Namjoon Fic Recs - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Scent of a Woman {KNJ romance}

Pairing: leopard hybrid parfumerie boss!Namjoon x female reader!employee

Genre: Hybrid AU. Romance. Smut. Pining. Slow burn. Angst. strong father themes. NOT DADDY-type themes. EXPLICIT 🔞🔞🔞

Warnings: super super eemootiionaaal sex- is that a warning? No breed-you-with-my-pups here. Leopard-style sex, which just means, really, he comes in from the back ( I watched Nat Geo to make sure LOL). Mirror sex (so that they can look at each other @ralypenny this is part of your ask that I finally fulfilled).

Summary: In this hybrid AU, hybrids are rich and powerful. You are fully human in form and in weakness. Too bad you’re falling for your hybrid boss. And mayhaps he’s falling for you.

Word count: 10k

Special thanks: @hobi-gif for being a kick-ass beta reader with 56 edits that I never knew I needed. You read this while you were so tired, and took the time to encourage me. I'm so grateful.

Much appreciation to the following who have read it in some point of draft form and encouraged me: @httpnamjoonie94reads @jinfizz, @bonvoyagenoona @bangtanmademedoit @lcksndkys @xjoonchildx

——————————

“Stupid human,

Homo sapien

Little Alien

Tiny Cranium

Eat uranium

Poop Titanium

Homo sapien

Stupid human.”

You know the chant by heart.

Even now, more than twenty years later, the tune, the cadence, the leering faces that surrounded you are hauntingly familiar.

One glance at your comparably smaller build, your simple clothes, your plain, singular-species face was obvious enough to announce to anyone that you’re fully human.

The hybrids of your time are often part of the super-rich. It’s no surprise considering their survival instincts for attracting the richest, biggest, smartest, and fastest mates are well-honed from centuries of evolution.

Imbued with stronger genes than full-blooded humans, the hybrids live longer, look prettier, work faster, breed better, and probably fuck harder too.

So you were expected to count yourself lucky your mother worked as a live-in housekeeper for a rich hybrid family. And you were expected to count yourself lucky that their residential address allowed you to benefit from the most exclusive school districts in the country full of wealthy hybrids.

But you weren’t lucky.

Everyone knew you as the housekeeper’s daughter, as if that were more dignified than your name. Everyone made fun of you for being smaller, slower, shorter. More human.

And every day, you trudged to school, walking down the halls feeling like prey waiting to be fed to a room full of predators.

So you suffered alone through elementary, middle, and high school, always as the housekeeper’s daughter, always the butt of their jokes, always ready with fingers curled into hard fists to fend for yourself.

With each passing year, three things became clear to you:

You could never work for a hybrid.

You would never date a hybrid.

You should never, ever fuck a hybrid.

(Unless he was really good looking.)

————————

Kim Namjoon feels a little disconcerted.

He’s always been uber confident in his decisions, single-minded in his pursuit to establish the city’s most sought after bespoke parfumerie.

But lately, he’s doubting his choice to hire you as his shop assistant.

Your presence in his parfumerie disorients him. At first, it’s how the shop’s minimalist decor was suddenly disrupted by a burst of colour when you snuck in an inelegant bunch of flowers and placed them in a little jar of water, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner.

The old florist at the corner couldn’t sell this yesterday was your excuse. The petals were starting to droop, leaves yellowing with age, stems weak and insipid. And though the red gerberas clashed with the pathetic little violets, they held his gaze whenever he passed by.

Every day, a new bunch of sad-looking flowers would sit in the same jar, in different leftover color combinations. And every day, he found himself looking forward to them. Today it’s bright pink carnations mixed with orange marigolds, vulgar in their color but intriguing in their scent. Yesterday, it was half-dead roses mixed with a bright yellow peony.

He’s used to perfection— precision even —not this explosive mess of color and smells. By his standards, he should not even think these haphazard flowers are pretty. But here he is, admiring the furl of the carnation petal, thinking how silky smooth it feels despite its ragged edge. It’s almost… beautiful, nevermind the little brown flecks from its over exposure in the sun.

He doesn’t know why he quietly lets you bring this visual chaos into the calm monochrome of his shop. Or why he stops breathing a little when you brush past him to dust the corner of the shelf. (The shop has never been cleaner since you arrived.)

He can’t fathom why it’s suddenly hard to finalize the top notes of a perfume for one of his most important clients. Or why he finds himself wondering about the shampoo you’re using because the fragrance is driving him insane with curiosity.

But here you are, tying your buttery yellow hair ribbon on the door handle because it looks pretty like that and you heard an old country song on the way here and there’s no old oak tree to tie that around so the door will have to do.

He grimaces a little at your prattling, not trusting himself to speak. Because, truth be told, he wants nothing more than to rip off that ribbon and let his nose linger all over the satin fabric. He wants to, no, needs to, break down the entire fragrance profile which teases him every time you’re near.

It’s only logical since he’s in the perfume business.

At least, this is what he tells himself as he clenches his knuckles white to stop himself.

Only logical.

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

Sometimes, you wonder what it’s like to be thoroughly fucked by the Kim Namjoon.

But of course, as your boss, he’s off limits like everyone else you’ve been attracted to. Let’s see… there was your brother’s best friend, your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, your science lab partner whom you later found out was gay and actually pining for the guy across the aisle.

You have a niggling feeling that you’re living in a strange fanfic universe full of well-trodden tropes but you banish those thoughts just like you banish your thoughts about Mr. Kim.

You remind yourself you are just a shop assistant and you desperately need this salary. That you have three rules regarding hybrids: one which you’ve already broken, two which you wish you could break, and all three with Kim Namjoon.

Sigh. If only you didn’t need this job, then there would be no rules to break. Your degree in art was a total waste of money in terms of finding a job after graduation. And when you walked by the swanky, modern storefront which advertised for a shop assistant six months ago, you ventured in without hesitation, desperate to pay off your college loan after another failed interview.

Entering the elegant interior, you went quiet for a moment as you spied a man suited impeccably in black, his gaze intent on the glass beakers of oils set on the counter.

It really had been too long since you studied a man who was not Cezanne or Matisse. With his sleek, sinewy build paired with a breathtaking side profile, he looked like a very tall, and very delicious glass of dark rum and Coke: sweet, smooth, and altogether dangerous.

Suddenly remembering you were here for a job opening, you were determined to make a first good impression.

“Hi—” you try your brightest, chirpiest voice.

“You’re hired,” he declared, without looking up.

“Excuse me? Wait. What?” you asked, heart racing.

“You’re obviously not here to buy perfume, so you must be here for the job opening. You’re hired. Starting today.”

You glanced at your plain black and white office attire that you’ve worn to hundreds of interviews. This was a high-end boutique but you didn’t think you looked that poor.

“If you really want to know, it’s not the outfit, it’s the desperation,” he said, eyes still focused on each drop of amber liquid he’s releasing into the glass beaker from an oil dropper.

“D-desperation?”

“I smelled it. Heard it in the thudding of your heart the moment you’d walked in.” He said it like he was talking about his coffee order (iced Americano, venti). “You’re desperate. And I need someone. Don’t usually take a full-blooded human. But I’ll take you.”

He finally lifted his eyes and you saw their slight but unmistakable fiery glow.

He’s one of the big-cat hybrids. They always seem so sleek and sophisticated, so sure of themselves and well, confident. It’s the money, it’s the superior genes, it’s everything... you’re not.

“Um, yes. I’m desperate for a job. Mister...?” You were nervous as hell. He was making you nervous as hell. Perhaps he was toying with you, like how a cat likes to play with a mouse.

“Kim. But call me Namjoon.”

That Kim Namjoon. The one in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m the right candidate for this position. I’ll just see myself ou—”

“Wait. You don’t have to worry about that. My hybrid interests are rather, you might say, specific.” He smirked, as if he would ever be interested in you, full-blooded in human form and human weakness.

Okay. You’re not his type. Got the message loud and clear. “Uh, the monthly salary?”

Lips curled in a triumphant grin, he announced, “5 million won.”

Holy shit.

And so that’s how you find yourself here, days peacefully filled with dusting between crystal flasks and glass beakers, fetching blotters and flacons for Mr. Kim, sweeping the shop floor and making everything sparkle.

Your daily tasks also involve decanting perfume oils according to your boss’ specifications for sampling. By now, you’re used to arranging the vials of oil on a little movable bar cart for his signature bespoke sessions with each client; always paired with a glass of bubbly for Miss or Madam.

Cleaning, dusting, decanting are all easy parts of this job.

The hard part is dealing with the disdain, and sometimes, even disgust, you get from his clients—all female hybrids of some variety. They flock to this boutique because for the longest time, it’s been taboo among the female upper class hybrids to carry the scent of their hybrid ancestry.

You feel like you should pity them; after all, they can’t help it if they smell like horse and hay, like wild game or cat piss.

But it’s difficult when they never grace you with a second glance when they enter the shop; harder still when they brush off invisible dirt from being infected by your presence when they leave.

With their impossibly high cheekbones, noses yet higher in the air, they show not an iota of kindness. To them, you’re just staff. And well, you of all people know the hybrids are used to treating their staff a certain way.

You remind yourself the salary is worth the dismissive tone, the scornful glances.

That you can and you will carry yourself with dignity even though you weren’t born into money like them.

That the only difference between you and them is that they’ve held the attention of Kim Namjoon for hours at a time.

That he has listened to each one talk about her favorite childhood memories, her favorite meal, her hopes and dreams to get a feel of what she’d like in a personal fragrance.

That when he works on a new fragrance for a client, she’s all he thinks about, always quietly brooding about the fragrance profile until a rare smile breaks across his face because he’s got it.

That he’ll smell the inside of her wrists, inhale a breath behind her ears to see if the scent combination worked with her skin. The top note. The heart note. The base note.

He’s just doing his job. You tell yourself.

It’s not a big deal. Not at all.

Then why do you wish that you could just be one for them, just for one day?

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

Kim Namjoon just can’t get this right.

He’s been building Eau de Parfum No. 1071 for a client for some time now. The complex fragrance was going well with its symphony of sandalwood, vetiver, oud and oakmoss. The top notes of orange flow like a kind, generous invitation, the base notes carried mainly by oakmoss and sandalwood are strong and supportive, but the heart note, the heart was missing.

On a whim he tries a bit of vanilla. Too flighty.

Maybe a bit of neroli. Too serious.

He thinks for a moment and then looks over his files on this client. Perhaps something floral. Or fig?

It’s here where he works his hardest, commanding oils to mix and mesh, to meld into a message. Sometimes it’s longing, other times, it’s innocence. This client wants sophistication, and Kim Namjoon always delivers.

Yet, something about this fragrance profile of No. 1071 puzzles him. It seems a little too masculine for the client in question.

Perturbed, he approaches you. He almost never asks for a second opinion, but he can’t stop his feet from stalking quietly out of his private office and onto the shop floor.

Nowadays, he finds himself relishing the split second before you sense his presence.

It’s when he can breathe in your entirety, undisturbed. He misses nothing, not the perpetual slight tilt of your head like you’re listening to some invisible music of the spheres, not the impish grin of your lips like you’re in cahoots with those god-awful flowers you bring in everyday. There’s the serious eyes, the sometimes sassy mouth. Smart and sexy like a mix of heaven and hell.

It’s a while before you notice him, and his heart skips a beat when you ask in that quiet, serious way of yours, “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

“I need you to smell this and tell me what you think,” he says, voice a little crackly.

“Well, Mr. Kim, that would be an extra twenty thousand won per hour,” you quip, a little smile peeking below your serious eyes. “But, honestly, I don’t know much about the accords and notes and...”

“Just use your instincts. Just feel.”

He holds out the testing strip to you, thinking himself a little stupid for asking for help.

He looks carefully at how your hand moves closer and closer to his. How the inches, then centimeters bring you nearer to him; fingers almost touching.

Shit, Namjoon sees a slight tremble in his hand. He’s sure you see it too. Why the hell is he so nervous?

He expects you to take the tester from him. But, eyes closed, you lean in to take a whiff. He wonders fleetingly if you look like this when you kiss. You’re quiet, nose hovering just above the tester, just over his fingers, the light touch of the in-and-out of your breathing feathering his skin.

Fighting to hold still, he focuses on you as the scent begins to hit you in different ways. A look of complete and utter longing flits across your features, and he sees you’ve surrendered completely to the heart of the fragrance. “What does it smell like?” He’s desperate to know.

For a long while, you can’t answer him.

“It smells like...” you murmur, “like my dad. My dad.”

Your father would twirl you round and round under the orange tree in the greenhouse at sunset when his day’s work was done; your nose buried in his plain cotton shirt, every warp and weft woven with the fragrance of the flowers he grew. The hands that lifted you and tossed you in the air were hands that carried the smell of the earth, rich with moss.

He was a gardener for the wealthy, and while he grew flowers, he raised you until… until you were not old enough.

“I miss him. He left too soon.”

Kim Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. Words like I’m sorry; words like I’m sure he’s proud of you; those words are not enough. He wishes he could touch you, pull you into him, shelter you with an umbrella against the grey sky of grief until light breaks through.

But he’s your boss. He can’t.

Wordlessly, he hands you a tissue.

“Thanks, I’m fine, really,” you sniff. “I’ll get back to work now, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon hears the steely strength in your voice even though your breath is shaky. “The shelves don’t mean anything, Y/N. Not today. If you need time…”

“I’m okay. I miss him. That’s all.” Squaring your shoulders, you go back to wiping down the shelves.

But the sudden thought of the paper tester cradling the scent of your dad in its pores dumped unceremoniously in the trash stops you. “Mr, Kim, if you don’t want the testing strip anymore, could I have it please?”

“Of course.” Namjoon leaves the strip on the edge of the counter, careful not to contaminate the part holding the fragrance.

Back in his office, Kim Namjoon sits down and opens his leather-bound ledger. It’s where he records every perfume he has created for clients over the years. A new fragrance will be entered in its pages today. The sample vial sits quietly on his mirrored desk, waiting to be named.

When he’s done, he slips quietly into the backroom where you keep your bag and places the tiny bottle of perfume oil beside it.

Written on the label is his small neat script:

Dad. For Y/N.

Eau De Parfum No. 1072

By KNJ

No. 1072 will forever be yours now.

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

You’re so embarrassed.

You’ve never been late before. Not for work. Not for school. Not even for your expected date of birth, arriving right on the dot at the stroke of midnight, quietly triumphant of your punctuality even as a little babe.

You shudder at the confluence of all the bad luck that happened today.

The one day you forget your umbrella is when a sudden burst of rain catches you unprepared. Traffic was snarling as the slippery roads caused a car accident along the way.

As the rain wreaks havoc on your dress, you scold yourself for wearing your glasses today instead of contacts. You can hardly see a thing as you hurry up the path to the shop from the bus-stop. And what a stupid choice of an outfit today. A fitted white linen dress? You might as well be wearing nothing at this rate that you’re getting wet. Even the flower seller by the corner knew better than to put out her bouquets at the shop front this morning. You better hurry. You’re so late.

