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rmnamjoons · 4 years ago

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The Bodyguard [KNJ]

➳ summary: You’re the daughter of the ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe, working as a diplomat to help your mother with her endless meetings and politics. After a kidnapping attempt gone wrong, you and your protective bodyguard Namjoon are on the run across Europe, jumping from trains, stealing cars, and pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon to stay hidden. As the would-be kidnappers close in, Namjoon promises you that he’s going to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: bodyguard!Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating/fake marriage, road trip (kinda), very slight angst

➳ word count: 62.9k – this is a complete, VERY long oneshot

➳ tags: hotel owner seokjin cameo, main pairing is on the run and traveling all over to stay hidden, mutual pining, slowburn, bed sharing, accidental cuddling while sleeping, pretending to be a couple, protective namjoon, unrequited love that’s actually very requited, masturbation and accidental voyeurism, lots of horny thoughts/fantasies, smut, oral (f receiving), biting, soft dom namjoon has an oral fixation

➳ a/n: I originally started writing this in December of 2019, and I’m very proud of it! It’s the length of a short novel and I put a lot of work into it, so I hope everyone likes it 💜 Also, it takes places in winter (because that’s when I started writing it), and I never say what country Y/N is from or what country her mother is the ambassador to, to keep it as self-insert as possible. Enjoy!!!

!!!!!!! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS !!!!!!!!

➳ warnings: very brief sexual harassment mention in the very beginning, a main character gets shot but is fine, the underlying threat of being kidnapped by unknown men is a theme throughout, guns tw, shooting tw, blood tw, unnamed character death tw, both Namjoon and Y/N shoot and kill bad guys

***

“It was complete shit, Joon. A shit show. A fucking circus. Did you see the way that American aide kept leering at me? I should’ve slapped him when he winked at me. Ugh, fucking asshole,” you grumbled, pacing around the luxurious first class compartment you’d booked for your more than twenty-four hour train ride home.

You’d been on this line before — many times, actually — and you found the long trip relaxing, mostly due to the fact your compartment was nearly the size of a normal hotel room. Even if there was no wifi or cell service for a few hours of the ride, you loved it. It let you relax and disconnect from the world, if only for one night.

You’d kicked off your heels pretty much immediately after getting to your compartment, but you were still in the light pink skirt and blazer you’d worn to the summit earlier today. You’d smiled to your bodyguard Namjoon that morning as he’d escorted you down to breakfast at the hotel, asking him if you looked like Elle Woods in your outfit. He’d smiled to himself and responded with a quiet “Yes, ma’am,” and you swore he’d tried to hide the fact he was blushing, though maybe that was just you projecting your intense crush onto him, making you see things that weren’t there at all.

“I thought it went pretty well. The summit, at least. Not the American,” Namjoon replied from his seat at the small table by the window, glancing up at you every few moments while skimming through the book he’d brought on this trip. The empty plates from the dinner the two of you’d been served a couple hours ago were still stacked there in front of him, Namjoon having not gotten up yet to put them out in the hall. “I still think you should’ve let me talk to him.”

“Of course you do,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “I remember the last time I let you ‘talk’ to someone for me. How many of that man’s ribs did you break?”

“He had it coming,” Namjoon mumbled after a moment, not looking up from his book, though you could see the small smile he was trying to hide. You smiled too, remembering how the man in question had pinched your ass at a charity banquet when he’d thought no one was looking. You’d gasped and looked up at the man with scared eyes, before running to Namjoon and telling him what had happened, tears streaming down your face.

Your bodyguard had said he would just have a word with the man, dragged him off to another room, and the next thing you knew paramedics were rushing by to take the man away, now groaning and clutching his stomach.

“Some random rich asshole is one thing; the chief aide to the American ambassador to Russia is another,” you commented, now standing in front of your suitcase and folding some of your clothes, seeing what you had left that was still clean. “Besides, the whole summit was stupid. Nothing happened. Barely anything was even discussed. The trip was such a waste of time. Then again, when aren’t they?”

You’d mumbled the last sentence, but Namjoon still caught it. You knew he agreed with you by the tight-lipped expression that came over his face, but he said nothing, eyes still glued to his book. He was never one for speaking his mind on the political aspects of your or your mother’s jobs.

Namjoon had been your personal bodyguard for almost three years now, ever since your mother had accepted the position of ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe. When she was first appointed, you were freshly graduated with a useless degree and unsurprisingly unemployed, so she’d brought you with her to serve as an unofficial aide and representative for public events. Your mother handled the important business, while you were stuck at never-ending luncheons and banquets and casual meetings with wealthy businessmen trying to make political (and sometimes romantic) connections with you and your mother.

It was stupid, mind-numbing, degrading work, and it bothered you a lot that nepotism was the only reason you’d gotten the job, but you tried to tell yourself that ambassadors’ grown children often had positions like yours, helping represent their embassy and country to the public – more celebrity than politician, a role to play instead of a job to do.

In the time you’d known him, Namjoon was the only person in your life besides your mother who treated you like a normal human being instead of a spoiled princess. You spent nearly every waking moment together, and despite his professionalism, he was friendly, sweet, even goofy with you. He was your friend. Your big, sexy, funny, intelligent, charming, perfect friend you were kind of a little bit in love with… who your mother paid to never leave your side.

