be so stupid?” he asked, his voice a blend of exasperation and genuine worry. the words were harsh, but there was an underlying tenderness that belied his stern tone. you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “i wasn’t going to marry against my will.”

namjoon’s brow furrowed as he looked at the scarred skin beneath the bandages. “you’ve scarred your body for no good reason,” he said, a trace of frustration seeping through. you managed a faint, weary smile. “the scar looks better on you than on me.”

for a brief moment, namjoon’s stern expression softened. he offered you a weak, almost apologetic smile before patting your head gently. the gesture was unexpectedly comforting, a rare show of affection amidst the chaos. without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you with the faint warmth of his touch lingering on your head. as you watched him disappear down the corridor, you felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but also a flicker of hope.

in the heart of the palace, where the corridors were as grand as they were intimidating, you began your new role as a court lady. your days were filled with endless tasks, each one a reminder of your fall from the privileged world you once knew. lady jeon, your assigned mentor, was a woman of formidable presence and a reputation for cruelty. her sharp eyes missed nothing, and her standards were unyielding.

from the moment you stepped into her care, you felt her scrutiny. the first task she set before you was an assortment of menial duties—dusting ornate vases, arranging fresh flowers, and meticulously organizing the shelves of her chamber. every mistake was met with her disapproving gaze and a cruel punishment: stacking books on your head. the tomes were heavy and cumbersome, their pages rustling as they were added one after another. if you faltered or misplaced an item, you were forced to balance an ever-increasing stack, adding to the strain and frustration.

one day, lady jeon’s sharp eyes widened in surprise as you began crafting a bar of soap. her initial skepticism was evident as you mixed lye with fat and various herbs. she watched with a mixture of fascination and suspicion as you worked. you explained the process in detail, your hands skillfully moving to blend the ingredients. “this is soap,” you said, holding up the resulting mixture for her inspection. “it’s used for cleaning and has healing properties.”

her gaze was critical. “soap? what makes you think this will be of any use in the palace? and why should i believe you know what you’re doing?” you tried to ignore her tone and continued, though each mistake led to a new round of book-stacking. the heavy volumes pressed against your neck and shoulders as you wobbled under their weight, but you persevered. each error only drove you to refine your craft further, driven by the desire to prove yourself.

your routine, however, took a sudden turn when you heard frantic cries coming from crown prince taehyung’s quarters. without thinking, you ran toward the commotion. as you burst into the room, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of taehyung’s blotched skin. the rumors about his illness were true—he was afflicted with a severe rash, and he was about to immerse himself in a tub of cold water.

“stop!” you shouted, rushing to him and trying to pry the jug from his hands. “don’t use cold water. it’ll make the itching worse!”

taehyung’s eyes widened with shock and anger. “how dare you come in here? you’re not supposed to know about this!” he snapped, pushing you away. you landed on the floor, but you quickly scrambled to your feet. ignoring the pain, you called out, “please, don’t use cold water. It will aggravate the rash. warm water with peppermint leaves will soothe it.”

as you spoke, you noticed taehyung’s hesitance. he watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as you instructed another court lady to fetch a bucket of warm water and peppermint leaves. you worked swiftly, applying the warm solution to his inflamed skin, explaining as you went, “peppermint has soothing properties. it’ll help reduce the itching and inflammation.”

before you could finish, lady keon stormed into the room, her face a mask of horror. “what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with authority. “how dare you touch the crown prince!” taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but lady jeon was quick to intervene. she grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the room, her grip unyielding. “you’ve overstepped your bounds,” she snapped. “your punishment will be severe.”

back in her chamber, you were once again subjected to the cruel task of balancing books on your head. the punishment was even harsher this time, as lady jeon observed with a harsh, unyielding gaze. as you struggled to maintain your balance, she sat across from you, eating a simple meal of plain rice porridge. she finally broke the silence. “how did you know that peppermint would help?”

you looked up, your voice barely above a whisper. “my grandfather had the same issue. i learned what helped him.”

lady jeon’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she was silent. she continued to eat, her movements methodical and slow. “lady jeon, why is it that you only eat rice poridge?” you asked, noting her grim expression. her expression remained stoic as she locked eyes with you, “i'm dying,” two words, simple enough to be spoken so lightly, yet enough to make your stomach dropped.

you coughed, trying to make sense of the overwhelming silence as you mustered up your next question. “why do you hate me so much?” you asked weakly, the heavy books pressing against your frail wrists.

the question seemed to strike a chord. lady jeon slammed her spoon down onto the table, the clatter echoing in the room. “because,” she said, her voice harsh and tinged with bitterness, “you remind me of myself.” her gaze hardened, and she continued, “you’re too damn nice and too trusting. it’s a weakness in this world, and i hate seeing it in you.”

the revelation stunned you. the cruelty you faced, the harshness of her punishments—it all made a grim sort of sense now. lady jeon’s cruelty was not just a reflection of her own frustrations but a defense against her own vulnerabilities. as the minutes passed and the evening wore on, you were left alone with your thoughts, the sting of her words and the weight of your punishment settling heavily on you. the palace had become a battleground of emotions and expectations, and you were left to navigate its treacherous terrain.

the silence of the palace courtyard was abruptly shattered by screams that pierced through the tranquil atmosphere. the sudden, jarring sounds echoed through the stone corridors, causing you to jump in surprise. your heart raced as you exchanged a worried glance with lady jeon, her stern demeanor momentarily softening.

you both hurried outside, your footsteps quick and light on the cold marble. as you reached the courtyard, the scene that unfolded before you was both shocking and horrifying. chaeyeon, one of the palace aides, was being whipped mercilessly by princess seulgi. the sound of the whip cracking against her back was almost unbearable, and chaeyeon's cries of pain cut through the air like a knife.

“what’s happening?” you asked in a voice trembling with fear and disbelief. seulgi, her expression cold and unyielding, barely glanced at you as she continued her punishment. “she was caught stealing from the Fourth Prince,” seulgi responded dismissively, holding up a small, ornate hairpin. the metal glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and your heart sank as you recognized it.

the hairpin was one you had asked chaeyeon to return discreetly. it had belonged to Namjoon, dropped in the bath during a moment of chaos. realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a surge of guilt and desperation.

“stop it,” you practically snapped, rushing toward them. “please, stop this. chaeyeon was just following my instructions to return the hairpin. it was my fault, not hers.” chaeyeon’s eyes were wide with fear and gratitude as she looked at you. “please, don’t,” she begged, her voice barely audible over the whipping. “it’s not her fault. i did it.”

ignoring the pleas, you turned back to seulgi, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat. “it was my mistake. if anyone should be punished, it should be me. please, whip me instead.” seulgi’s gaze narrowed as she considered your offer, a flicker of interest lighting up her cold eyes. with a sneer, she let chaeyeon go, the whip still crackling in her hand. “very well,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “since you’re so eager to take her place.”

before you could react, seulgi was already tying your hands to the same wooden pole. the rough ropes dug into your skin as she secured them, and your heart pounded in your chest. the anticipation of the impending pain was almost as torturous as the pain itself. seulgi’s eyes were cold and calculating as she prepared to strike.

to the side, you noticed the tense figures of baekhyun, daniel, and hansol. their faces were etched with concern and distress. baekhyun’s eyes were wide with alarm, and he took a step forward, but jisoo restrained him with a firm grip. hansol’s face was a mask of grim determination, his fists clenched at his sides. “seulgi, stop this,” hansol’s voice rang out, strained and desperate. “this isn’t right.”

seulgi’s lips curled into a scornful smile as she raised her hand to crack the whip once more. “why should i listen to you? she chose this herself.” as the whip began its descent, you braced yourself for the searing pain. the crack of the whip was deafening, and the sting of the leather against your back was a sharp, biting sensation. the pain was immediate and intense, but before the next strike could land, a hand shot out and stopped seulgi’s arm mid-air.

seulgi looked up, her eyes narrowing with surprise and irritation. standing before her was namjoon, his face a mask of unyielding authority. “that’s enough,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. he stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect and silence. seulgi’s eyes widened in shock as namjoon approached you. without a word, he untied the ropes binding your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle against the raw skin. “what are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice tinged with irritation. “this is not your concern.”

namjoon’s gaze was fixed on you, his expression a complex mixture of anger and protectiveness. “she’s mine,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “no one else can lay a finger on her.”

hansol’s face contorted in a grimace, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and frustration. the tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness. seulgi’s scowl deepened as she took a step back, her demeanor one of begrudging acceptance. you felt a mix of emotions as namjoon’s gaze softened slightly, though the intensity of the moment was far from over. you stood there, your back stinging from the whip’s lash, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with lingering dread.

baekhyun’s quarters were a curious blend of regal opulence and childlike whimsy, filled with an assortment of traditional toys that seemed almost out of place among the luxurious furnishings. as you followed him inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful collection scattered about. wooden spinning tops painted with vibrant designs, intricately carved wooden animals, and delicate paper kites, their strings neatly coiled, lay spread across a large, intricately woven rug.

he picked up a small, intricately crafted wooden horse, its legs jointed to allow for movement. with a soft, nostalgic smile, he began to demonstrate how it could gallop across the floor. “this one was made by a craftsman from the western region,” he said proudly, his eyes lighting up with fondness. “it’s one of my favorites.”

you watched with interest as he moved from toy to toy, each piece revealing a glimpse of his more youthful side. he showed you a set of spinning tops, their colors creating a mesmerizing blur as he spun them on the floor. “and this,” he said, holding up a wooden top with a painted dragon, “is a game my family used to play during festivals.”

as he enthusiastically displayed his collection, you couldn’t help but ask, “why are you so intent on showing me these?”

baekhyun’s smile faltered, and his brow furrowed as he set down the toys. he looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and sadness. “no girl has ever treated me like you,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a sadness that was almost palpable.

you laughed softly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. before you could respond further, jisoo entered the room, his expression serious and formal. the atmosphere shifted instantly, and you quickly stood, bowing in respect as jisoo approached. his gaze swept over both of you, and he cleared his throat. “i have an announcement,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of official duty.

baekhyun’s face brightened momentarily, but his smile faltered when he heard jisoo’s next words. “his majesty has decreed that you are to be married.”

the words seemed to hit Baekhyun like a physical blow. “married?” he protested, his voice cracking with disbelief. “but why? to whom? i—” jisoo cut him off with a firm nod. “it’s the king’s orders. the decision is final.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

the impact of the news was immediate and overwhelming. baekhyun stood there, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the announcement had physically crushed him. his face was a mask of anguish and confusion. you moved closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be alright,” you said softly, though you were unsure of how to truly comfort him. “whoever the girl is, she’ll be lucky to have you.”

baekhyun’s eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and desperation evident in his gaze. “i can’t love her,” he said quietly, the words heavy with resignation. “i don’t even know who she is. how can i just accept this?”

you sighed, feeling the depth of his distress. “you have to pull through,” you said gently. “you’re a kind person, and you’ll find a way to make it work. besides, i’m sure the girl will see the good in you.”

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of hope mingled with sadness. “why won’t you marry me instead?” he asked suddenly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and despair. the question caught you off guard. “i don’t want to be a second wife,” you said softly, though you could sense his disappointment even before he voiced it.

baekhyun’s face fell, and he shook his head slowly. “you’re a mean liar,” he said with a forced smile. “you wouldn’t even be my first wife.”

before he could say more, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. the gesture surprised him, and he stiffened for a moment before sinking into the embrace. his heart ached with a profound sense of loss as he felt your warmth and sincerity envelop him. the hug was a silent comfort, a brief respite from the turmoil that had overtaken his life. You held him close, your own heart aching for the sadness he felt. the tears you had both tried to hold back now fell freely, mingling with the unspoken words and emotions that filled the space between you.

the grand hall was awash with opulence, filled with the clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation as the royal family and their guests gathered to celebrate baekhyun’s wedding. you moved among the crowd with practiced grace, balancing a tray of tea cups as you served the guests. the air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and the rich aroma of the tea.

baekhyun sat at the head table, his expression a mix of strained formality and discomfort. next to him, his new wife, kim taeyeon, attempted to mask her anxiety behind a delicate smile. jiyoung approached baekhyun with a sickly warm smile. “how do you feel about the wedding, baekhyun?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal concern.

baekhyun’s scowl was immediate and pronounced. “i don’t like it,” he replied bluntly, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape. his honesty seemed to catch taeyeon off guard, and she frowned, her eyes darting to her husband with a mix of confusion and hurt. king taejo, seated at the center of the head table, patted baekhyun on the shoulder with an air of paternal authority. “you’ll get used to it,” he said reassuringly, though his words lacked the comfort baekhyun likely needed.

princess seulgi, her expression somewhat aloof, leaned towards taeyeon. “you’re a lucky woman,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of condescension. taeyeon forced a smile in response, though her eyes betrayed her unease. as you moved to serve tea to namjoon, you locked eyes with him across the room. his gaze was steady, but something in his posture struck you as unusual. as you approached, you noticed a shiver wracking his frame. you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was beginning to grow within you.

when you poured tea into his cup, a chilling sight met your eyes. namjoon’s lips were stained with a dark, crimson blood that was beginning to drip down his chin. panic surged through you, and you let out a sharp scream, the sound piercing through the otherwise composed atmosphere of the hall.

the commotion erupted suddenly. at the same moment, king taejo’s body slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a sickening thud. the room erupted into chaos. the guests scrambled, their screams blending into a cacophony of horror. the princes rushed to their father, their faces contorted in anguish as they tried to revive him. namjoon’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and Jisoo rushed to his side, barking orders for medical assistance. his face was pale, and he looked grave as he examined the king. the royal guards were quick to intervene, ushering the panicked crowd away from the scene.

jisoo’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and unyielding. “the king’s pulse is weak,” he announced, his tone flat as he looked up at the assembled crowd. “it appears he was poisoned.” the room fell into stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. your heart raced, and you turned to fetch your medicine, hoping to find a remedy or at least offer some aid. but before you could take a step, jisoo’s hand shot out to stop you. his expression was a mix of authority and cold detachment.

“stop right there,” he said firmly. “you’re under arrest for the attempted murders of king taejo and kim namjoon.”

your blood ran cold as the words hit you. “what? no, that’s impossible!” you protested, your voice trembling with disbelief. “i didn’t do anything!”

guards surged forward, their expressions stern and unyielding. they seized you roughly, dragging you away from the scene. you struggled against their grip, your pleas for justice echoing through the hall. “i swear, i didn’t do this! i was just serving tea!” the guards paid no heed to your protests, and you were forced into the cold, oppressive darkness of an underground chamber. the walls were damp and echoing with the sounds of dripping water. the chamber was stark and barren, a heavy iron door clanging shut behind you with a deafening noise.

you sank to the floor, the weight of the accusations pressing down on you. tears streamed down your face as you grappled with the enormity of the situation. the betrayal, the confusion, and the fear all swirled together, leaving you feeling lost and helpless in the unforgiving darkness.

in the room of the royal palace, the atmosphere was charged with tension and desperation. hansol and daniel, their faces etched with worry and frustration, were pacing the floor in the king’s chamber. king taejo lay propped up in his bed, his pallid face a stark contrast to the rich, regal fabrics draped around him. his condition was grave, and the room was filled with the faint, oppressive scent of illness.

“your majesty,” hansol began, his voice trembling slightly as he approached the bed, “we have reason to believe that nabi is innocent. the evidence against her is false.” king taejo's eyes, heavy with the weight of impending death, flickered with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “there was poison found in her room,” he replied, his voice raspy and weak. “it’s clear she was involved.”

“but we have witnesses,” daniel interjected urgently, stepping forward. “we’ve spoken to several people who can attest to her innocence.” the king's gaze remained unyielding, a cold resolve in his eyes. “it does not change the fact that poison was found, nor does it alter my decision. she will be hanged.”

the finality of his statement struck hansol and daniel like a physical blow. hansol’s face turned ashen, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “you can’t do this!” he protested. “we have to find out the truth!” daniel’s eyes were pleading, but the king’s resolve remained unshaken. “it is done,” king taejo said, turning his head away dismissively.

in your cell, the heavy silence was only broken by the occasional drip of water from the stone walls. you were bruised from the guards’ rough handling, your limbs aching from the beatings. the cold, unforgiving darkness of the cell seemed to press in on you from all sides, making your isolation feel even more profound. suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. your heart leaped with a mix of hope and apprehension. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped into the dimly lit cell. his eyes were filled with a fierce determination as he approached.

“i didn’t do it,” you said weakly, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “i swear, i didn’t.” namjoon’s expression softened slightly, though his face remained stern. “i know,” he said quietly. “i’ll find out who really did this. you have my word.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the cell. you watched him go, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst your despair. namjoon’s resolve was a small beacon of light in your otherwise dark world.

that night, namjoon kept watch from the shadows, his gaze fixed on the maiden’s quarters. his keen eyes caught sight of a cloaked figure slipping stealthily from the building. without hesitation, he moved to intercept, drawing his sword with a practiced, fluid motion. “stop right there,” he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. the figure paused, slowly turning to reveal a face shrouded in darkness. namjoon’s sword remained at the ready as he advanced, his eyes narrowing.

just then, another cloaked figure emerged from the shadows across from them. namjoon’s suspicion deepened. “both of you, show yourselves,” he ordered. “give it up now, and i might let you live.”

the first figure revealed herself as jiyoung, her face set in a smug expression. the second figure, emerging from the cloak’s folds, was seulgi. her smile was equally self-satisfied, and together, their presence was a shocking revelation.

in the king’s chamber, the atmosphere was somber. lady jeon entered with a tray of tea, her movements deliberate and controlled. king taejo’s eyes, now dimming with the weight of his impending death, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and resignation. “are you happy to see me die?” the king asked, his voice barely a whisper.

lady jeon’s gaze was unwavering. “i could never hate you,” she replied, her tone soft yet tinged with a hint of bitterness. “i loved you once.”

the king’s eyes widened slightly. “you’re speaking of the past. it was many years ago.” lady jeon nodded. “i miscarried, and you married jiyoung instead. it was a heartbreak i could never overcome.”

the king’s face grew somber. “what is it you want from me now?”

lady jeon’s eyes hardened with a resolute fire. “i have one wish before you go. i was the one who put poison in the tea. i want to be hanged for my crime, and I want nabi to be spared.”

king taejo’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “you’re lying. there’s no evidence of your guilt.”

lady jeon’s voice was firm, though she kept a calm exterior. “it’s true. the poison was in the tea i served to you and the fourth prince.” she then produced a vial, its contents a dark, ominous liquid. “i ask to be hanged and for nabi to be released.”

the king’s gaze flickered between lady jeon and the vial. “very well,” he said, though his voice carried an air of finality. “call the guards.”

she smiled bitterly. “i’ll see you very soon, your majesty.”

as the heavy iron door of your cell creaked open, you were met with a wave of harsh light and the stoic faces of the palace guards. your heart pounded in your chest, a cacophony of confusion and hope swirling within you. the guards, their expressions unreadable, began leading you out of the cold, dark confines of the cell. “why am I being released?” you asked, your voice hoarse from disuse and grief.

one of the guards, his tone devoid of emotion, replied, “the culprit has been found. you are no longer needed here.”

a knot of unease formed in your stomach. “who is it?” you pressed, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. as if in answer, lady jeon appeared, her hands bound and a serene smile playing on her lips. your breath caught in your throat, and an intense wave of anger and despair surged through you. without thinking, you lunged toward her, but the guards intervened, restraining you with practiced ease.

“let me go!” you cried, struggling against their hold. “i need to speak with her!” the guards hesitated, exchanging glances before reluctantly allowing you a brief moment. you seized the opportunity, guiding lady jeon to the secluded cave where you and chaeyeon had hidden after the bath incident. your hands trembled as you tried to move the rocks obstructing the entrance, but they remained stubbornly in place.

“please, we can escape together,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. “we can get out of here.” lady jeon’s gaze was filled with a mix of sadness and resignation as she pulled you into a tender embrace. her arms were warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality that awaited both of you.