Without warning, you find yourself lurching forward over the cobblestones, balance completely fucked as your last coherent thought mocks you: you should not have worn your stupid pair of wedges today with the shitty grip. Bracing your arms out in front of you for the impact to come, you’re surprised when you find yourself in the strong, safe grasp of… your boss.

“Easy there,” he murmurs. Kim Namjoon must be a leopard hybrid of the highest order. You neither heard nor saw him a second ago. And now, he’s steadying you with his arm around your waist, his umbrella over you.

God. He’s so close.

Namjoon knows he held you for a second longer than he probably should, but it’s a second that he will cherish and play over and over again in his mind later. “You should remember your umbrella next time,” he says, trying to distract himself from petrichor, the smell of rain, mingled with the scent of a woman— your scent.

“I should,” was all you can reply, too affected by how your shoulders and elbows are bumping against each other underneath the umbrella to say more. Were you imagining the reluctance in his fingers when he let go of your waist just now? You shiver at the thought. It can’t be.

Namjoon sees it and thinks you’re cold, the wind picking up speed now. He wonders if he should take off his suit jacket and drape it around you temporarily; at least until you get to the shelter of the shop. But then his jacket would smell like you and he’s not sure if he would be able to concentrate for the rest of the day after that.

His own instinct for survival kicks in and overtakes his heart. No, his jacket stays on.

“Glad I went out to get a coffee earlier or I wouldn’t have seen you.” He’s trying to explain why he’s here, beside you; trying to hide the fact that he saw your lithe figure struggling up the hill, and how he worried when he spied you without an umbrella.

He can’t believe he’s lying.

So he doesn’t say anymore, just gives you his arm to hold while you negotiate the slippery sidewalk. It’s wiser than holding you; letting go of you for the second time would prove to be difficult.

You’re quiet, rendered blind by your rapidly fogging up glasses, deaf by the drumming of raindrops, mute by the closeness of his presence, and crippled by your stupid, stupid shoes.

But you can smell, and you can feel.

And, dear reader, he smells amazing. Like strength and trust. And somehow, it makes you feel quite, quite safe.

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

Inside the shop, he grabs a towel from the back and gives it to you. You murmur a word of thanks as you quickly fumble open your satchel to take out a sketchbook, groaning when you see that the rain has soaked through the pages of the book. You try to dab away the damp pages with the towel, but the water damage is already extensive.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, could I lay these out on the counter? I know they don’t look like much, just pencil sketches really, but I hope I could dry out each page before they stick to each other. It’s just—I spent so many hours on—"

“Go on.” It amuses him that you didn’t even bother to dry your dripping hair, nor the soaked dress wrapped around your body.

You carefully take out each sketch and lay it across the glossy surface, every art piece precious, every penciled stroke so intimately a part of you that you know its when, where, and why.

It feels like you’re laying bare yourself to a stranger. You wish he weren’t here, wish his prying eyes weren’t raking over the drawings.

But for the sake of your sketches, you soldier on, murmuring an apology to each naked sketch, unpainted and unfinished, as you thrust it on the cold glass of the counter.

Namjoon loses count of exactly how many drawings there are, every picture inviting him to see the world through your eyes.

The ladybird, quiet and brooding with the weight of the world on her shoulders as she considers a leaf.

The field of daffodils like a class of eager children waving their stretched hands to answer an easy question from the sun.

“When do you find time to draw?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the sketches, moving slowly along the counter to admire each one. He knows if he looks at you, he might do something fucking stupid after catching a glimpse of your body under the sheer, translucent dress.

“Here and there. Sometimes after I finish dusting here at the shop. Sometimes when I go home. Or even on the bus.”

He senses your apprehension with the last pages of your sketchbook that you’re clutching to your bosom. “Don’t hide them from me. They’re beautiful,” he says gesturing to the rest of your pictures. “Let me see, please.”

At his request, you offer the last two pieces to him. His gaze is intense as he zeroes in on the clever curve of the leopard’s tail on your paper. He stares at it, instantly recognizing his own steely gaze in the big cat, the signature scowl on the left side of his jaw drawn to perfection.

And then, there’s the picture of the fig tree—its trunk, leaf, and flower etched as if by the hand of god. Lost in his thoughts, he’s clutching on the two sketches a little too tightly than you like.

“Mr Kim. Mr. Kim. Um, could I have it back please?” Any moment now and he might tear it. It might be just a sketch but it’s still a piece of work that you treasure.

He snaps back to reality and finally notices his fingers are almost ready to crumple the flimsy paper bearing your sketch. “Shit. I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he apologizes. “Here. Don’t stop drawing. They’re perfect. Just, uh… don’t stop. I’ll be in my office. Let me know when my ten o’clock arrives.”

You nod quietly, glad to have some time to clean up and get dry, but also a little puzzled as to what came over your boss.

————----------------------------

Namjoon bursts out into his office, glad to sink into his chair, comforted by the familiarity of his desk and surrounded by his array of pipettes, testing strips, glass bottles, and vials. They are uncomplicated things, precise and emotionless. Dependable. Predictable.

For a cat hybrid, he is more a lone wolf than anything, preferring the solace of his own company, the solitude of his thoughts. The memories of his dad had almost suffocated him out there on the shop floor. Emotions are not his forte.

The picture you drew ushered the smell of figs to him, bringing him back immediately to that fateful evening where a plate of freshly cut figs lay ignored on his father’s mahogany desk.

“Son, it’s time to stop the fucking around and take your place in the company.”

“I’m sorry, but my answer is still no. It’s just not me. I can’t report to a dozen board members, to thousands of shareholders.” And most of all, if he cared to admit it, he couldn’t report to his overbearing father.

When will his father ever understand he prefers the calm of sandalwood to the clamor of the boardroom? That he loves the complexities of jasmine, and fucking hates the backstabbing in the corporate world? Even with his fancy Sloan School MBA which his father had insisted on, his interests surely lie more in perfume than price projections for the quarterly report.

“Namjoon, walk out of here and you will amount to nothing. You hear? Nothing. Your duty is here. Your legacy is here. Your future is here. I’ve planned it out for you. It’s yours for the taking. Stay here. Stay home.”

He remembers how he took the house key out of his pocket and placed it next to the plate of figs. How he felt free when he turned and started for the doors. His dad did not follow him nor call after him, but it was the scent of fig which pursued him, saturating his pores, tempting him to walk out of paradise with shame and regret like the first sinner in the family.

But no, he had stalked out of there, head held high, finally a master of his own destiny.

Namjoon wishes he didn’t have to revisit these memories brought on by your drawings. But oh god—your drawings.

Who knew his pretty little assistant could draw so well?

Your style is a little raw, a little wild; unrestrained yes, but also, lively. He’s intrigued. He wants to find out more—because, he tells himself, because, he’s an art collector. His interests are purely business.

Really.

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

The next day you arrive at the store to set up for the day’s clients when you notice a stack of Strathmore sketch pads of thick, heavy paper and Caran D'ache sketch pencils wrapped in satin blue ribbon. Written simply on the card, were the words Don’t stop.

It looks expensive as hell and you know it’s meant for you, but there’s no way you can accept it. Better your one-dollar pencil on recycled paper than a debt owed to a hybrid family you cannot repay.

And so you leave it at the corner of the glass counter, its shiny mirrored surface mocking you for your prudishness for not accepting his gift every time you glance in that direction.

Oh but fuck, how your hands itch to test the glide of smooth graphite on the cream of the paper. You know you cannot. You know you must not. Your mama has taught you never to be indebted to anyone or anything. There’s danger written all over that gift. The sample vial of perfume was different. That was something he would have thrown away. But this—this is different.

With a sigh, you take out the polishing cloth, determined to finally deep-clean his desk and office chair before he comes in. He’s usually in by this time, already hard at work in his private office. It’s a good thing you can give it a go today.

Mixed in the grain of the dark, rich leather chair, you catch a whiff of his scent. It smells of power, tempered with a softness you’re surprised to detect. You can’t help but press your nose into its plush cushioned back a little more.

It reminds you a little of the sweetness of hay mixed with the musk of the stable horses on your grandparents’ farm. You rub the polishing cloth all over the leather chair, dreaming of those carefree days. How good it felt to go barefoot in the soft earth, dandelions spread across the carpet of grass like rich, yellow butter.

Next, his black mirrored desk.

You use the special glass polish for this, making sure not to smudge the desk with your fingers.

The mirrored surface is unforgiving, and you see the tiny scar above your lip, the one the bully gave you at the playground (for which you returned a black eye) when you were six.

And there there’s your non-hybrid eyes, looking entirely plain, and completely uninteresting. You sigh. If only to be born a hybrid. Imagine the riches, the privilege, the—

you catch his eyes in the mirror of the desk.

“Mr. Kim!” you gasp, “Shit, you scared me!”

“Sorry. Didn’t expect you here. You’re usually out at the front,” he says.

“I—I just wanted to give it a clean,” you say. “I apologize—”

“No, it's fine. I’ll just head out and come back later—” he says.

“I’m actually done here,” you offer.

“Great. Thanks.” He watches as you gather the cleaning supplies and leave, his gaze never intrusive, but never leaving your retreating form.

“About the pencils and paper—” he begins.

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept such a gift,” you apologize.

“Well, what if I say, I want you to draw whatever inspires you in the shop and we can consider which ones to put around the shop or use as graphics for new labels for the perfumes?”

He senses your hesitation, so he ploughs on, “I’ll put it in your job description so it’s not like you’ll have a choice.”

Draw? As part of your job?

“Mr. Kim. I may be a poor employee, but I always have a choice,” you say quietly.

He takes a moment to savor the shape of your words and their quiet dignity. “Well damn. I apologize for being out of line. I hope by now, you know you are anything but a poor employee to me.”

He doesn’t know what the hell he means by that. It just slipped out. “Just… do whatever you wish. You should know by now that I trust you. If the daily duties are done, you’re free to use the time as you see fit.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim. I appreciate it.”

“For the hundredth time, it’s Namjoon.”

“Certainly, Mr. Kim,” you say, the corners of your mouth lifting into a wry smile. You’ve never called him Namjoon and never will. He should know that by now.

He smiles back, genuinely, dimples winking as he breaks into a little laugh.

The tension subsides between the both of you and somehow the air in the shop feels a little lighter than before.

———————————————-

Soon after, you begin to realize that you have less to do in the day. The perfume oils for sampling by each day’s clients are already decanted into the little vials when you arrive for work. And then, the black marble floors seem to look effortlessly clean. Plus little corners of the shop shelves seem to have had a dusting before you could get to it.

All of a sudden, you have so much more time to spend on your drawings (though you’re still not using any of the art materials he bought).

What the hell is going on?

You have a theory, and to test it, you decide to deliberately leave your scarf behind when you head out of the shop after work.

Twenty minutes later, you return to the shop. Through the glass windows, you spy the back outline of his form, mopping the floor as elegantly as a leopard hybrid would.

You hurry to unlock the door with your key and step onto the shop floor.

“Mr. Kim. What are you doing?” you ask, voice trembling. “Did I not do a good job?”

He turns to face you and actually looks guilty.

“No. No. I, uh, I just wasn’t hungry for dinner yet, so I thought I’d work on the floor,” he says. For all the confidence he exudes, he looks like a little schoolboy right now, hand caught in the cookie jar.

“You’re not very good at lying,” you say quietly. “Are you doing this so I have time to draw?”

Kim Namjoon wishes he doesn’t have to answer this but you’re staring at him and staring at him and suddenly he feels a little weak. “So, why are you back?” he asks, hoping to gain back some control over the rapid unravelling of the evening.

“I—I, ah, forgot my scarf.” God, that sounded pathetic.

“You’re not that convincing either,” he muses.

And then you’re looking at him and he’s gazing at you, and you wait for words that always come so easily to you but none arrive.

“Listen. It’s getting late. I know this little cafe two streets over. Do you...”

“Mr. Kim.” God. Why do you sound so needy? With great difficulty, you pluck the words one by one from your mind instead of letting them flow from your heart. “You’re right. It’s late. I—I better go.”

You turn quickly to go before you stop yourself. Any moment longer and you might actually say something stupid.

As you step out into the cold, you remind yourself that he’s part of the hybrid ruling class. Hybrids that look at you scornfully when they walk in. Hybrids that speak to you like you’re stupid. Hybrids that use a sanitizing wipe for their hands after you hand them their bottle of bespoke fragrance.

And lest you forget: you’re not his type.

He’d said so himself.

Didn’t he?

—————————————

After a while you get used to sketching and slowly move on to watercolors when it gets quiet at the shop, drawing inspiration from the scents around. The oud smells of longing, the geranium of innocence and wonder, ambergris reminds you of regret, while the coriander reminds you of mayhem and mischief.

Namjoon sees how the lines on your sketches are bolder, stronger. Your play with the color palette has become more adventurous, brushstrokes surer than before.

Just earlier today, he complimented you on the color blending, said your little painting reminded him of Sargent’s work. You blushed, proud that the wet washes and sponging you used caught his attention in the best way possible.

When you return to the shop, you’re surprised to hear an unfamiliar male voice coming from his office, the door uncharacteristically open.

“Namjoon, don’t you think it’s time to end this charade of yours? You are our only son. Come home and do the right thing.”

“Come home to marry someone I haven’t even met? For the sake of the family company? Like I’m part of a business deal? I’m done with that shit.”

“Is there someone else?”

“I’m not going to even answer that question.”

“So there is someone. She better be a hybrid. You’re going to regret this. What will this shop amount to? Nothing. What will you, on your own, amount to? Nothing. But come home and I guarantee you will have everything you want.”

“Everything I want? You can’t even give me the one thing I need.”

You know you should not eavesdrop. That this is a private matter between your boss and his father. You’re just about to turn around to leave when the elder Mr. Kim steps out of the office and saunters to the front doors, pointedly ignoring you.

When he finally reaches the entrance, he turns and gives you a disdainful once-over which makes you feel uncomfortable as hell. You feel like a piece of meat he’s inspecting, one he finds terribly lacking. But, still he waits. Then you understand he’s not going to open the doors himself to exit the shop.

In an exaggerated show of duty, you rush there and hold the door open, bowing deeply as he makes his departure.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, making sure he hears you before you quickly close and lock the door behind him. The elder Kim looks back and glares through the glass panel. You return the glare with an indifferent shrug only to turn around and bump right into your boss.

“I heard that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, I couldn’t resist.” You’re not sure if you’re truly sorry, but it just felt like the polite thing to say to your boss after he catches you swearing at his own father.

“I was never good enough for him, you know,” he says quietly. “I went to the best schools, topped the class, graduated with summas, but still, he was never satisfied. And when I took over operations and turned it around, it was still not good enough. I had to walk away.”

There’s a glimmer of hurt in his eyes, a little catch in his throat. You wonder if you could comfort him with a hug. Whether his chin might press on the top of your head. Would you pull away first or would he?