You sighed, closing your suitcase with a thud and turning back toward the table, your mood soured by thinking about your pathetic and very unrequited crush on Namjoon. You moped over and slumped down in the chair across from him, sighing again as you crossed your arms.

“You okay?” Namjoon’s deep voice interrupted your thoughts, making you almost jump out of your seat. He’d put his book down on the table and now sat up straighter, tilting his head as he looked at you, concern in his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling weakly but not making eye contact with him. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Sounds dangerous,” he said. He had a teasing tone in his voice, like he wanted to be playful with you. “What are you thinking about?”

Your heart was racing now, though you knew this was just him checking on you and doing his job. He was always so attentive, so wonderful and kind to you, like a boyfriend instead of a bodyguard. His caring nature and how sweet he was did not help your crush on him at all.

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just plans for the week, what else I have to do, stuff like that. Nothing important.”

“You looked upset. You had that pout you get when you’re lost in your head,” Namjoon said. “Something coming up you’re worried about?”

“Nope,” you said, still not looking at him. “And I wasn’t pouting.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, voice gentler now, thankfully not pushing anymore. “I saw you pouting, ma’am. You looked like this.” Namjoon made the most pathetic pout you’d ever seen, batting his eyes and sticking out his bottom lip, making you giggle. He reached across the table and tickled your stomach, your giggles turning into near-screams of laughter and joy as you tried to squirm away from him in your seat.

He showed mercy and stopped, letting you catch your breath as he watched and smiled at you.

“Y/N,” he said, serious again, and you finally looked up at him, surprised by the use of your name instead of the usual ‘ma’am’ thing he insisted on continuing, despite your many objections. “You know you can talk to me, right? What’s on your mind?”

A small part of you wanted to just blurt out your feelings, but you could never do that to him. It was beyond inappropriate, in both the friend aspect and the fact your mother employed him. What if he felt pressured to say he liked you back, out of fear of losing his job? What if confessing your feelings made him quit to get away from the insane, spoiled ambassador’s daughter lusting after him? You were stuck, cursed to live secretly in love with your bodyguard-best friend forever.

Before you could answer him, your stomach growled loudly, making your eyes widen comically as you looked down at yourself in surprise.

“Oh, I see,” Namjoon said, a knowing, relieved smile growing on his face. “Are you hungry again? Is that what put you in a pouty mood?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your pout slowly turning into a smile too, thankful for the perfectly-timed distraction. “Joon,” you cooed to him, giving him your best pleading eyes. “Would you be willing to get us some food from the dining car? Something sweet, like cookies or chocolate? Please?”

Namjoon’s smile grew wider, looking down and shaking his head a little, as if laughing to himself. You knew he had a complete inability to refuse you whenever you batted your eyelashes at him and gave him puppy eyes, and you exploited that fact often.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his cheeks turning red. “Preference on cookies or chocolate?”

“Chocolate cookies are my preference, then chocolate, then cookies. Nothing with raisins. Thank you, Joonie,” you said, drawing out his name cutely, like how you always did when you asked him for a favor.

You grinned at him, watching the way his dark eyes sparkled at your joy. He sighed, standing up and stretching a little before heading out of the compartment, setting the plates from dinner outside the door on his way out.

***

Namjoon slid the two packs of double chocolate chip cookies he’d bought into his jacket pocket, cautiously picking up the two cups of hot cocoa and stepping to the side to get out of the way of the snack counter’s line. He knew all about your insatiable sweet tooth and love of chocolate, so he thought he’d surprise you with what he knew to be your favorite drink, especially on cold nights like this.

Namjoon wondered how he’d ended up so lucky, to have gotten a job like this, taking care of and protecting you. His entire existence revolved around keeping you, the love of his life, safe and happy; he got to spend basically every waking moment with you, worried over your safety, in charge of protecting you no matter what, and he actually got paid for it. He would do this for free in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d give up his life savings and all worldly possessions to be the one by your side, your protector, the one person you trusted more than anyone else.

Part of him, though, sometimes wondered if this job was actually torture. He would never be able to confess his feelings; he could never do that to you. How would you feel if you found out the man you’d trusted your life with was secretly a pervert who thought of you as his, who fantasized every night about putting his head between your legs, who jacked off in the shower every morning while moaning your name?

Even earlier today, when you’d paced around after dinner, he’d kept sneaking glances and staring at your ass in that tight little skirt, fantasizing about bending you over the desk in the compartment. He knew you’d feel disgusted and betrayed, so he kept his mouth shut and accepted it, because getting to dote on you forever was the most wonderful torture he could possibly imagine.

He was so whipped for you, too, and he knew it. All you had to do was bat your eyelashes at him and he’d drop everything to please you. You had him completely wrapped around your finger, and you didn’t even realize it.

This job was either heaven or hell: protecting the most beautiful woman in the world who he loved more than anything, who would never have any idea how he felt. He couldn’t kiss you all over like he wanted to, so instead he took care of you a different way, translating the kisses and devotion he wanted to give you into favors, friendship, and, most importantly, protection.

Namjoon turned to head back, moving slowly to balance the very full hot cocoas in his hands and smiling proudly to himself at just the thought of getting to surprise you with something you loved.