“don’t trust anyone in the palace,” she murmured into your hair. “they are all deceitful and dangerous.” tears streamed down your face, and you clung to her, your sobs wracking your body. “please, don’t go,” you begged, your voice barely audible through the torrent of grief. “please, just stay with me.”

lady jeon’s fingers brushed your hair gently as she whispered, “i’d be dead soon anyway. it’s better this way.” she placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her touch lingering for a final, bittersweet moment. with a final, sorrowful glance, lady jeon turned and walked away. you watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from view. your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you made your way back to the palace, each step a painful reminder of the loss you were enduring.

as you stumbled through the corridors, your voice rose in a hoarse, broken plea. “your majesty, please spare lady jeon,” you cried out repeatedly, but the halls were empty, your words echoing only to meet deaf ears. when you finally reached the palace grounds, you collapsed onto the ground, your body wracked with sobs. the weight of your grief and the realization of lady jeon’s fate pressed heavily upon you. the once vibrant grounds seemed to darken around you, reflecting your internal turmoil.

hansol and jisoo emerged from one side, their expressions etched with concern and helplessness. hansol’s eyes were filled with a profound sadness, unable to offer more than a silent witness to your suffering. jisoo’s face was grim, his usual composure overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. suddenly, a familiar presence approached. namjoon, his face a mask of determination and concern, appeared at your side. without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. you struggled against him for a moment, but his hold was firm yet gentle.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled you against his shoulder. “it’ll be alright. i’m here.” his words, though not a complete balm for your anguish, provided a small measure of comfort. you buried your face in his shoulder, allowing your tears to flow freely as he carried you through the palace grounds. his presence was a beacon of solace amid the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you.

as he walked, his strides steady and purposeful, you clung to him, your sobs slowly subsiding into quiet, exhausted breaths. namjoon’s steady murmurs of reassurance continued, a soft lullaby against the backdrop of your grief. “it’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, each word infused with a tenderness that cut through the darkness of your despair. “i promise.” you looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, feeling a fragile thread of hope amid the overwhelming sorrow. as he carried you through the palace and away from the tragic scene, you clung to the promise that perhaps, in time, the pain would ease.

the palace was a flurry of activity and hushed whispers as the news of king taejo’s death spread like wildfire through the kingdom. the once vibrant corridors and grand halls now felt heavy with an air of somber anticipation. everywhere you went, the gravity of the king's demise seemed to press down, casting a veil of melancholy over the palace and its inhabitants.

the funeral ceremonies had been conducted with solemnity, and now, a new chapter was beginning. taehyung, the crown prince, was being crowned as the next king. the ceremony was an elaborate affair, filled with the grandeur expected of such a significant event. the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers, as the high priests performed rites to ensure a smooth transition of power. taehyung stood tall, his expression a mix of resolve and trepidation, as the crown was placed upon his head. the weight of the kingdom’s future now rested upon his shoulders.

in the aftermath of the coronation, tensions were high. chaehee, the third prince, was barely able to contain his fury. he stormed through the halls, his anger manifesting in shattered dishes and overturned furniture. the sound of breaking porcelain and clattering metal echoed through the palace, a stark contrast to the ceremonial calm that had just enveloped the kingdom.

jiyoung, now dealing with the new political landscape, attempted to calm him. “chaehee, control yourself!” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “your outbursts won’t change anything. we’ll get rid of taehyung soon enough.”

chaehee’s rage was palpable as he glared at her. “it’s not right,” he spat. “he’s unworthy, and you know it. he’s a puppet, and we’re the ones who’ll be strung along while he plays king.”

meanwhile, newly crowned king taehyung addressed the court with a somber determination. his voice, though steady, held an undercurrent of urgency. “in light of the recent events and the dire need for rain,” he announced, “we will perform the rain ritual. our people are suffering from a severe drought, and we must do all we can to bring relief.”

the ritual was an old tradition, one that involved a ceremonial process of selecting a prince to lead a procession through the town, praying for rain. the princes’ names were written on sticks, which would be drawn by jisoo, the king’s advisor. the chosen prince would then ride through the streets, offering prayers and sacrifices to appease the heavens.

as the princes gathered, baekhyun, his face pale and his hands trembling, voiced his fear. “what happens if no rain comes after the ritual?” he asked, his voice cracking with anxiety. jisoo, his expression cold and detached, replied, “the chosen one will be sacrificed. it is believed that the heavens will only answer our prayers if the price is paid.”

baekhyun’s eyes widened in terror, and he desperately pleaded, “please, take my name out. i don’t want to be the one chosen.” laughter erupted among the courtiers and some of the princes, their mockery ringing harshly in the tense atmosphere. jisoo, unmoved by baekhyun’s pleas, reached into the urn and pulled out a stick. his face remained impassive as he revealed the name written on it.

chaehee’s expression darkened with malicious glee. “namjoon?” he scoffed. “with that scar of his, he’d only scare the rain away. he’s hardly fit to be a messenger for the gods.” namjoon’s shoulders sagged, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. he stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor, his heart visibly heavy with the burden of his impending fate.

you were in lady jeon’s former chamber, packing her belongings into boxes. the task was a grim one, and your tears fell freely as you moved her personal effects. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on you, adding a layer of sorrow to the already somber task. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped in, his face drawn and weary. you looked up, wiping your tears hastily. “is everything alright?” you asked, your voice soft and concerned.

namjoon’s gaze was troubled as he spoke. “the rain ritual, i’ve been chosen to participate,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “i’m worried that my scar will be a problem. i need it covered up.”

your heart ached for him. “i’ll help you,” you said, though the task ahead seemed daunting. you led him to a small vanity where you began the meticulous process of applying makeup to hide the scar on his face. with gentle hands, you applied the foundation, carefully blending it to cover the disfigurement. every touch was tender, your focus entirely on the task. namjoon’s discomfort was palpable as he flinched slightly under your touch, but he remained still, his eyes reflecting a mixture of shame and hope.

“it isn’t that bad,” you reassured him, your voice soothing. “it’s just a scar. you’re still the same person.” namjoon’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion. “it means a lot to me.”

once the makeup was applied, you handed him the mirror. he examined his reflection closely, a look of tentative relief crossing his features. “it looks much better,” he said, his tone lighter. “thank you for this.”

as the rain ritual began, the air was thick with anticipation and desperation. the town was crowded with people, their faces upturned as they watched the procession. taehyung, with his newly crowned dignity, led the ceremonial march. the atmosphere was electric with hope and despair, the people’s prayers mingling with the rhythmic clamor of drums and the chants of supplicants.

namjoon, dressed in ceremonial robes and mounted on a horse, rode through the streets, his presence commanding a mixture of reverence and awe. the crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixed on him as he offered his prayers. after what felt like an eternity, the first droplets of rain began to fall. the sky, previously clouded and gray, opened up, and the rain poured down in a life-giving deluge. the crowd erupted into cheers and tears of joy, their relief overwhelming.

chaehee, standing on the sidelines, was fuming with rage. his face was a mask of fury as he watched the scene unfold, his anger directed at namjoon and the entire ritual. the sight of the rain, a sign of the gods’ favor, only seemed to fuel his ire further. you found yourself overwhelmed by the turn of events. as you moved through the halls, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you. your emotions were a tangled mess of relief, sadness, and exhaustion.

hansol’s approach was unexpected, his expression a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite place. as he drew near, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. he stopped in front of you, his eyes searching yours with a gravity that made your heart race.

“was it you who covered namjoon’s scar?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a hint of something you couldn’t immediately identify. you nodded, feeling a sudden chill run through you. “yes, it was me.” his reaction was immediate, his face falling into a look of disappointment that was almost palpable. “why are you so upset?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the question hung in the air between you, a contrast to the celebratory mood that still lingered in the palace.

hansol was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as if grappling with his thoughts. finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a hesitant resolve. “i wanted to ask you something,” he said, his tone unsteady. “i want to marry you.”

the words struck you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you momentarily disoriented. the request was so unexpected that it took a few moments for your mind to process it. you stared at hansol, and in that moment, a wave of disturbing visions surged through your mind.

you saw the historical echoes of a tyrant king, the fourth king gwangjong, whose ambition had led him to murder his brothers to secure his throne. the visions were vivid and horrifying, with gwangjong’s face morphing into namjoon’s, a sinister reflection of a dark fate. the realization came crashing down on you like a torrent, and you found yourself whispering, “stay away from prince namjoon. he will kill you,” over and over, as if it were a mantra that could ward off the impending doom.

tears welled up in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you repeated the warning in a trance-like state. hansol’s confusion grew evident, his hands reaching out to shake your shoulders gently. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you barely registered his words, your mind lost in a haze of fear and foreboding. “stay away if you want to live,” you managed to say, your voice breaking with emotion. the urgency in your tone left no room for debate. “stay away.” with those final, desperate words, you turned and fled from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. the fear and shock were overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to prevent the terrible future you had glimpsed from coming to pass.

the atmosphere in the royal palace had shifted in the days following taehyung’s coronation. the once uneasy marriage between baekhyun and taeyeon had started to show signs of improvement. baekhyun, who had been so resistant to the idea of marriage, seemed to be finding solace in small, unanticipated joys.

he decided to share his collection of traditional toys with taeyeon. he led her to a quiet corner of the palace where a small table was set up with an assortment of handcrafted toys: intricately carved wooden tops, delicate paper kites, and colorful spinning tops. the toys were beautifully made, each one a testament to the craftsmanship of their creators.

“look at this one,” baekhyun said, holding up a wooden top with a flourish. “it’s called a ‘cheongchun.’ you spin it and see how long it can keep going.” taeyeon’s eyes lit up with genuine interest as she took the top from him. she gave it a spin, and it twirled gracefully on the table. “it’s wonderful,” she said, her smile wide. “i’ve never seen anything like it.”

baekhyun’s expression softened as he watched her. “i used to play with these all the time as a child,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “they remind me of simpler times.” taeyeon laughed softly, her previous unease dissipating. “it’s nice to see you enjoying something so simple.”

as the two of them continued to explore the toys, an unexpected sense of camaraderie began to form between them. it was clear that taeyeon’s genuine interest and baekhyun’s willingness to share a piece of his past were forging a new connection, one that seemed to ease the tension that had once been suffocating.

meanwhile, you had been assigned to attend to taehyung’s needs, and today that meant holding towels while he took a bath. you stood near the edge of the opulent bathing room, the scent of fragrant oils and warm steam filling the air. taehyung, relaxed and unworried, was immersed in the large, ornate bath, the water shimmering with golden hues from the light filtering in through the intricately designed windows.

the serene moment was abruptly shattered when a group of guards burst into the room, followed closely by chaehee, who was flanked by a grim-faced entourage. your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of namjoon storming in behind them. his face was pale, his eyes wide with alarm.

“run!” namjoon shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. “taehyung, get out of the water!” but it was already too late.

as you turned to the bath, your breath caught in your throat. taehyung was struggling, his face contorted in pain. he gasped for breath, his body convulsing violently. blood bubbled from his mouth, and the water around him began to turn a disturbing shade of red. it was clear that something was terribly wrong. panic surged through you as you rushed forward, your hands trembling as you reached for taehyung. “your majesty! what’s happening?” you cried out, but your voice was swallowed by the chaos unfolding before you.

the guards rushed forward, but it was too late. taehyung’s struggles grew weaker, his body sinking lower into the water. the horrifying truth was becoming clear: someone had poisoned the bathwater. mercury, a deadly toxin, had been mixed into the water, causing taehyung’s horrific reaction. namjoon’s face was a mask of shock and helplessness. he looked at him with a mixture of horror and regret. “no, this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

chaehee stood to the side, his expression cold and detached as he watched the scene unfold. there was a grim satisfaction in his eyes, a chilling contrast to the devastation surrounding him. as taehyung’s body grew still, the room fell into a stunned silence. the atmosphere was suffused with grief and disbelief as the truth settled over the assembled witnesses. taehyung was dead, and the source of the poison remained unknown, though the look on chaehee’s face spoke volumes.

“announce the new king,” chaehee said quietly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

in the midst of the chaos, jisoo appeared, his face drawn with the weight of the moment. “by the decree of king taehyung’s death,” he announced, “prince chaehee will be crowned the next king.”

your mind reeled with the enormity of the events, the fear and sorrow threatening to overwhelm you. the scene was surreal, the opulence of the bathhouse now tainted with tragedy. as the reality of taehyung’s death sank in, you felt a sense of loss and helplessness. you watched as the remaining princes, including namjoon, struggled to come to terms with the sudden shift in power. the transition of kingship was sudden and brutal, leaving a palpable sense of instability in its wake.

the atmosphere in the palace had shifted from tense anticipation to outright horror as chaehee’s latest decree echoed through the halls. the proclamation came as a shock to everyone: the byun household, led by baekhyun, had been accused of deceit and failure to pay taxes over the years, a grave offense punishable by death. the news spread quickly from daniel to you, namjoon, hansol, and the other servants, each one feeling the weight of the announcement.

you were rushing through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the unfolding chaos. the palace was in turmoil, the once calm and orderly environment now a frenzied landscape of confusion and fear. you ran, desperate to see if you could somehow intervene or offer comfort, but the weight of the news felt like a leaden shroud around you.

you and the others arrived just in time to witness the grim scene unfolding in the courtyard. baekhyun and taeyeon were surrounded by a ring of guards, their faces pale and etched with despair. chaehee stood at the center of it all, his expression cold and detached as he prepared to carry out his decree.

taeyeon’s eyes were wide with terror as chaehee raised his bow. without hesitation, he released the arrow. it flew through the air with a deadly precision, striking taeyeon’s heart. she gasped, her body crumpling to the ground with a final, shuddering breath. the sight was horrific: her eyes wide open in shock as she lay motionless on the cobblestones. the impact of her sudden death was crushing, her life extinguished in an instant.

baekhyun, now completely distraught, fell to his knees beside her, his sobs wracking his body. the anguish on his face was palpable, his sorrow raw and unrestrained. “taeyeon!” he cried out, his voice breaking with each word. “taeyeon, no!”

the scene was a cacophony of grief and terror. you stood frozen in spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. the cold finality of chaehee’s actions was overwhelming. as if to add to the cruelty, chaehee drew another arrow, aiming it at baekhyun. the arrow struck him in the arm, and he cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as he continued to weep for his fallen wife.

daniel tried to rush forward, his face a mask of desperation. “baekhyun! no!” he shouted, but the guards held him back. namjoon, his face contorted with a mix of rage and sorrow, pushed past the guards, determined to reach his brother.

the chaos continued to swirl around you as baekhyun, weakened and in excruciating pain, was struck once more, this time in the stomach. namjoon reached his brother just as he fell to the ground, his breaths coming in shallow, agonized gasps. namjoon’s eyes were filled with tears as he knelt beside him, who reached out a trembling hand toward him. “i’m sorry,” baekhyun whispered, his voice barely audible over his gasps. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

namjoon’s face was a picture of heart-wrenching grief as he shook his head. “don’t talk like that,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “you’re going to be okay. you’ll get through this.”

baekhyun’s hand found namjoon’s, gripping it with a strength that belied his fading life. “no,” he said weakly. “i don’t want to live like this. i'd rather you finish it. please.”

namjoon’s tears flowed freely as he raised his sword, the weapon heavy in his trembling hands. daniel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as he tried to reach his brother, but the guards prevented him from doing so. namjoon’s face was a mask of anguish as he swung the sword, the blade slicing through baekhyun’s wound. baekhyun cried out one last time, his body collapsing onto the lifeless form of his wife. he reached out for her hand, his own trembling and weak.

with a final, desperate effort, baekhyun clung to taeyeon’s hand, his fingers stretching out as if trying to hold onto the last remnants of his life. the scene was heart-wrenching: the two of them, now forever entwined in death, their lives tragically cut short by the brutal decree of a new ruler.

chaehee, having witnessed the brutal execution, turned away from the grisly scene. his eyes fell upon hansol, who had been watching from the shadows, his expression a mix of shock and regret. chaehee approached him, his tone deceptively calm despite the chaos that had just transpired. “well,” chaehee said, his voice cold but tinged with a hint of approval, “this was your best idea, i will admit.”

hansol’s eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and anger. “thank you,” he replied quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “your majesty.”

chaehee gave him a curt nod. “you’ve earned my trust,” he said, his gaze icy. “remember that.”

with that, he retreated back into the palace, leaving hansol alone in the courtyard. the scene before him was a tableau of destruction and grief, the once vibrant and bustling palace now a place of death and mourning. as the last echoes of baekhyun’s cries faded away, hansol stood in the midst of the carnage, his heart heavy with the weight of the events that had unfolded. the courtyard, now eerily silent, was a reminder of the ruthlessness that had taken hold of the palace. the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the bodies of baekhyun and taeyeon, their lives extinguished by the cruel machinations of betrayal.

the courtyard was suffused with a chilling silence, the aftermath of the brutal executions leaving an air heavy with despair and loss. namjoon’s once steady composure had shattered, replaced by a raw, unrestrained panic. his face was a mask of anguish, his eyes wide and unseeing as he staggered through the wreckage of the palace grounds.

as he moved, his steps were erratic, a desperate rhythm that seemed to echo the frantic beats of his heart. the weight of baekhyun’s death was too much to bear, each step carrying the burden of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams. his cries were guttural, an expression of the profound grief that consumed him. his usually strong demeanor was now reduced to a quivering, lost soul.

you watched from the sidelines, your own heart breaking as you recalled every moment with baekhyun—the memory of his playful taunts, his innocent laughter, the times you fought with him over trivial matters, and the confession of love that had been so unexpected yet sincere. the vivid recollections were overwhelming, a cruel reminder of the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

tears streamed down your face as you followed namjoon, each step feeling like an agonizing journey through a landscape of sorrow. the images of baekhyun, so full of life, seemed to blend with the sight of his lifeless body lying in the courtyard. the contrast was jarring, the vibrant memories now mingling with the stark reality of his death. you wished to take it all back, to give everything for just another minute of him showing you his toys, or fighting with you, or even confessing.

eventually, your legs gave out beneath you. you collapsed to the ground, the weight of your emotions too much to bear. without thinking, you threw your arms around namjoon, pulling him into a desperate embrace. the contact was a small comfort, a fleeting moment of shared grief amidst the overwhelming chaos. namjoon’s body shook with his sobs, his head resting heavily against your shoulder.

hansol, who had been silently battling his own guilt, stumbled over to where you and namjoon were huddled. his tears flowed freely, mingling with his sweat and grime. he had seen the destruction he had helped bring about, and the burden of his actions was too much to bear. he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched namjoon’s shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

daniel emerged from the shadows, his face a portrait of numbness and pain. his steps were mechanical, his eyes focused on his brother’s lifeless form. younghyun and yeosang joined them, their expressions mirroring the profound grief that enveloped the courtyard. they stood together, united in their sorrow, their hearts heavy with the weight of the day’s events.

the group formed a somber circle around you and namjoon, each person grappling with their own grief. the only sound was the occasional sob, the soft rustling of the wind, and the distant murmur of the palace’s remaining inhabitants. the atmosphere was suffused with a deep, aching silence, punctuated only by the sounds of your and namjoon’s grief.

amidst the chaos, namjoon’s voice emerged, hoarse and trembling. “sing,” he pleaded, his words barely more than a whisper. “please, sing.”

you were momentarily dazed and confused, the request seeming almost surreal amidst the overwhelming sadness. but as your eyes fell on baekhyun’s lifeless body, the weight of the moment became unbearable. you choked on a sob, the finality of the sight threatening to drown you in sorrow.

with a deep breath, you closed your eyes and began to sing. the melody that emerged was one of deep sorrow and aching beauty, a song that seemed to resonate with the collective pain of everyone present. it was a hauntingly beautiful tune, one that spoke of loss and longing, a melody that had been passed down through generations, its origins lost to time. the song wove through the air, carrying with it the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. it was a melody that spoke to the soul, a haunting lullaby that touched on the deepest corners of grief. as you sang, your voice quivered, each note a testament to the heartache that pervaded the courtyard.

namjoon clung to you, his tears mixing with yours as he listened to the song. hansol, daniel, younghyun, and yeosang all wept openly, their cries blending with the sorrowful notes of your melody. the scene was a powerful tableau of collective mourning, each person united in their grief, their pain momentarily alleviated by the soothing balm of your song.

the melody seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around the gathered mourners like a comforting embrace. it was a song that would be remembered, a testament to the love and loss that had marked this tragic day. “tonight, i'll send you the firefly from that day, to your window, i hope you have sweet dreams,” as the final notes faded into the evening air, the silence that followed was heavy but filled with a sense of bittersweet closure. you knew that baekhyun, wherever he was, would be listening. maybe, by his window. maybe, in his sweet dreams.

the sky above the river stream had deepened into a twilight blue, the last vestiges of daylight casting a gentle glow over the water. the river, once a place of daily tasks and fleeting moments, had become a sanctuary, a quiet refuge from the storm of recent events. the soothing murmur of the stream filled the space between you and namjoon, creating a serene backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding between you.

you and namjoon had wandered here together, the path illuminated by the soft, shimmering light of the setting sun. the air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stifling heat of the palace. as you approached the river’s edge, you could feel the tension of the past days easing, replaced by a tender calm that settled between you. namjoon stood close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walked. his presence was comforting, a steady anchor amidst the tension that had surrounded both of you. when you reached the spot where you had first served him lunch, the memories of that day seemed to merge with the present, creating a poignant sense of continuity.

the river flowed gently, its surface catching the last golden rays of the sun, creating a dance of light and shadow that played across the water. the tranquility of the scene seemed to soothe the remnants of distress in your heart, and you found yourself gazing at namjoon, a soft smile on your lips.