He, surely. He’ll never see anything in you.

“Sometimes, walking away is the best thing we can do ourselves.” You’re about to reach for his arm to give a short, comforting squeeze but you decide against it at the last second, bringing your hand up awkwardly to smooth your hair.

Namjoon noticed how your hand lingered for a split second over his and swallows hard, not knowing why he even held his breath.

“You share the same name, Mr. Kim. But—but your heart is different. You’re not him.” It’s hard for you to walk away, yet you must.

As he watches the back of your silhouette disappear into the stockroom, he wishes he had the courage to ask you to stay to talk, just for a while. He wants you to reassure him again.

But he’s been a loner for so long that those words can’t come to him anymore.

At night, in the darkness of his shop, he sits alone in his office chair and weeps.

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

It’s 8 p.m., closing time, and you’re rearranging the last row of crystal flasks of perfume when the door flings open violently, a gust of cold air blowing into the warmth of the darkened shop.

“Where is he?” the icy voice demands.

You recognize the face. A newish client, she’s absurdly beautiful, golden eyes, long-limbed, and perky in all the right places except in her demeanor. You remember how she was late for her own appointment and was extra demanding. Bitch would be completely inappropriate since she is a cat hybrid.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. We’re closed now. Could I pencil you for an appointment with Mr. Kim tomorrow?” You keep your voice low, respectful.

“I want to see him. Now.” She strides towards his office at the back of the shop. You hurry to keep her from barging into his office.

“I’m so sorry. He’s not available at the moment. Perhaps I could offer some assistance?”

She looks you up and down with disdain. “And what do you think you can offer me?” quiet scorn dripping over each word.

“I am his assistant. Mr. Kim has deemed me fit to assist you,” you say, just as quiet, just as lethal. She backs you into the door of his office, eyes flashing with anger. Like hell you’ll give in to this self-entitled hybrid trash.

“I know what people like you want.” She reaches into her bag and pinches out a crisp fifty thousand won note between her delicate fingers, perfectly manicured. “You’re all the same.” Sliding the corner of the note to your cheek, she snaps it, each lightning quick thwack eager to remind you of your poverty. “I want. your. boss.”

“That’s enough,” his voice, dark and thick, slices in. The heat of his body is suddenly behind you, and you feel a measure of comfort that he’s now here.

“Namjoon—” she purrs, a smile, sweet and sickening, consumes her entire face.

“It’s Mr. Kim,” he says.

“Namjoon, this… this thing—" she points at you “—said you weren’t available. But you prrromised I can come to you anytime.”

“It’s Mr. Kim, and yes, anytime within office hours. Unfortunately, office hours are over, as are my services for you from now on.”

“My, my. So prrrrrotective over a little staff?”

“Out. Now.”

The tight clench of his jaw is unmistakable.

“Jooooonieeee, you know I didn’t mean it. I can play nice,” she purrs, suddenly playful.

“Out,” he says, resolute.

“It’s true then,” she smirks with a triumphant smile. “Daddy says your father told everyone this shop won’t amount to anything. That you won’t amount to anything. That you never know a good deal even if it were right in front of you.” She sighs airily, “Pity. I did like those samples.”

“I’m glad you did. You sure took enough,” you retort.

She turns to you, glaring. “Pity about the face.” With lighting reflexes, she raises her hand and scratches the side of your cheek with a single, freshly manicured nail.

The sting of her nail barely registers as you start to throw a punch back at her, but suddenly remembering your own dignity, you thought better of it, lowering your fist as fast as you raised it. It’s not worth it. She’s not worth it.

“OUT.” The snarl he emits reverberates within the shop and she flinches. Actually flinches.

Slinking off, she saunters toward the door, swaying her hips, pert nose in the air, sure that he’s watching her. “Get her trained prrrroperly,” she announces before slamming the door behind.

Namjoon turns to look at you.

You’re burning with anger, shame, disgusted with her and with yourself. You’ve never raised your hand against someone after the playground incident so many years ago. Today, you'd almost lost control.

A single drop of crimson slides down your cheek.

“Fuck. She hurt you,” he murmurs as he cups your cheek.

“I’m okay. Really.” You’re flustered by his tenderness, suddenly so close to him.

With something that can only be blamed on animal instinct, he leans into you, and licks up the side of your cheek, catching the bead of blood on the tip of his tongue.

He feels warm, wet, and just the tiniest bit rough and you moan on reflex, tilting your head back, not knowing why or how as you bare the smooth expanse of your neck to him.

“Mr. K—Kim.”

Namjoon does not hesitate often. But he does for a split second. “It’s Namjoon. It’s always Namjoon with you.” He’s breathing so hard, nostrils flaring from effort to not devour you completely. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh shit. This is just like in a fanfic.

You take a deep breath and say the word which dances across your dreams at night, the name which you forbid yourself to say in the day. “Namjoon.”

He’s no longer Mr. Kim. He’s Namjoon to your Y/N. Everything in him is fully awake, completely alert. He leans in and licks the little cut on your cheek again, but this time, he doesn’t just stop there. This time, he continues to trail his tongue down the curve of your jaw, and up the other side. “Need you,” he whispers by your ear, arms curling lightly around your shoulder to anchor his hands that want to run all over your body.

You tell yourself you don’t need him; no, not the way he needs you. You only want him. And wants come and go. Wants don’t always get fulfilled. You of all people should know that by now. Today, you’ll have your fill. And that’s enough.

“Just for today,” you whisper. “Only today.” You repeat it again, for yourself, because there won’t be a tomorrow of this anymore. There’s no way he would need you again.

“Only today,” he echoes, lying to you and to himself.

He licks your earlobe, sending thrills across your spine, teeth nipping lightly against your skin. He’s eager to mark you, the leopard instincts from his hybrid heritage returning in full force. He noses your clothed shoulder, fingers deftly working off the buttons on the front of your prim, starched shirt.

Feeling shy, you're sure that you can’t compete with the models he must have dated. Clutching tightly to the two open halves of your shirt, you’re afraid to disappoint him.

“Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful. Let me see, please.”

With shaky fingers you let the halves of your shirt part, revealing the curves of your breasts to him.

Beautiful. Slowly, he lifts your chin with a finger. “Look at me.”

You’ve always shied away from meeting his gaze straight on, always wary that you hunger for more than just the touch of his eyes.

But now, at the command of his voice, you can only obey.

“You're beautiful. And you're strong, stronger than anyone I know. You’re strong for me. And—" Namjoon swallows. Growing up, his father had always stressed the Kim motto: Always First. Always Strong. Always Right.

“—and I’m weak for you,” he finishes, the realization finally out in the open.

“Just for today,” you remind him, trying to blink back tears. “Be weak for me. Only today.” It’s better this way, with no hope of tomorrow to disappoint.

Namjoon knows he will be weak for you today and tomorrow and every day after. He takes you to his desk, the place he finds himself daily, because he knows he’s going to want to remember this every fucking day for the rest of his life.

Gently, he sits you on the mirrored surface, marking the curve of your shoulder with his kisses as he eases off your shirt. Laving at your skin, he nips against your collarbone, trailing his tongue lower and lower to your covered breasts, easing the cup of your bra to the side as he licks the soft, full flesh there. “Can’t stop tasting you,” he murmurs against your skin.

He inhales the scent between the valley of your breasts, trapping his nose between the smooth curves of silky skin as he draws a low moan from you. Fingers roaming your back, he unhooks your bra to tongue gently at your nipples. You press his head closer, arching your back towards him, wanting more of his mouth on the tight, tender flesh. He complies, and angles you back a little more, crying out with pleasure each time you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth on your breast.

“Feels so good. Oh god.” Panting with want and lust, you plead, “Let me touch you too.”

“Go on then. Touch me.” Namjoon steels himself not to move as you explore him, fingers outlining the sides of his face, his jawline that’s so familiar by sight, yet strangely unfamiliar by touch. You’re wondering if he feels this hard, this strong everywhere.

Seared by the heat of your hand cradling his face, Namjoon noses the inside of your wrist immediately. He wants to breathe this in too. Wants the scent from your wrist all over his body, your fingers everywhere on his skin.

But your fingers are already going over each button, helping him shrug off his shirt, tracing the faintest of leopard markings under the skin of his torso. It’s a mesmerizing pattern. You brush your fingers over his pecs, around the dusky disc of his nipples, down the line of his abs.

Your artist’s eye sees his beautiful, sleek proportions, heavy with muscle and sinew.

Uncertainly, your fingers hover over his belt, the dark bulge of his pants a strangely erotic sight. There’s no turning back once you go there.

“Don’t you stop now,” he whispers. “Don’t give up on me.”

His words give you the confidence to continue. When you finally undress him, pants and boxers pooling around his feet, you’re overwhelmed at his naked vulnerability. “Should I—Can I?” you ask.

Namjoon almost chokes at the way you stare at him with innocent wonder. “Just use your instincts. Just feel.” All other words are impossible the moment you wrap your fingers around his flesh. He braces his hands against the desk on either side of you lest he comes apart too soon, allowing you full access to explore him. He grunts tightly as you stroke him, circling the sensitive opening at the tip.

Instinct says taste. You drop down to your knees. Palming his throbbing length, you lick the liquid beading around the head of his flesh.

“What are you doing?” His fingernails are digging desperately into the unforgiving surface of the glass desk, but there is no relief to be found. “Oh god. Please. Please, take me in.” He remembers how he’d found you kneeling before his chair, putting your nose in the leather as you cleaned it, how for a fleeting moment, he’d pictured you just like this, rosebud lips wrapped around his cock.

On your knees, you feel powerful, making this man speechless and wordless; your tongue, throat, and hollowed cheeks rendering him breathless with desire.

His large hand is warm and soft against your face as you slide his length into your mouth again and again. “No more,” he gasps, “not for our first time.”

Supporting you in his arms, he pulls you up to meet his gaze and you swear his hooded eyes flash a brighter yellow for just a second.

“Am... am I doing something wrong?”

Bringing his lips right against yours, he confesses quietly, “I am. I’m doing everything wrong.” With slow brushes of his lower lip between yours, he urges yours apart. “I shouldn’t kiss you,” he whispers as he traces the curve of your lips with his tongue. “But I am.” The kiss is long and languorous. He takes his time, lets you explore him, noses bumping as you taste him and he drinks you.

“Shouldn’t undress you.” He reaches for the back button of your skirt, and unzips you, easing the material down. Unhooking the bra to let it fall off softly, he fingers the waistband of your panties, eyes questioning if it’s okay. Silently, you place your hand over his to slide it down your thighs. “But I am,” he says, eyes trailing down your entire naked expanse.

“Most of all, I shouldn’t fuck you here at my desk. But—”

“But I want you to.” Pressing your naked flesh against his, you curl your arms around his neck, face hiding in his chest in your desperation. “I want you to.”

This time, there’s no more rain to give him an excuse to hold you, no more umbrella to pretend he wants you close. He pulls you into him; moulding you to him, melding him into you. With flesh against flesh, there’s no denying now the liquid heat between your legs. “You’re so wet. How is it you want me? A man who will not amount to anything?”

It’s there again. The hurt. Unlike the cut on your face, his wound is much, much deeper. “That’s him. That’s not you.” Still pulled flushed against him, you place your palm over his pounding heart. “You’re different. Here.”

Namjoon shuts his eyes at your words. “Say that again.”

“You’re different from him.”

He is not his father.

A great relief washes over him. It’s something he couldn't say to himself until you said it. He is not his father. He is not his father. He is not his father!

He kisses the top of your head, grateful for the day you stumbled into his shop, grateful that you want him like this. The fragrance he cannot have enough of fills his senses. There’s ylang ylang. There’s jasmine. A hint of bergamot. He inhales deeply, sighing, “How are you so good for me?” Sliding one hand down your thigh, he lifts it up to his hip so that you feel the hardness of his cock against you. “Let me be good for you.”

“Please. Please don’t let me wait anymore.” A dull ache throbs within you, and the searing of his skin against yours has steadily pooled arousal in the apex of your thighs.

“I won’t let you wait. I’ve waited long enough. Turn around.” Reluctantly, he unhooks your leg from him and stands behind you. “We are going to do this the proper way.”

Bracing a strong arm around your waist, he bends you over his mirrored desk, your nipples hardening even more when they brush across the cool surface of his desk. “So sensitive,” he whispers against the back of your neck, “I saw that.”

A shower of sparks shoot down your spine as he kisses the back of your neck, the other hand fondling over your breasts; the front of your body on full display in your reflection. You lean your head into him, writhing at every slow lick and hot breath and soft kiss on your neck.

His hands dip between your legs, easing them apart. “Let me prep you. I bet you’re so tight, bet I can’t even put in a finger.” He’s probably right. You know you’re wet, embarrassingly so, but it’s been so long since you’d been with someone else.

“N-Namjoon, please go slow. It’s—it’s been a while.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. Never. Can you trust me?”

You nod, too overtaken by the sensations of his fingers playing along your folds to speak.

“Just use your instincts,” he murmurs again into the shell of your ear.

Instinct says to feel.

With teasing fingers, he continues to draw low whimpers from you, before he goes on to circle your clit gently. Sliding a finger in, he feels you shudder. “Easy there. Breathe for me.” He feels your legs clamping around his fingers like a vise, the tremors beneath your skin as your breath gets shorter and harder.

You’re dripping a little now, making a mess between your legs. It’s getting harder to stand as he hooks two fingers into you, rubbing softly. “Oh my god.”

“You getting there?”

“Y-yeah. Hold me. Hold me.”

Namjoon feels a surge of pride that he gets to hear you like this, gets to feel you come apart just from his fingers. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

The orgasm blooms through you—shakes you at your core, curls your toes—as you arch back into him. He’s as good as his promise, lending you his strength, supporting you completely as you fall into him.

He takes the opportunity to nuzzle into your hair again, alternating with kissing you along the nape of your neck, and catching a whiff of your scent behind your ear. “Can’t stop smelling you.”

Flushed and euphoric from your high, you don’t stop yourself from asking, “Tell me… tell me what do I smell like?” Your gaze shyly meets his in the reflection of the mirrored surface.

With his nose pressed behind your ear, the answer is clear to him. “Home,” he breathes, “You smell like home.”

His answer shouldn’t make you cry. But it does. “Then make your home in me,” you whisper. “Just today.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He nudges your legs apart with a muscled thigh, groaning with satisfaction as he feels you wet arousal on him. “Coming in,” he murmurs, angling you lower so he can help you adjust to the intrusion of his cock into your core. You gasp at how thick and hot he is, how just a little bit of him inside you already feels so good.

“Goddamn. You’re tight.” He groans as he tells himself to slow down. He’s not going to rush this if he can help it. Breathing hard, he waits for you to accommodate him, stroking your back lightly and then your hips to reassure you.

You want more, and you push back tentatively, longing to feel completely full of him, but a little fearful if you can take a hybrid without falling apart. Grimacing at the inviting way you slide your ass backward into him, he thrusts shallowly, a gentle finger on your clit, coaxing you to take more of him.