As he headed out of the dining car, he spotted two men sitting at one of the tables, each with a small, barely noticeable black object in their ears, and his heart stopped. The two men were dressed casually, no logos or patterns, but Namjoon recognized the black boots they both wore as being tactical, police or military-grade by the looks of it.

He didn’t react or slow down, instead setting his jaw and continuing on his way, not wanting to draw attention to himself or let them know of the suspicion he felt. He would check into that as soon as he got back to you, after fortifying the room you were in. You were his only priority, and if these guys weren’t a threat to you, they weren’t his problem.

By the exit, a third man sat at a table by himself, also with a hidden earpiece and tactical shoes. This one was reading a book, and Namjoon glanced at his face, seeing his eyes not actually moving or reading.

Namjoon swallowed thickly, but didn’t react otherwise.

He swore he could feel eyes on him, maybe the two men at the table or the employee working the snack counter behind him. Everyone on this train was now a potential threat, as far as he was concerned.

Once he left the dining car and the windowless door slid shut behind him, Namjoon immediately cut to the side, ducking into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He then dumped the hot cocoas in the sink, burying the cups in the little trash bin on the wall before pulling out his cell phone.

“Shit,” Namjoon muttered under his breath, smacking the side of his phone. The train had already reached the two-hour stretch of the journey where there was no service or wifi, up in the mountains. He would have no way of scanning any databases for who these guys were, no way to call for help or letting anyone know about the situation. He couldn’t even text you to warn you not to open the door for anyone but him.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he didn’t actually know if these men were here for you. He didn’t want to freak you out or scare you unnecessarily, and he needed to stay calm and in control. The only thing that mattered right now was getting to you and fortifying the room. He had a gun and plenty of rounds. He knew he could protect you.

Namjoon moved to leave, but froze when he heard someone enter the other bathroom across from him. He heard a man’s voice, and Namjoon pressed his ear against the bathroom door to listen.

“We just reached the dead zone. Target is confirmed onboard. Only one guy with her,” the man said, his hushed tone so quiet Namjoon had to strain and close his eyes to hear him. Nobody was responding to what this man was saying, which meant he had some kind of satellite phone that worked without normal cell service. In the past, Namjoon had repeatedly requested a satellite phone that would work on this train route, but the security team back at the embassy had deemed it unnecessary.

“Yeah, I had eyes on them both when they got on the train,” the man continued, his American accent thick. “He’s a pretty big guy, potentially armed, but he won’t be a problem.”

The man paused for a moment before continuing, “Came in the snack car a minute ago. Didn’t suspect a thing. Bought her some cookies,” the man laughed. More silence. “Yeah, he just went back to the girl.”

Namjoon bit his lip, hearing his suspicions confirmed.

These men were here for you.

They had military-grade gear, they were coordinated, and they had phones or communicators that still worked up in the mountains where nothing else did. They were far more prepared and equipped than he was, and he was definitely outnumbered.

Namjoon strained to hear what else the man said, catching only a few words like “engine room” and “eliminated” over the low hum of the train. The man said something else, and then it sounded like he signed off. A few seconds later that door slid open again, and then Namjoon heard firm footsteps heading back toward the dining car.

Namjoon waited for a few seconds, staring at his phone and watching the time pass on his clock app. He listened as hard as he could for hints that anyone else was in the hallway, but all he could hear were the sounds of the train. It would only take one of these assassins or kidnappers or whoever they were being in the hallway outside to spot him, and then they’d all know he’d heard everything.

His heart was racing, the only thought in his head being how badly he needed to get back to you and protect you. Someone could be waiting right outside this door to ambush him, or breaking into your compartment now, hurting you or taking you somewhere, away from him.

Namjoon took a deep breath and slid open the door, peeking around carefully before stepping out. The hallway was empty, and the sleeping car a few meters away was mostly vacant, with only a family with small children sitting near the back.

Namjoon walked down the train car, smiling pleasantly to himself as he passed the family. He didn’t want them to freak out or see him running, but he couldn’t help but pick up his pace the moment he passed them.

Once in the next (thankfully empty) sleeper car, Namjoon broke into a jog, rushing to get back to you. The first class cars were all at the back of the train, farthest from the loud locomotive, and you’d rented the very last one, with its own little private balcony on the very back of the train. His heart and mind were both racing, but he tried to tell himself that he needed to stay calm. Panic would just make him less helpful and only put you at risk. You, the woman who trusted him with your life, the one person he’d die for in a heartbeat.

When Namjoon reached your door, he found it still locked and in place. He fumbled with his key, nearly dropping it before finally getting the door open, immediately sliding it shut again the second he was inside.

“Y/N, baby, get up right now,” he said, locking the door behind him.

You seemed to be frozen in place, your wide eyes confused and watching him.

“Huh?” you said, still not moving as you watched him pull the mattress off his bed and throw it against the door.

“Up,” he said, coming over to you and grabbing you by your arms, pulling you up as gently as he could in his urgency. “You have thirty seconds to put necessities in my backpack. We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” you said, standing still and blinking in confusion as Namjoon turned and grabbed his backpack beside his now bare bed frame, throwing it down in the chair you’d just been sitting in. He still had his bag of toiletries in there, along with a first aid kit, his glasses and extra contacts, his passport, and a few other things, so he figured he was set.