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. the turmoil of recent days, the losses, the betrayals—all seemed to vanish in the face of this simple, serene moment. he stepped closer, his gaze steady and affectionate. “what is it about this place?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. “why do you love the river so much?”

namjoon’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the stream. “it’s quiet here,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “everything slows down. there’s no noise, no demands—just the sound of the water and the peace it brings.”

you nodded, understanding his sentiment. the river had always been a haven, a place where one could escape the clamor of palace life and find solace in nature’s embrace. “i wish we could run away,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “find a place where we could be free from all of this.” namjoon’s eyes darkened with determination. “we will,” he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. “just wait until i’m given the throne. once i’m in a position of power, we’ll leave together. find our own place, somewhere peaceful.”

his words were a promise, a beacon of hope that illuminated the uncertainty of the future. the idea of escaping the constraints of the palace and starting anew with namjoon filled you with a sense of hope and anticipation. it was a dream that seemed within reach, a future that you could look forward to with him by your side. as the evening sky deepened, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your face. rhe touch was tender, his fingers warm against your skin. his gaze was filled with a mixture of love and longing, and before you could fully process the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss was soft and sweet, a gentle exploration that conveyed all the emotions neither of you could put into words. it was a kiss filled with promise and affection, a tender connection that spoke of the future you both hoped to build together. the world around you seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, your heart racing with a mixture of joy and relief.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a depth of feeling that made your heart ache with happiness. “i love you,” he said softly, his voice a caress against the stillness of the evening. the evening drew on, the sky slowly darkening into night. as you sat by the river, the two of you shared a quiet, tender moment that was both a balm for your weary souls and a promise of brighter days to come.

the night had settled into an oppressive silence, a heaviness that seemed to weigh down every corner of the palace. chaehee lay in his bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around him like a shroud. his eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness as if willing it to offer him some reprieve. the voices—baekhyun’s and taehyung’s—haunted him with their pleading, their cries for help echoing through his mind with a cruel, relentless intensity.

he tossed and turned, the hallucinations of baekhyun and taehyung becoming more vivid with each passing hour. their faces, twisted in anguish, appeared at the edge of his vision, their voices growing louder, more insistent. “let us out!” they begged, their words a constant, desperate refrain. “help us! save us!”

chaehee’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding erratically as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him. he could see their ghostly forms moving around him, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and accusation. his room seemed to close in on him, the shadows lengthening and darkening, becoming oppressive barriers he could not escape.

he screamed, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to tear from his very soul. his scream echoed through the empty corridors, a reflection of his inner turmoil. his screams were a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating grip of his own mind, but they only served to amplify his sense of isolation. the more he fought to silence the voices, the louder they seemed to grow, until they were a cacophony of despair that reverberated through his entire being.

as the night wore on, chaehee’s mind became a battleground of fear and remorse. he knew that his actions had sealed his fate, that the lives lost were a direct consequence of his ruthless ambitions. the visions and voices seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for power.

in your own room, the night was less tumultuous but no less fraught with anxiety. the visions of namjoon’s future, the one you had glimpsed with such dread, played on a loop in your mind. the knowledge that he might become the next king, his victory won at the cost of his brothers’ lives, was a heavy burden to bear. you wrestled with your fear and uncertainty, wondering if you could trust him or if he was doomed to repeat the same path of bloodshed and betrayal. the possibility of changing his destiny seemed both daunting and necessary.

as you lay in bed, lost in these thoughts, you heard a soft rustling. your heart skipped a beat as you realized someone was in your room. namjoon’s silhouette emerged from the darkness, his presence both a comfort and a cause for anxiety. his eyes, usually so confident, were shadowed with an intensity that spoke of his own inner conflict.

he approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and gentle. “i wanted to see you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the darkness. you blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleep and confusion. “why?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

namjoon climbed into your bed, his body warm against yours. he kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his gaze. the kiss deepened, his hands moving to cradle your face as he explored the contours of your lips. you blushed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “your highness, this isn’t right,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as his hands roamed down your body. his touch was both electrifying and disorienting, a physical affirmation of the emotions you had been grappling with.

his hands found their way to the sash of your robe, deftly untying it and revealing your naked body to the cool night air. you gasped as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your erect nipples. the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you felt your body respond despite your mind’s reservations. namjoon’s hand slid down further, his fingers teasing the wetness between your legs. “you want this as much as i do,” he whispered, his voice filled with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

his mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving deep as he ground his hips against yours. you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, and it was a feeling that both thrilled and intimidated you. his kisses grew more insistent, his hands more demanding. your resolve crumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the world outside your chamber was forgotten as you gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

his fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer to the edge of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, and you found yourself whispering his name. he chuckled darkly, the sound a heady mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “say it louder,” he urged, his voice thick with lust. “say it like you mean it, like you want me to claim you completely.” you moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he claimed you with a fierce kiss. your body arched off the bed, and you clutched at his shoulders as the first waves of pleasure crashed over you.

namjoon’s touch grew rougher, his kisses more possessive. he pulled away, his eyes blazing with desire. “i meant when i said you were mine, nobody else's,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper that sent a thrill of fear through your body. your eyes widened, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself nodding, your body eager for the release he offered. he positioned himself over you, his large cock nudging against your wet entrance. without a word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, the sound echoing through the silent room.

his thrusts were deep and powerful, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. the pain and pleasure melded together, creating a symphony of sensations that had you gripping the bed sheets. your body responded to his rough handling, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the harsh pants of your shared passion.

his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. “let go for me, my lady,” he grunted, his teeth grazing your earlobe. the dirty talk sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself tighten around him, your orgasm building rapidly.

the tension grew, a coil in your belly that threatened to snap at any moment. and then it did, sending you spiraling over the edge with a scream that was muffled by his mouth. namjoon’s own release followed quickly, his warmth filling you completely. he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.

the silence that followed was tense, filled with the thundering of your hearts and the harshness of your breathing. the reality of what had just transpired settled over you like a shroud, and you felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to pervade the very air around you. you knew that this moment of passion would have consequences, consequences that could change the course of your lives forever. but for now, all you could do was lie there, wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, and hope that somehow, you could find a way out.

hansol stood silently behind the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the muffled sounds of your whispers and namjoon’s low voice. every word that reached his ears felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, a bitter confirmation of the betrayal he never imagined he would face. you were the woman he wanted, the woman he loved, and now namjoon was taking you from him. the realization sent a wave of anger and despair crashing over him, leaving him reeling.

his face twisted into a grimace, the bitterness in his heart hardening into resolve. he wasn’t going to lose you to namjoon, not to someone he viewed as a brother but who was now his rival in the cruelest of ways. hansol knew he had to act, to do something to stop this from happening. he needed to ensure that namjoon wouldn’t take you away, that you wouldn’t be lost to him.

with his mind set, hansol turned on his heel and made his way down the shadowed corridors of the palace, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. he reached chaehee’s chambers, where the once-powerful king lay weak and frail, his body ravaged by the consequences of his own actions. the room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the walls.

hansol hesitated for a moment at the door, but the memory of what he had just heard pushed him forward. he entered quietly, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed where chaehee lay, his breath shallow and labored. “your majesty,” hansol began, his voice a low murmur, careful not to disturb the frail king too much. “i’ve come with news that you need to hear.”

chaehee’s eyes, glazed with pain and fatigue, flickered toward hansol. there was a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. finally, chaehee gave a faint nod, indicating for him to continue. “it’s about namjoon,” hansol said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. “he plans to marry nabi and take her away.”

for a moment, chaehee’s expression remained blank, as if the words didn’t quite register. then, slowly, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—ignited in his dull eyes. his lips twitched, and he managed to whisper through the dryness of his throat, “that won’t happen.”

hansol’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched chaehee struggle to form the words. “your majesty, what is wrong? you don’t look well.” but chaehee didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand and gestured weakly toward a nearby table. hansol followed the gesture and noticed a piece of paper and a quill, both items seemingly insignificant but now imbued with a sense of urgency. with great effort, chaehee pulled himself up just enough to take hold of the quill, his movements shaky and deliberate.

hansol watched in growing alarm as chaehee, his breathing labored, began to write on the piece of paper. the scratching of the quill against the parchment seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sound that seemed almost foreboding in its finality. hansol stepped closer, wanting to offer help, but something held him back—an instinct that told him this moment was too important to interrupt.

chaehee’s hand moved slowly, his writing growing more erratic as he struggled against his failing strength. his face was a mask of concentration, the last reserves of his willpower being channeled into this one act. hansol’s concern deepened as he noticed the king’s eyes growing more distant, as if he were slipping away even as he wrote.

and then, as if on cue, chaehee’s body gave out. the quill slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the table as his hand went limp. his body collapsed against the pillows, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. hansol rushed to his side, panic flaring in his chest as he reached out to support the king. “your majesty!” his voice was urgent, his hand shaking as he tried to rouse chaehee. but the king’s eyes were closed, his face pale and slick with sweat. the hallucinations that had plagued him, that had driven him to the edge, seemed to have claimed him at last.

hansol’s heart raced as he realized chaehee’s condition was far worse than he had imagined. but then, his eyes fell on the piece of paper, still resting on the table where chaehee had been writing. the ink was smudged in places, evidence of chaehee’s trembling hand, but the words were clear enough to read.

hansol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the contents of the note. It was a decree, hastily written but legally binding. the words declared namjoon as the next king, a title that would come with immense power and responsibility. but it was the second part of the note that made hansol’s blood run cold. chaehee had written that namjoon was to be married off to the khitan, a fate that would take him far from the palace, far from you.

hansol’s mind raced as he processed the implications. chaehee, even in his weakened state, had seen the threat that namjoon posed and had taken steps to neutralize it. but as hansol stood there, holding the fragile piece of parchment, a dark sense of satisfaction crept over him. namjoon would be taken care of—sent away, out of the picture. and you…you would be free from him, free to be with hansol as he had always wanted.

the air was heavy with tension as namjoon stood in the lit chamber, his heart pounding in his chest. the words hansol had just spoken reverberated in his mind, each syllable slicing through him like a blade. he felt as though the walls were closing in around him, the weight of his impending coronation and the marriage decree crushing his spirit. this was supposed to be the culmination of everything he had worked for, everything he had endured. but now, the path to the throne was stained with betrayal.

hansol’s expression was cold, calculated, as he watched namjoon grapple with the reality of what he had just been told. the two men stood facing each other, their silhouettes stark against the flickering candlelight, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.

“this isn’t what i want,” namjoon finally said, his voice strained but steady. “i have no desire to marry a girl from khitan. this was never part of my plan.” hansol’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “these are the king’s last wishes, mamjoon. if you want to be crowned, you’ll have to honor them. there’s no way around it.”

namjoon’s jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. the weight of the crown he had sought for so long now felt like a shackle around his neck, dragging him into a fate he wanted no part of. “i already have someone i wish to marry,” he said, his voice low but firm, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real. hansol raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “oh? and who might that be?” his tone was laced with false curiosity, a venomous edge lurking beneath the surface.

namjoon met his gaze without flinching. “nabi. i want to marry nabi.”

there was a beat of silence, the air between them crackling with tension. hansol’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, it was a twisted smirk, a reflection of the bitterness that had taken root in his heart. “you mean to say,” hansol began, his voice dripping with condescension, “that you’ve set your sights on the same woman i intended to marry?”

namjoon’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “what are you talking about?” hansol chuckled darkly, the sound filled with a bitter satisfaction. he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “she was mine first, namjoon. did you know that? before you came along and swept her off her feet, she was going to marry me. she was the one who held my heart.”

namjoon’s heart clenched, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he had known there were others who cared for you, who admired you from afar. but hansol? the man he had considered a friend, a brother? he had never imagined that hansol had harbored feelings for you, let alone that he had planned to marry you.

“is that true?” namjoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched hansol’s face for any sign of deceit. hansol’s expression was unwavering, his eyes hard as steel. “it’s the truth,” he said simply, as if stating a fact that should have been obvious. “but then you came along, and everything changed. she forgot all about me, all about what we had. you took her from me.”

namjoon felt a cold knot of guilt form in the pit of his stomach. he had always known that his rise to power would come at a cost, that there would be sacrifices along the way. but this? he had never wanted to hurt hansol, never wanted to come between him and someone he cared about. the realization that he had unknowingly done just that twisted his insides in knots. he looked away, unable to meet hansol’s gaze. “i can't believe it,” namjoon said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “she liked you first.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered,” hansol interrupted, his voice sharp. “because she chose you. and now, you’re going to marry someone else.” namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling from the weight of hansol’s words. the betrayal, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to bear. but what choice did he have? the crown, the throne, it was all within his grasp, and yet it felt like it was slipping away from him. the price of power was steep, and he was starting to realize just how much he would have to pay.

his face went stoic, the emotions that had been swirling inside him now buried deep beneath a mask of cold resolve. if this was what needed to be done to secure his future, then so be it. he would marry the girl from khitan. he would honor the late king’s wishes. and he would become the next king, no matter what it cost him. “fine,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion as he forced himself to meet hansol’s gaze. “proceed with the wedding.”

hansol’s eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips returning. “as you wish, your majesty,” he said with a mock bow, his words laced with bitterness. but even as he spoke, a flicker of something else—something darker—passed over his face. satisfaction, perhaps, or the satisfaction of knowing that he had dealt a blow to namjoon that would leave another lasting scar.

the corridors of the palace felt colder, more oppressive, as you moved through them with a heaviness in your chest. it had been days since the intimate confrontation with namjoon, and his words still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the love shared between you. you had known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity brought with it.

when you entered the chamber, you found namjoon waiting for you. he stood by the window, his back to you, his broad shoulders tense beneath his royal robes. the light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, and the air was thick with unspoken words. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should approach. but before you could make a decision, namjoon turned to face you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were filled with a mixture of hurt and anger that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“is it true?” he asked, his voice low and strained, as though it pained him to speak. “is it true that you wanted to marry hansol?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to find out. you hadn’t even been sure of your own feelings until it was too late. but now, with namjoon standing before you, the reality of the situation was impossible to avoid. “yes,” you whispered, the confession slipping out like a broken promise. “it’s true.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice rising with barely restrained anger. “how could you do this to me? how could you hurt me like this?”

“i didn’t mean to—” you started, but namjoon cut you off, his voice trembling with emotion. “didn’t mean to? do you have any idea what you’ve done?” his eyes bore into yours, searching for answers you couldn’t give. “i thought you loved me. i thought we had a future together.”

your heart shattered at the accusation in his voice. you had loved him—still loved him, even now—but the tangled web of emotions and loyalties had twisted everything into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. “i did love you,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “i still do. but i was confused. hansol, he—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” namjoon snapped, turning away from you as though the sight of you was too painful to bear. “i don’t ever want to see you again.”

the finality in his words was like a knife to your heart. you reached out, desperate to touch him, to hold onto something of what you once had, but namjoon stepped back, his expression cold and distant. “please, namjoon,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “don’t do this. we can—”

“it’s over,” he said sharply, cutting you off once more. “whatever we had, it’s over.” you stood there, frozen in place as namjoon walked out of the room, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your own mistakes. the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you collapsed onto the floor, your sobs echoing through the empty chamber.

days turned into weeks, and the pain of namjoon’s rejection lingered, festering like an open wound. despite your efforts to reach him, to explain, namjoon ignored you at every turn. he avoided your gaze, refused to acknowledge your presence, and any time you tried to speak with him, he would simply turn and walk away, leaving you feeling more alone than ever. then came the day of the wedding.

you stood in the crowd, watching with a hollow feeling in your chest as namjoon exchanged vows with the girl from khitan. she was beautiful, regal, everything a queen should be. but as you looked at her, all you could feel was a deep, aching sorrow, knowing that it should have been you standing beside namjoon, promising to be his for the rest of your life. you tried to force a smile, to show support, but the tears in your eyes betrayed your true feelings. and even as namjoon took his new bride’s hand and led her into the palace, he never once looked in your direction. you felt as though you were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of your own heartache. but you swallowed it down, determined to find a way to move on, to survive the pain that threatened to consume you.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the first wave of nausea hit. you had been going about your duties, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest, when the world suddenly spun, and you had to clutch the edge of a table to keep from collapsing. the nausea was overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were rushing to the nearest chamber pot, heaving up everything you had eaten that morning.

at first, you dismissed it as nothing more than stress, a reaction to the emotional turmoil you had been enduring. but as the days went on, and the nausea continued, a new, terrifying realization began to take root in your mind. you were pregnant.

panic seized you, and for a long moment, you couldn’t breathe. the implications of this—of carrying namjoon’s child—were too overwhelming to process. you had no idea what to do, who to turn to. but then, one name came to mind, the only person you could trust with this secret.

your hands trembled as you sought him out, your heart pounding in your chest as you found him in one of the palace corridors. he turned to you with a smile, but the moment he saw the look on your face, his expression shifted to one of concern. “what’s wrong?” daniel asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to touch your arm.

you looked up at him, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “i think i’m pregnant.”

for a moment, daniel was silent, his expression unreadable as he processed the news. but then, to your surprise, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms strong and comforting around you. “it’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “i’m here. i’ll help you through this.”

you clung to him, burying your face in his shoulder as the weight of your situation threatened to overwhelm you. his presence was like a lifeline, anchoring you in a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to navigate. “but what am i going to do?” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. “should i tell namjoon?”

daniel hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “no. he just got married. if you tell him now, it’ll only make things worse. people will think you’re a wench, something awful could happen.” the truth in his words stung, but you knew he was right. if word got out that you were carrying namjoon’s child, it would be a scandal of epic proportions, one that could ruin not just your life, but namjoon’s as well.

“then what should i do?” you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. daniel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “you’ll have to marry someone else,” he said quietly. “pretend the baby is theirs.”

the very thought of it made your heart ache. the idea of marrying someone else, of lying about the child growing inside you, was almost too much to bear. but what choice did you have? there was no other way to protect yourself, to protect namjoon. “who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “who could i marry?”

daniel’s gaze was steady, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke the next words. “marry me.”

your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. of all the people you had considered, daniel had never been one of them. he was your friend, your confidant, but you had never thought of him in that way. and yet, as you looked into his eyes, you saw the depth of his feelings for you, feelings he had kept hidden for so long. “daniel,” you began, but he shook his head, silencing you with a gentle smile.

“it’s okay,” he said softly. “i’ve cared about you for a long time. if this is the only way i can be with you, then I’m willing to do it.”

tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, overwhelmed by his selflessness, by the depth of his love for you. and in that moment, you knew there was no one else you could trust more. you threw your arms around him, holding him tight as the tears finally spilled over. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “thank you so much.”

he held you close, his arms strong and comforting around you. so good did it feel for him, to finally embrace the woman everybody seemed to love. he knew you didn't love him but, in your embrace, it didn't seem to matter. it didn't seem to hurt as much as he thought it would. he could accept everything—your child, namjoon's anger, hansol's resentment. he could take it all, if it meant he could take you.

the palace was quiet in the late afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the tall windows and casting soft shadows on the polished floors. it was a peace that was deceptive, a calm that masked the turbulent emotions brewing just beneath the surface. namjoon sat at his desk, staring down at a map of the kingdom, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts he couldn’t escape. the lines on the map blurred as his mind wandered, his focus slipping away as a dull ache settled in his chest.

it had been weeks since he had last seen you, weeks that felt like an eternity. he had tried to push you from his mind, to drown himself in the duties of the court, but nothing could erase the memory of your confession, of the way you had looked at him with tears in your eyes as you admitted the truth. the pain of that moment was still fresh, a wound that refused to heal, and no matter how much he tried to bury it, it continued to gnaw at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

the door to his chambers creaked open, and namjoon barely registered the sound. he was too lost in his thoughts, too consumed by the weight of his own heartbreak. but when he heard the familiar voice of hansol, he slowly lifted his gaze, his expression guarded. “your highness,” hansol greeted, stepping into the room with a grim expression. he closed the door behind him, his movements slow and deliberate as if he were bracing himself for something unpleasant. “i have news.”

namjoon’s heart sank at the tone in hansol’s voice. there was a heaviness to it that made his chest tighten with unease, but he forced himself to remain composed, to keep his emotions in check. “what is it?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. hansol hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from namjoon as if he were unsure how to proceed. but then he straightened, his expression hardening as he delivered the news.

“nabi and daniel are getting married.” the words struck namjoon like a fatal blow, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale. his grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. he had known this was coming. he had known the moment he had walked away from you that this would be the inevitable outcome. but hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the finality in hansol’s voice, made it all too real.

he felt something break inside him, a part of himself that had been holding on to hope, now shattered into a thousand pieces. but he couldn’t show it. he couldn’t let hansol see how much this news was destroying him from the inside out. “i don’t want any further updates,” namjoon said, his voice cold and distant, a mask of indifference that he had perfected over the years. he couldn’t bear to hear any more, couldn’t bear to know the details of your life with daniel. it was too much, too painful to even think about.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say next. namjoon’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and he saw the hesitation, the reluctance in hansol’s gaze. “there’s more,” hansol said slowly, his voice tinged with something that made namjoon’s heart begin to race. “she’s pregnant.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and for a moment, Namjoon felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. his mind went blank, the world around him fading into nothingness as the realization hit him like a tidal wave. pregnant.

it was a simple word, but it carried with it a weight that namjoon wasn’t sure he could bear. his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process what hansol had just told him. pregnant. you were pregnant. with his brother’s child. but even as the thought crossed his mind, namjoon felt a deep, instinctual denial rise within him. he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the child wasn’t daniel’s. it was his. he had always known, deep down, that you carried his child. but that knowledge brought no comfort, only a profound sense of despair.

he forced himself to remain silent, his expression giving nothing away even as his world crumbled around him. he had to hold it together, had to keep up the facade of indifference, no matter how much it tore him apart inside. “is there anything else?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. hansol’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching namjoon’s face for any sign of a reaction, but he found none. after a moment, he shook his head. “no, your highness. that’s all.”

namjoon nodded curtly, signaling that the conversation was over. hansol hesitated for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more, but when namjoon remained silent, he gave a small bow and left the room, closing the door behind him. the moment hansol was gone, namjoon let out a shaky breath, his composure finally crumbling as the full weight of what he had just heard settled over him. he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears at bay. But it was no use. the pain was too much, the heartbreak too overwhelming.

he stood there, staring blankly at the map on his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the child you carried. his child. and yet, he had no claim to either of you. he had lost you, lost everything, and now he was left with nothing but the hollow ache in his chest. despite his resolve to move on, to forget, namjoon couldn’t help but think of the days you had spent by the stream, waiting for him. he knew you had sent him letters, countless letters that remained unopened, sitting in a drawer in his chambers. he couldn’t bring himself to read them, couldn’t bring himself to face the reality of what he had lost. but every time he thought of you waiting for him by the stream, hope in your eyes, it tore him apart all over again. and then, there was the birth of your child.

namjoon heard the news through the palace gossip, the whispers of servants and courtiers that reached his ears despite his attempts to shut it all out. you had given birth to a baby girl, a beautiful little girl who, by all accounts, looked just like him. the thought of it made his heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable. he could picture her in his mind, a tiny, innocent child with his features, a child who would never know him as her father. it was a pain that cut deeper than anything he had ever known, a wound that would never heal.

and yet, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to see you. he couldn’t bring himself to open the letters, to go to the stream where you had waited for him, to acknowledge the life that was now a part of this world. it was easier to pretend that none of it existed, easier to bury the pain deep inside where no one could see it. but that didn’t stop the nights from being long and sleepless, didn’t stop the dreams that haunted him, the dreams of a life that could have been. a life where he was with you, where you were by his side, and where your daughter knew him as her father. a life that had been ripped away from him the moment he had let you go.