Instinct says to meet him.

This time, you slide back to meet his thrusts, delighting in his thick girth filling you. “Feels good. So good,” you sigh.

Namjoon sees you’re ready and doesn’t hold back anymore. “You’re wrong. Nobody goes home for just one day,” he says with ragged breath against your ear as he surges fully into you. “They go home every day.” He pulls himself back a little, feeling the tightness of your slick walls squeezing around him to stop him from pulling out completely.

Shielding your entire back with his own body, he thrusts in once more, eager to bury himself inside your warmth. Bringing his face next to yours from behind, he says it again, “Every day.”

“Every day,” you whimper back.

He loves seeing your face in the mirrored reflection, how it twists with yearning when he’s all the way inside you. He relishes the arch of your neck into him, sweet mouth open and moaning for him at every thrust, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you cry. “Don’t stop, don’t stop dontstopdontstop.”

The words from him are now echoed back into his ears. Namjoon doesn’t stop. He won’t. He can’t. Thrusting into you, he feels a surge of power ripping through him. He wants to give you all his strength, wants to take all your softness for himself.

In the quiet of his office, your combined moans reverberate around the stark walls, the rhythmic push and pull of your bodies are the only other sounds that fill your senses as you focus on offering yourself to him.

“Look at me when I come,” he commands, his chin pressing on your shoulder. “Open your eyes, and see what you do to me.”

You open your eyes, and can hardly recognize yourself in the reflection on his desk. The little scar on your lip, the wound from just now, the plain face that you’ve always wished were more exotic are all inconsequential. There’s tenderness in the way he looks at you, a softness and desperation no one has ever looked at you with.

“Namjoon.” You feel a little pathetic at how much you want him, at how good his name feels on your tongue. You whisper it again because tomorrow, he’ll be Mr. Kim once more.

“I’m close. So close,” he moans now, dying to hold on this feeling as long as he can. He pants with effort as he fights to keep his thrusts slow and long and hard, before his instincts take over and he loses control. When you clench harder around him, meeting his eyes in your combined reflection, Namjoon feels a last surge of raw need rip through him, and he comes with a low roar, hips stuttering wildly into you.

You feel the hot spurt of his seed inside you, his deep groan of satisfaction thrilling you immensely. He’s kissing the back of your neck, across your shoulders, hands lazily playing with the globes of your breasts. He’s quiet as he pulls out, enjoying the sight of his cum and yours leaking down the inside of your thighs.

“You’re wonderful. Want you again,” he teases your earlobe, nuzzling the plump flesh there.

“Now?”

“Not now,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. But only if you do. Are you sore?”

How can I, when I’m wrapped under you? No, not today. Tomorrow, my heart will be.

“No. Not at all.” You’re strong. And greedy. You want him as much as he will want you today.

“Let’s go back to my place. I want to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

You feel vulnerable because god, you want it too. But if he wants tomorrow with you, you have to ask. “When your father asked you… if there’s someone else, and you didn’t answer him…”

“It’s none of his business,” he replies curtly. “But it is yours.” Taking a deep breath, he tells you the truth, “Because there’s been no one else. Not for a long while. And when you walked in that day with those flowers, there couldn’t be anyone else.”

And so, dear reader, there was tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow.

And of course, you broke all your rules about hybrids because you still worked with him after you were made partner. And you went on many, many dates with him. And you fucked him many, many, many times.

But you’re okay with it.

After all, your Dad had also said:

Rules are meant to be broken.

~The End~

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

Posted on June 30, 2021 by sahmfanficbts. All Rights Reserved © 2021 @sahmfanficbts. Please do not translate, post or upload this content on to any platform including YouTube without permission. This is a work of fiction.

Author's Note:

Dear reader,

How are you?

According to my therapist, one important thing fathers and parents can do for their children is to help them believe a) You are loved and are worthy of love. b) You are capable - you have what it takes!

My own father was too busy to help me with these things. I grew up constantly insecure, seeking affirmation and love with many different people and relationships, in many different avenues and endeavors, made many, many stupid decisions in the process just because I was craving and craving and craving.

Today, I've found genuine friends who, every day, in various ways, affirm these truths for me, as I also try to do for them.

And while some days, I can only see the broken, needy parts inside; more and more, I see parts of me which are healing and mending slowly but surely with these friends.

This Father's Day, whether you grew up with a father or parent who was good and kind and true, or someone entirely different, I hope you believe that you are worthy of love, and you have what it takes.

Truly,

Sam.

P/S if you haven't, pls check out the samsung parfumerie ad. Jimin and Namjoon are.... chef's kiss

masterlist

Part 1 of the Silk Series

mafia!Namjoon x reader

mafia! au, Arranged marriage! Au

7.6k words

mature 👁 (who am I?), romance, fluff, implied first time? (Or maybe just no one’s ever loved her right)

Hi guys! surprise! Guess who’s back with a brand new one shot? I’d had an idea I was so tempted to try. It was supposed to be really quick, maybe just a few hundred words- more a blurb than anything else- but very quickly grew into an almost 8 thousand word story in the course of a day. This is very different for me. I’ve never toyed with mafia! au’s, and I’ve never written a proper story with Namjoon. Halfway through, I even though of changing it to Hobi- but joon is just too perfect for this genre. This is the first time I’ve ever written or shared a story that got quite this intimate. Clearly, since it’s me, there’s still a ton of heart, but writing this part of a love story is very new for me- so posting this comes with quite a bit of vulnerability. Feedback would be amazing. The absolutely beautiful moodboard was made by the ethereally talented @today-we-will-survive . It suits the story so perfectly in every way. I even went back to tweak small details to match up with her picture selections after I saw the board because they were just so impeccable.

I hope you enjoy it! —Christiana 💕✨

—————————————————————

“There she is.”

His gravelly voice sent a chill down your spine as you entered the room, softly locking the door behind you. Rolling his head to the side, Namjoon met your eyes. His gaze was so enticing, so seductive in the dark, but his smile was warm as ever. You were a puddle in his hands the second his dimples showed up and he knew it. As his eyes lazily raked over you, he opened his arms in invitation.

“Come here, baby girl.” 

Keep reading

prohibido. | 01 [knj]

⏤𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜; Namjoon is an art himself. Shame that he’s forbidden - he’s your brother’s best friend. And your colleague.

⏤𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: strong language

⏤𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: namjoon x reader

⏤𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: fluff, angst, smut

⏤𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 5.9k

⏤𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

A/N: Please let me know what you think so far. Things will get heated up soon, I promise!

He’s beautiful. The way he’s holding a pen, his eyes focused on the paper scanning his handwriting over and over again. His plump juicy lips are mouthing the words he’s written as his brows furrow from time to time, almost as if not satisfied with his writing. And probably, he isn’t since he’s perfectionist.

“Quit staring, he’ll notice.” Your colleague, Kim Taehyung, says snapping you out of your thoughts. Your cheeks flush from embarrassment you’re trying to hide with a glare sent his way.

Keep reading

Spoils of Fortune

Neurosurgeon!Namjoon x Spoiled Brat!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut

Chapter 1.

A/N: This is the first chapter of the new Patreon exclusive book! I already love these two characters more than most things in life~! It’s gonna be a rollercoaster!

It’s always the wee early hours of morning when people tend to see themselves the clearest. When the morning haze and the dewy air coat blades of grass and leaves on trees, people can see their souls in their purest forms.

Sometimes their souls are cacophonously loud, echoing out and over for millions of miles. And for some their souls sit quietly in a corner as if asking to be rescued like some grand princess trapped in a tower.

God, you wish your soul made any noise. You wish you could see yourself so clearly, but your whole being becomes entangled in the morning haze and the dewy drops that fall silently on the land. It’s a prison half of the time and the other half is just silence like mourning.

But as always, when the early hours of the morning pass, you pretend much like others that your soul never actually existed in the first place and you shroud yourself in the daily mask that gets you through life.

Although everyday is the same, you wish just something would change… anything.

When you wake up, the estate is silent. Your wing is silent.

Apart from your groaning, there is not a noise uttered. The maids and butlers are usually talkative, you can sometimes hear random spurts of gossip through your gold trimmed French doors but today there is nothing.

Which means he’s here.

He’s home.

How horrible.

Keep reading

Big Bad Wolf | KNJ (M)

🔴 Summary: Your mom has always warned you not to venture too deep into the forest, for legend has it, in it lives vicious, man eating wolves. You’ve always listened to her words until one day when your love of animals gets the better of you and you end up in the woods, chasing after a wounded cat. When you stumble across a secluded cottage in the middle of the forest and meet one of these “Big Bad Wolves,” you learn that maybe not everything is as it seems.

🔴 Pairing: Wolf Shapeshifter!Namjoon x Human Female!Reader

🔴 Genre/AU: Angst, fluff, smut, fantasy, strangers to lovers

🔴 Rating: 18+ | R

🔴 Warnings: profanity, non-descriptive talk of murder, mention of guns/a gunshot wound, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, knotting, marking

🔴 Words: 19.7k 🥴

🔴 Note: It’s finally here - my fic for @hobeemin​’s Bangtan Grimm Event!! The fairytale my fic is inspired by is Little Red Riding Hood. Full disclosure here, this is my first half human/half animal fic so to anyone that reads this that is much more seasoned with hybrid-esque fics, it’s not the same as others you probably have read lol. 

Thank you soooo much to @lavienjin​ for this amazing banner!! ❤️❤️ ENORMOUS thank you to @playmetheclassics​ for literally being my hero and beta reading this chonker of a fic in a few hours after I finished it 🥰🥰

This fic has been a journey to say the least. Writer’s block has had me in an absolute chokehold these past few months, but I’m so glad I was able to finally finish this! Please enjoy my longest fic to date 😂💖

Keep reading

somewhere between the lines | KNJ

⟶ title: somewhere between the lines

⟶ au: exes to lovers

⟶ trope(s): lives at the office ceo/chief

⟶ pairing: namjoon x f. Reader

⟶ genre: romance, smut, angst

⟶ rated: 18+

⟶ wc: 9.8k

⟶ dialogue prompt: “You still look beautiful in red.”

⟶ warnings: mentions of divorce and loneliness, Namjoon is a girl dad (yes i think that needs its own warning), mentions of regret, smut in the forms of: oral (male and female receiving), breast play, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, tons of kissing, tons of teasing, unprotected sex (lets be smarter than that tho), fingering, bit of an impregnating kink

⟶ summary: you can hardly wait for your date New Year’s Eve. It’s the first time you’ve felt confident enough to dress up with the intention of letting someone who isn’t your ex husband, undress you at the end of the night.

Mother Nature has other plans for you though, bringing a very unwelcome snow storm and your ex husband to your door. But perhaps this snow storm is what the two of you really needed.

A/N: hellllooooo lovelies, this fic is my contribution to the wonderful Resolution Revolution collab event hosted by Amelia @knjsnoona and Ash @jimilter! Find the masterlist for the collab here. My amazing banner for the fic was made by the amazing Dee Dee @sugasbabiie​, thank you so much again, its perfect!

Is this fic a bit cheesy and unrealistic? Yes. Do we all just need that sometimes? also yes lol. Hope you’ll enjoy a bit of dad!Joon and leave me some feedback if you can!

_______________________________________________________________

Six months. That’s how long it’s been since you signed your name on the dotted line of the divorce papers.

Five months since your middle daughter, HeeJin, who was named after her fathers best friend had her third birthday party, where you and Namjoon had to put on your happy faces and pretend it didn’t hurt to see each other.

Four months since your one year old daughter had her first double ear infection and Namjoon had to meet you at the hospital in the middle of the night. You argued over medical insurance and who’s fault it was that she was sick. You were both in the anger stage of dealing with the grief you felt from the divorce.

Three months since the two of you had to attend your five year old daughters play at her preschool. Both of your families were there and it was the most awkward night of your life, but the happy faces were on in full force once again and you made sure that everything went perfectly.

Two months since you stopped wondering what he was doing every night and whether he missed you as much as you missed him. If he was lying awake and losing sleep over you. 

One month since it stopped feeling like there was a hole the size of your heart gaping in your chest. Time truly healed wounds but this one would never fully close. And you know it was all avoidable. It never had to come to this. 

Keep reading

Namjoon Fic Recs

《 I will add more fics after I finish reading them. 》

Call of Duty 💜

How I Love You 💜

11:09 PM

ensnared

Truth or Drink: A Run!BTS Special Part 3

s u g a r [s,f]

 kim namjoon fic rec list (Ⅰ)

here’s a list of my favourite namjoon fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed ♡

a- angst s- smut f- fluff ❣- ultimate favourite

july kiss by @personasintro f s (dilf namjoon idiots to lovers au) ❣

prohibido by @personasintro f s a (brother’s best friend au) ❣

fool for you by @cutechim s a (rebound au hospital au unrequited love au)

try again by @bangtanfancamp f s (roommate au best friend to lovers au)

it’s december (and I still want) by @smoochkooks f s a (ex husband au)

more than anything else by @seokkgenie f s a (CEO au)

there was a bug @kimnjss f s a (roommate au best friend to lovers au) ❣

nothing like us by @jiminimoon s a (ex boyfriend namjoon) ft. fuck boy jungkook ❣

the rich man’s crochet club by @kpopfanfictrash s (virgin au college au) ❣

spilling coffee by @bts-roses f a (idol au intern reader)

dizzy by @joonessence f s (friends to lovers au) ❣

promise by @joheun-saram f s a (college au roommate au enemies to friends to lovers au) ❣

to make a power couple by @joheunsaram f s a (idol au ceo reader) ❣

daisies and dinosaurs by @dark-muse-iris f s a (single father au)

intro: her by @jamaisjoons f s a (single dad au strangers to friends to lovers au) ❣

a sight for sore eyes by @siderealmyg f s (established relationship au)

good to me by @httpjeon f s a (dating service au)

what are friends for by @kookdiaries s (best friends au friends to lovers au)

out of my league by @ppersonna f s a (office au) ❣

promises by @jeonsweetheart f s a (marriage au infidelity au idol au) ❣

the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons f s a (bodyguard au fake dating/marriage au) ❣

the father, the son and the holy whore by @taesinferno s (dilf namjoon infidelity au) ❣

nice guys finish last by @ktheist f s a (arranged marriage au) ft. Ex fiance Yoongi

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter s a (friends with benefits au unrequited love) ❣

partners by @btssmutgalore s a (friends to lovers au slow burn) ❣

dimples by @sweetmisery f s (idol au friends with benefits friends to lovers au) ❣

after rain by @rmverse​ f s a (patient namjoon patient reader)

once upon an us by @yoonia​ f s a (inspired by the movie sweet home alabama past lovers au exes to lovers au established relationship) ❣

bothered by @lavienjin f s a (brother’s best friend)

sincerely, but no longer yours by @ttttaehyungie s a (exes au) ❣

lavender honey by @oftenderweapons f s a (chaebol au friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers au)