He started to pull your mattress off the bed too, but noticed you still hadn’t moved.

“Y/N,” he said, coming back to you and holding your face with both hands, making you look up at him and focus. “I need you to get whatever you need and put it in my backpack right now. There are men on this train who want to hurt you. We’re leaving.”

“What? Who are they? What do you mean ‘leaving?’ We’re on a moving train in the middle of nowhere,” you said, panic rising in your eyes and voice.

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay calm,” he said, dropping one hand to your shoulder and moving his thumb in little soothing circles. “I’m always honest with you, and right now’s no different. I’m gonna keep you safe, but I need you with me and focused. I heard them call you ‘the target’ and they know you only have one guard, so we need to move right now.”

“Are we jumping off the train?” you said, and when you blinked he noticed your eyes welling up.

“No, angel,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup your face again, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his touch, looking up at him with a scared expression that made his heart ache. He realized he was calling you pet names in his attempt to comfort you, and didn’t care to stop himself. “It’s my job to keep you safe, remember? I wouldn’t be a very good bodyguard if I made you jump off a moving train, now would I?”

That made you smile a little, and Namjoon smiled weakly, happy you weren’t as panicked as before. Keeping you calm was almost as important as keeping you safe right now; he couldn’t afford to have you panicking, but he needed you to understand the seriousness of the situation. You were an adult. You could handle being scared. It was his job to keep you safe in scary situations like this and handle everything else.

“I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you put some of your stuff in my backpack? Please?” he said gently, and you nodded, biting your lip. God, he wished he could kiss you right now, hug you close and tell you he loved you and would die to keep you safe. “I’m working on a plan to get us out of here,” he continued. “I promise I won’t make you jump.”

When you sighed and nodded, he squeezed your shoulder gently before turning away.

He was able to get the small desk and coffee table both pushed in front of the door, and he rearranged the setup so the mattresses both leaned against them. Behind him, he could hear you putting things into his backpack, finally.

Namjoon went to his suitcase, on the floor beside his bed. He had a small case hidden under his spare clothes, which he pulled out and set on the bed frame. He noticed you watching him now out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop or let himself think about it.

He opened the case and took out his handgun, quickly loading it before pulling off his jacket and taking out his shoulder holster and strapping it on. He stuffed extra rounds into his pockets, as many as he could fit.

Once his jacket was back on and his gun secure and concealed, Namjoon pulled out the bulletproof vest in your size he always travelled with, hidden away in the bottom of his suitcase. He rose, quickly pacing toward you and handing you the vest, which you looked down at like you had no idea what it was.

“Put that on under your jacket,” he said, tucking the rest of his extra rounds into the backpack on top of your toiletries, wallet, and change of clothes. He also saw your iPad in there, which he figured was smart. If these men were after you for your political connections or information about your mother, leaving behind something like a tablet full of information was definitely not a good idea.

“Now,” he said, glancing up at you when he noticed you still just standing there holding the vest.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you said, jumping into action, as if suddenly realizing he was talking to you.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling weakly and turning away to give you privacy.

He figured you were most likely in some kind of state of shock, and he couldn’t exactly blame you. He’d been trained for how to react calmly in dangerous situations, while you most definitely had not. He knew how important it was to stay patient but firm with you right now.

When you finished, you made a small noise to get his attention, and he turned back to see you buttoning your blazer back up.

“Ready? Got your pills and everything?” Namjoon asked, zipping up the backpack and pulling it on. He knew you took a birth control pill to help with your periods, along with a low dosage of an ADHD medication, and he knew how much it bothered you to miss doses of either of them. He even had a daily timer set on his phone, since he knew you liked to take them at the same time every day and he could remind you if you forgot.

You nodded, and he glanced down, seeing you still standing there barefoot.

“I think you forgot something,” he said, making you gasp when you realized.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, running back to your suitcase. “I only brought my heels and a pair of slippers for the hotel.”

“Which can you run in?”

“Neither?” you grimaced, worrying your lip as you glanced around the room, as if looking for better shoes to magically appear. “I’d probably be better barefoot.”

“Put your heels on,” Namjoon said, securing the straps of his backpack. “We’re up in the mountains, it’s cold outside. Can you wear a pair of my socks with them?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, standing in place as you watched him get a pair of socks out of his suitcase.

Once you were ready, Namjoon led you to the back door of the compartment, leading out to the small balcony on the back of the train. Namjoon went out first, gun out, making sure nobody was waiting to surprise the two of you just outside.

When he was fairly sure it was safe, he tucked his gun away and pulled you out by your hand, your hair whipping around your face wildly in the cold wind.

Namjoon wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet. The thought had crossed his mind about jumping, but he’d promised you he wouldn’t make you do that, so that would be his last resort. He knew he couldn’t call for help with any of the train’s staff, since he had no idea if the men had infiltrated or bribed them, and his phone didn’t work here anyway. Triggering any kind of alarm could make the men speed up their plan and let them know he was onto them. He needed to be subtle, but he wasn’t seeing many options.