you held your newborn daughter in your arms, your heart full of a bittersweet love. she was perfect, with her tiny fingers and soft, downy hair, and when you looked into her eyes, you saw namjoon’s reflection staring back at you. it was a reminder of the love that had once burned so brightly between you, a love that had now faded into nothingness. but despite the pain, despite the heartache that lingered in your chest, you found solace in the presence of your daughter, in the way daniel held her with such care, his love for her as strong as if she were his own. he had taken on the role of her father without hesitation, without question, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

yet, every time you looked at your daughter, every time you saw the way she smiled up at you with namjoon’s eyes, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. what your life could have been like if things had been different. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the present, on the life you had now. it wasn’t the one you had dreamed of, but it was a life you could live with.

the days had become a blur of pain and exhaustion, your body growing weaker with each passing moment. the fever had set in shortly after the birth, your strength sapped as your body struggled to recover. you had given so much, poured everything you had into bringing namjoon’s child into the world, but now there was nothing left. the room around you seemed to swim in and out of focus, the walls closing in as the sickness took hold.

daniel stayed by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort even as the reality of your situation weighed heavily on him. he was the only one who truly understood, the only one who saw just how close to the edge you were. he watched you with a heart full of sorrow, his eyes tracing the pallor of your skin, the tremor in your hands. you were slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

as the last of the daylight faded from the sky, daniel stood at the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed on you as you lay there, so fragile and pale. he had promised to watch over you, to stay with you through whatever came, but the sight of you like this—so close to death—was almost more than he could bear. his heart ached with a pain he couldn’t put into words, a pain that only grew with each shallow breath you took. he turned away, unable to watch you suffer any longer, and as he did, the tears he had been holding back slipped from his eyes. how cruel was fate, to give him everything he had ever wanted—if only for a fleeting moment—only to snatch it away? he had loved you with every part of himself, had dreamed of a life where you and the child you had brought into the world would be his to cherish. but now, that dream was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

you knew the end was close, felt it in the way your body had begun to fail you, in the heaviness that weighed down your limbs, in the way each breath came a little harder than the last. the fever had taken its toll, and you were too weak to fight it any longer. you knew it would all soon be over, that the life you had known, the love you had shared, was slipping away. but there was one thing left to do.

with what little strength you had left, you forced yourself to sit up, your vision swimming as you did. every movement was agony, every breath a struggle, but you pushed through it, knowing that this would be your final act. your hands shook as you reached for the quill and parchment that sat on the table beside your bed, the ink blotting as you dipped the quill and began to write. it was a simple letter, the words coming slowly, each one a battle to put down on the page. but you wrote with a determination born of love, knowing that this was the last chance you would have to say what needed to be said. the words blurred in front of you as tears filled your eyes, but you pressed on, your hand trembling as you scrawled your final message.

when you were done, you could barely breathe, your chest tight with the effort it had taken to finish the letter. you called out weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper, and a guard appeared at the door, his face softening with sympathy as he took in the sight of you. you handed him the letter, your fingers trembling as you did. “please,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “make sure it’s delivered.”

the guard nodded, his expression full of pity as he took the letter from you. “of course, my lady,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. he knew, just as you did, that this would be the last letter you ever wrote.

with that final task complete, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, the pain and the fear ebbing away, leaving only a profound sense of exhaustion. you knew the end was near, but you weren’t afraid. not anymore.

you managed to push yourself up from the bed, your body trembling with the effort, and made your way slowly to the door. daniel was sitting on the steps outside, his head in his hands, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. when he heard your footsteps, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he saw you standing there, so frail and weak, but still fighting. he rose to his feet as you approached, his heart breaking at the sight of you. he could see it in your eyes, the knowledge that the end was near, that there was nothing left to fight for. and yet, you had come to him, had found the strength to leave your bed, to be with him one last time.

you sank down beside him on the steps, your body sagging with exhaustion, and rested your head on his shoulder. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close, his heart aching with a pain that was almost unbearable. he could feel how cold you were, how weak your breathing had become, and it took everything in him not to break down right then and there.

“are you really leaving me like this?” daniel asked, his voice choked with emotion as he leaned his head against the top of yours. he knew the answer, could see it in your eyes, but he needed to hear it, needed you to say it out loud, even if it would tear him apart. you couldn’t respond, your throat too tight with emotion, the tears that slipped from your eyes too painful to bear. you could only cry, the tears staining his fingers as he held you close, his heart breaking with every sob that wracked your frail body.

“will you forget me?” daniel’s voice broke as he asked the question, the words tinged with a desperation that cut you to the core. “when you’re gone, will you forget me?” you shook your head weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you answered, “i could never forget you. not even in my dreams, not even in death.”

the words were almost too much for him to bear, and he choked back a sob as he pressed his face into your hair, his tears soaking the strands. he had always known this day would come, had always known that the time he had with you would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t make the pain any less. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your apology. “i’m so sorry. it’s too much. i can’t stay.”

your eyes were growing heavy, the world around you beginning to fade as the exhaustion took hold. you could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of your vision blurring as you struggled to stay awake, to stay with him just a little longer. daniel felt the change in you, felt the way your body was growing limp against him, and he knew that the end was near. he had known it was coming, had seen it in your eyes, but now that it was here, now that he was about to lose you, the pain was almost too much to bear.

with trembling hands, he began to sing, his voice soft and broken as he sang the same song you had sung to him when baekhyun had died. it was a lullaby, a song of love and loss, of comfort in the face of unbearable pain. and as the words left his lips, he could feel you slipping away, your body growing heavier, your breathing more shallow. he had sent the firefly from that day, to your window, hoping you'd have sweet dreams. a final tear slipped from your eyes, trailing down your cheek as you let out one last breath. the world went black, the pain and the fear fading away as you sank into the darkness, your head resting on daniel’s lap as the life left your body.

daniel’s voice faltered as he felt you go, his heart breaking as he realized that you were gone. he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, the tears streaming down his face as he pressed his lips to your hair, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. but there was no response, no warmth left in your body, no breath left in your lungs. you were gone, and all that was left was the hollow ache of loss, the unbearable weight of grief that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

hansol walked the halls of the palace with a heaviness in his steps, each one dragging more than the last. his heart weighed down with a sorrow that he couldn't begin to express. his normally sharp and composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a broken expression that seemed to drain the color from his face. every breath felt like a struggle as he made his way to namjoon’s chambers, the words he would soon have to say churning in his gut like poison.

when he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering above the wooden surface. he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to tell namjoon the news that would shatter his world. but there was no delaying it, no way to soften the blow. the truth had to be told. with a trembling hand, hansol pushed the door open and stepped inside. namjoon was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on some documents, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. the moment namjoon saw hansol’s face, he knew something was wrong.

“what is it now, hansol?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation, though there was an undercurrent of concern that he couldn't hide. he set down his quill, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of hansol’s distraught expression.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward namjoon, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. when he was only a few paces away, he dropped to his knees, the sound of his knees hitting the floor echoing through the chamber. namjoon’s irritation evaporated in an instant, replaced by alarm. “hansol?” his voice was softer now, a hint of fear creeping in as he leaned forward, trying to see his face. “what’s the matter? what happened?”

it was then that hansol broke down, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over as he knelt there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t bring himself to look up at namjoon as the weight of his grief overwhelmed him.

“hansol, speak to me,” namjoon’s voice rose in panic as he stood, moving toward his friend. “what’s going on? why are you crying?” hansol forced himself to look up, his tear-streaked face contorted with agony. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. he took a shuddering breath, trying to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

“nabi’s gone,” he finally whispered, his voice broken. “she’s dead, namjoon.”

namjoon froze, the words not registering at first. he stared down at hansol, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. “what?” namjoon’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. “that’s not possible. you’re lying.”

hansol shook his head, his tears falling freely now. “i’m not lying, namjoon. she’s gone. she died after giving birth. she was too weak, she couldn’t—she didn’t make it.”

namjoon’s world shattered in that moment. everything he had been living for, everything he had pushed aside, everything he had convinced himself he could endure—it all crumbled into dust. his chest tightened as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him gasping, struggling to breathe. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was raw, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and anger. “why didn’t anyone tell me?”

hansol’s gaze fell to the floor, his voice filled with guilt. “she tried, namjoon. she wrote to you, every day—so many letters, but you never opened them.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his gaze to the stack of unopened letters on his desk. his heart raced, and his hands trembled as he reached out, touching the letters as if they were some fragile thing that might shatter beneath his fingers. he picked up the top letter, his name written in your familiar handwriting, and his vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. his hands shook as he held the letter, knowing that inside were words you had written, words you had meant for him—words he had never read.

he didn’t even bother to open it. the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he dropped the letter, pushing away from the desk as if it had burned him. panic gripped him, and without another word, he ran from the room, his mind racing. he didn’t stop as he tore through the halls of the palace, the walls blurring around him as he sprinted toward daniel’s house. his heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he burst through the door, his voice hoarse with desperation.

“where is she?” namjoon called out, his eyes wild with panic as he looked around the empty room. “where is she? this isn’t funny! nabi, where are you?”

daniel appeared in the doorway, his face etched with sorrow as he watched namjoon’s frantic search. he knew this moment would come, knew that namjoon would finally learn the truth. but that didn’t make it any easier to see the man he once called his brother unravel before his eyes. “you’re too late,” daniel said softly, his voice heavy with grief. “she’s gone, namjoon. there’s nothing left.”

“no,” namjoon’s voice was a tortured cry as he turned on his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. “she can’t be gone. she’s here—i know she’s here. where is she?” daniel’s heart broke at the sight of his desperation, but he knew there was no other way to show him the truth. with a deep breath, he stepped aside, revealing the small urn on the table, filled with your ashes.

namjoon’s world came crashing down around him. the room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in as he stared at the vase, the reality of your death hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the overwhelming grief that tore through him.

“no,” namjoon’s voice cracked as he staggered forward, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. he collapsed to his knees before the table, his hands trembling as he reached out, cradling the vase in his arms. “please, no.” he hugged the vase to his chest, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth, his heart shattering into a million pieces. he called out your name, his voice broken and desperate, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back.

but there was no response. there was only silence, the cold, empty silence that followed death, and namjoon felt as if the very life had been drained from him. he had lost you—he had lost everything. as he wept, the sound of small footsteps echoed through the room. a little girl, no more than a few months old, toddled into the living room, her eyes wide with curiosity. she looked up at namjoon, her innocent face a mirror of his own, and in that moment, he knew. she looked just like him.

“where’s mommy?” the little girl asked, her voice soft and full of innocence as she stared up at namjoon with wide eyes. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of the child twisting the knife of grief even deeper. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to explain that you were gone, that you would never come back. all he could do was stare at her, his heart breaking all over again.

“she’s sick,” namjoon finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked at the little girl, tears streaming down his face. the little girl didn’t understand. she didn’t know what death was, didn’t know what it meant for someone to be gone forever. all she knew was that her mother wasn’t there, and she wanted to find her.

namjoon couldn’t bear it. the grief, the guilt, the regret—it all became too much. he stood up shakily, still clutching the vase of ashes, and stumbled toward the door. he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face the reality of what had happened. daniel watched him go, his own heart breaking at the sight of namjoon’s devastation. he knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain, nothing he could say to make it better. all he could do was watch as namjoon was escorted back to the palace by his own guards, his body wracked with sobs that wouldn’t stop.

namjoon couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he was led away. the weight of your death, the knowledge that he had lost you forever, was more than he could bear. he had lost you, lost the woman he loved, and all he had left was a daughter who would never know her father. and as he walked through the gates of the palace, the walls closing in around him, namjoon knew that he would never be the same. the grief would stay with him, haunting him for the rest of his days, a reminder of what he had lost, of the love he had let slip through his fingers.

the palace walls seemed to close in on namjoon as he sat at his desk, the unopened letters scattered around him like the remnants of a shattered life. the room, once a sanctuary of order and purpose, now felt like a prison, every shadow a reminder of his failures, every flickering candle a ghost of the past. the urn of your ashes rested beside him, a constant, suffocating reminder of the life he had lost—the life he had thrown away.

his trembling hands reached for the first letter, the paper crinkling slightly as he unfolded it. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he stared down at your familiar handwriting, the words blurring as tears filled his eyes. he had ignored these letters for so long, had turned his back on you when you needed him most, and now, it was too late. the weight of his guilt pressed down on him, making it almost impossible to read, but he forced himself to go on.

“my dearest namjoon,” the letter began, and his breath caught in his throat, a sob choking its way up as he read the words. he could read every word in your voice, as if you were still there, reading them to him. “i went to the stream again today, hoping that maybe this time, you would come. but you didn’t. you never do.”

each word cut through him like a knife, the pain of it almost unbearable. he could picture you there, waiting for him by the stream, your heart breaking a little more each day as he failed to show. the image of you standing there alone, waiting for a man who would never come, tore at his soul. his chest tightened, the sobs bubbling up from deep within, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

“i don’t know why i keep going,” the letter continued, the ink slightly smudged as if you had cried while writing it. “i suppose i keep hoping that one day, you’ll remember me, that you’ll remember what we had and come back to me. but i’m starting to lose hope, namjoon. i’m starting to think that maybe you’ve already forgotten me.”

namjoon’s heart broke anew with each word, his tears falling onto the paper, blurring the ink further. he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the thought that you had believed he had forgotten you, when in truth, you had never left his mind. he had tried to push you away, tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you, that he was better off without you—but it had all been a lie. and now, it was too late to tell you the truth. he picked up the next letter, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it. his sobs grew louder as he read, your words searing into his mind, leaving scars that would never heal.

“today was the hardest day yet,” you had written, the sadness in your words palpable. “i waited for hours by the stream, but you never came. i don’t know why i keep torturing myself like this, why i keep hoping for something that will never happen. but i can’t help it, your majesty. i can’t help but love you.”

the sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving with the force of his grief. he had done this to you—he had made you wait, made you suffer, and for what? for a throne that felt meaningless now, for power that had brought him nothing but pain. he had been a fool, blinded by ambition, and now, he was paying the price. letter after letter, he read about your heartbreak, your loneliness, your unending love for him despite everything. with each word, the guilt crushed him further, the tears flowing freely down his face, soaking the pages. he couldn’t stop reading, couldn’t stop the agony that tore through him as he realized just how deeply he had hurt you.

finally, he reached the last letter, the one dated for today. his hands shook violently as he unfolded it, his breath hitching in his throat. he didn’t want to read it—he couldn’t bear to—but he had to. It was the last thing you had ever written to him, and he owed you that much.

“if you are reading this, i am dead.”

the words hit him like a sledgehammer, and he let out a strangled cry, his vision going black at the edges as the reality of your death crashed over him. his hands clutched the paper so tightly that it crumpled beneath his fingers, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words you had left behind.

“is that what it takes to get you to read my letters? i was weak, i was the opposite of you. you were strong enough to walk away, to claim the throne. was it everything you've ever wanted? was it not enough, claiming my heart? i worry that i left you with hatred, instead of love.”

namjoon shook his head, the sobs ripping through him with a force that made his entire body shake. he hadn’t walked away because he was strong—he had walked away because he was a coward. he had been too afraid to face his feelings, too afraid to admit that he couldn’t live without you. and now, he would never get the chance to tell you that.

“i still love you. how could i ever forget you? hansol knows it, my husband knows it—everybody knows it, except you.”

the guilt was suffocating, the weight of his own blindness crushing him beneath it. you had loved him, despite everything, despite the pain he had caused you, and he had been too blind to see it. he had been so focused on his own ambitions, his own desires, that he had lost the one thing that truly mattered.

“i've learned that the opposite of loving isn't hating, but leaving. why do i wait by the stream, when i know you won't be there? why do I curse the stars for this fate, when it's the moon we are under? why do i love you, when it's you who has left me?”

namjoon could barely see the words through his tears, the paper blurring as his sobs grew louder, more desperate. he had left you—he had left you all alone to bear the burden of his absence, and now, he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life. the realization cut deeper than any blade, the pain of it almost unbearable.

“and now, i have to leave you. i have to leave you with the burden of having loved me.”

the sobs that tore through him were unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a raw, primal pain that echoed through the empty room. he cried your name, over and over, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back. but there was no response, no comfort to be found in the cold, empty air. the world around him fell away, leaving only the agony of your loss, the regret that would haunt him for the rest of his days. he had lost you—lost the one person who had ever truly loved him—and now, he was left with nothing but the ashes of what could have been.

he clutched the letter to his chest, his sobs filling the room as he rocked back and forth, the grief consuming him, tearing him apart piece by piece. he had lost you, and now, he would have to live with that pain, that regret, for the rest of his life. and as he cried, as he mourned the life he had thrown away, the only comfort he could find was the knowledge that, no matter what, you would always be nearby, under the moon.

you woke up with a start, your heart pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape. the familiar sound of chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead brought you back to reality—or what you thought was reality. you were back at work, standing behind the counter of your cosmetics shop in the bustling mall. the air was filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater, the carefully curated aroma of your traditionally made products. your hands moved automatically, arranging the small glass jars and wooden containers, but your mind was elsewhere, still trapped in the vivid memories of a life that felt too real to be a dream.

it was all too clear in your mind—the palace, the sweeping hanboks, the chilling touch of power and betrayal. you could still feel the weight of the crown on namjoon’s head, the sadness in daniel’s eyes, the coldness of the floor as you lay dying in his arms. the memories were so vivid, so heartbreakingly real, that it was hard to believe they weren’t your reality. you looked around the shop, expecting to see the grandeur of the royal palace, the opulence of a bygone era. but all you saw were customers milling about, people asking questions about the products, children tugging at their parents’ sleeves. there was no daniel, no namjoon, just the mundane, everyday life you had always known—or thought you had known.

“excuse me, do you know who the fourth king was?” a woman’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. she stood across the counter, examining a jar of cream with a polite curiosity, her eyes waiting expectantly for your answer.

you blinked, her question echoing in your mind as the memories surged forward, relentless. the name that came to your lips was not just a fact from history but a name that carried the weight of love, betrayal, and loss. your eyes widened, filling with unshed tears as the name slipped out, barely above a whisper. “gwangjong, kim namjoon.” the woman’s brows furrowed in concern, her voice softening. “are you okay?” but you couldn’t answer, couldn’t stay there any longer.

the walls of the mall felt like they were closing in on you, the faces around you blurring into one indistinguishable mass. you mumbled an apology, your voice trembling as you excused yourself, the jar of cream left abandoned on the counter. you stumbled out from behind the counter, your feet carrying you down the endless rows of displays, each step growing heavier as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

was it all a dream? a cruel trick played by your subconscious? or was it something more, something you couldn’t quite grasp? you ran a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp. you could still feel the coldness of namjoon’s touch, the warmth of his embrace, the pain that had clawed at your heart as you left him behind. the world around you spun, the bustling mall fading into the background as your mind struggled to reconcile the two realities. and then you saw it.

the sign loomed above you, its letters bold and unyielding: “songak art display.” your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at the sign, disbelief washing over you in waves. your feet moved on their own, carrying you inside as if drawn by an invisible force, by something deep within you that needed answers, that needed closure. the gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mall outside. the walls were lined with paintings, each one a window into a world long gone, yet eerily familiar. your eyes roamed over the art, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you searched for something—anything—that could explain what was happening to you. and then you found it.

a painting, large and imposing, hung in the center of the room, its colors dark and foreboding. the scene was one you knew all too well, one that had haunted your dreams and your waking hours alike. the execution of baekhyun, captured in painful detail. his eyes, wide with fear and regret, his hands bound, his body broken. the crowd surrounding him, their faces twisted in a mixture of sorrow and anger. you remembered it all—remembered the blood, the tears, the sound of the blade as it descended, cutting through the air with a finality that still echoed in your soul.

you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth as a sob tore its way out of your throat. it wasn’t just a painting—it was a memory, a fragment of a life that you had lived, that you had lost. you turned, your eyes scanning the gallery in a frantic search for something familiar, for something that could anchor you in this madness. and there they were.

king taejo and queen jiyoung, their regal figures immortalized in paint, their expressions as stern and unwavering as you remembered. you could almost hear their voices, the weight of their authority pressing down on you, demanding loyalty, demanding sacrifice. your legs gave out, and you sank to your knees in front of the paintings, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed, apologizing to nobody and nothing, the grief and guilt tearing through you like a storm. and then you saw him.

his face, so familiar, so heartbreakingly familiar, stared back at you from the canvas. kim namjoon, the fourth king, gwangjong. the man who had sacrificed everything for his brothers, who had grown up as a wolf and learned to be human. the man who had claimed your heart, only to break it. the plaque beneath the painting confirmed it, the words blurring through your tears as you read them. “kim namjoon, fourth king gwangjong. sacrificed everything for his brothers. grew up as a wolf, learned to be human. purge.”

you stared into his painted eyes, your heart breaking all over again as you whispered his name, the apology spilling from your lips as if he could hear you, as if he could somehow forgive you. “i'm so sorry,” you managed through your tears. “i'm so sorry for leaving you.” the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and the man you had loved, the man you had lost. the sobs wracked your body, your tears soaking the floor as you clung to the memory of him, to the memory of what you had shared, what you had lost. and then, a gentle tap on your shoulder brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the past that had consumed you.

you turned, your vision still blurred with tears, to see a man standing before you, his expression concerned, his hand outstretched with a tissue. for a moment, you didn’t recognize him, didn’t see past the veil of your grief. your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

you didn't recognize him. perhaps, not at first. not until you saw the scar. right across his eye.

✧.*

a/n: stop i lowkey cried LOL i didn't use the aired ending of scarlet heart tho bc i'm not a sociopath?