2AM by @xpeachesncream f s (college au) ❣

black swan by @helenazbmrskai s a (co-workers to friends to lovers tattoo artist joon) ❣

love is blind by @helenazbmrskai f s a (best friends brother au college au enemies to lovers au) ❣

ramen? by @solarwonux f s ❣

only a lifetime by @dopejk f s (dilf joon marriage au pregnancy au) ❣

emerald by @dewykth s a (bodyguard au)

love bytes by @stutterfly f s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)

spice by @breakiebunny f s a (enemies to lovers au chef joon)

new parent syndrome by @1kook f s (dilf joon husband au parents au) ❣

the perfect date by @suhdays f s (established relationship au)

flower cloud by @suhdays f a (soulmate au friends to lovers au college au)

hammer it home by @gukslut f s a (domestic au) ft. Jimin ❣

nailed it by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ft. Jimin ❣

feels like home by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣

a wrench in the plan by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣

totally screwed by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣

obligated by @underthejoon s (arranged marriage au) ❣

bass and strings by @jimlingss f (slow burn au slice of life college au music au)

letting go by @bangtan-babe f a (doctor au) ft. Jimin

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 :-

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ɪ

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ɪɪ

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ɪɪɪ

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

ᴊɪɴ ɪ

ᴊɪɴ ɪɪ

𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ɪ

ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ɪɪ

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

ʜᴏsᴇᴏᴋ (ɪ)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ɪ

ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ɪɪ

ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ɪɪɪ

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

 ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ɪ

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ɪɪ

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ɪɪɪ

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ɪᴠ

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ᴠ

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪɪɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪᴠ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ᴠ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ᴠɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ᴠɪɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ᴠɪɪɪ

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪx

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ x

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ xɪ

𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐓𝟕 / 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘

ʙᴛs ᴘᴏʟʏ/ᴏᴛ𝟽 (ɪ)



belated love letter - k.nj.

genre: angst (2.5k)

summary: a love letter that he’s been writing only gets delivered, because namjoon has a lot to say even after you’ve broken up.

a/n: i made myself cry with this one.

masterlist

namjoon, a person who seemingly has answers to everything, never got the answer as to why you both drifted off.

did you both grow out of love? no, it was evident in the quivering lips and glassy eyes when you saw each other for the last time that love indeed still persisted between you two.

did you grow out of each other? no, namjoon still strongly believes that you’re the most fascinating person he’s met and he remembers how you found his mind to be the brightest of them all.

maybe the love became too much at some point. maybe love just wasn’t enough.

he’ll never know.

but something went wrong.

and it went wrong very quickly, so quickly that namjoon couldn’t even give you the one thing he promised you he would.

a love letter.

“you know, for a world-renowned lyricist, and as that lyricist’s girlfriend, i’ve never gotten a letter from you” you teased him one rainy day and he remembers the breathless chuckle that left his lips.

“do you want one?” he fiddled with your fingers that were held in his hand.

“a letter from the kim namjoon? there’s nothing else i want more” and even as the sky crackled behind the windows, and rain continuously beat them, you both could only look at each other. you looked at each other like ‘damn the rest of the world, i only have eyes for you’.

and that’s when namjoon decided that he was going to write you a letter alright, he was going to write you the best letter ever.

namjoon stared blankly at the words scribbled on the page, frowning every so often, his words were, to put it in one way, powerful. he didn’t know he was capable of feeling such strong emotions but he did know that you brought out the best in him. and the best of him was spilled on this one page that was still half empty.

namjoon felt just as empty.

he wasn’t near breaking down or crying himself to sleep, but namjoon wasn’t happy, he couldn’t deny this hollowness in his chest that’s been lingering for days now and he doesn’t need anyone else to tell him that it was because of you, he knows it. namjoon knows it all except, like mentioned before, why you both ended it but it was an unwritten realization, that it was for the best.

another thing namjoon doesn’t know is why he grabs his favorite pen, the pen he uses to write his famous lyrics, he got a new one for the album they’re working on now and starts filling in the empty space, almost feeling like he was filling himself with the emotions that he misses so dearly.

namjoon was going to give you that letter.

even if you might not want it anymore.

-

it’s been almost a year since you’ve seen namjoon and it felt like time was cruel enough to make that year feel like an eternity. it both felt like just yesterday that you and namjoon were visiting museums together and also like forever since you’ve both cuddled in whenever the weather got worse.

and you don’t know if it was good or bad that you still remember everything.

you remember how he carefully used to handle things that belonged to you because he knew you cherished them, he still broke a few but it’s the effort that counts, how you used to nap in his studio whenever it got too long and always woke up with a blanket wrapped around you, how you both used to skip around parks and also the time namjoon taught you how to finally ride a bike.

you stupidly remember it all.

you were quite sure namjoon had forgotten about you and moved on because you were just a chapter in his story that still had a long way to go. you didn’t blame him, you were trying to forget him as well, it’s just he was probably successful in forgetting you and you weren’t as successful as you’d like to be.

but to your surprise, you came home to a letter in your mailbox. you never get letters, so this left you more than a little curious as you turned the dainty lilac-colored envelope in your hand to reveal an all too familiar handwriting scribbled on top.

‘from: kim namjoon’

you expected a lot of things from namjoon but none of them came close to the letter that you held in your hand. and you couldn’t help the way your heart seemed to skip a beat only to shatter on the ground a minute later. it dawned on you that it could be a goodbye letter, and you hated goodbyes. but namjoon had never liked loose ends, he liked his endings to make just as sense as the beginnings, so you probably shouldn’t have been too surprised that he sent it.

you slowly set down your belongings and walked into your house, placing the letter on table, staring at it for a little, wondering if opening it will only hurt you more or not.

but did you even care if it will hurt?

all you’ve been this year, is hurt.

all you’ve felt this year, is hurt.

so, what’s one more letter? and he bothered enough to send it all the way to where you’ve moved. so yeah, you will read it. you could feel goosebumps rising on your skin as your fingers lightly grazed the paper, admiring his handwriting, namjoon has always had such beautiful writing.

you hastily tore open the envelope and turned it upside down, a single piece of paper, which was neatly folded fell out on the ground, you sat down next to it and with shaky fingers, you started reading the words of the man you used to love, you still love, so much.

to the love of my life, (you still are)

9/10/19

today, with beaming eyes and a happy smile on your face, you jokingly asked me for a letter and who am i to deny you? even with the breaking sky above us, you managed to make me feel like the lightest cloud floating in it and with that, i start this letter, a bare heart and with a hope that my pen doesn’t run out and also that you won’t find it, this is my little surprise to you. i will write it, day-by-day, on days i especially thank the world for giving me you so i hope as the girlfriend of world-renowned lyricist kim namjoon, that you find this satisfactory.

i love you.

19/10/19

i came back to this paper after promising that i will wait for a bit to finish it but you have me breaking all of the promises i’ve made for myself, one of them being don’t fall in love until you’re ready and i was never ready for you and the stars you’ve aligned for us.

but i’m still in love, and i don’t mind it at all.

you woke me up just in time for me to make it to work and because i was in such a hurry, you took over the one duty that i have, breakfast.

at first, i felt guilty that even if you were rushing to get to work, you still didn’t get mad at me for not waking up earlier, you just gave me a sleepy grin when i thanked you. and then i tried looking at it in a more positive light, you work hard for yourself and me and i’m grateful.

i’m grateful to you, even if it is something as simple as breakfast, i’m grateful. and i will start waking up earlier, i want to do more for you.

i love you.

11/11/19

today, we went to pottery together!

and we didn’t manage to make anything and it wasn’t a surprise to either of us because our pots broke even before they could get toasted in the oven. it was just us, a private class in the middle of a forest and there was a mild drizzle of rain from the sky. and now as i write this, i realize whenever it rains, i fall more in love with you, the idea of you and everything about you.

i decided to write again today because it was a wonderful day, we laughed a lot and we smeared a lot of clay on our face and you had the nerve to call my pot a masterpiece.

y/n, as much as i appreciate your kind soul, my pot literally looked like shit.

and you laughing right after you said that it was a masterpiece, kind of gave away the fact that you didn’t mean it.

but i’ll let it go because you looked cute. you always look cute.

and oh look, you’re calling me for dinner, i will come back to this again.

i love you.

22/1/20

you weren’t yourself today but that’s okay, we all have our days, it did hurt when you didn’t let me hug you but again, i understand. you had a difficult day and i wish i could take all your pain away, all your troubles, i wish i could burn them to the ground and not even let the ashes remain.

but i can’t do that.

i can only watch you lie to me that you aren’t crying, that you are okay.

i hope you know that you don’t have to lie, never to me.

i can see the tears on your face, i’m sorry i’m not strong enough to come and wipe them away, i’m scared that you’ll only go further away from me. and to me, you’re lost today. i hope you find your way back to me. i will wait with open arms.

i love you.

22/2/20

love is as deep as a sea, i remember reading that in a book. and i didn’t fully realize the meaning till i met you.

everything has made sense since i’ve met you. and it’s true, love is like a sea, i keep discovering new things about it every day, i keep discovering all these habits of yours, i’ve started speaking in the way you do and even the members have noticed, they haven’t stopped teasing me since this afternoon, even right now, they’re hovering around me and trying to read this letter but don’t worry, i have it out of their view, this is only our little secret.

you came to the studio, you brought all of us food and drinks with that grin on your face that i love so much, the members immediately bounced to you and that is when i saw how perfectly fit in my life, from my view, you, and the members, are my family. and my family is so lovely.

what did i ever do in my life to have all of you in it?

okay jungkook’s getting nosy, let me stop here.

i love you.

16/4/21

so, it really is over.

i don’t have it in me to say it’s okay or it’s all right.

because it’s not.

i’ve never been a good liar, i couldn’t hide about how i felt about you then and i can’t do it now.

y/n, i’m exhausted, your face used to be the first thing i saw every day when i woke up and somehow, even on the worst days, that was enough for me to pull through because i could fall asleep next to it.

i can’t do that anymore, and even if it’s been a year, it’s just sinking in for me now.

but i’m dealing. i feel empty but i am not totally miserable. the members don’t say it but they miss you too, they keep looking at me sadly but they’re also cheering me up, don’t worry about them or me too much.

i’m sending you this because i couldn’t keep a promise even if i tried when we were together so i want to make up for it, i’m keeping this one promise, i hope it’s worth it.

sad to say this, but my pen did run out, this is a new pen, it’s a little gritty but it works, and i don’t know why i’m telling you this but the pen i started the letter with lasted just as long as we did, so now, i see that as our hourglass, i just wish it hadn’t run out so quickly. i hope i got to say i love you to you one last time before it ran out. it’s all useless now anyway.

but even if it hurts, even if i haven’t moved on, i’m happy.

i’m happy i got to know someone with a mind as beautiful as yours.

i’m happy i spent my days loving you. because loving you is bigger than any award i’ll hold.

i hope you look back at us with fondness and not regret.

and i hope you move on and someone else loves you, maybe love you better than i did because you deserve it, you deserve all the good in the world. i’m sorry i couldn’t give it to you.

but remember me, yeah?

i love you. i will always love you.

the end,

from your world-renowned-lyricist kim namjoon.

the letter has smudged ink near the end, from both his and your tears and you desperately re-read the letter again, like you were grasping to any pieces that were left of you two. it slightly crumbles from how tight your grip was on it.

and this isn’t the story in which you run after him to get back with him after you read this, you don’t go knocking on his door waiting for him to answer and then finally fall into his arms to end your pain and his.

no, this is the story in which you clutch the cream-colored paper to your heart and silently cry your eyes out because the worst realization of reaching the end of it was, both that it was the last words that you’ll ever hear from namjoon and also that no one would love you like he did.

he will remain as that one beautiful chapter in your story that you’ll go back to visit every now and then, only to cry at the ending.

and you feel a bitter gratefulness that you got to experience a part of your life with him so you don’t mind that it hurts, you’ll kiss this chapter a sweet goodbye.

but you have your own loose ends; you have your own feelings that need to be spilled. you feel like you will explode if you don’t close this chapter in your story. you might just never finish moving on to the next one if you don’t. you too, have a lot to say even if you two are over.

so, you grab a pen, hover over your desk with a faint dangling light above you, a small smile dances on your lips and you start writing to him,

a belated love letter.

i believe - k.nj.

genre: fluff, angst (10k)

summary: who would’ve known that the boy on the blue bicycle would change the way you view life and save you from yourself? (fools!universe)

warning: mentions of depression and anxiety.

masterlist       series masterlist

seoul.

this place that looked so bright and full of life, made you feel like the loneliest person in the world.

seoul.

a place where everyone seemed to know everyone and no one at the same time, this maze of a place is what you would call home for the next year and so.

being a transfer student was hard enough on its own, being an introverted art transfer student was even harder. all the friends who came with you had already found home in the people around them and in the places they chose to live in but you were stuck here, in this admittedly beautiful apartment, but even as beautiful as it was, you didn’t have anyone to fill the silence in the air around you.

your friends were good people though, they knew how hard it would be for you to adjust which is why they constantly spent time with you but you have urged them to not bother with that anymore, they’re in a new place with a treasure box full of memories and fun to unbox and you are no one to hold them back.

and loneliness isn’t an unfamiliar feeling, so you don’t feel too down about it.

but you do wish that you had someone to open your treasure box with, someone who sits beside you as you unpack the stories you would tell in the future, someone who would be the main character in your stories, the one who knows everything about you, someone who listens to the dreams you whisper into the night.

you had simple dreams.

your dream was to escape the cage you put yourself in.

and you’ll get there, your hope is flickering and exhausted but it exists, it urges you to breath everyday even if it’s hard, even if you want to run away and never talk to anyone again, your tiny light of hope that you’ll reach your dream, is what keeps you alive.

besides, seoul has too many pretty café’s, bakery’s, and skylines for you to give up here, you would rather give up in a place where everything is mundane and monotone, kind of like your home before you came here.

your hands lay limp beside you as you take a break from molding your sculpture, the clay drying on your hand feels uncomfortable, the night keeps getting colder as midnight strikes, and you feel tired in all aspects but that isn’t a valid excuse to the world, and it is especially a lousy excuse to your teacher who will grade this assignment in a few months from now.

you have just a few months to finish this intricate design of a woman falling down, you’re half-way done with her head but your mind doesn’t let you imagine what a descent would look like, a descent of a spectacular woman like the one you’ve made deserves to be show-stopping and you can’t come up with it.

what made you think that being an art major student would be a good idea?

you are clearly not cut out for it and the consolation and peace you used to feel every time your hands moved to create something is largely absent from your recent works, you feel like you can’t do anything right these days.

you are so cruel to yourself, even when the world is enough cruel to you, you press yourself to feel more pain, to hurt yourself a little more and you feel utterly useless in this large world filled with talented people.

art used to be your thing, it used to make you feel like a blooming flower during spring, it used to make you feel like you’re having the wildest party all in your head and it broke your heart into many more pieces when you didn’t feel that rush of emotions anymore.

you loudly sigh and check the time; it’s a little past midnight and you can only guarantee your safety if you start leaving now considering you want to take a ride to han river before you head home as well. you arrange your supplies in the right order and wave goodbye to the unfinished sculpture, grabbing your bicycle and then you’re gone in the wind.

the world doesn’t seem as cruel with breeze flying through your hair and your hands tightly wound on the bicycle you’ve rented for the time being, it was cheaper and you needed a way of transport in this expensive city, and you don’t like buses even if they’re more accessible, you prefer your lilac bike.

han river is one place that feels like home in this cold city, it’s the one place you will let yourself get lost in, you screech your cycle to a stop and step off the bike, there’s not a lot of people in sight, a few couples here and there, some people walking their dog and then your bench. well, it’s not your bench but whenever you’re here, it’s always empty and you just claimed it as yours but this time, it’s not.

you squint your eyes as you walk your bike to the bench, the usually empty bench seems to be occupied by a tall man, who doesn’t seem to notice anything around him, his cap is lowered just enough to cover his eyes and his stature is slightly slouched over, you only notice a notebook on his lap once you get close enough.