“Maybe I can decouple the last car,” Namjoon said, more to himself. “The caboose is just our compartment, so if we uncouple it, it’ll just slowly come to a stop, and then we can get off and walk to a town and use the internet there.”

He had no idea how to access or operate that though, since he was sure it was very mechanical and complicated, and that there wouldn’t just be a button labelled “decouple train car” on the wall somewhere. He’d probably need some kind of tools or access code, if it was even possible to do while the train was moving.

“How many men were there?” you asked, your voice quiet. He was still holding your small hand, and he squeezed it gently when he realized you were shaking.

“At least three,” he said, glancing your way. “Probably more.”

You nodded, looking out at the track behind the train. Snow flurries whipped around the car, gently falling to the ground and covering it in a light dust once out of the wind.

Namjoon peeked around each side of the train, half expecting to see men climbing along the side towards the two of you. Instead, he saw the rest of the long train, a thick forest on either side of the tracks, and a mountain straight ahead.

The train was about to go up a hill, Namjoon realized, which meant it’d be going much, much slower. If he remembered this trip correctly, it almost felt like the train wasn’t even moving at all for parts of the steep mountain pass.

Inside, a sudden thud made both you and Namjoon turn around, looking back into the room. Someone had just tried to knock down the door to your compartment, throwing their weight against it. It looked like the lock was still holding for now, and hopefully Namjoon’s barricade would help hold them off for a few extra seconds.

“I think we have to jump,” you said suddenly, making Namjoon look at you in surprise.

“No, Y/N, we’ll find something else,” he said, squeezing your hand again, but he knew you were right.

The train lurched, nearly throwing both of you off your feet as it reached the incline and slowed down dramatically, the engine running louder as the locomotive pulled the train up the hill.

“We need to, now,” you insisted, biting your lip like you always did when you were scared or nervous.

“Fuck,” Namjoon mumbled under his breath, walking up to the balcony’s railing on the side farther from the door leading into your room. You stayed by his side, pressing against him as you both looked over the railing at the maybe two meter drop to the ground. Another loud noise inside the train car made you jump even closer to him, and he dropped your hand and put his arm around you protectively.

“Let’s just do it,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “The train’s going so slow now, we can do it.”

“Are you sure?” he said, even though he knew it was your only option now. There was no going back to uncouple the train, no calling for help, no chance of him fighting off that many trained, armed men on his own without also risking your safety.

“I trust you,” you said, your big eyes so innocent and terrified, and Namjoon wanted so badly to kiss you, comfort you, tell you he loved you, but he held it all in, instead climbing up onto the railing and holding out his hand for you.

“We’ll jump together,” Namjoon said once you’d slipped off your heels, picked them up, and climbed up with him. The two of you now sat side-by-side on the railing, feet dangling over the side of the train. “Try not to tense up. Bend your knees as you land, like you’re squatting or bracing yourself. Think superhero landing pose. Try to jump away from the train a little, if you can.”

Before you could respond, another loud bang rang through the room, making you flinch. You looked up at Namjoon with scared eyes when you heard an American man’s voice yell, “Search the room!”

“Now,” Namjoon breathed, and the two of you jumped together.

The little broken noise you made in pain when you hit the ground would haunt Namjoon’s nightmares for the rest of his life. He’d landed solidly, bending his legs and bracing himself with his hands, but you’d landed barefoot in the snow and had fallen to the side, groaning in pain and trying to be quiet once the immediate shock wore off.

“Fuck,” you moaned, rolling onto your back and bringing your leg up, clutching your right ankle with both hands. You whined in pain, a noise that stirred something deep within him, something protective and primal.

“We need to go,” Namjoon said quietly, picking you up and making you squeak in surprise. He wanted so badly to see if you were okay and fix whatever was causing you pain, but the two of you needed to get away from the tracks as fast as possible. Just one of the men looking out the back of the train could mean life or death for you.

After you reached over and grabbed the heels you’d dropped, Namjoon stood carefully, holding you bridal style against his chest. The snow was coming down a little harder now, swirling in the air and landing in your hair and eyelashes.

He carried you into the forest, running out of sight and away from the tracks. The spot the two of you’d landed on was already covered by the gently falling snow, as if you’d never been there at all, and the train sounded far away already. Namjoon couldn’t hear anyone running or see any signs of life in the quiet forest, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean you were safe.

Once a few meters away from the tree line, Namjoon walked parallel to the tracks, opposite the direction the train was heading. He held you tighter to him when he felt you shiver, and tried not to shiver himself when he realized he could feel your warm breath on his neck.

After maybe ten minutes of walking, Namjoon set you down on a fallen tree, squatting in front of you and carefully setting your injured foot on his knee. He rolled off his sock you’d put on, slow and gentle as he pulled it around your ankle and heel.

“How’s the pain, on a scale from one to ten?” he asked, his voice soft.

Your ankle was a deep shade of red, but the cold air seemed to help it not swell. He held your leg gently, one hand under your calf to support it and the other under your heel as he looked closer, seeing if any bones looked broken or out of place.

“Maybe a four,” you sniffled.

“Can you move your foot around for me a little, please?” he asked, and when you did it, rotating your ankle and wiggling your toes, Namjoon smiled. “That’s good. If it was broken, you wouldn’t be able to move it, and it’d feel more numb than painful. I think it’s just a sprain. Can you try to put some weight on it and see how it feels?”