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful—repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

skool luv affair (상남자) — kim namjoon (김남준)

(UPCOMING)

✧.* 18+

✧.* genre: rom-com, college au, smut

✧.* cast: kim namjoon, (y/n) (l/n), yu jimin (karina), kim seokjin, kim gaeul, jeon jeongguk, jackson wang, kim taehyung, park jimin

✧.* they'll always tell you to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. they'll never tell you about the ones in the middle.

This...! I love this more than anything else, lindy you’re such a good writer, like hell, i would not tease him, but the idea is tempting, i discovered something and it makes me happy that i read this fic, thankyou so much for writing this. Tumblr writers should write more of fics like this!

repentance - knj | m

now, let’s imprint my name on that trophy and come back home - come back home, BTS

↳ summary- your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, doesn’t like it when you flirt with other guys

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6k

↳ pairing- namjoon x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is all smut, there is nothing but smut here, there is no god in this chili’s tonight. this actively takes us further from the light.

↳ warnings- very hard BDSM, name calling, degradation, humiliation, spitting, caning/spanking, collaring, bondage, squirting, overstimulation, impreg kink lmfao, face fucking,  Namjoon is a v sadistic dom but he is still sane, after care is important,

↳ a/n- well folks.  here it is.  The fic that pushed me past my comfort zone lmfafskadf.  i am 100% grateful to @sombreboy​ for assisting me with this and being silly as fuck in the google doc.  i could not have done it without his guidance lmfaooo.  this was requested by anon and i hope i did it justice and i rly appreciate getting sent things that make me write things i normally wouldn’t!  thank you for believing in me lmfao.  pls feel free to interact with me however u want bc i love you all.  Thanks for reading! namjoon if ur reading this pls forgive me

“I hope you had your fun, doll,“ Namjoon whispers harshly in your ear as you walk with him away from the dance studio.  You’re covered in sweat, hot, and still you’re shaking like a leaf at the tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

So maybe you broke the rules.  Maybe you danced with Jimin at practice a little too intensely, a little too provocatively.  Maybe you grinded up against the blonde harder than you should, making the dancer sport a tent in his pants.

And maybe you did it in front of your boyfriend, that man who loved and dominated you.

Is it too late to say oops?

Keep reading

Okay, but why the fuck is this so good????? I discovered another beautiful, and filthy fic that i really love. Thankyou for writing this, gonna keep it safe in my blog to reread it, again and again.

Descend | demon!knj

⇣18+ nsfw ⇣pairing: demon knj x female Y/N ⇣genre: pwp smut, supernatural ⇣word count: 2.6k ⇣warnings: smut, profanity, dubcon esque themes, degrading dirty talk, mouthfucking, knj fucks y/n against a bookshelf lmao, demon creampie, he’s got a forked tongue idk if that’s a warning but at this point I’m too afraid to ask. 

A/N: Request by anon who wanted demon knj smut. I hope you love it! Please praise me I spent all night on this xoxo

‘’I’d say you are wasting my time, but that was before I saw you..’’ he tugged her face closer to his crotch, the bulge underneath the fabrics visibly twitching from having her attention. ‘’You will make it worth my while.’’

Keep reading

Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Original Female Character(s), Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character(s), Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Min Yoongi | Suga/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Kim Namjoon | RM, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Taehyung | V, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Park Jimin (BTS), Min Yoongi | Suga, Bangtan Boys | BTS Ensemble Additional Tags: Merman Kim Namjoon, Top Kim Namjoon | RM, University Student Kim Namjoon | RM, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Merman Kim Taehyung, taehyung is a prince, King Kim Namjoon | RM, Jeon Jungkook is Whipped, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope & Min Yoongi | Suga are Best Friends, Alpha Kim Seokjin | Jin, University Student Park Jimin (BTS), Cute Park Jimin (BTS), Fucking, Jungkook TOTALLY doesn't have a crush on his best friend, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kim Namjoon | RM Has a Big Dick, Kim Namjoon | RM-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Mentions of TXT, Smut, Mentioned Choi Soobin, Kim Namjoon | RM is Whipped, Prince Kim Namjoon | RM, Prince Kim Taehyung | V, King Kim Seokjin | Jin, Alternate Universe - Magic, Siren Kim Namjoon | RM, Black Character(s), Original Character(s) Series: Part 1 of RoomMates Universe Summary:

Liyana is 22 year old college student in Atlanta, Georgia. She spends most of her time outside of school chilling with her best friends Yoongi, Jungkook, and Rena. Everything is going just fine for her until one day a new student shows up. He's everything she's ever dreamed of. But with every great thing comes a price. He's hiding a dark secret from the world and from his new roommate. What will happen when she finds out?

Wowowow my heart 🥺🥺🥺

how he shows his interest in you | kim namjoon

pairing: kim namjoon x reader genre: thoughtful crack, fluff, headcanon word count: 1.9k  tags/warnings: sarah’s bias is showing, self-restraint was used if you can believe it and I did write this with thought to his character based off my perceptions of him 🙉

a/n: we should all thank @milk-and-moni​ for officially requesting this because I don’t think I could’ve brought myself to do it otherwise lol writing for your own bias is so hard 😅 but I hope you love it moni! also sometime last year an anon sent in some bits about Namjoon because that’s how long I’ve been wanting to write his head canon haha Idk if you are still around my blog Namjoon-anon but thank you so much for sending those bits in, I had em saved & added them in this hc ^^

am I wrong to assume Namjoon seems like a natural flirt?? It’s just a gut feeling

in some kind of group conversation the target has been acquired: you

he can’t seem to keep shifting his eyes in your direction even when you aren’t talking

a lot of nose touches to hide his smile when you are talking, he’s probably thinking how cute you are

that closed-lip smile he does AH

like you probably said something funny to make the group laugh but because he’s so enamored by you he has to really hold back his laughter at first

within the group, those who are closer to Namjoon  probably notice he is going the extra mile just to make you smile or laugh 😏

I don’t think he’d be subtle with his advances during one on one conversations

again, purposefully making you giggle so much so you’re questioning why you’re giggling so much

I think he’d be goofy too and probably without meaning 😆

Jokes, the mans got jokes when he’s nervous I just know it

and you know that immediate regret he shows after doing aeygo?? yes THAT

Keep reading

True Self - Part 1

Fandom: BTS Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Female Reader Genre: Fluff Warning: None, I guess? Word Count: 1k Words Note: Please bear it in mind that it’s totally fictional. I tried my best to include some of the aspects of Namjoon in here. Personally I think, Namjoon is one of the best men to ever exist. Wish I could do him justice.

Summary: Meeting Namjoon while you take your sister to the park proves to you that he is the kind of man you’ve always fantasized about...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 [Complete]

*************************************************

Today, I was in charge of taking my 8 years old sister to the park she frequently went to. My mother usually did the job. Since she didn’t feel too well, I had to take the part.

“Namjoon oppa!” my sister called and ran towards the man I had never met before. But I had heard about him a lot from my mother and he was a perfect gentleman in her eyes. My little sister was fond of him as well. She even told me once that she would gladly exchange me with her ‘oppa’ if given the chance.

Namjoon’s face broke into a smile as he saw her. “Hey, sweetheart.” he said while hugging her gently. There was a hint of confusion on his face when he looked at me.

“I’m her elder sister.” I introduced myself.

“I see,” he shook my hand, “I’ve heard about you.”

I felt embarrassed as I wondered what my mother could possibly have told about me. She was the kind to always brag about me to every single person she met. Though, I see nothing in me to brag about.

Namjoon offered me to sit down. I accepted hesitantly even though my plan was to sit alone and read the last chapter of the book I had brought while my sister would go around the park making new friends.

We both tried to make a simple conversation, which we found too hard to continue. So, we sat there silently, watching my sister play with Namjoon’s dog.

After a while, Namjoon noticed the book, which was poking through my bag and inquired about it. Then, he showed me the book he had brought which gave me an excuse to read mine while he quietly read his.

That was how our first meeting went. When I got back home, my mother wasn’t impressed at all because of how immaturely I had behaved.

*************************************************

I started to take my sister to the park more often. So that I got to meet Namjoon every now and then. He would come to walk his dog sometimes and will always strike up a conversation with me. Sometimes he would bring chocolate, milkshake or ice cream for my sister.

One day, he brought two chocolates with him, gave one to my sister and handed one to me. I gave him a look that said, “Why me?”

Namjoon laughed a little and said, “You mentioned once about how you used to eat lots of chocolates when you were a kid. So, I thought perhaps nobody bring them to you anymore now that you’ve grown up. But I can see through you. You still like them.”

I couldn’t help blushing. He had definitely saw me asking for a bite from my sister whenever I thought he wouldn’t notice. What an embarrassing way to get busted!

From that day on, whenever he would bring something for my sister he would bring one for me as well. At first, I hesitated to accept them. But eventually it turned into a normal act between us.

I started liking Namjoon without realizing it. He was the kind of person to radiate warmth around him. Talking to him started to feel like a stress relief mechanism to me.

I also couldn’t help noticing how clumsy he was. He would often break things and spill drinks on himself and on me as well. Once he even tumbled and fell down while we were walking down a slope.

He would immediately start to apologize and explain to me how he was not very good with his hands and legs. He even mentioned that some people called him a ‘giant baby’ because of his nature. I found it so adorable that I started to call him by that name secretly in my house too.

“Oh dear!” my mother once said, “Don’t tell me you are falling for him.”

“Of course, not!” I said with confidence. Then turned to go to my room, muttering to myself “I hope so…”

*************************************************

We had bonded over our love for books. I found out that he was as eager to buy new books whenever he had the chance as me. We talked for hours about our favorite books, fictional worlds, characters and stories. It was getting dark and my little sister practically begged me to take her back home.

At this point, I was taking her to the park almost every day. And of course, my motive behind it was to meet up with Namjoon. Soon, I realized how less and less frequent his visits were getting. When I had asked him about it, he said, “I’m getting a little too busy with my works lately.”

He only once mentioned about him working for some music company. He had told me that he needed break every now and then from his stressful works. So, whenever he came to walk his dog, he didn’t like to talk about it. I never pushed him either.

“I want to take you out sometimes.” He told me one day; which was really surprising. We had been friends for more than 3 months. But none of us had ever expressed anything more than that by this time.

“Yeah, sure!” I said, “Where to?”

“Maybe at a bookstore?” he suggested. I said it sounded great and we agreed upon a time at a particular day.

As soon as I told my mother about it, she was really excited. She bought me new clothes with matching jewelries. I told her that she was imagining a little too much, that it was supposed to be a friendly hangout.

We met in front of the bookstore at the appointed date and Namjoon handed me the beautiful white flowers he had brought with him. I thanked him and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about buying you flowers too.”

Namjoon smiled at me, “Don’t worry, dear. Buy me some other day.” His dimple smile was enough to melt away all the worries. He looked so different when he smiled that it felt like he was a complete different person.

We had planned to buy each other books that we personally preferred. It was a fun idea. We were roaming around talking about what we liked about the books that we had chosen. And finally, we got out of the shop with loads of books to carry back home.

*************************************************

Next time, I invited him for a coffee and I was the one who brought flowers for him.

“Wow, Sunflowers!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah.” I said casually, “’Cause they are my favorites.”

“No wonder. Pretty people like pretty things.”

I laughed, “Thank you or whatever.”

“Was it too bad?” he asked, “I was just trying to flirt.”

I nodded my head in affirmation, “Don’t even think about it. You’re horrible at this stuff.” Namjoon also started to laugh.

We ordered our coffees and sat there for a really long duration. Time seemed to fly by while I talked with this guy. He was a person I could talk so easily with.

By the end of the date, Namjoon said, “I think you ought to see for yourself the world I live in.”

“What does that mean? Are you from Narnia or something?” I jokingly asked.

He shook his head, smiling with somewhat seriousness, “I mean, my work.”

“Okay.” I said, excited to know.

“It is actually unbelievable that you still haven’t found out about it.” He chuckled, “I am an Idol.”

“You mean as the K-pop?” I asked, totally shocked at the revelation.

Then, Namjoon asked casually, “Do you know BTS?”

*************************************************

Special 8 Photo-folio Masterlist

My Personal Masterlist

True Self - Part 2

Fandom: BTS Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Female Reader Genre: Angst with a little fluff Warning: A bit angsty, toxic ARMYs, cyber bullying, swearing etc. Word Count: 1k Words Note: Please bear it in mind that it’s totally fictional. I tried my best to include some of the aspects of Namjoon in here. Personally I think, Namjoon is one of the best men to ever exist. Wish I could do him justice.

Summary: Once you find out that Namjoon is an Idol, you start to see him differently than you did before...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 [Complete]

*************************************************

My mother kept denying it saying that Namjoon was trying to prank me until I showed her his profile in Google. It was hard for me to believe it myself at first.

Namjoon told me that he would like to introduce me to his band mates. What? I was going to meet with the biggest band of the world. And I didn’t even know them. I felt like an idiot for never trying out K-pop before.

I spent most of my time streaming their music and other videos which I found too hilarious. I kinda regretted it now for not knowing about these precious gems existing. Now, I could see why people loved BTS from the bottom of their hearts.

The leadership quality in Namjoon was something on another level. He was definitely one of the many reasons of BTS being BTS. I felt somewhat proud for knowing him in person.

One thing that shocked me every time was Namjoon’s ability to produce the most relatable lyrics. Those were the words I had always wanted to say, but better. I felt like, we were one person in mind.

“Does that make him my soul mate?” I thought. Soul mate or not, he was definitely my ideal type; which I had never imagined I would get to meet in real life let alone date him.

I started to see Namjoon in a new light. He was no more just a silly boy who talked about books and nature. He was a superstar, a role model for people to look up to. He was intelligent and artistic. But he was also someone who was out of reach; which I had realized the hard way.

*************************************************

"We were dying to meet you." The one called Hoseok said as soon as Namjoon had introduced me to them.

"Me too!" I said, "I was very excited." Which was partly true. Actually, I was more nervous than excited. I was worried they might find me boring.

Fortunately nothing of the sort happened. I met the Bangtan boys at a restaurant near their house. They had welcomed me and made me very comfortable around them. Soon, we were talking and eating like they had known me for years.

I had learnt that it was extremely rare for them to date anyone because of their busy schedule. They tended to avoid going into relationships to keep it easy.

"But do you know what hyung told me?" Jimin said with a smirk on his face, "He said, ‘Yah, Jimin, I don't think I can keep away from her.’"

"Jimin-ah!" Namjoon yelled at him while the others burst into laughter. I was blushing so hard that I had to cover my face pretending to cough.

At some point, Namjoon had a call and he asked me to excuse him for a moment. When he returned, his face was grave.

"Something came up." He said apologetically, "I’m sorry, darling. I really have to go now."

"It's Okay," I nodded, "Maybe one of the boys can drive me."

It was agreed on that Jin would take me back home. Then, Namjoon left. Even though, we still stayed there for half an hour more, I felt Namjoon's absence every moment. I wasn't enjoying the dinner anymore.

Finally, Jin was giving me a ride as promised. He probably noticed the change in my expression. "You know," he said, "when we said it's hard, we really meant it."

I nodded my head slowly. I understood. It would indeed be hard to date an idol.

*************************************************

“Happy Birthday, darling.” Someone softly placed a kiss on my forehead.

I woke up from the touch and slowly opened my eyes. At first a little blurry, then, I could make up the face in front of me. It was Namjoon. As soon as I recognized him, I pulled him into a tight hug.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, “Hey, calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

I shook my head as I didn’t let go of him. Namjoon hugged me back and chuckled, “You’re acting like your little sister now.”

I didn’t care. I had met him in person after 2 whole months. We didn’t even get to talk online often. As always, Namjoon was way too busy to make time for our relationship. And I was worried it might fall apart at any time.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re coming, huh?” I asked pretending to be furious at him since we had an argument last night.

He put on his best dimple smile and said, “To surprise you, of course.”

“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes, “Showing off how romantic you can get?”

Namjoon spent the whole day with me and my family. Apparently, my mother already knew about his visit, which shocked me since she was incapable of keeping secrets. My little sister was super happy to meet her ‘oppa’ after a long time too. Overall, it was one of the best days I had in a long time.

Namjoon planned a dinner for my birthday at a fancy restaurant. I put on my best dress. I also put on a lot of makeup. When I was finally pleased with my outfit, we sat off for the little date I was longing to have.

The restaurant was beautiful. We got our table at the furthest corner to enjoy some privacy. The food was delicious as well.

“What?” I was completely shocked when Namjoon announced that he was going away tonight.

“I’m really sorry, darling.” He apologized once again, “It was already hard but I still managed to get a day off to celebrate your birthday.”

“I can’t believe it.” I said, “We are meeting after 62 days and you are already leaving in a day.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous.” He tried to laugh it off, “But I promise, next time, I’ll get more time and we’ll go on a long vacation. Does that sound good?”

“Next time!” I whispered.

Namjoon took my hands in his, “I’m really sorry.”

“Can you please stop apologizing already?”

*************************************************

The threats kept coming one after another and so was the mean comments.

“Why don’t you go die in a ditch, you freak!”

“You’re so fucking ugly that you make me puke.”

“How did you make our handsome Namjoon hyung to fall for you, witch?”

Some reporters had found out about us. Now, the news got leaked into the media. And some of his fans couldn’t accept it.

At first, I was crying at night silently. I was a sensitive person. So, every harsh comment felt like a knife through me. Eventually, I became numb towards the hatred. I stopped posting online. Ultimately, I deleted all my social media accounts.

“Don’t worry, darling.” Namjoon would call every day to console me over the situation, “Nothing’s made official. They’ll get tired of it. It will be over soon.”

“Does it even matter?” I asked once.

“Why are you saying that?” Namjoon’s voice sounded as if he was worried.

“If it takes not making our relationship public for the hatred to go away, that means, we will never be official.”

Namjoon was silent for a moment. Then, I added, “Perhaps someday, it will be over for us as well.”

“Don’t you worry about it, darling.” He said, “We will overcome the struggles.”

I wiped a tear from my cheek, “I wish I was as strong as you.”

*************************************************

Special 8 Photo-folio Masterlist

My Personal Masterlist

True Self - Part 3 (Final)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Female Reader Genre: Fluff and Angst Warning: None I hope so... Word Count: 1k Words Note: Please bear it in mind that it’s totally fictional. I tried my best to include some of the aspects of Namjoon in here. Personally I think, Namjoon is one of the best men to ever exist. Wish I could do him justice.

Summary: When everything seemed like they’re falling apart, you figure out Namjoon’s true self, making you fall in love with him...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 [Complete]

*************************************************

We were finally having the vacation on our own as Namjoon had promised. I was relieved to be seemingly far away from the world, Namjoon by my side without anyone to interfere, relaxing peacefully after some stressful days.

I was sleeping better being cuddled up with Namjoon at night. Waking up next to him was the most comforting experience. Just watching him sleep with his mouth slightly open could make my day better.

I realized I was noticing his very small habits and I found them adorable. One of them, which I was absolutely in love with, was seeing him read. Every morning he would read for at least an hour and sometimes more. I would occasionally accompany him and read too. Sometimes I would sit beside and watch him read for hours.

We would go to art museums together and interpreted them in our own ways. Once we became so passionate about our views that we ended up having a heated discussion. But we made up at night when I bought him gummy bears.

We would watch dramas or movies together at night. Usually he would let me pick up my favorite movies to watch. Even there, we wouldn’t shut up about putting forward our theories and analyzing characters.

This creative and liberal way of thinking was something I appreciated the most in him. I was glad he didn’t think of me as crazy because I was always too obsessed over fictional worlds. Sometimes, I scared myself thinking that everything was a dream and one day I would wake up to find out that there was no existence of him and all of it were actually my imagination.

But we surely had our differences. Even though it might sound petty, a huge incident took place due to this. And it was hilarious.

Namjoon had planned to surprise me by taking me blindfolded to the seaside where there were a lot of crabs. And let me get this straight; he absolutely loved crabs while I absolutely hated them.

As soon as the blindfold was taken off, I was screaming and jumping as if my feet was on fire. Namjoon was too confused for a whole minute until he realized I was screaming in fear and not because I was excited to see them. Finally Namjoon had to give me a piggy ride from the seashore back to the hotel.

*************************************************

We were sitting at the beach waiting for the sunset. I was a little upset since it was our last day of the vacation. I wasn't ready to go back just then.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" Namjoon asked as I rested my head on his shoulder.

"About how life is going to be like once we go back." I sighed.

He placed his hand on my head softly, caressing my hair, "you worry a little too much about the future."

"Can't help it." I shrugged my shoulder.

"I have a proposal to make." He sat straight facing me, "I want you to hear me out."

I nodded, letting him know that he had my full attention.

"I did a little thinking," He said, "not little, a lot of thinking actually."

"About what?"

"About us." He took my hands in his, "I will make it official."

"What?" My eyes were wide in shock.

"Yeah," He said rather calmly, "I know my fans. They will always support me. No matter what!"

I was silent, unable to believe what I was hearing. My heart was beating fast. I was afraid. Afraid because I feared I would lose him.

"Now, here's my real proposal." He squeezed my hands softly, "Will you come stay with me?"

"Are you sure about all these?" I asked.

"Of course, darling. It's about time we made our decisions for our sakes. I don't want to hide away anymore. Let's face it together."

I nodded again. "But I don't want to lose you." I couldn't hold it back.

"Why are you worried about losing me, darling?"

I shrugged my shoulders again. We remained silent for some time.

"Look!" He pointed at the sky, "The sun's setting already. So, shall we kiss, now?"

I laughed out at this. Then, he cupped my face in his huge hands and leaned to kiss me.

When he let go, I said, "Yes, I will stay with you."

*************************************************

At first I was overwhelmed by all the attention from the media and my surrounding as well. My friends who were out of touch for a long time started to check on me, asking me all sorts of questions regarding Namjoon and other members.

But like Namjoon had said, I got used to it eventually. I started to receive lots of love from his fans too. They started to appreciate Namjoon’s decision and respected our privacy.