“is there anything i can help you with?” a gentle but deep voice breaks your train of thoughts and that is when you realize you’re staring at him, you panic and quickly bow in apology, palms already sweaty at having to come up with an excuse.

“i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to stare, this bench is usually empty which i was confused that’s all, enjoy your night” you bow again in apology, eyes squeezing shut, you want to run away and never come back, even your safe place has an embarrassing memory attached to it now.

“no no it’s okay” he lightly chuckles and you feel grateful to the kind stranger.

“if you want, there’s place for one more” he pats the empty space next to him and finally lifts his head, with his cap no longer getting in your way, you almost gasp at how handsome the man is, his eyes especially, you don’t think you’ve seen more beautiful eyes in your life.

“i don’t want to intrude, really it’s okay” you nervously say, hands squeezing the handles of your bike tighter.

“you’re not intruding, technically this is public property so you can do what you want.” he shrugs.

he’s not wrong. and his voice is awfully soothing to the ear so yeah, maybe you’ll take that seat.

you rest your bike against the tree beside it, noticing another bike resting against it and sheepishly sit down next to the man with the blue bike and comforting voice. you lean back with a sigh of relief, still a little stiff because you’re sitting next to a stranger but you don’t feel as uncomfortable as you usually do around new people.

you like that.

you like not freezing every time someone unfamiliar talks to you.

“my name’s kim namjoon, by the way” he lifts his hand with a huge smile and your eyes admire the deep dimples on his cheek, he looks friendly and awfully too nice.

too nice.

“y/n” your cheeks are already flushed and you manage to only whisper your name as you shake his hand, his hand feels warm and welcome.

“so, y/n, which university do you go to, assuming that you are still a student?” you’re surprised that he is trying to make conversation with you but you find yourself not minding it at all.

“still a student and this university” you lift your phone to show him the university on your phone and his eyes spark with recognition. it isn’t good to show strangers which university you go to but namjoon looks harmless, you just hope he’s as harmless as he seems.

“we go to the same university” he smiles at you and you bite your lip, you’ve never seen him around.

“do we? what do you major in?” you slip your phone into your pocket and look at him.

the moonlight looks especially stunning on him.

“it’s pretty boring, business and history” he sheepishly scratches the back of his head and you shake your head immediately.

“everything feels boring after a while, i’m sure you’ll find something special in those subjects too” you wish you could say the same to yourself but you’re not sure if your love for art will ever be reborn again. you don’t notice namjoon’s fond eyes looking at you as you worry about yourself.

“what course do you take?”

“art” you answer shyly.

“that’s so cool” and usually, whenever you tell people that you’re an art major, you see a constant wariness in their eyes, judging you, judging your future and they proceed to ask questions about how you’ll build yourself from scratch. questions like that scared you.

namjoon doesn’t say anything but a simple compliment, simple but sincere and that’s really all you need. you smile at him, sincerely for the first time in months.

“you come here often?” it keeps surprising you that he continues the conversation but you’re grateful that he does, you have no way to continue it yourself.

“not a lot of other places to go to when you’re a broke college student.” namjoon chuckles at your dull tone and you find that you like that, you like making him laugh like he is right now.

“you’re right, seoul is as expensive as it can get.” his tone is whiny and…cute? everything about namjoon is cute as far as you can tell.

“tell me about it, can’t buy a decent cup of coffee without having to sell my kidney.” he laughs once again and at the sound of his laughter, a familiar bloom of happiness starts slowly in your body too. and you grin at him.

“well i bear good news for you, dear broke college student, i happen to be the owner of a bakery near the campus, it’s called ‘joonie,’ don’t question the name please, and you’re welcome anytime, i promise to give a hefty discount.” his voice is teasing and filled with playfulness which makes you giggle, his eyes widen at your loud giggle, before they disappear because of his huge smile.

“not for free?” you decide to tease him back and he throws a glare at you, though a smile stays dancing on his lips.

“i will be the broke college student then” you laugh breathlessly into the chilly night and you feel free. you don’t feel your cage around you, even if it was just for that moment or two.

and you know that’s it all because of the man with the blue bike sitting right next to you.

maybe, just maybe, seoul isn’t as lonely of a place as you thought it would be.

-

that night, you fell asleep with a warm feeling trapped in your body, namjoon insisted to walk you, and even with all the sirens of stranger danger, you let him, it was a lovely walk, you made each other laugh as the night grew colder and right at your door, he gave you a smile you would remember forever, that’s how special it felt to you.

now, that you’re alone again, you don’t feel as warm and fuzzy anymore, you are cold as ice like any other day.

you don’t know why you are, the way you are but you are. you exist, fading in and out of reality, but you exist. and you have responsibilities, you have teachers back home to make proud, you have a family waiting for your calls, you have assignments to finish, you have a life that you can’t just resign from.

your hands drip with wet clay as you focus on finishing the head of your falling lady, you feel your approaching sadness over the emotions you miss, your hands carefully press and smooth on her face, you don’t want to mess her up and you need your scholarship if you want to stay or continue in seoul. but you still feel hollow, devoid of the capability to feel anything.

you lean back on the uncomfortable wooden stool which digs into your skin from time to time, you can’t even reach for your phone with how messy your hands are and you groan, desperately trying to get your head back into it.

“can’t focus?” you hear the same, deep voice and you immediately snap your head at the entrance of the studio room to see namjoon leaning on the doorframe, he had a nervous smile on his face with slightly widened eyes and you immediately felt bashful under his careful gaze.

“it’s nothing new” you say honestly and he hums, walking into the room and sitting on the other side of your table.

“i hope you don’t think is creepy, you told me you were in the art department and i was going to head home, but the light was turned on here so i assumed there would be a chance of you being here, and i just wanted to check, i swear it sounds creepy but it’s n-“ you cut his nervous rambling with a small chuckle, waving your hand to dismiss his worries.

“it’s alright, really” you reassure him and he sighs in relief.

“i’m not here to distract you though, you can keep working, i’ll leave.” he gives you a smile and gets ready to leave but you don’t want him to go.

“no, stay.” you say and immediately feel a blush creep over your face when he shrugs happily and sits back down.

“i could use a distraction right now, is what i meant” you try to cover you but you know that namjoon doesn’t buy that excuse, he just nods with a playful roll of his eyes.

“in that case, can i take you somewhere?” and you don’t say no.

-

in namjoon’s poorly lit bakery, which apparently runs 24/7, you feel good sitting opposite to him and you don’t mind the open environment because there’s barely anyone here.

“you were doing a sculpture when i came in, right?” you nod, fingers curling around the coffee cup in front of you.

“the idea is to make it a falling woman.”

“i can’t imagine that being easy.” namjoon tilts his head with a small frown.

“you’re right, it’s not. which is why i’m struggling with it” you smile tightly, your mind once again invading you with your inability to finish it.

“it’s not easy but i’m sure you can do it.” he reassures you and as much as you want to believe it, you don’t have it in you.

“right” you mumble with a strained smile and namjoon picks up on your sour mood.

“it’s hard to focus sometimes, burnouts are very natural especially if it’s a creative process like yours, so take it easy, work as hard as you can when you’re motivated, and take breaks when you don’t feel motivated” you just stare at him with your mouth agape, because no one’s tried to comfort you like this and you don’t even know namjoon all that well.

“thank you, like seriously thank you” you are grateful to him, his words did give you a small push, to continue your assignment.

“you don’t have to thank me, just be sure to show me when you’re done with it, yeah?” he smiles at you and you nod happily, you decide right then that he’ll be the first person you show because you really don’t know anyone else in this city.

“enough about me, tell me about you.”

“i like writing songs.” you widen your eyes in excitement and urge him to continue, at your enthusiastic reaction, he lets out a little laugh and rubs the back of his neck.

“me and my friends, we recently rented a studio, the goal is to be a producing group together, we’re pretty solid” he explains and your respect and admiration for him grows ten-fold.

you want to ask him to listen to one of his works but you’re not sure if you’re there yet.

“one day, maybe if we keep meeting like this, you can listen to something by me.”  he suggests and you’re delighted that he says it himself.

“one day” you smile gleefully at him and he smiles right back.

you may not like seoul just yet, but you like namjoon.

you like namjoon a lot.

-

you don’t stop meeting namjoon, whether it be at your art studio when he visits you late at night, and it feels so delicate with no one else but you two. or whether you meeting him during his shift in the library and then walking to the bakery and staying there till it gets too late.

you enjoy his company; you enjoy making him laugh and knowing more about him.

and you only hope that he enjoys it just as much as you do.

you really, really hope that he does.

“you look cute when you concentrate” you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice as your hands smooth over your woman’s cheeks, your movements pause on the sculpture, looking at him with widened eyes and he simply grins at you, you snap your head back and start running your hands on her face, ignoring the butterflies in your chest.

“oh right, the other day, you asked me when i would let you listen to my music?” you immediately abandon your sculpture to lean towards him with an eager smile on your face and namjoon chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

one thing that you both constantly talked about was his music, since you got to know about it, your curiosity was endless, and namjoon was more than happy to feed your thoughts, telling you everything from his inspiration to write lyrics to where he gets his equipment and why he writes the lyrics he does.

“well, today’s the day if you want to go” you don’t even answer him, shuffling out of your seat and putting your sculpture, and namjoon watches with amusement as you hurriedly arrange everything and run around to finish as quickly as you can.

“let’s go” you gasp breathlessly as you come back to him while stuffing your arms into your cardigan and namjoon gestures you to calm down with the same amused smile.

“i’m calm, now take me” you whine as you grab his hand, dragging him out of your studio.

-

you both are giggling all the way up to his studio, namjoon either tickling you whenever you talk too much or you mess up his hair by pulling his hoodie on his head over and over again, you’re nothing but all smiles as you reach the room. the lights are already on and you hear light noise coming from the inside, namjoon looks over at you and then places his hand on the door.

“i guess, you’re also meeting my friends today” he smiles at you and you freeze, and just as you’re about to grab his hand and run back to your studio, he pushes the door open and pulls you in with him.

you are met with three pairs of unfamiliar eyes who immediately look up at the intrusive sound and the new person in the room. you instinctively move behind namjoon a little, but then he’s tutting at you and pulling you gently in front of him, all while the four pair of eyes never leave your intertwined fingers.

your feet stop moving as you only look at the ground, letting namjoon start the conversation.

“everyone, meet y/n, she’s my…friend” he breathes out and you don’t lift your head, just nodding in acknowledgement. you hear people shuffle around before a hand comes into your vision, you look up to see a man with a bright smile on his face.

“name’s hoseok, nice to meet you” you slowly shake his hand as he keeps smiling at you, you feel yourself smile back at him involuntarily. someone pushes hoseok out of the way and even as he turns to curse at them, another hand extends itself towards you.

“hello, i’m taehyung” he doesn’t wait for you to take his hand but eagerly reaches for it and shakes it roughly, making you giggle at his frantic actions, and then one more hand takes his place.

“yoongi, good to meet you” he offers you a small smile and you smile back at him.

“this isn’t everyone by the way, just the half” and you’re glad because your social battery isn’t charged for more people.

“now, i came here to show y/n something so, everyone out” namjoon points to the door with his thumb and everyone except you starts whining and complaining but they do start to gather their things, hoseok leaves first but not without telling you that you should hang out one day and yoongi does the same, taehyung pauses at the door before turning with a smirk.

“you’re kicking us to kiss y/n, right?” he teases and you choke on your own breath, namjoon also blushes and looks away before pushing the boy out.

“sorry about that” he scratches the back of his neck and you wave your hand to dismiss his worries, shyly pushing your hair back.

“okay, let’s do this” he claps his hands, sitting in front of a large monitor, you sit right beside him, leaning over to see him clicking over many files to find the song he wanted to play for you.

he looks at you with a nervous smile and you nudge him to press play already and when he does, you don’t think about anything but the sound that surrounds you.

it’s an alternating beat, flowing between a softer to a harsher beat, the lyrics and namjoon’s voice engulfing you, telling you story about an ending, a bye which isn’t pleasent, and it makes you tear up, because the feeling that you missed with your art slowly spreads in your chest, covering inches of you in miniscule crawls but just the return of those feelings makes you want to break down on the floor in happiness.

you listen with awe written all over your face and namjoon doesn’t disturb you, doesn’t ask you how it is, just lets you feel his words in peace.

at the end of the song, he doesn’t even ask you if you like the song or not, he simply smiles at your teary eyes and wipes a few tears that stopped on the apples of your cheeks.

“sometimes, i’m afraid” he quietly says, the music long fading into background and now, it’s only him that matters.

“afraid of what?”

“that i won’t go somewhere with this” he gestures to the equipment and lyric sheets messily thrown on the desk, the tension is heavy in the room with namjoon’s dull mood, and you take his hand in yours.

“you made me feel something that i never thought i would feel again, i was so scared that i lost the part of me that could feel but that one song revived me, and if that happened with me, i’m sure your music will resonate to a lot of others too, and you don’t have to go somewhere with this, you’re already there as long as you love what you’re doing.”  you tell the words you wished someone would say to you, because namjoon, out of anyone else you knew, deserved to hear those words.

he’s grateful for your words as he takes your hand in his and presses a gentle kiss on it. your smile is wider than it’s ever been and you know that it’s only because of him. and with that kiss, you also know that it’s not just you who is falling.

“thank you” he mutters, cupping your hands gently in his.

“you can thank me by playing more songs” you cheekily say and namjoon lifts his hands in surrender with a low chuckle, already looking for more songs to play for you, but now, it’s less about showing you his work and more about seeing that look on your face as you completely get lost in the song.

that’s how you spend the night, you end up in full blown tears at some point, and namjoon laughs as he keeps wiping them with his sweater and you don’t want the night to end, you don’t want to stop crying around namjoon because you get too into your feels about the song, you don’t him to stop wiping your tears away because it’s him, and any moment with him, laughter or sobs, feels right.

how are you ever supposed to tell him that you have to leave?