You shifted on the log, and Namjoon helped you move forward, moving back a little to give you space. You put your bare foot on the snowy ground, gasping softly and curling your toes at the cold before biting your lip and powering through it. You stayed sitting down, but gently put some weight on it, grimacing as you tested it.

“It feels tender, but it’s not that bad,” you said, relaxing your muscles and letting yourself sit normally with your foot on the ground. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk in heels, though.”

“I’ll carry you until we get you some walking shoes,” Namjoon assured, not caring if the closest town was a thousand miles away.

You nodded, sniffling a little from the cold air making your nose run. Your cheeks were flushed, and when Namjoon saw you shiver again, he immediately took off his backpack so he could slide off his jacket and wrap it around your shoulders.

“No, you need it more than I do, I already have my blazer and the vest,” you tried to protest, but Namjoon already had your arms in the jacket and was zipping it up for you.

“I’m fine,” he said, picking up your discarded heels and putting them in the backpack so you wouldn’t have to hold them. “You just focus on staying warm.”

“Now you’re just in a shirt, though,” you said, putting your hand on the thin material of his dress shirt over his bicep.

“It’s long-sleeved,” he defended. “Plus you’re the one in a skirt, young lady.” He reached up and tickled you on the back of your knee on your bare, non-injured leg, making you squirm and giggle.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling as you watched Namjoon set your foot back down on his knee and begin digging for something else in his backpack. He reached in nearly elbow-deep before finally pulling out a little plastic container with a red plus sign on it, which he immediately opened and took out a small roll of gauze from.

“Your ankle will feel better if we compress it,” he explained, unrolling the gauze a little and starting to wrap it around your ankle. “That and the cold will help keep the swelling down, plus when I carry you it’ll be kind of elevated.”

You hummed in understanding, nodding a little, and watched him work as he carefully wrapped your ankle. His hands were so large and gentle, you couldn’t help but stare.

“What are you thinking?” you asked after a moment, and you saw the way his brow furrowed slightly at the question.

“I’m thinking about how we’re gonna keep you safe,” he said, not looking up from your ankle.

“And what’s your plan?” you asked.

He glanced up at you, setting his jaw before answering.

“We’ll walk along the tracks until we find a town, where we can buy some more clothes and other basics,” he said. “We’ll have to stop at an ATM and withdrawal as much as we can, so we can stay off the grid after that in case we’re being tracked through any of our accounts. In town we’ll find wifi and contact the embassy and arrange some kind of pickup or extraction. After that we’ll just need to stay hidden until our ride gets there.”

“Seems simple enough,” you said flatly, “But what if the closest town is hours away? I think you missed the part about us probably freezing to death overnight out here. We’re up in the mountains, remember?” You hadn’t meant to be like that, but your panic rose as you spoke, and you ended up almost shouting by the end of it.

Namjoon didn’t answer, instead just finishing up with your ankle and tucking the end of the gauze in so it’d stay wrapped. You moved your foot a little to get his attention, and when he looked up at you and saw you expecting an answer, he sighed.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, pulling your sock back on and putting the first aid kit back into his backpack. “I’m sure there are at least buildings along the tracks. And you know how close together everything is in Europe. We’re probably just a mile or two at most from a nice, warm bed and breakfast.”

“If you say so,” you said, making a face at him when he looked up at you.

Once his backpack was back on, you scooted forward a little, holding out your arms for him as he moved to pick you up. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him as he carried you bridal-style again.

“Where do you think we are?” you asked, holding onto him tighter as he began walking in the dark again. He stayed close enough to the tree line so that he could still see the tracks, stepping awkwardly over fallen branches and tall weeds as he moved.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think the mountains with no service or wifi are in southern Poland or Slovakia. I never paid much attention to the route, but I’m pretty sure it dips south.”

“I think you’re right,” you agreed. “There’s a mountain range on the border between those two; maybe that’s where we are. There’s no way we’re far enough west to be in the Alps or Dolomites yet.”

He hummed in agreement, the silence after he spoke drawing your attention to the stillness of the forest, the only sounds Namjoon’s breathing and his feet crunching in the snow.

“When we find civilization, we need to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, whenever we find that town with the nice, warm bed and breakfast I promised you,” Namjoon said after a moment. “A well-dressed woman with a bodyguard walking into town injured and barefoot is going to be weird, and people might talk about it or remember us. You brought extra clothes, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding.

“You can change whenever we’re close. We’re going to tell people we’re a couple on our honeymoon, backpacking across Europe. If anyone asks, we can say we got mugged a few days ago, lost all our credit cards, your backpack, and our passports. That way we can pay cash and won’t have to show our passports anywhere and put ourselves on the map. We’ll say that we already filed a report with the police, but they said there was nothing they could do. We’re on our way to the capitol to talk to the embassy about getting replacements.”

“And if people find it strange that we don’t know what country we’re in?” you teased, reaching up and poking his dimple.

“They don’t need to know that,” he said, smiling so you could feel his dimple better. “We’ll see a flag or license plate somewhere. We can bluff until we figure it out. We’re going to have to avoid people anyway, so we won’t be getting questioned by every person we come across.”