Now, I had moved to live with him on his house. It wasn’t very far away from mine. So that, my mother and sister would occasionally come to pay us a visit and I could go back too.

The wildest experience I had in my entire life was going to the tour with Namjoon. It was so exciting and exhausting at the same time. I got closer to the other members too. Seeing them from up close, I was really fascinated by the strong bond they share.

I saw the emotions that filled Namjoon up every time after a performance. He loved his fans very much and they meant a lot to him. I considered myself very lucky to get to know this side of him.

Namjoon always liked to work on his music alone. So, I would always let him be and didn’t bother him in any ways. But one day, he asked me to accompany him while he worked.

I said, “But I thought you like working alone.”

“Yeah,” he said, “But sometimes it gets a little lonely in there. I want you by my side for the new song I’m working on.”

“Why?” I asked, “Is it about me?”

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon smiled and said, “You’ll be the first to know.”

*************************************************

“It’s so hot,” I said, breathing heavily, “Let’s go back.”

“C’mon,” Namjoon pouted, “A few more hours, please.”

“A few more hours?” I gasped, “I’m gonna pass out anytime now.”

Namjoon stopped his bike in front of a store. We both got down and went inside to get some cold drinks and ice creams. It was a rather hot summer day. Namjoon had planned to take me to a bike ride to nowhere since he took some time off work after a long time.

“Mint chocolate!” he exclaimed in disgust, “I can’t believe you like this flavor.”

“Thank God I tried it with Hobi,” I said sarcastically, “it’s my favorite one now.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and said, “I hope our children don’t get your taste in foods.”

“What did you say?” I stopped licking my ice cream.

“You heard me.” He stood up, “Now let’s get moving.”

Once again we were back on the road. Namjoon riding aimlessly forward, speeding up by the time. I hugged him tighter from behind. The wind was rushing towards my face blowing my hair which were sticking out from the helmet. At that moment I had a sudden urge to say it to Namjoon.

“I love you.” I said.

“What?” he was shouting through the sound of the blowing wind, “Did you say something? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I LOVE YOU KIM NAMJOON.”

Yes. It was my first time confessing to him.

*************************************************

Special 8 Photo-folio Masterlist

My Personal Masterlist

Namjoon 👁️👄👁️ 😊😙 This is exactly how I wish to spend my Sunday Mornings with my partner , at all times ! It's such a soft piece of literature that flows with love , care and passion 😍😍🤗🤗

sunday morning | knj

PAIRING namjoon x reader

RATING explicit

GENRE smut, fluff, grad school au

WC 3K 

SUMMARY There’s so much to get done, and yet Namjoon can come up with at least three reasons why you should stay in bed just a little bit longer. 

WARNINGS oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, morning sex, creampie, pride and prejudice in inappropriate situations 

AN: None of this is edited but I wanted to show my thanks for my most recent milestone in more than just saying thanks. 1 million bazillion thanks to @propinqxity​ who inspired this. I didn’t think it would spiral out like this and yet Kharli always manages to add a little magic to everything she touches. 

SUNDAY MORNING

On the other side of your bedroom door waits the world. The essential elixir: Coffee. Your favorite meal: breakfast. The best place in the world: the huge bay window that looks over the city. And, of course, the stack of five books you’re supposed to finish by the end of the week. You’re barely awake but you wince as the weight of the rest of the day settles on your shoulders. So much to do, so much to—

“Stop it,” a gruff voice grunts from the other side of the bed. You hadn’t realized he was awake.

“What?”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Huh?”

“About everything you have to do today.” What the hell. Your back is facing him, and somehow still he can read you like the back of his hand, probably even with his eyes closed.

You roll over on your side hoping to catch him unawares, but he’s already looking at you. Those deep dark eyes, crinkled into a sleepy smile.

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I'm in love with this fic 😭😭😭 will probably write a 700 page review when I'm able to come out of the haze, but this is TOP TIER NAMJOON ROYAL AU 🙌🏻🙌🏻💜💜💜 100/100 would like to recommend this to everyone who can READ 🤗🤗

𝐄𝐐𝟒 ♔♕ 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

♔ this chapter is dedicated to someone with a very special place in my heart. @triviafics​, a new character awaits, meri pyaari baji. ♔

♔ SERIES PAIRING: king!namjoon x princess!reader (south asian reader) ♔

♔ CHAPTER WARNINGS + RATING: nc17 sfw chapter for slightly triggering topics. attempted assassination. angst. execution. a new character!! ♔

♔ SERIES SUMMARY: namjoon’s hopes for a blossoming relationship between you and him withers little by little with each passing day like a tree’s leaves between autumn and winter. a particular, significant dispute between the two of you becomes the last straw, marking a hiatus in your relationship as you depart his kingdom in favor of home. your husband allows you to spend your winter away from him, promising a return when the flowers bloom again. however, you’ve seemingly plucked the petals out of spring’s first batch of flowers, adamant on staying until your voice would be heard. ♔

♔ SERIES GENRE + WARNINGS:  JODHAA AKBAR!AU, royal au, my attempt at something somewhat historical (joon —> king of goguryeo) [ i apologize for any inaccuracies ], angst, ARRANGED MARRIAGE, big cultural differences, sword fighting but make it romantic (if you’re namjoon) [with hints of sexual tension, but it’s a pretty casual fight], attempted assassination, execution, eventual smut. ♔

♔ A/N: s-second to last chapter folks. it’s almost over and i want to cry!! thank you so much for sticking with me throughout this crazy mess of a series. credits to my starliaght @sunshinekims for beta-ing and @sugasbabiie for helping me out with an excerpt! i didn’t think i’d make it this far with a fic, let alone with a series of all things. i’m so very thankful for all of you. ♡ ♔

♔ WC: 8.1k ♔

♔ TAGLIST (OPEN): @imcompletelyok​, @aamxxrii​, @veeparkersstuff​, @missmadwoman​, @igotnotype​, @honeybeesrec​, @suhdays​, @neverthefirstchoice​, @missgeniality​, @xjoonchildx​, @shaybeans​ ♔

♔ CHAPTER GLOSSARY: ♔

nathni - a type of nose ring that connects to an earpiece. [ visual ]

khussay - special embroidered shoes. [ visual ]

When it came to times of celebration, Namjoon heavily preferred more minimalistic approaches. Festivals and gatherings were always fun, but he always wondered as a child if the people who ran these festivities ever pondered upon what the new opportunities held whether it was a birthday or a promotion in position. There was much to enjoy during a birthday party, but did one ever consider what the last year had put them through, or did they ever predict what the year ahead of them would hold?  

Namjoon always did.

However, there was a momentous occasion right in front of him. A monumental change he witnessed each and every day after a cloaked stranger had tried to infiltrate his throne room. He woke up to this change, saw the change on the daily, experienced the change through her good and bad days. 

You. Arguably, one of the best things that have ever happened to him. Namjoon was conservative when it came to celebrations, but every time he saw you under his, no, under your shared roof, all he wanted to do was show you off. Call him red-blooded for possessing such a need, but in all honesty, he could paint “hopeless romantic” over his entire body and be satisfied. 

A bulk of the plans to celebrate your official arrival and residence in Goguryeo were done under your nose and behind your back. You couldn’t say much when you noticed Namjoon was spending less time around you than usual because you simply didn’t know what “normal” was. Previously, you barely gave him the light of the day when you first arrived, so how were you supposed to decide how much time alongside you was enough time? 

Yet, the newfound feelings you realized you had for him tugged on your heartstrings a little too much. You knew exactly where he was and with who, but sometimes, the bottoms of your toes would tingle as well as your fingertips, aching and aching to take those first steps, to place a hand at the doors so you could see him again. The connection, the romance, the passion, it was all too strong, a gushing waterfall that exuded nothing short of intimacy represented in different ways. 

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omfg the sex and the dice concept is bomb !! plus the username 🤣🤣 namTiddies supremacy .. Loved this fic ❤️

Also , it gets really difficult to find

1. a sext fic

2. a sub! Joonie fic

but this is top notch in both categories !!!

👀👅 👁️👄👁️ 🙌🏽

Rolling with It

Summary:  “I NEED NERD NAMJOON TRYING TO SEXT BUT TREATING IT LIKE DND” ~ Dip

Pairing: n. Reader x Namjoon

Genre: NSFW, smut, crack

Warnings: sexting, masturbation, language, sub!Namjoon, dom!Reader, both kinda switches but that is their main role, nipple play, spanking, edging, butt plugs, teasing, dirty talk, too grammatically correct to be realistic texts

Word Count: 1,154

A/N: This was requested by my friend @bangtanloverboys​, I hope you like it! I liked pulling out some nerdy references and making it sexy haha.

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Preet

Expression of love , dear one in love .

KNJ×Reader , SFW , Fluff , mention of poems

Category : Fluff , Established relationship.

Idol Namjoon × smort researcher Desi/ South Asian (Or Indian)! reader (any gender/gender neutral) .

Summary : Falling in love despite language barrier , Namjoon just wants to learn the expression of love in your languages. You on the other hand are lost in the man who's existence is a poetry itself.

It's a ... drabble ?! idk. Might be series of drabbles if ppl like it 😁😀🙌🏼😋.

NOTE : I basically came across this prompt generator and decided to give it a try because why not 😂. Namjoon is a happy cuddly bear and reader is madly in love. All SFW so no warnings apply! This IS a desi reader fic with reference to a Hindi song mentioned , but Bollywood songs are listened all across the world so it can be any South Asian reader !

AND though the song comes from a movie which tells the story of a girl and a boy falling in love , the fic CAN be for any gender you want ! #pride #lovewins 🙌🏼🤗

It doesn't help , the way cool air blows all around you compared to slightly warmer weather outside ; or the way the new four poster bed creeks when your brand new fiance tries to sit on it , gets spooked due to noise and chuckles endearingly ; finally sliding next to you inside the blanket.

It doesn't help your reading at all.

Reading is a bliss , but also a luxury you are seldom able to afford. Holidays are a rare thing in your researcher job tied to Hospitals , even rarer thing in Namjoon's whirlwinding successful idol career. But you both have accepted these days and life as it is treating it like sprinkles of sea salt in the caramel of your love.

Love which blossomed after just exchanging glances ,helping each other through gestures and talking in English a little whenever Namjoon could muster the courage to look at you without smiling sheepishly flashing dimples.

English is not your first language , nor it is his. Communication is the biggest concern in all relationships , but you both crossed the bridge together when you started taking Hangul lessons and he started learning phrases from the few Asian languages you spoke ( It's never only one).

Care , adoration and respect stood first amongst everything you shared and weaved a strong bridge of friendship and love which helped you overcome the language barriers.

Which is why you can comfortably sit in your comfy pyjama set on your bed reading a poem book in your language and Namjoon is humming the tune of some new korean song that he's working on while lying down next to you ; unaphazed about languages differences.

Right now , he's so handsome and so comfy in his grey sweat and white shirt , and looks so soft with his slightly wetter hair ; it distracts you from the beautiful words you were reading a bit earlier before he appeared and now he's lying next to you all happily unaware of what his presence has caused you to think about.

It doesn't help at all.

Brown hair and brown eyes turn to you finally , finding you lost in your own thoughts while starring a little cross eyed at his chest. Namjoon grins , sneaking a hand towards your waist and flopping himself suddenly on your lap. You are startled , but you let out a small chuckle happily when he nuzzles your stomach and sighs .

"What are you reading?"

"It's a poem book Joonie."

"Read to me."

"Read to.." you laugh. "I can't translate everything for you in english , let alone in korean".

"That's ok love. Poems are expressions of the heart. I just want to know what are the expresions of love in your language".

Your heart leaps with joy and fondness. This is exactly the reason you loved this man.

"Okay , but let me finish one poem at a time before you ask questions".

"Deal."

And so you begin reading . Namjoon listens with rapt attention as you finish one poem , then another ; before he asks some questions about the euphemism and impression of the words used. You try to explain as you can , but when you both are lost in the translation jungle , google helps somewhat.

It's a joyful experience when soon you find yourself head plopped on his chest , one hand holding his large palm with fingers entwined. The book is long lost , and now you're just talking about poems and love songs .

"I used to like the way you spoke with such firmness and confidence before we even started seeing each other . I didn't understand a thing but what you spoke seemed direct and no nonsense . I dig those vibes a lot." Namjoon laughs , and you swim in the happy vibrations his chest ripples with.

"I loved the way whatever you spoke seemed like a poem , even if you were scolding people. I thought it's your attribute considering you wrote so much lyrics and stuff , but now that I'm learning your language , it's the language's credit I found your conversations so poetic and charming ." You teased him and he smiled , flashy dimples showing his happiness .

"What was the song that you used to hum a lot of times whenever I came to visit you ? I always wanted to ask you but never got the chance to." He could still see you in large frame of glasses set on wide doe eyes and not so pristine white lab coat, humming a sweet song that he hated to interrupt to get your attention. You hummed a lot when working in full focus but this particular one seemed to be attached to his memory.

"That's a Hindi song Joonie." You laugh a little ."The story of the movie is that a girl falls in love with a boy from different religion. They both don't know what attracted them together but their hearts aligned the first time they met each other's eyes .."

"Sounds almost like us , right ?" Namjoon pulls you in a tight hug , guiding your head in the crook of his neck. You smile , and plant a small innocent kiss in the nape if his neck. He looks at you with adoration and you continue .

"They meet first in a wedding procession. She's the friend of the bride and he's visiting the area. He sees her and so does she and it's almost love at first sight. But she's confused and in a dilemma that who is the person to whom she lost his heart ? Thus , there comes the song. "

Namjoon is already looking at you expectantly , love shining like little stars in his eyes. You hide your face in his chest , and start singing the song .

The night sky shining through the window covers you both with moonlight and stars , as the words in your song weave the story of two clueless lovers who fell for each other ... just like you two ..

Kehna hi kya , ye nain ek anjan se jo mile

Chalne lage , Mohobbat ke jaise ye silsile

Arman naye aise dil me khile , jinko kabhi main na janu

Wo hum se hum un se kabhi na mile , kaise mile dil na janu ..

Ab kya kare , kya nam le , kaise unhe mai pukaru

Kehna hi kyaa ...

Translation :

What is there to say, my eyes met with a stranger

As if a love story has started

New desires have sprung up in my heart

That I never knew before

We never met each other

I don't know how our hearts would have met

What should I do now,

How can I call him ?

What is there to say, my eyes met with a stranger ...

fin ;).

Birthday Present

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Genre: Smut

Rating: M - nsfw

Warnings: Implied committed relationship, adult situations

Word Count: 905

Disclaimers: this is just fiction

Summary: It’s Namjoon’s birthday and you know exactly what to get him.

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INTELLECTUAL CRUSH

ep. 2 | ep. 3 | ep. 4 |

a multi-part series centered around the anonymous exchanges of namjoon and a literature girl. a separate but related installment of the halley universe (see Cupid Operation)

Books Nine Lives Company

Eco-friendly and sustainable trade of old books. Where we repurpose the neglected.

Namjoon pushes his weight into the swinging door and the store sign rattles.

A bell rings overhead - a jaunty, youthful chirp - as he enters the familiar bookstore to be encased in the scent of aged leather, the subtle-sweet vanilla essence of lignin wood-based parchment and the musty scent of carpet that has endured soiled shoes, coffee spills and bladder accidents from the part of the resident senior dog sleeping by the shop window.

He takes a practiced sharp left down a thin hall lined with mahogany-variation shelves, all crammed with books, without a single cubic inch to spare. The walls seem to encroach in on him, the further he disappears into the shop. Hardcovers and paperbacks - some surprisingly intact in condition, others faded, sun-bleached, tearing at the spines - spill from the shelves, pour into unstable, uneven stacks on either side of his legs.

Over the terrain of an old tapestry carpet, his worn logger-lace-up boots part a sliver of shuffling space.

His eyes dart over the labels meant to trim the seams of unrelated sections. During some point in the lifetime of the store, it proved effective. Now there's impractical irony to it. The books spill over their borders, congregate into uncategorized mounds, beg assortment and the inquisitive human graze.

Non-fiction, Poetry, Modern Poetry, Classical Philosophy . . .

"Kant...Kant...Kant," he recites beneath his breath, whilst drawing the tip of his forefinger over the lined spines. The ribbed feel of it in conjunct with the continued drum of his touch reminds him of sliding a hand across piano keys. An unattended grand piano on the courtyard of a local mall, the sound inflating beneath his hands, swirling up and around, diffusing through empty space and through an idle mind.

"Ka-" his finger halts, and shortly after, so do his steps.

He shuffles back to trace down the spine.

Namjoon saunters towards the front desk, skimming the dorsal face of the book cover with a furrowed brow.

There's a golden - well, once-golden, now-rusted coppery bronze - call bell that he would have once rang and been met with silence. He would have questioned ringing it once more at the risk of irritation.

Now, he only sets the book by the register and folds down to greet the senior dog curled into a ball over its dented, worn pillow. Grey, melanin-deprived hairs shade the corners of its snout, and highlight its brows, the tips of his billowing ear-lobes.

"How are you today, Apollo?" he whispers.

The dog lifts its head groggily to sniff Namjoon's outstretched palm. It scrunches and wrinkles its cracked nose and slightly parts the drooping lids of its eyes. Murky white clouds greet Namjoon.

"You make twenty the new twelve."

At the beep of the scan gun, Namjoon starts to rise.

The shop owner, Ruki, has a near-psychic ability to sense the presence of a customer within the maze of shelves. The call bell is for formalities, as is the dainty one hanging off the entrance frame. Uses them as fail-proofs while he disappears into the storage closet towards the rear of the store and pastes barcodes onto the covers of new arrivals.

Namjoon fishes a hand into the internal pocket of his winter coat for his wallet.

Ruki, behind the desk, mirrors the grey, melanin-deprived complexion of the dog, who once had been golden. The old man drums his knuckles on the wood counter and stares out the shop window contemplatively. It looks like it might snow today.

"Stray dogs," he voices, puckering wrinkled lips into a slight frown. "Invincible little creatures, aren't they? At this rate, I fear the damn dog will outlive me."

Namjoon thumbs the lined green bills nestled into his brown wallet.

"2.50's the sum, kid."

Namjoon folds the cash onto the counter and slides it into the man's wrinkled, patchy, outstretched hand.

"Everything alright, Ruki? With you, your family?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He shrugs. "Cancer's back." In a swift and practiced motion, he slips the receipt between the book pages like a bookmark. "I guess I can't be too upset with this fate. I only ever wished to live 'til 85. 84's not bad. Not bad at all." He slides the book face-up toward Namjoon, lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. It doesn't quite reach the point of crinkling the lines strewn around his eyes.

Namjoon grabs the book, taps it on the edge of the counter, as if gathering a deck of cards or a pack of printer paper. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, kid," he slices right through the platitudes, having felt sorry for too long, having learned how much of a waste it is to live in regret and pity. "We all die at some point. It's nature. No use defying it."

"What about treatment? Technology, nowadays, is so advanced. I read a paper discussing the transplantation of a pig heart into a human recipient. Promising developments."

Ruki shakes his head markedly. "Can't go through that all over again. I won't spend whatever time's left - months, maybe a year, if I'm lucky - rotting because of chemo, not being able to tolerate my favorite foods, bleeding from my gums, in hospital rooms surrounded by people in the same death-bound state as me. I wanna be out here, where life is, all types of it. The pretty kind, sweet kind, the ugly, the morose, rude, and real kind. I wanna make memories with my daughter while there's still time."

Namjoon absent-mindedly frays the edges of the book with his thumb, liking the fluttering friction of the thin corners against the pads of his fingers. Tries to think of something better to say but realizes that sometimes silence holds more meaning. Ironically, his words fall short of any value, even amidst a bookstore overflowing with them.

Instead, he voices his unbridled curiosity. "What'll happen to Apollo?" He looks down at his left, at the dog. Very faint golden strikes up its flanks, transitioning into colorless white. "The store, too?"

"Ask myself that daily." He lifts his brows and lets them fall just as quickly, as if he's at a loss for a response himself. "I've been trying to persuade my daughter to assume my position. I even offered her the compromise of opening the shop only two days a week, so that she'll have the rest of the time to dedicate to her studies - wants to be a doctor, my little girl. I have no doubt she will be. Unfortunately, I likely won't be there to see it, to see her pledge her Hippocratic oath, get her white coat."

Namjoon sits at the bus stop, string earbuds in his ears, the book held splayed by the sturdy hold of his right hand over his crossed lap.

He draws the flame of his lighter to the cigarette balanced between his lips before slapping the case over the amber, extinguishing it swiftly.

Ashes descend onto his denim lap.

When the snow starts to glide through the sky, the grey nicotine ashes blend with the pale blanket by his feet. It is clean and fresh, yet untarnished by scruffy boots or bicycle tracks.

He'd read once, a statistic accusing nicotine as the leading cause of lung cancer. Quickly and half-mindedly brushed it off, like burdensome lint on a freshly-washed sweater. Plucked the doubts from his mind one by one before they could poison the rest of his thoughts.

It wasn't because he found it hard to believe. He was certain of its validity, the statistics were convincing, as was the logic, rather he didn't care. Cared more for taunting death a little, daring the universe to kill him the way he predicts. It's a little morbid but something deep inside him knows that life is rarely predictable or tamable.

He could do one action, and the opposite would unfold. It's not hypothetical. He'd tried to refute his hypothesis with trials; the amount of times it was supported soon became too burdensome to track.

Life isn't straight-forward. Good people get sick, die; the evil persist. The talented go unrecognized in the shadows, ghost writers; the connected thrive. It's all pointless to try and make since of any of it. It's all absurd, as Albert Camus would put it.

He tosses the butt of the cigarette to the ground as the bus pulls up, comes to a screeching halt before him, and squanders the faint amber with the sole of his boot pressed into the snow.