-

you stir lightly in your slumber, being unable to stretch as much as you want to and with an annoyed groan, you open your eyes to meet..a chest?

yeah, that’s someone’s chest, you’re very sure it is.

you snap your head up even in your half sleepy state to see namjoon still blissfully in dream land.

then you look at your surroundings, you never left the studio last night and right now, you’re all cuddled up to namjoon and the warmth around you two is a good change from the weather outside.

you don’t mind this, you don’t mind this at all.

you lazily smile before snuggling closer and trying to fall asleep again, but then you hear noises, voices to be more exact and it’s coming from right outside the door, you internally panic but don’t have the energy to try and move.

you hear the creak of the door opening, and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that whoever it is, just goes away and leaves you until you can run out. the voices immediately pause, and you know that they’re looking at you.

“no way” someone chuckles in disbelief and if you remember right, the voice belongs to taehyung. you feel namjoon move in his sleep and expect him to get up abruptly to explain to his friends whatever this was. but just like you, he doesn’t move.

“what are you doing here so early?” he groans, cradling your face deeper into his chest and you feel a rosy blush erupting in your cheeks at his low voice and the new closer proximity.

“it’s saturday, namjoon” hoseok answers.

“i get that but can you leave till she gets up and goes back? i don’t want her to be uncomfortable when she wakes up.” your heart warms at how considerate he is of you and stifle your laugh when they playfully complain to namjoon, loud enough to whine but low enough to not disturb you, they still think you’re asleep.

“the things we do for young love” yoongi dramatically mutters.

“you better buy us a round of drinks later, hyung” you hear taehyung complain but you also hear a smile in his complaint, like he actually doesn’t mind at all.

“yeah yeah, now get out.”

“so bossy” hoseok mutters one last time before the door closes and you deeply exhale in relief.

“you can open your eyes now, they’re gone” namjoon brushes your hair away from your face and you squirm in his arms, darting your eyes up as you look at him, you feel totally in bliss in his arms with sunlight shining on you two.

am i suffocating you?

do i make you happy like you make me?

am i hurting you, because i’ve done that before?

how will i leave you behind?

like a response to all your questions, namjoon places a soft kiss on your forehead before his lips trail all across your face, delicately drawing patterns on your face and then his lips pause at yours.

but you don’t back away like you expected yourself to and he doesn’t either, only holds you tighter.

-

the smile on your face doesn’t budge as you finish your falling lady’s head, it’s finally done, and you’re honestly in love with her, you’re in love with everything about her face, from her eyelashes that are startled open, lips slightly parted, eyebrows raised in an elegant way and her face contorted in a peaceful shock. even when falling, she’s supposed to be the most graceful woman. and she looks like it too.

you feel at peace, not as jittery as you used to be, you still get the occasional sinking feeling of fear and disappointment but you don’t let it take over you like it used to.

even your hands covered with clay don’t feel uncomfortable, they don’t feel suffocating, they feel freeing, you’re slowly re-discovering love, both for art and in people. and you know why you feel better than you have in years.

the door to the art studio swings open and you barely recognize namjoon who stumbles in through.

you also understand why love is addictive.

“do you need help with that?” you get up from your stool when you see namjoon carrying a huge stack of books in his arms. you hear a groan in reply and stifle a laugh as you wipe your hands on your apron and take half the stack from him, placing them on your desk with a huff.

“why are you carrying these around?” you ask as he sits down opposite to you.

“new books, i need to write their titles down in this register” he lifts a large, rectangular book from the desk with a look of dread on his face.

“you couldn’t do that in the library? carrying all of these books back will be exhausting.”

“i just wanted to spend time with you” he nervously chuckles and you feel your cheeks warm up.

“then you did a good thing” you smile at him and both of you work silently, you continue to start the body of your lady and namjoon scribbles through many of those books.

you know you have to tell him, that your time here, that your time with him is limited and you know he deserves to know before both of you get too deep into this to get out.

“joon, there’s something you need to know” you stop drawing your pieces and he stops writing as well, putting his pen down to give you his undivided attention.

“i’m listening.” as confident as he sounds, you know that he’s nervous, it’s written all over his face.

“you know that i’m a transfer student, right?”

“right, and your course lasts for 2-3 years?” he looks so hopeful, you want to take back every word you’ve said so far and just let him believe that.

but you can’t do that anymore.

“no, it doesn’t” you look away from him and he frowns.

“does it last for longer then?” you hate this. you really hate this.

“i’m staying here only for a couple more months, like 4-5 now.” you purse your lips and stay silent as you wait for his reaction, he doesn’t say anything either, his frown gets deeper and you almost feel like you’re betraying him. which you are.

“i’m sorry, i just need a minute” he gets up from his seat and your eyes nervously follow his movement.

“of course, take your time” you mumble as he exits the art studio and you feel your heart sinking as soon as the door shuts close and you’re all alone again.

the motivation you had when you first started the night of sculpting, left your body as soon as the sound of the door clicking shut filled the air, your shoulders slump and your hands lay limp by your side, and before you know it, tears slide down your cheeks as you purse your lips.

you had just stopped getting used to being lonely but now that the feeling comes rushing back to you, you hate it.

-

you don’t hear from namjoon for the next two days and you’re left tossing right and left in your bed and trying to ignore the tears that stain your pillows.

you should’ve told him sooner, you should’ve let him know that even if you had time, it wouldn’t be much, but maybe he thought it was better to leave you while he could.

it’s not like it hurt any less for you though, because you really did like namjoon, you might even love him if you could convince yourself that you were capable of love, you have never felt the way with anyone else but namjoon, that feeling of just teetering over the edge before you completely get lost in him.

every time your phone buzzes, your heart leaps in your throat and you hurriedly grab it but it’s never him.

you lazily structure the body of your sculpture, messing up frequently and with each mistake, you feel more annoyed, not only with yourself, but with the world, for filling your life with warmth only to leave it chilling cold like it always has been.

and one more mistake later, you throw the arm of your lady on the ground, frowning at it with a groan escaping your throat.

you’re not handling this well.

then you remember namjoon’s words, take breaks when you aren’t motivated and give it your all when you are. you feel anything but motivated so you decide to take a ride down han river for an hour and come back to your sculpture.

you warily eye the door to your art studio, you won’t tell anyone but you’ve been secretly hoping for a certain someone to burst through the door clumsily with fumbling steps and words, and you’re left dejected every time it turns out to be anyone but him.

your lilac bike is the only thing in the world that shows you mercy, the only thing that gives you the freedom to let go and you’re grateful that you chose it and not some stuffy train or bus.

you hastily throw your bike to rest on the tree adjacent to your bench and soak in the cold wind that surrounds you, no one but a few people with pets pass in front of you and even with the grey skies showing signs of a heavy rain, and the wind that chills your bones, you have never felt more at peace in these past two days than right now.

maybe you should just start getting used to being lonely again.

it’s not that bad, at least not on this bench and bike you’ve grown so fond of.

“as much as i love seeing you here, i was trying to ignore you” you hear from behind you and you don’t turn around, you know that it’s namjoon, and you’re not sure if he’s being as serious as he sounds.

“i can leave” you mumble, getting up from the bench.

“no, stay.” he appears in front of you and sits you back down before settling beside you.

“it was stupid of me to think that i could forget you simply by ignoring you, especially when i don’t want to forget.” he doesn’t sound like he’s talking to you, more talking to himself but you still listen, with your heart caught in your throat and your palms unusually sweaty even in this cold weather.

“what are you trying to say?” you sound annoyed and you are slightly, because he keeps mumbling to himself and you don’t want to get your hopes high just for him to leave you on this bench.

“i’m saying that, i don’t care if our time is limited”.

there it is, hope.

with soaring hope in your chest and eyes, you finally look at him for the first time since he’s come here.

“i don’t care because we’ll just make the most out of our time, i want to know all of you before you leave me, it’s dangerous to say that i don’t care even if it hurts, but i don’t have it in me to be scared of that right now, i’m only scared of losing you while you’re still here.” you are at a loss of words as namjoon spills his feelings on you, and the hope that soared through your chest reaches the sky when you process what he says.

but how hurt will you be at the end?

you’ve been hurt before; you can handle it. at least you think you can.

because how could you ever say no to namjoon when he’s offering you a key to the treasure of memories you’ve always wanted to open?

“now, i understand why you write songs” is the only thing you can say with your choked up voice and teary eyes, and namjoon, like always, is there to wipe your tears away.

“i’ll keep writing if you listen to them, wherever you are.”

-

with each day that you spend with namjoon, it gets harder to part ways at the end, whether it be right at the front of your door or at the studio, saying goodbye, even for a few hours, felt painful and it was evident that namjoon felt the same way too.

the grip on your hand tightens as leaves fall around you two, you’re back near han river and namjoon is busy writing lyrics in front of you while you sketch away anything that comes to your mind. you don’t feel as frantic about your sculpture now that you’ve finished the outline of her body, you’re going somewhere with it and you couldn’t be happier.

“what do you think of this?” one thing you love about sitting by namjoon as he writes his lyrics, is how he constantly reaches out to you for your opinion, you feel very special that your opinion matters to him.

you take the notebook from his hands and glance over the lyrics, it’s just as tear-jerking but eye-opening as all of his songs are, you hand it back to him with a grin on your face and that’s how he knows that you love it.

“i wanted to ask you this, how did you feel when i didn’t talk to you for those few days?” the question is sudden but you’re not caught off guard, you knew it was only a matter of time before it would come up.

“lonely, just lonely.” was your honest answer.

“how did being lonely feel?” he asks as he continues scribbling on his notebook.

“familiar but not that bad” you know that your answer is straight forward enough to jerk namjoon’s scribbles to a pause. he looks guilty as he raises his head to you and you are taken aback when he takes your hand in his and rubs circles on the back of it.

“now that i’m here, you never have to get used to or settle for ‘not that bad’, okay?”

“okay.” you smile at him and he smiles back, you feel content, happy even that you could find someone here, that you found namjoon here.

-

as weeks go by, both you and namjoon get busier, him with a deadline for a demo and you with your sculpture, it’s only a matter of two months before you have to send it for evaluation and even as you are finishing your sculpture, your heart is beating a million times faster, both out of excitement and fear.

your lady looks like every bit of the royalty that she is, at least so far, the cloth that drapes along her body and flies in the air, looks delicate, soft to touch, easy to break, and you couldn’t be prouder about it.

you hear your phone ring and a large smile takes over your face when you see who’s calling.

“hey, i missed you” namjoon can hear the pout in your voice as you speak and he internally coos.

“you don’t have to anymore, i’m outside your studio, i was hoping to take you somewhere since we haven’t seen each other for a few days now.”

“you’re outside?” you glance out the window to see namjoon waiting in a car, he waves his hand when he catches you looking.

you look like crap right now.

“okay, give me a minute or five..” you trail off and cut the call before he can object.

you run from your studio to the washroom with your makeup bag, frantically powdering your oily face and touching up your faded lipstick, you swiped your hands across your hair and pray internally that it won’t poof up. and once you look half-decent, you pat your cheeks roughly and run back to the studio, shoving your makeup bag into a desk and grabbing your usual bag before running out the door.

“are you okay? you look a little out of breath” he asks as you slide into the car, while desperately trying to catch your breath, you hurriedly nod, pulling your seatbelt on.

“okay” he laughs and starts the car.

a calm conversation flows between you two as namjoon drives you to whatever mystery place he wants to take you and you couldn’t feel more at peace with your windows down, making your hair the mess you were afraid it would be but you didn’t care, with namjoon right next to you, nothing else seemed to matter and it didn’t, no one has mattered to you the way namjoon has.

the sun has almost set and you excitedly take pictures of the ever-changing colors of the sky and show them to namjoon who marvels over them with you.

you could get used to this.

you could totally get used to this.

namjoon stops his car right at a small lake, with trees all around you and you can’t hear the loud city or traffic anymore at all, it’s just you, him, rippling water and fresh air. you shiver as you get down the car with namjoon, tugging your jacket closer.

“normally, it would be ideal if it was summer right now but we can’t wait for that” namjoon tells you as he pushes his jacket off his body and you widen your eyes at him.

“you’re crazy, don’t tell me that we’re getting close to that” you point to the lake with quivering lips and namjoon shrugs, removing his boots and wincing at the cold ground.

“this is a bad idea; we will be sick for days.” you shake your head, refusing to let go of your jacket and namjoon laughs at your worried face as he pushes his jeans up.

“and after that, we will be fine. so, shall we?” namjoon reasons and extends his hand towards you, and all your worries about being sick, about probably catching a nasty cold for weeks that could hinder your work, fly away. you sigh in defeat and unwillingly push your jacket away, already cursing everything out and namjoon is having the time of his life, watching you struggle.

“don’t you think taking our clothes off would be better? we will just have wet clothes at the end of this” you grumble as you take your shoes off.

“if you want to take your clothes off, i don’t mind” comes namjoon’s cheeky reply and you pick your jacket from the hood of his car and throw it on his grinning face.

“you know that i didn’t mean it like that” you flush red, both because of the weather and other reasons that namjoon is very aware of.

“of course, come on now, it’s worse just standing here.” and before you fully prepare yourself, namjoon pulls you with him to the edge of the lake, dipping his toe in and shivering, encouraging you to do the same but you know that if you did that, you will be running back to the car.

so, with a smirk, you take your hand from namjoon and push him in, giggling when he screams and the splashing water lands around you, he comes back up, completely drenched as you double over in laughter, he shakes his head at you, ruffling his hair out and before you realize, he’s at the shore, leaning against it with his arms crossed and watching you with a small smile.

“are you going to leave me alone here?” he pouts at you.

“maybe” you tease him and then he’s jumping out of the water, coming towards you with a determined look on his face and you struggle to keep your eyes on his face because his clothes are literally transparent right now. and before you know it, you’re pushed into the water followed closely by namjoon who jumps in next to you.

you gasp for air as you come up, the cold water freezing your nerves but you’re laughing, you’re laughing out of the pure joy and adrenaline that flows through you and namjoon’s laughing with you.

and you don’t think you have been this happy in your life, in your whole entire life, being frozen to your bones is the happiest moment. you start to splash water on namjoon who retaliates by scooping up water and throwing it right on your face.

just when you’re about to start kicking water on him, his arms wrap around you, forehead pressing against yours with a sigh and you stop moving.

“i don’t want to leave this place.” he whispers to you, even with the cold weather, his breath is hot and his body heat is warming you slowly.

in this cold world, both figuratively and physically, namjoon made you feel like the warmest sunlight.

i don’t want to leave you, are the words right at the tip of your tongue.

“we’ll die if we don’t get out soon” you joke instead and namjoon laughs, pulling away to cup your face in his hands, fingers smoothing over your face and your eyes flutter close at the gentle action.

“is there really no way i can make you stay?” you want to cry at how sincere and desperate he sounds.