“You sure did think of everything, didn’t you?”

“That’s my job,” he said, smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling in against him as you felt him squeeze you closer to him.

“We’ll be okay,” he promised. You believed him.

***

Namjoon ended up being right, which didn’t really surprise you.

After maybe an hour and a half of walking, the two of you spotted a road cutting across the train tracks, and when you reached it, you could see the lights of a town just a little ways away. It looked pretty small, but you could see a gas station and other signs of businesses, and you hoped one of them was that bed and breakfast Namjoon had promised. At this point, though, you’d take anything with heat.

Namjoon ducked back into the forest again and handed you your change of clothes, helping you get a solid footing before turning away and facing the road. You swore that even in the dark, you could almost see his cheeks and ears turning red.

Your change of clothes wasn’t exactly practical. You’d packed the only clean clothes you’d had left, which were a set of pajamas: a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. You weren’t sure which was worse, that or the business outfit you’d been in, but at least the pajamas looked like they could be hiking clothes, you figured. Not exactly ideal for snow, but it was the best you had for now. You put on the bulletproof vest and then your t-shirt, moving awkwardly as your socks got wet in the snow and you tried not to put weight on your injured foot.

You still had Namjoon’s jacket, so he tucked his gun into the back of his pants, untucking his shirt to hide it. He put his holster in the backpack along with your dress clothes, and picked you up again to carry you down the road.

His hand was now on your bare leg as he carried you, due to how tiny your shorts were, and you noticed the way he tilted his hand away from you, not letting his fingers touch your skin, ever the polite and professional bodyguard.

You sighed, and Namjoon must’ve thought you were cold, so he rubbed his hand on your arm, warming you up.

“Almost there,” he said, smiling at you, dimple on full display.

When you reached the town, you saw a license plate with “PL” and the European Union symbol, so you figured you were in Poland, or at least close to the border. The town seemed pretty much deserted, all the stores closed and nobody out walking around, though you knew it must be close to eleven at night by now.

Namjoon pointed out an inn a little further up the road, its quaint wooden sign saying “wypoczynkowy,” which you couldn’t even guess at the meaning of. The inn and its sign were both illuminated and inviting, and a small English sign by the window read “vacancy,” which almost made you tear up in relief.

Before heading there, Namjoon stopped at the gas station, seeing an ATM out front. He used his work card and withdrew the maximum amount, which ended up being five thousand of the local currency. Neither of you knew how much that was, and you hoped it would be enough to cover at least one night at the inn.

The two of you ducked into the gas station, and while you sat in the empty little cafe, Namjoon found a sweatshirt for you and a hat for himself, both with a drawing of a mountain and the word “Tatry.” He bought them at the counter, along with a couple snacks, two big bottles of water, and two phone chargers.

Namjoon came back over to you, setting the bag and waters on the table as he sunk down in the chair across from you. You were pretty sure he’d just carried you at least three miles, so you knew he had to be exhausted, despite doing his best to hide it.

“All this only cost like twenty złoty, so hopefully that’s a good sign for this not being an expensive area,” Namjoon said, smiling weakly when you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t see any shoes for sale here.”

“It’s okay. I still can’t get any service on either of our phones,” you mumbled, motioning toward the two devices laying uselessly on the table in front of you. “You think that inn has wifi?”

“Probably,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he cracked open his water. “It seems pretty rural here, but I’d honestly be shocked if it didn’t have internet.”

Namjoon drank half his water in one go, tilting his head back as he chugged it. You stared at the thick column of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, your eyes glazed over in lust, nearly drooling at the sight. Your eyes quickly un-glazed and snapped back down to the phones as he finished and took a deep breath, sighing as he set his water back on the table.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” he said, crossing his arms as he lounged back in his chair. “You about ready to get going?”

“Better, and yes,” you said, tucking the phones back into the backpack he’d left by your chair. “I should walk the rest of the way, though. I don’t want anyone to know I’m injured, in case people come through asking about us. I feel fine enough to walk.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, sitting up straighter now, his brow furrowed.

“Yep,” you said, getting to your feet and pulling on the backpack, figuring it was definitely your turn by now. Jesus, this thing was heavy – how had he carried both it and you for so long without his arms falling off?

“Okay,” he said, voice unsure but standing up with you. “Hold on to me as you walk, though?”

“I will,” you said, smiling up at him as he came around the table. You pouted as he pulled the backpack off of you and slung it over his own shoulder, though you didn’t push it. You’d let him have this.

Sighing, you took his arm when he offered it to you.

You headed out of the gas station together and up the road towards the inn, wobbling in your heels the whole way. You had a slight limp, though your ankle wasn’t hurting too badly now. Namjoon wrapping it had definitely helped a lot.

You held onto his arm tighter as the cold settled back in, a gust of wind blowing snow in your faces. Namjoon reached over and brushed the snow off your hair, mussing it up in the process, which made you laugh and squeeze his arm tighter.

You were so thankful for him. You wished you could cuddle up to him and kiss him all over his face and thank him for saving you, though you knew it was inappropriate and unwanted. He’d saved your life today, and then carried you for miles in the snow to get you to safety. If you couldn’t kiss him all over, maybe he’d at least let you give him a massage later, to thank him and help ease the pain he must be feeling in his muscles.