It fizzles a little through the worn-thin sole.

The bus shudders to a halt, and Namjoon shakes the slumber from his head, unfolds his lap, stuffs the book into his back pocket while he starts up, swaying clumsily, sleep-drugged. It was a routine practiced enough that he didn't need to count the stops, or read the street signs to know when to hop-off. There's some internal clock in his subconscious that starts ticking away at the minutes as soon as he climbs the steps up the bus before Nine Books.

The gates unfold and slide across the frame of the bus. It drives away with a long draw of its engine, and a squirt of inky smoke from its exhaust.

Replacing its sight, a vintage-style diner comes into view across the street.

Namjoon crosses the striped pedestrian markings towards it.

At the door, he tugs on the sign, hung around a snagged nail, twists it from displaying a scribbled "Closed. Come Again!" to a "Welcome!"

He strolls in, heavy boots echoing dully across the vacancy. Dispersing muddied snow on impact.

On the trajectory towards his quaint square office space towards the rear of the facility, he can't resist the nagging urge to flip the chairs resting on tabletops. He's got a chronic case of twitchy hands, likely a result of the incessant nicotine crave. Makes his mind race, his legs unsteady, unstill.

At first, he means only to flip one, and scratch the mental itch.

It persists.

After the second chair he starts circumferencing the table, figure eights in swift motion towards another table.

The chatter of the legs on tile is enough to fill the buzzing vacancy of his mind. Enough for his hands to clasp onto and anchor themselves.

But just as quickly, his focus starts to blur. Eyes skit over the distant counter in search of the next thing to occupy his time. His mind.

He's been down this road before. Has made it until noon stil in his winter coat, robust keychain clanking rhythmically against his belt clip. Goes hours without eating anything of substance. The gnawing of an empty stomach numbs before he circles back around to the first intention of the day: visiting his office.

"Office first," he reminds himself today. Inhales deep into his diaphragm and holds it lest it escape his dominion, like the rest of his thoughts and intentions.

He slips the jagged teeth of a golden key into the lock and twists the rusted knob. The door lets out a long groan as it swivels on tired hinges.

Nearing the disheveled surface of a wooden desk pressed against a wall, he plops down his latest read over an assortment of folded papers, receipts, stacked notebooks of moleskin and annotated promotional pamphlets. Try as he might to assign each item its designated square space, it never remains organized long enough. The universe tends towards entropy, he'd justify, it's just the law of nature.

Upon shrugging out of his winter coat, he drapes it over the backrest of his office chair.

His eyes habitually trail over a circular frame standing on the desk's edge. The textured frame accentuates a black-and-white image of his grandpa and grandma caught in a side-embrace, hands clasped over one another's at grandpa's breast.

Gingerly, his tremoring hands collect the frame. He draws his pointer finger over the smooth glass preserving the image, the single moment solidified in time.

He shakes his head clear of some dense sensation and places it back on its designated place, indicated by a square frame of gathered dust.

Shutting the creaking office door behind him, he fishes the carton of cigarettes from his back jean pocket. Plucks a single cylinder from its place and plants it between the groove where his ear adjoins his scalp.

He meanders into the vacant kitchen. Starts a pot of coffee. Nostrils flare as the acidic aroma starts to permeate the empty lot.

The brew drips and bubbles as he strolls to the dormant jukebox on the far end of the establishment. He bends down to plug its chord and starts up. Digs a spare coin out from his front pocket and slips it into the slit on the machine.

In response, it illuminates to life, flickers neon in a hypnotizing pattern.

Pressing a neon green button, he flips through the title slips. He's not registering any of them, though. Just lets his eyes become oversensitive by the mechanized motion of the slips. Defaults to inputting "1-2-4" on the selection panel.

Inside the glass, a wheel of two-hundred discs spins in search of the selection. It slows until it halts and a robotic arm upends a record disc from the rest, lays it out over a turntable.

In a synchronized choreography, as the record is laid over the turntable, a needle descends over its grooves and holds steady pressure.

The machine emanates a crackle that falls into a single voice: [The Song]

Namjoon shuts his eyes in that moment. Allows the familiar tune to send him back in time. An easier time, a more innocent one. Where his only worries consisted of finishing school assignments and coming home by the parent-designated curfew.

His grandparents would dance circles in the diner, hands clasped together, heads leaned to this very song. The customers would cheer, eyes sparkly. They'd submit petitions for the next songs by holding up a shimmery silver coin.

Namjoon would collect them, have them whisper the desired track into his ear. He'd skip back towards the illuminated machine and recite the corresponding track numbers until the current song would come to a cadence.

He sighs. Thinks, I should visit them while they are still there to visit.

It's not something he looks forward to, however. To come to terms with how much time has changed them. To accept that those fond moments are never coming back.

Circling around the kitchen, he procures a metal bowl from the cabinets. Tugs open a drawer and clasps a whisk, its metal cool to the touch.

Opening the fridge door, and bathed in its sterile light, he grabs a couple of eggs, skims the container counting the ones that remain. Provisions should arrive today.

While there, he grabs the tub of butter. Flings the door close with his boot and swivels to pour the ingredients over the counter space, next to the shimmering bowl.

He turns and leans over his head, grabs the flour and sugar from a high shelve. A bit of flour escapes a tiny hole on its bag and dusts his cheek.

Instinctually, he crinkles his eyes, coughs. Shakes his head.

As the batter inflates under the warm luminance of the oven, he grabs a broom propped against the wall inside a storage closet.

His boots clunk rhythmically over the tile floor when he makes his way towards the entrance. Props the door open with its embedded door stump. Starts to part a walkway through the compacted snow. Can't have customers slipping.

It's a cold day in January. The merciless kind of cold that can't be nullified by the festive spirit of the holidays. There's mutable wind changing directions immediately as it blows into him. Delivering the caress of winter and just as quickly withdrawing it.

The muscles of his back and shoulders tense in anticipation for the next gush of frigid wind. The hairs on his exposed forearms prickle.

He starts to envy the batter heating in the kitchen.

He thinks of burning the cigarette nestled over his ear. Imagines how the smoke would warm him up from the inside out. As though a steaming chimney lived inside him.

When he balances the cigarette between his chapped lips, he becomes aware of an approaching figure, strolling up the walkway. She's bundled in a coat, hunched in on her small figure. Raven black hair blowing in the wind.

Namjoon nods in her acknowledgement as he digs around his pocket for his lighter. It's clumsy and desperate and hurried, so the lighter slips his grasp on multiple occasions.

The incomer doesn't slow or detour.

"Morning, boss" the girl quips. Plucks the white cylinder from his lips.

He grimaces at the sensation that a part of his dry lips had been torn along with it. Cups his mouth to verify it isn't true.

"First time I actually get here before you light it."

"You owe me a pack."

"Yeah, well, you owe me the two years of extended lifetime I've gathered you."

"I don't think that's the actual math."

"I've saved you time. Can we just leave it at that."

Namjoon resumes brooming. Still cold. Still tense and prickled. Nicotine deprived.

She shrugs her shoulders out of the billowing coat to reveal at least three more layers of clothing beneath. Long sleeves tugged over her wrists to keep her fingers from tingling.

Norah's armored herself with a black apron, her name affixed to the collar with a pin. She pops out of the doorframe long enough to hand Namjoon a mug of steaming coffee, no sweetener, light milk, but not long enough to allow the wind to ripple a shiver through her.

Namjoon gratefully accepts. Holds the broom handle beneath his arm to allow himself to cup the mug with both hands and derive warmth from that. "Where's your partner in crime? Sleeping late, again?" He mumbles against the ceramic rim, steam billowing up his nostrils.

"En route," she responds over her shoulder. She rounds into the kitchen. Grabs the glass coffee pot and pours herself a black.

Namjoon chortles, accidentally inhaling a gulp of the hot drink. Dissolves into a coughing fit before he's finally composed enough to verbalize "From where? Mars?"

"Actually..." she sets down her drink on the counter. Loses her gaze out the front windows, ravaging her mind for recollection. "No. I think he mentioned it was from Saturn." She angles her head pensively. "Got caught in the current of those spinning rings or something like that."

Namjoon translates, "He's stuck in rush-hour traffic."

[thought of henry's place in addy larue while writing this so thank v.e. schawb for the imagery inspiration]

Idol! Namjoon x Non-Idol! Reader: Dating Rumour

A/n: This one has an established relationship. You can just read this independently or read the First Part. It wont matter if you don't but it'll make more sence. Also for anyone who's read the Other Part, this happens like 1 year down the line, even Bang PD knew about you and Namjoon and said it was fine with the labels as long as its not public, the staff and the artists knew.

Summary: Its common to have a dating rumour when one is an idol. But what if you have a dating rumour being a non-idol and someone leaks your personal info. What happens? Find out.

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You were driving back from work, it was really crowded in your area. Songs were playing from the speakers, but you were getting impatient so you opened you phone to check as you waited for the road to get clear and that is when you noticed

11 missed calls from Nika 🌻

21 missed calls from My Love 🐨

9 missed calls from Tata 🎙️

3 missed calls from Land Lady

And over 100 texts

"Damn! Whats wrong?!" You shouted .

You contemplated whom to call first and you hit the call button for Nika your roommate, she picked it up as soon as the call connected. And before you could say anything you heard.

"WHERE ARE YOU BITCH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE ARE?"

"Woah! Calm down. My phone was on silent mode, I was in a meeting and forgot to turn the sound back on. But why so many missed calls? And what's with the crowd in our neighborhood?" You asked.

"You're in the neighborhood? Turn around and drive to some alley and send me the location. Quick" you heard a background voice that said "tell her to send it to Namjoonie too" you smiled at Hoseok's voice.

"Nika? Where are you and what's going on?" You asked getting worried of her tone, she rarely sounded that worried.

"I'll tell you when you get to safety, but untill you reach the dorms, do not and I mean DO NOT leave the car and wear a mask and the cap you keep in the dashboard locker" she said hurriedly.

"But-"

"No buts do it quick and at any cost do not leave the car or check your socials" she said "DO NOT" you were ichting to ask why or to check your social account but you knew she asked you not to do so for a reason so you'll agree. You wore the cap and mask and shared your live location to Nika and Namjoon.

Within minutes, you recieved a call from Namjoon.

"Are you safe?" Was the first thing he said, you could hear the worry laced in his words.

"Yes, Joon but whats going on?" You asked "And I am parked by a Lamp post in XXXX Lane"

"I'll tell you everything when you come back, just do what Nika has told you. Sihyuk Hyung has already sent someone to reach you" he said.

"Hitman Bang?! Why is he involved? DID I DO SOMETHING?!" You asked freaking out.

"No no, calm down jagi. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine okay" he said "I've gotta leave to reach the dorm in time, be careful. Okay babe?" He said

You hummed and hung up.

You waited listening songs and waited. Your patience was running out and you picked up your phone and were about to unlock it and check your notifs when a knock came from the window. You screamed at the sudden sound and got even more scared when you saw two figures in black hoodie and black cap and black mask outside your window. You were so scared and thanked lord that all your windows were up and the two kept knocking. You were about to dial the police when one of them lowered their mask, to reveal Beomgyu, as he shouted, "Noona open the door". You hit the unlock button for the car and he got in on the back seat while another voice came to your side and asked you to scoot to the passengers's seat. You ruffled across to the other seat, and Beomgyu said, "Thats Samuel, our guy, don't worry" in english, you literally felt that he was in a spy movie feel and you couldn't deny that you felt the same, with all this going on.

Samuel got into the driving seat and you peered back Beomgyu and asked "Whats going on Gyu-ya?" You asked as you put on your seat belt.

"Ah, Kookie hyung told me to not talk about it untill you reach there" he said.

"There where?" You asked

"To the dorms" He said "We couldn't send Samuel alone cause you don't know him and wouldn't trust him"

"Like hell I wouldn't" you said and looked at Samuel and said "no offence" and he nodded.

"So I came along. Don't worry Bang PDnim will take care of the rumours" he said.

And your eyes went wide and a 1000 thoughts rushed to your head "Rumours? Oh MY GOD!" you freaked out

"Sir you were not supposed to say that" Samuel said

"Oh!" He said and covered his mouth "please don't freak out Noona! Please! Or Your friend will kill me!"

"Who Nika? Where is she?" You asked.

"She's in your apartment, with Hoseok hyung in it, he can't leave" he said and added "please don't ask me anything more"

You sighed and said "okay"

"Are you hungry? I have snacks" he said and you were about to pick up your phone but Beomgyu snatched it away quickly. "No! Don't check your phone. Here eat this" he said and gave you a packet of Cheetos that you ate begrudgingly.

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You entered the dorm building, to find Namjoon and Taehyung in the loby, as soon as they saw you they rushed to you and Namjoon hugged you tightly. You suddenly felt another weight on the back and understood that it was Tae on the back.

"Can I now know what happened? What rumour?! Was it the reason why our neighborhood is mobbed?" You asked as they left the embrace, you took your phone and bag from Beomgyu who gave you a hug and Samuel parked your car and gave you the keys. You went into the lift and what the two started to explain to you was.

You had a dating rumour with Kim Taehyung

"WHAT!" You had shouted.

"Someone got a clip of the two of you talking and then concocted wierd stuff about similar rings and hoodies" Taehyung said.

"Also that one time you left your phone in our practice room, and it was visible in some Video and you have mirror selfies with it the backcover being same" Namjoon said.

"But how did they know my name and address?!" You asked.

"Now that's the mystery we all are on" Taehyung said.

"Now you know why Si-hyuk hyung was involved? And we are all so worried cause someone leaked something. The background, staff or any person's faces are always blurred. There's someone on the inside" Namjoon said, as you entered the dorm apartment with them.

"I have a dating rumour?!" You mumbled "I HAVE A DATING RUMOUR! OH MY GOD ! WHAT AM I GONNA DO?! I'LL HAVE TO LEAVE THE CITY?!!! CITY HELL I'LL HAVE TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY! WHERE WILL I GO! OH MY-" You were rambling and Namjoon just held your shoulders and crashed his lips with yours. Yes, Namjoon's personal way of shutting you up when you're rambling or freaking out. Once, when you were freaking out about a project infront of Jungkook while you were waiting for your boyfriend, he actually ran and called Namjoon from his studio to calm you down.

You just instantly melted into the kiss and tangled your hands on the back of his neck. A shiver ran down your back as you felt his tongue rub against your lower lip gently asking for entrance, and you would have gladly given if you hadn't heard a sound of throat clearing.

"Please get a room before you decide to suck faces" Taehyung said as he made way to the couch. Giving one last kiss on your cheek he took your hand in his and you both walked in. You found all the 5 boys sitting on the couch. There were two spots left as Hobi was still stuck in your apartment with Nika, you and Joon took seats.

"How's our famous girl?" Jimin chirped and everybody looked at him "Too early?" He asked.

"So who was it?" You asked

"Well it was the SKGossip channel but we are sure that there is someone on the inside" Suga said as he lit up a tablet and showed you the screenshots of the pictures that they used as 'proof', you just kept staring at the pictures spellbound and didn't know what to say. "Don't worry, were filling a law suit and will get to the bottom of this, but you need to stay here for a while" Suga added

"Here? Why?" You asked

"Because nobody knows about this location and you will have to work from here or take leave" Namjoon said.

"But, what about my clothes and things" you asked.

"Hobi will get them on his way back, talk to Nika about that" he said, taking your hand in his to rub soothing circles.

"Where would I stay?" You asked. Of course you've been to the dorm before but you have never stayed over night as your over night "plans" generally took place at your place.

"Well, Jimin could shift to Hobi's room and you could stay there" Jin said shrugging.

"Or she can just stay with me" Namjoon suggested. And everybody looked at him and Jungkook said "We don't want to hear you guys doing it"

"We wont-" you were saying but were cut off by Namjoon saying "We'll be quiet"

"Namjoon!" You hit him on the arm.

"Ouch! What" he said rubbing the spot and the boys laughed.

And thats how you ended up living with the idols of your dreams, with your Roommate/only friend visiting from time to time. The law suit was going on and they said they had received an anonymous email with all the files and videos. So the company and the authorities were looking into the matter. While you often found yourself at extreme situations of nose bleed staying surrounded by 7 hot as hell men.

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"JUNGKOOOK!" You shouted

"HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU GUYS NOT TO LEAVE YOUR BOXERS IN THE BATHROOM!?" you said scrunching your nose in disgust and the bunny boy appreaded and asked.

"How did you know they are mine?" He said.

"They have Iron mans face on it! Whose else could they belong to?" You said.

"Hey! Namjoon hyung had a Winnie the Pooh boxers!" He said.

"Yeah, I know" you said and went inside the bathroom to do your business.

It was one of your off days so you went over to their home theater to watch a movie. When you are stuck here, might as well enjoy your time.

You took a comfortable seat and schemed through netflix, amoung your search your eyes landed upon a movie of your native country. Yeah, not being able to go to your place, made you feel homesick, so you put it on. And right then you heard the door open and in came Suga, and took a seat and got comfortable.

"You wanna watch something?" You asked him, pausing it.

"I did, but I didn't know what to watch, so this is fine, please put on the subtitles" he said and leaned into the seat.

With in 5 minutes of the movie you heard a walking music coming to your way and a chirpy "Hiii. I wanna watch too!" Hobi said "Can you please start from the first, please Yn-ah!" He said "Also I brought pop-corn" he said.

"okay" you re-started the movie.

"Wait wait, so they are best friends but she loves him and he loves the other girl?" Hobi said mid-way.

"Yeah" you said. Suddenly a scene appeared and you laughed, but Hoseok and Yoongi were lost, so you explained them in context to your country as to why the part was funny. You enjoyed it in the starting but slowly it got annoying as you had to pause the movie alot to explain them.

"Wah! The women of your country are so pretty" Yoongi commented, and you felt proud.

You noticed Hoseok cry as the female protagonist got her heart broken and cried. Almost at the middle of the movie, you noticed Jimin enter with bags of snacks you were about to whine as to you couldn't restart the movie but he shocked you as he ran to take a seat and said "Damn I love this movie*

You literally paused the movie and looked at him in utter surprise. "What? (Your country) movies are really enjoyable" he said.

Later that night

"I heard you explained a full movie to the boys" Namjoon said shifting into the bed beside you.

"Yeah. All I wanted was to watch a movie" you said "But it was enjoyable to watch them get so intreagued" you said.

"Thats my (Your country) girl. I bet me and Hobi have the real catches" he said

"You bet. And that is what makes a lot of K-Armys hate me more" you said pouting.

"Aww babe, I told you not to read those" he said.

"I know, sorry" you said hugging is physically large form.

"Its okay babe, things are already getting better, they're close to tracing the person who did it and in no times things will get better" he said kissing your forehead.

You noded and sighed "lets just enjoy our time together untill then" you said.

"That's more like it" He said and the two of you lulled to sleep in each other's arms.

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Other Works

Taglist (Open): @jung-nika-hoseok @bbl32

Comment or send an ask if you wanna be my permanent taglist member for BTS or the others too.

Namjoon x Reader: Fast Forward

Summary: How many lovers do I go through to find you, how many heartbreaks do I take just to get to you.. If I could just... Fast Forward.

A/n: Happy Birthday 🎂 to the man who has been my motivation and inspiration. Happy birthday Kim Namjoon 🎉.

W/c: 704

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The moment your eyes had made all those years ago you knew this wasn't just a friendship. You couldn't be just friends with Kim Namjoon. However you fooled yourself into believing that you could. You tried your best to be friends with him for a long time. Truthfully speaking, so did he, and it was difficult for him. But the two of you were too dumb to take the risk to take the first step. 

You both stood there watching the other date, and eventually got hurt. It would keep happening, one would start dating, get hurt and the other would be there to pick the pieces. You were always there to pick the other up. Namjoom was always there when you needed him. When you felt lonely, it was like he just knew. He could read you like an open book, one look at your face and he'd know you're hurting. Whereas, you were the one who kept Namjoon grounded, when he over worked himself, your voice of reason pulled him back to reality. 

However, you were tired of dating and meeting people. Yes, overhearing your other "friends" talk about your inability to hold on to a partner, had nothing to do with it. You simply didn't want to have to go through this process again and again. And you didn't want to end up alone ( of course it also had nothing to do with the fact that you thought that Namjoon would never feel anything for you). So you tried to hold on even if it left you scars. Even if Namjoon begged you multiple times to leave that toxic sorry ass of a person. 

But you couldn't change the fact that he never tried the way Namjoon did. He never made you feel the way Namjoon did. Like when you were down and he took you out on a bicycle ride by the river. Or when you both had free time so decided to visit the skating rink and he held your hand as you wobbled around. The feeling of Namjoon tightly securing his arms around you and his smell fills your senses and numbs your bad thoughts and doubts. Nobody could make your heart flutter the way Namjoon did by just remembering your drinks orders down to details, minding what you're allergic to or what you like. Nobody offered to exchange the plate if you liked the other's dish a bit too much. And so Namjoon is just Namjoon. 

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"How long will you watch her be broken time and again?" Yoongi's question came straight and sharp when Namjoon sat on his couch. 

"I don't know hyung? What can I do?" He said, shrugging helplessly. Like every time you held that asshole's hand his heart didn't die a little. Like he never felt like ripping you away from that guy's side and kissing the hell out of you. Did he really pretend to be okay when he hugged you, nonchalant to the way you fitted into his arms so right? 

"You can't let her suffer, especially when you're suffering equally. Even I feel pain at the misery of you two" the older said "isn't it worth it if it makes you two happy?".

Those words thus rang inside his head when he set off for your apartment a few evenings later. "Y/n I-" "I broke up with him" you said interrupting him. And he doesn't know if it was the look in your eyes or the way your lip quivered or Yoongi's word but all his dams broke. He pulled you by your waist and crashed his lips onto yours. He poured every feeling he had, every word he could say to you all these years into this kiss. And you kissed him back, receiving every word reciprocating every feeling and desire. 