“no, but you can make my stay worthwhile like you are doing right now” your answer is honest but you’re just as desperate as he is, you don’t want to go home where you have nothing but a monotonous, color-less life but you have no choice.

how can you say goodbye to this face that made the cruel world warmer in every sense?

as a tear escapes your eye, namjoon doesn’t wipe it away like he usually does, he curls his fingers around your cheek and pulls you closer until you can feel all of him, and this time, he kisses your tears away, slowly, like he has all the time in the world and your hands curl around his arms, gripping him like he will go away if you don’t hold him tight enough all while the water flows steadily around you.

he pulls away with a grin and you smile back almost instantly.

namjoon has always thought that people were more capable of hurting than loving but looking at you, shining under the stars and smiling at him like he’s the only person in the world, he believes people are just as capable of loving as they are of hurting.

“i have wanted to do that for so long now” he mutters.

“why didn’t you?”

“it didn’t feel right until now.”

“was it okay..for you?” he asks with pursed lips and you giggle at his nervous expression.

“i don’t think i’ve felt more alive in my whole life.” he beams at your answer, patting your head making you giggle again.

“well, we can just keep doing that then” he exclaims cheerfully and you cheer with him, already reaching for his face.

and again, it’s just you, him and the flowing water that freezes your bones.

with namjoon, seoul doesn’t feel lonely.

not at all.

-

you are the most dressed up you’ve ever been since you’ve come to seoul, with a simple fitting black dress, minimal jewelry and strappy heels, you feel confident standing next to your falling lady which lays vertically on the ground.

you are finally done with her, all of her, her elegant face, her sheer clothes that fly in the air as she falls, her hands grabbing onto open air, she looks desperate to be saved but she looks beautiful even on the ground.

and you’re proud, for the first time in ages, you feel like you have created something that can truly convey what you feel.

bliss, is the only thing you feel even with your sculpture that’s done and ready to present to your teachers and other enthusiasts, but your attention is divided as you keep checking the door to see if namjoon will bust in because you really want him the first person to see it.

“here, joon, here!” you wave your hand frantically in the full studio to try and catch namjoon’s attention who just enters through the door, he locates you in the room and quickly makes his way over to you.

the first thing he does is give you a warm hug and pushes a bouquet of delicate flowers into your hands, grinning proudly at you, he looks so proud and he hasn’t even seen the sculpture.

“you ready?” you call out excitedly, circling around your sculpture which lays under a thin blanket. namjoon shifts on his feet with a huge smile on his face.

“just remember, me showing you this is like you playing your music for me” you inform him.

“i know i will love it either way” he shrugs and you pause from lifting the cloth, narrowing your eyes at him.

“how are you so sure?”

“it’s something you poured your heart into, so i will love it” he answers sincerely and you feel flustered with his compliment, you cough awkwardly and lift the cloth off your lady.

for a few seconds, namjoon doesn’t say anything or change his expression, he circles your lady silently with observant eyes and you shift on your feet, your lips feel dry and you feel nervous all over, because his opinion matters most to you in this city, maybe even in this world.

“it’s you” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear.

“what do you mean?”

“you made yourself” he concludes and you blink at him, not knowing what to say.

“she’s beautiful even when she’s falling, even when she’s alone” he starts walking while he talks and stops right in front of you.

“just like you, you’re beautiful, however you are, you are the most beautiful.” you swallow the knot in your throat, no one has ever called you beautiful the way namjoon has.

“i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything, that’s alright” he lets out a breathy chuckle at your red cheeks.

“you know you don’t have to flatter me, i already like you” you tease and he shrugs.

“doesn’t hurt to get you to like me even more, right?” he winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes.

“but as much as i love you, that wasn’t my attempt to flatter you at all, you are just that good of an artist, and you are also the muse for my lyrics these days” he shyly admits the last part and you feel everything you have wanted to feel since day one of entering seoul.

namjoon truly did open your treasure of memories, and god, it will be so hard to leave him behind.

and he understood what you felt when you created her, you felt just as desperate, just as helpless as she did when you created her but you have handled it with as much grace as you could, namjoon was probably the only person who saw that.

“she is you, and i love her, like i love you.”

-

your presentation goes swimmingly, your teacher loved it, she took many pictures of it to show your potential to her superiors so they can extend your scholarship, and she did mention that the sculpture will be presented in a main art event. so that was definitely a win for you. your intrusive thoughts bother you from time to time, but they don’t hurt you as much as they used to, you don’t know if you have gotten stronger or your thoughts have gotten weaker, but you know that you’re better than you were just a few months ago.

your scholarship did not get extended, you expected that. your piece was good but some were just better, you didn’t beat yourself up like you thought you would, namjoon didn’t let you anyway.

speaking of namjoon, he’s all you have thought of now that your presentation is over, because he’s literally with you every day, putting aside his work to try and spend the last, few days with you, properly.

you’re currently sitting on the hood of his car, on top of a mountain that overlooks the city, he is stood in between your legs, feeding ice cream and listening intently to you as you keep rambling about how trust is so fickle.

“the thing is, if we’re wary of someone or a habit of theirs, it’s very easy to lose trust the second they mess up even the slightest, even if it isn’t fair to them, i just think that’s how people are.”

“you’re right, trust is very rare, you can’t say you trust someone easily, because trust is built on not time, not the relationship, but the people involved” he pauses to feed you and continues.

“i will always trust you though” you cheekily interrupt and he laughs.

“and i will always trust you.” he concludes and feeds you one last spoon while you smile gleefully at him. but then he sighs, stepping back from you and shaking his head lightly and you frown at his dejected stance.

“what is it, joon?”

“our time is almost up” he says with a sad smile and your heart tightens in your chest at his words, you know that your time is almost up, you’ve been trying to ignore that fact for so long now but you only have a day or so left with namjoon.

“before i leave” you scoot closer to him, breath stuttering at the close proximity you share with him as he eagerly waits for you to speak.

“i want you to take all of me” you have never felt as vulnerable as you do, whispering those words to namjoon under the moonlight that shines over you.

“you sure about that?” even with his eyes blown and throat closing around nothing, namjoon needs your permission to claim you.

“never been more sure about anything else in my life” you give him the permission he wants and who is he to say no to you?

-

waking up next to namjoon, in his room, wearing his t-shirt is something you wish you could do every single day but you’re out of time, you have been for a while.

“i don’t want you to leave” is the first thing namjoon says to you in the morning.

“i don’t want to leave you” is your answer, you’re no longer hesitant to say it. he gazes at you with such intensity because he really can’t believe he has to lose you just when he’s had all of you.

“how can i ever say goodbye to you?” he pulls you into him, burying his face into your neck and his sheets shift around you, it takes everything in you to not cling onto him for eternity.

“it’s okay, we had time” you mumble helplessly once you pull away from him.

“not a lot but we had time” you reassure him and this time, he’s the one who gets teary eyed. you feel your heart break at the way his face reddens as he keeps himself from crying.

“we’ll be okay” you whisper, wiping his tears as they escape his eyes, and hug him again, letting him cry into your shoulder, you feel your own sobs caught in your throat as namjoon cries on you.

“i’m sorry it had to be this way. i’m sorry i can’t stay.” you apologize with tears finally escaping your eyes and neither of you have the energy to wipe each other’s tears anymore, you only can cry and hope that time will be kind enough to stretch itself to keep you two together.

“i’m sorry i can’t come with you” comes his own apology.

“thank you for loving me, all of me” as he says that you break down in sobs because how will you ever find someone who loves you, truly loves you? you learned love with namjoon, you’re also learning goodbyes with him, but love was so easy, why were goodbyes so hard?

“thank you for being letting me be your muse.” you brush his cheeks with your fingers, trying to remember every feature of his before you have to let go. and he does the same, with sleepy but cautious eyes, he traces all of your features over and over again, like he’s forcing his body to keep you in his mind forever.

“is this really goodbye?” he asks one last time even if he knows the answer.

“i wish it wasn’t.”

-

it’s been six months since you left.

namjoon feels empty as he arranges the cups in his bakery, he sighs too often for it to be normal because every time he moves, his body reminds him of you, everything about you is etched onto every inch of him and he doesn’t think he will ever move on.

he still circles around the art studio from time to time, pathetically hoping to catch a glance of you working hard on your sculpture, looking up at him with a smile and then crashing into him to become one. he still visits han river just to recall every memory you’ve ever shared.

but he can’t bring himself to go to the lake, the lake where he kissed you like he’s always wanted to, he can’t go there knowing you will not be going with him.

he misses you. every nerve in him screams for you. his friends have been trying to get him to move on but namjoon doesn’t want to move on.

“welc-“ namjoon starts his formal greeting when he hears the door creak open, only for his mouth to hang open when he sees who is at the entrance, he races from behind the counter to rush to the entrance with wide eyes and confused but overjoyed grin.

“it’s actually you, oh my god” he whispers breathlessly as he reaches to touch your cheek and you smile tearfully at him. every night of hoping that you will be back in his arms feels worthwhile when you wrap yourself around him with a happy sigh. he caresses your hair, still not fully registering that you’re actually with him right now.

“so, what happened wa-“ you begin to explain why you’re back in the lively city of seoul and namjoon gently shushes you.

“doesn’t matter, you’re here, that’s all i care about” and with that, you melt yourself back into him, your fingers tracing patterns on his sweater, you missed him so much.

“we need to go to the lake again, i miss freezing with you” he jokes lightly but you know the desperation behind his words, he must have been waiting so long to take you.

“i am ready to freeze my bones with you again” you giggle and he pats your head with a fond smile.

“how long will you stay this time?” namjoon asks, and you notice fear in his voice, you lean back to give him your biggest smile yet. he has nothing to be scared of anymore and you don’t either.

“forever.”

"i believe" is one of the best fics i have read. I love rereading it! 🍃

omg :(( thank you so much for loving "i believe" its a very special fic to me and im so so glad you enjoyed reading it <3

 kim namjoon fic rec list (Ⅰ)

here’s a list of my ultimate favourite namjoon fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed ♡

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

prohibido by @personasintro f s a (brother’s best friend au)

more than anything else by @seokkgenie f s a (CEO au)

nothing like us by @jiminimoon s a (ex boyfriend namjoon) ft. fuck boy jungkook

spilling coffee by @bts-roses f a (idol au intern reader)

promise by @joheun-saram f s a (college au roommate au enemies to friends to lovers au)

to make a power couple by @joheunsaram f s a (idol au ceo reader)

daisies and dinosaurs by @dark-muse-iris f s a (single father au)

intro: her by @jamaisjoons f s a (single dad au strangers to friends to lovers au)

out of my league by @ppersonna f s a (office au)

promises by @jeonsweetheart f s a (marriage au infidelity au idol au)

the father, the son and the holy whore by @yoon2k s (dilf namjoon infidelity au)

partners by @btssmutgalore s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)

dimples by @sweetmisery f s (idol au friends with benefits friends to lovers au)

sincerely, but no longer yours by @ttttaehyungie s a (exes au)

lavender honey by @oftenderweapons f s a (chaebol au friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers au)

love bytes by @stutterfly f s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)

bass and strings by @jimlingss f (slow burn au slice of life college au music au)

letting go by @bangtan-babe f a (doctor au) ft. Jimin

one-shot

july kiss by @personasintro f s (dilf namjoon idiots to lovers au)

fool for you by @cutechim s a (rebound au hospital au unrequited love au)

try again by @bangtanfancamp f s (roommate au best friend to lovers au)

it’s december (and I still want) by @smoochkooks f s a (ex husband au)

there was a bug @kimnjss f s a (roommate au best friend to lovers au)

the rich man’s crochet club by @kpopfanfictrash s (virgin au college au)

dizzy by @joonessence f s (friends to lovers au)

a sight for sore eyes by @siderealmyg f s (established relationship au)

good to me by @httpjeon f s a (dating service au)

what are friends for by @kookdiaries s (best friends au friends to lovers au)

the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons f s a (bodyguard au fake dating/marriage au)

nice guys finish last by @ktheist f s a (arranged marriage au) ft. Ex fiance Yoongi

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter s a (friends with benefits au unrequited love)

after rain by @rmverse​ f s a (patient namjoon patient reader)

once upon an us by @yoonia​ f s a (inspired by the movie sweet home alabama past lovers au exes to lovers au established relationship)

bothered by @lavienjin f s a (brother’s best friend)

2AM by @xpeachesncream f s (college au)

black swan by @helenazbmrskai s a (co-workers to friends to lovers tattoo artist joon)

love is blind by @helenazbmrskai f s a (best friends brother au college au enemies to lovers au)

ramen? by @solarwonux f s

only a lifetime by @dopejk f s (dilf joon marriage au pregnancy au)

emerald by @dewykth s a (bodyguard au)

spice by @breakiebunny f s a (enemies to lovers au chef joon)

new parent syndrome by @1kook f s (dilf joon husband au parents au)

hammer it home by @gukslut f s a (domestic au) ft. Jimin

nailed it by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ft. Jimin

feels like home by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)

a wrench in the plan by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)

totally screwed by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)

obligated by @underthejoon s (arranged marriage au)

↬looking for other knj fics or the other members check out my library

placebo (m) masterlist

⇒ pairing: jimin x f-reader, namjoon x f-reader, slight jungkook x f-reader

⇒ summary: he's your soulmate. but he's everything you hate

⇒ characters: bikergang jimin, uni student jungkook, doctor (phd) namjoon, student reader (ft. cameos from other members)

⇒ genre: 18+ romance, smut, soulmate!au, academia!au, vigilante/gang!au, love triangle, strangers to enemies to lovers, forbidden attraction, romeo-juliet typa shit, opposites attract, hurt/comfort, fate versus destiny, dystopian backdrop

⇒ series warnings: s is for smut (specific warnings per part), a is for ANGST baby, judgmental society, social class dynamics, dystopian regime

⇒ a/n: hello!! im super excited to write a ROMANCE for once lmao. this will be a limited series - so not super long or anything <3 feel free to ask any questions!

► part 1

you're assigned a soulmate backed by science of compatibility that hopes to promote healthier, long-lasting, loving relationships. you'd always hoped it would be jeon jungkook - your lab partner of three years who is smart, sweet and knows you better than anyone else. until you meet your real soulmate, park jimin, who is the exact opposite of you. a member of a notorious resistance gang, he doesn't believe in science, love, or the state.

► part 2

betrayal, heartache and confusion follow you as you try your best to fall for jimin despite him trying to get you to give up. while doing this, you come across evidence that your soulmate assignment was a placebo to see if the science was actually accurate or if simply thinking someone was your soulmate was enough to promote better relationships

► part 3

demanding answers, you seek out the scientist behind the experiment, the mysterious and infamous dr. kim namjoon. everything you thought you believed about love gets challenged when you run your true compatibility experiment and you find out your real soulmate was someone you held dear all along

► part 4

⇒ a/n: hello!! im super excited to write a ROMANCE for once lmao. this will be a limited series - so not super long or anything <3 feel free to ask any questions!

|| ask box || full masterlist || wanna join the taglist? reply or send an ask!