"You're so worth it," he replied against your mouth.

"We're so dumb" you mumbled to him that night as you traced imaginary lines on his bare chest. "All this time, we could have just fast forwarded to each other and saved ourselves the heartbreaks" you pouted.

"We're here now, right? We're here to stay" he mumbled as he played with your hair, lulling you to sleep. 

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Other Works

Taglist: @bbl32 @back2bluesidex @cherryblossom-2004

Kim Namjoon x Reader: Delicate

Summary: That time when Y/n turned up onto Namjoon's door all tattered and bloody.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Y/n (Mafia au)

A/n: I literally got the idea of the whole plot while playing Dishonoured. 😂

W/c: 1.7k

Genre: crime (?).

Warning: mentions of blood, murder, fighting, bullets.

Rating: 15+ (read with your own caution)

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This ain't for the best, My reputation's never been worse, so, You must like me for me. 

“Seriously Joon again?” You smiled as you traced his jawline, while looking deep into his eyes, almost losing yourself in them. You swear you noticed him glaced at your brightly red painted lips, more than once. Oh how you wished you could place yours on his. Feel those plump lips against yours. 

“Won't you introduce your friends?” You smiled looking at the younger guy, his features kinda reminded you of a bunny. You put a finger below his chin and picked up his face his big eyes looking at you. “You have really pretty eyes” You said, with that same smile. 

“Don't touch him!” Namjoon growled from where he was held in a headlock by your bodyguard Hyungwon was holding him as Seungcheol, your other body guard held the other guy, Namjoon tried to fight and shake him off but well, Hyungwon was equally well trained. 

“Aww. Don't worry he's not even my type” you said as you came back to your old position in front of him “But Joon, did you seriously think you could plant a mole in MY people and I wouldn't know? Why are you after me or rather us anyway, we didn't even do anything bad. Y/n really has been” you paused and moved a bit closer to his ears and whispered “a good girl” and smirked to see him almost shiver for a second because he caught back his composer. 

“You know, Officer Namjoon, it looks really bad” you said and walked back to your revolving chair and sat on it. “Some might even say you're obsessed with me” you said and Namjoon scoffed. 

“What do you want? And its Detective now” He growled. “Oh yeah you got promoted, right? And what do I want? I want to run my business, complete my mission, then spend the rest of my life in Skiathos or Skopelos” you said, upon seeing the confusion on the other officer's face you add, “Islands in Greece, beautiful places”. 

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Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, Are you ever dreaming of me? 

Namjoon frowned when he heard a knock on the door, well, one followed by 5 more. He shut his book placing the pagemark and walked to the front gate. His eyes shot big in shock upon opening the gate. There you stood, your hair matted, your white shirt stained with dirt and blood. With one look he knew you were bleeding from your waist and your arm, scratches on your forehead and cheek and your knees are scrapped, its a wonder you could walk. 

“I didn't know where else to go” you said, for the second time since he first saw you all those years ago he saw tears in your eyes. Those pretty lips of yours that you painted red, looked more red cause of blood, which was also  trickling down the corners. “Were you followed?” He asked as he glanced around and you shook your head, leaning harder on the wall as you could hold yourself up anymore. Namjoon grabbed the arm that wasn't hurt and slowly brought you in and closed the door. He settled you on the couch as you groaned in pain. He rushed to the windows to check gor any threats as he dialed his roommate on his phone. 

“Jin? Please rush back… I know but it's urgent, bring anything you might need for bullet wounds and don't speak a word of this” he said and hung up. Finally the fatigue caught up to you and Your eyelids started closing. 

“Hey, hey” Namjoon immediately rushed to you and lightly tapped your cheek to keep you from sleeping. “Stay with me, talk to me” he said. This was the second time ever that you've seen concern in his eyes, for you. “They're all dead, all. I didn't do it” you said and the tears started rolling down again. “Who? What happened?” He asked and you started saying. “Today should have been the day the Chois paid for what they did, Choi Taejoon paid for his crimes. But our plan was never to kill him, I wanted to get a confession out of him and get back the winery! My family's heritage winery that he stole back then! But-but, when w-we reached we were ambushed, Choi was already dead in his cabin. So many of my men were killed, a few could be saved” you said as you groaned in pain “Hyung-hyungwon, took a bullet to help me run. Those men were all in dark maroon shirts and black trousers. Like the Lee family’s men” you said. Right then Seokjin rushed into the apartment. “Oh god! That's-”Jin lipsed. “It's Y/n, please treat her, she's bled a lot” Namjoon said. “Can you, um” Jin pointed at your shirt. You nodded and tried opening it with one arm and failed, leading to Namjoon helping you. Your breath hitched with each button. His eyes shone as house skin was getting exposed. “It's filthy, remove it and prepare fresh clothes” Jin said, nonchalantly. Namjoon took a breath and slowly peeled the shirt off you, cutting it at places to make it easier. You felt blood rush to your cheek even in that state, you could feel Namjoon’s eyes raking your body, scouting every corner with his eyes. A sudden sting brought you back to reality, “This will sting a lot and ache but we have to get the bullets out of you or it will cause infection.” He told you then looked at Namjoon “I'll arrange some blood for her and you go wash your hands you have to help me” Jin told him. 

Namjoon rested you on the bed very lightly as Jin plugged in 2 channels to your unhurt arm. “You will not move an inch from here. I'll check up on you, after my shift” Jin said “and yes, I'm Seokjin, Namjoon's roomate” he said. Namjoon's room looked like one in the detective movies. He literally had a board with newspaper cutting and pictures of Yours, Lees, Yours, Chois, their associates, Yours, you had to look away. 

“Ahm” he cleared his throat “Do you need something?” Namjoon asked after Jin left as he switched on the news channel. 

“This evening a shoot out had occured in the house of famous industrialist Choi Taejoon. Sources say that his rival Y/n L/n might have something to do with it, along with a few murders in the previous months” the reporter said.

Your eyes went wide in shock, “Namjoon trust me, I didn't, it was-” you started but Namjoon put a finger on your lips. “Shh” he said and switched off the TV “sleep. We'll talk later, I don't want you dying on me” he said, his face still stoic, but his eyes, those were the last thing on your mind before sleep claimed you. 

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Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time.

You walked into the mansion with an eerie feeling, it almost seemed too quiet and gave you creeps. The meeting should have been over by now, finally the L/ns and Chois would stop fighting. That was when you heard a gunshot, from the conference room area, and you ran. Your hand went to your waistband, shit you forgot yours in the car. You saw several of your men down, some were knocked out, some were dead with a few Choi men here and there. “Fuck!” You said. You entered the conference room to find Choi Taejoon pointing a gun at your father who already had a bullet mark and blood on his shoulder. “Dad!” You screamed as another hit him right at the heart. You felt like the world had stopped. You ran towards your father, one moment and you saw the gun turn towards you. This was it, you won't even be able to avenge your father, there's literally no cover. As Taejoon fired the shot you closed your eyes, suddenly you felt someone hold and move you out of the way. You opened your eyes to see Officer Namjoon, the bullet hit his arm. “Run” he told you with eyes filled with concern for you, for the first time. So you did, as his police force piled into the mansion, you gathered the men that were able and ran away to a safe house. Taejoon ran away too that day. 

You saw half of your world crumbling down when Taejoon made his way away from jail by framing your uncle for the murder of your father and manslaughter. 

You woke up in a jolt. “Hey are you okay? Are you in pain?” Namjoon asked from his spot on the chair beside the bed. You nodded and said “just old nightmares, resurfacing”. You looked around to see the environment still dark. “How long was I out?” You asked. “Around 22 hours” he said, glancing at the clock. “Oh my god! What!” You said as you tried to get up and groaned. Namjoon immediately moved towards you, pinning you to the bed gently. “Don't move” he said. “But I can't stay here, it's dangerous” you tried to reason with him. “For who?” He asked and the two of you broke into a chuckle “you think they'll know the notorious Y/n is in the house of her cop nemesis” he joked. But your eyes were stuck on his, the stoicness was nowhere around, it was just him, for the first time. 

Namjoon noticed your form, his eyes drifted to your lips, the red color not visible anymore, they looked pale due to the amount of blood you lost. He wished he could take away all you pain and take you to those places you said you wanted to go. 

He looked at your eyes to find you eyeing his lips and something in him broke loose, he bent and placed his lips on yours, you immediately responded as if you were waiting for him. Like a thirsty traveler who finally found water the two of you got lost in each other not caring about the world outside. It was when you tried to get up and the pain hit you that you groaned and fell back down on the bed. 

“Stay” he said, “we’ll do this, together”

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate. Isn't it?

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Your Sugar//KNJ

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Coffee shop AU

Requested

suggestions: 4 words: Coffee shop with Namjoon

I'm not sure if this is what you thought it would be but I hope you like it!

3k Words

You were sitting at your usual table next to the window, your hands tightly wrapped around a cup of coffee a girl had handed you half an hour ago. The coffee, which had been hot when you had received it, was now cold and frankly not worth tasting anymore. Still, you held onto it tightly.

Your kept glancing nervously at the door. Every time it opened, you turned around in your seat, and every single time you turned back disappointed.

You were thinking about leaving when you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you. You whipped your head around and saw him standing there, in all his glory, your boyfriend.

You amazing, wonderful boyfriend who had kept you waiting for an hour.

You smiled up at him and waved him over. Your smile faltered a little when you saw he was with another girl, who clung onto his arm tightly. His eyes widened as he saw you and he walked over to you briskly, shaking her off for a second.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" He asked, a little rushed.

You frowned. "You asked me to meet you here...?"

His eyes rolled to the top of his head as he thought for a second. "I did...? Oh! Oh no..."

You sighed. "You forgot, didn't you?"

You started to stand up, but he stopped you. "Wait, there was something I wanted to tell you."

You couldn't help but feel a little excited. He rarely looked as serious as this, so it must be important, right?

"What is it?" You asked quietly.

"I want to break up." You face fell. You swallowed and closed your eyes. "That's why I called you here. This relationship isn't getting us anywhere, and... well, it's kind of obvious I wasn't into you, Y/n, I don't know why you didn't realise sooner."

Your breath had stopped. You should have known. It was obvious from the start, you were just... excited. He had never had any feelings for you, just dragging the relationship further so you thought he actually cared.

You didn't say anything, and he awkwardly raised one hand as if you pat you on the shoulder, but then thought better of it and ducked his head, walking away. He took the hand of the girl he had come in with and pulled her outside, away from you.

You bent your head low over the table. Before you knew it water was dripping into your already cold coffee. It took you a few seconds to realize they were tears.

You looked down at your fingers and started counting off how many relationships had ended with the same few confessions.

'I was never really into you'

'I felt sorry for you'

'It was a dare'

'Did you really think I liked you?'

You had already filled up two hands counting, yet you weren't finished. There were too many times you had been left alone like this, most of those breakups happened right in this very coffee shop.

You sniffled and wiped your tears hastily with the edge of your sleeve. You were going to stand up and leave when you heard a voice above you. You looked up and saw a man standing next to you.

"Are you okay...?" He asked quietly. "I see you around here a lot-"

"I'm fine." You stood up and walked away, bumping shoulders with him as you walked past. He looked a little surprised but you payed no attention.

You ran straight back to your apartment and fell face first into your bed. You stayed there like that until your eyes hurt from crying and your shoulders ached. You shifted yourself into a more comfortable position and curled up into a ball, thinking about what had happened that day. Why did this keep happening to you? Every single guy you had dated had either done it for a dare or out of pity.

Somewhere along your train of thoughts, sleep struck. You only had one thought before you fell asleep, 'I'm not falling in love again'

You woke up the next day with sore eyes and limbs. Your groaned and stretched your arms out, blinking your eyes rapidly. "Okay..." you whispered to yourself. You sighed and stood up, getting it of bed. Changing into some other clothes, you grabbed your bag, still fully packed from yesterday. You had to go to University, there was no point in skipping because of a stupid breakup.

Two weeks later, you were still in a sour mood.

The day was over. You were walking back along your street, shoes scuffing the pavement. You made sure to kick every rock that came in your way and snap every twig that landed under your feet.

You didn't feel like going back home so you went to the coffee shop at the end of the street. You kept coming back here, and for what? No matter how many times your heart was broken here, you would always return.

You walked up to the counter and heard a familiar voice speak. "Good evening, what would you like?"

Your head snapped up. Standing behind the counter was the man from the day of the breakup who had asked you if you were okay. You had bumped shoulders with him when you left, and though you hadn't thought about it at the time you only now realized how rude it must have been.

"Oh, you're the girl from that day, right? The one who was crying?"

Your face flushed a deep red and so did his. You looked down to avoid his eyes. He waved his hands frantically as if to erase what he had said.

"I didn't- I didn't mean it like that. That- I- uh... it... sounded ruder than I thought it would..."

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away. You sucked in between your teeth and nodded slowly. "It's fine. I was kind of rude too."

He nodded awkwardly and adjusted the sleeves of his pink hoodie, flapping them nervously.

"Uhh- anyway- what would you like? To order-"

You blurted out your usual order and told him your name. He noted it down. You were going to walk away but he stopped you.

"I know this isn't my business but I just wanted to ask, are you okay? You seemed pretty down. I'm sorry if I sound creepy I just- I'm kinda, uh, worried? You come here a lot so I couldn't help but notice-"

"I'm fine." Again, you realized how rude you sounded, so you flashed him a little awkward smile and walked away, hoping he understood.

Finally, he called out your name for your coffee. You went to the counter and bowed politely, paying. As he handed you your coffee he looked outside and you saw him poke his tongue into his cheek.

"Might wanna run, it looks like it's gonna rain," He said. You nodded and walked out, clutching onto your coffee.

Ignoring what he had said, you stopped under a tree a leaned against it, sipping your coffee. You had barely taken a sip when you felt a light tap on your forehead and frowned. You looked up, there was nothing there. You felt another tap on your head, this time a little harder. You put your hand to your head and felt something wet.

Rain

Before you knew it rain was pouring down, drenching your clothes and soaking you to the bone. You gasped from the shock of the cold and started running. Not to your home, no, that was way too far away. You ran back to the coffee shop and burst open the door, dripping wet. The door closed and you shook your sleeves, spilling water everywhere.

"I told you." You looked up and glared at the voice. The guy in the pink hoodie was leaning against the counter, his elbows propped up next to the cash register. He had a slight smirk on his face as he watched you desperately knock water out of your ears. You dropped your soggy coffee cup in a nearby bin and shook you hair, making more water spill everywhere.

"Hey hey hey, I just cleaned the floor!" He complained. You muttered a small 'Sorry' and walked towards your usual table next to the window. You looked around and realized you two were the only ones in the shop. He had taken a mop and was cleaning the water you had spilled everywhere. He had taken off the apron that every employee wore so he was just wearing his pink hoodie with some ripped jeans.

He caught you staring and turned towards you, flashing a big dimpled smile. You looked away and stared out the window, watching the raindrops land on the glass. There was something peaceful about the calming sound of the rain pattering against the glass and watching the raindrops race down the huge glass window. There was nobody else in sight. You smiled to yourself. You had always wanted to go to a café when it was raining, and sit there alone, watching the raindrops slip past. You closed your eyes and focused on the sound of the rain, letting it calm you. For a second you forgot you were soaking wet.

You heard a small thud and opened your eyes. The guy with the dimples had placed a coffee cup on your table and was now staring out the window with his arms crossed. You took out your wallet, intending to pay, but he caught your wrist and stopped you.

"It's free. Your first coffee went to waste, so it's only fair you get another one."

You nodded and looked down, embarrassed. Your hands wrapped around the coffee, soaking in the warmth the rain had erased. You brought the coffee up to your lips and took a sip, immediately wincing and putting it back down on the table.

"Ah, I forgot something didn't I?" The guy frowned, thinking. He clasped a hand to his forehead and let out a shout. "The sugar! I forgot the sugar, agh. I'll fix it."

You were going to say it was fine, but he had already taken your coffee and was walking towards the kitchen. You thought about it for a second, then stood up, following him. He noticed you behind him and turned around.

"Wanna come in?" he asked. You nodded and he held the kitchen door open for you, letting you in.

You looked around. It was smaller than you thought it would be. You let your eyes travel over everything, intrigued. You rubbed your arms, trying to rub some warmth in. Your teeth were chattering and your hands were beginning to feel a little numb. You were really starting to regret going out in the rain.

Slowly, you felt something on your back. You turned around and the guy, who was behind you, immediately put his hands in a surrender position. "You looked cold," he explained, "So I gave you my jacket."

With that he turned around and continued to look for the sugar.

You slipped the jacket off of your shoulders and put it on properly, soaking in the warmth gratefully.

"Thank, uh-"

"Namjoon. My name's Namjoon."

"Thanks, Namjoon. I'm Y/n."

"I know." He sounded amused, as if he was suppressing a smile.

Right, you had told him your name when you ordered.

You started looking for the sugar too, seeing he was getting a little frustrated now. You started looking through all the different cupboards and drawers.

"Shouldn't the sugar be near the coffee machine?" You asked him.

"That's what I keep telling them, but they never listen, I swear-"

You saw that a cupboard that was open. It was quite high so you stood on your toes and tried to reach it, but of course you were too short. Namjoon noticed and came over to help you. He reached up and opened the cupboard, spying the sugar. With one quick movement, he moved his hand in the wrong direction and knocked the sugar over. The lid was loose and fell off, spilling sugar all over you.

It was everywhere. In the creases of the jacket, in your wet, clumped up hair, your collar. You even brushed some off of your neck uncomfortably. Namjoon sucked in sharply between his teeth as you looked up to glare at him.

"Well, uh, there's your sugar." He placed the coffee cup in your hand and made a run for it.

An hour later, the rain was still as persistent as ever.

"It's going to flood if it keeps going on at this rate" Namjoon closed his hands around his own coffee cup and brought it to his lips. He was sitting across from you at your favourite table. You two were the only ones in the shop. You were both holding coffee, and you were now sugar-free. (Not your coffee, your hair). Namjoon had even sneaked some cakes from the back of the shop after making you promise to keep it a secret.

Namjoon had apologized profusely for spilling sugar on you, only after he had finished laughing of course, He had helped you get it out of your hair and jacket, because it literally was everywhere. You couldn't stay mad at him for long especially when he flashed his dimpled smile at you. Now you two sat the table together, sipping coffee.

You had told him everything. About your breakups and about yourself. You weren't sure whether it was the rain that made you feel so calm or whether it was the aura he seemed to hold, but you had decided you trusted him. He seemed nice, more than nice, even.

He had listened to your ranting patiently, nodding along. You found he was a great listener, and hung on to your every word as if he was truly interested in you. You were worried he was getting bored and told him as much, but he shook his head earnestly and reassured you that he was listening.

After you were finished, he let the rain fill in the silence, just as you had hoped he would. You two sat there, watching the rain patter against the window. You were thankful he had listened to you about all your relationships and breakups, sympathizing with you and he hadn't mocked you

Finally, Namjoon broke the silence. His voice came out as barely a whisper but he seemed determined to let out whatever he had to say, so of course, you listened.

"Y/n," he sighed, biting his lip. "I... I don't know if you'll find this creepy or not, and trust me, I wasn't trying to be creepy, but... I've been watching you for a while now. Not like, only you, but I watch the customers who come into the coffee shop. You come here so often, I couldn't help but notice you. I... I watched all of those breakups happen, and each time I was worried you would stop coming, but you would always come back."

He balled his hand into a fist and held onto the material on his leg tightly, becoming more nervous.

"Anyway, I... I don't know what it was but... I think... I developed a crush on you." His face flushed a deep red and he looked out the window, refusing to bring his eyes back into the coffee shop. He had one hand on the back of his neck, something you had very quickly learnt was a nervous habit of his. "You just, you seemed like a nice person. Better than nice, there was something about you... You seemed different. No matter how many breakups you went through, I always saw you reappear with a smile. And I started to think, maybe you're just a person looking for love, like- like me."

You didn't say anything. You sat there in shock, mulling over his words. This seemed to make him even more nervous.

"I understand if I'm not good enough-"

"Not good enough!?" There was no way you were going to let him say that about himself. "Are you kidding me!? If anyone's not good enough here, it's me. Have you even seen yourself? You look better than any model I've seen, and don't even get me started on your personality, I could go on a rant about that for days. You've got everything, any girl would want you!"

His cheeks turned pink and he looked down, covering his mouth. "Do you count as 'any girl'?" he whispered.

You hesitated. You really had meant what you said, but... this was too good to be true.

"How do I know you mean it? I've heard the same thing so many times and every single time none of them meant it."

"Y/n..." he slowly put a hand over yours, ready to take it back if you looked uncomfortable. "I don't blame you if you don't believe me, but I just want to see you happy. If I could be the reason you smile even once, I honestly think my life would be complete. I truly do love you."

You brought your head up and looked him in the eyes. He looked sincere, more sincere than anyone else had been. Something passed between you two as you stared at each other. He cracked a small smile and you had to suppress your own.

"So... can I count this as a date?" He asked mischievously.

"We've literally never met before."

"A blind date then."

You smiled. "Sure. But I'm not trusting you around the sugar again."

He laughed and intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his lips and giving a small kiss on your knuckles.

You two stayed in that café until night fell. Namjoon had to drive you home, and now you were both standing on your doorstep.

"I love you. Is it too early to say I love you? Because I love you." He rambled, making you smile.

You hesitated for a second, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. Without another word you went inside you house and closed the door. You stayed there, leaned against your door, an he stayed on your doorstep, one hand on his cheek. You both let out a scream and ran, you to your room and Namjoon to his car.

As you lay in bed you couldn't help but smile as you thought about him.

Maybe this relationship would be okay.

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