“Remember,” Namjoon said quietly as the two of you approached the front of the inn, “We’re on our honeymoon, backpacking through Europe together.”

“How long have we been married?” you asked him, moving to hold his hand instead of holding onto his arm, doing your best to hide your limp as you reached the door.

“Let’s say two weeks,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Aw, happy two week anniversary, honey,” you cooed up to him as he opened the door, making him roll his eyes and blush as he smiled.

The inn’s small lobby was cute, in a dusty fairytale kind of way. What looked like handmade vases full of fake wildflowers sat in each windowsill, where the yellowed blinds had all been closed for the night. The furniture was all made from the same light-colored wood, the couches and chairs covered in colorful quilts and pink and yellow pillows. In front of you, behind the counter, sat a kindly, stout, middle-aged woman, who jumped off the little stool she sat on when she realized customers had suddenly come in.

The woman said something to you in Polish, her eyebrows near her hairline in surprise, and you winced, putting on your best ignorant foreigner act.

“Hi, do you speak English?” you asked, grimacing awkwardly, and the woman eagerly nodded.

“Yes, hello,” she said, accent heavy and grin wide. “Do you need a room?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Namjoon said, laying on the charm thick. The two of you approached the desk, and he moved to put his arm around you. “Do you have a honeymoon suite available, by any chance?”

The woman smiled knowingly, looking between the two of you with a sparkle in her eye.

“We do,” she said, opening a drawer and taking out an old-fashioned bronze key. “How long will you be staying?”

“We aren’t sure yet, ma’am. Do you have wifi?” Namjoon asked.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we don’t,” the woman said, “It’s so expensive to get it in this area, so we just have telephones in the rooms, and a wonderful internet cafe just down the road that opens at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect, thank you,” Namjoon said to her, and you felt him move his hand on your shoulder a little, as if comforting you.

“How much is a room per night? And can we pay in cash?” you chimed in then, smiling politely at her.

“Well, the honeymoon suite is one hundred złoty per night,” she said, flipping through some papers on her desk as if double-checking. “That’s about twenty-two euros, or twenty dollars if you’re American. And yes, we accept złoty and euro, in addition to card and traveler’s checks.”

You nearly choked on air hearing that, looking up at Namjoon with wide, excited eyes. Namjoon mirrored your expression, glancing down at you before nodding eagerly.

“Yes, we’ll take it,” he said quickly, pulling out some of the money he’d stuffed in his pocket. “We’ll start with three nights, if that’s okay.” You wondered why he asked for more than one night, but tried not to react in front of this woman. Maybe he was just planning ahead, in case you ended up stuck here in this town for a little while.

“Of course,” she said, taking the money with a smile. “Breakfast is served tomorrow morning at nine. We all eat together every morning.” You glanced toward Namjoon, remembering how he’d wanted to lay low, but he didn’t react, still just listening to the woman with a polite smile on his face. “Your room is on the top floor,” she continued, “You’ll have the whole floor to yourself, and there’s nobody staying in the two rooms underneath right now. Lots of privacy.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon said, winking at the woman and pulling you closer to him, and you were pretty sure both her and your hearts fluttered simultaneously.

“Here’s your key,” she said, her face now bright red. Namjoon took it with a smug smile, dropping his other arm from around your shoulder and holding your hand again.

“Thank you so much for everything,” Namjoon said, practically oozing charm now. He led you toward the stairs, glancing back to smile at the woman again, while you tried your best to hide your limp, thankful the woman seemed much more interested in looking at Namjoon than you.

She hadn’t asked you for ID or even your names. Was that normal for hotels in Poland? What about incidentals? Maybe she was just distracted by Namjoon and forgot to ask.

The moment the two of you were around the corner and out of sight, Namjoon picked you up again, making you gasp in surprise.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” he asked quietly, carrying you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. He definitely earned a massage after this.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I can walk, you know.”

“You saw how tall this building is. It’s probably six floors up. No way I’m letting you walk on a sprained ankle up that many flights of stairs,” he insisted, raising an eyebrow at you when you gave him a look.

“Oh!”

Namjoon froze when you both heard a voice behind you, and you both turned enough to look back and see the woman at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the two of you like you were the most romantic thing she’d ever seen.

“Sorry, he’s always like this,” you quickly explained, attempting to laugh lightly. “He keeps insisting on carrying me into our room every night. I don’t think anybody told him that tradition was only meant for the first night of the honeymoon, carrying your new wife over the threshold and all that. He gets so carried away sometimes.”

The woman said something to herself in Polish, putting her hand over her heart and tilting her head to the side, smiling and sighing wistfully. Namjoon leaned in and kissed your cheek, and you willed yourself not to gasp or widen your eyes at the feeling of his plush, warm lips on your skin. The two of you giggled like a couple in love, pressing your foreheads together, and you thought your heart might burst out of your chest.

“It’s our honeymoon, how could I not?” he asked you, his voice sweet and just loud enough for the woman to still hear him.

You waved goodnight to her, and Namjoon resumed carrying you up the stairs, speeding up a little when he rounded the bend in the staircase.

“That was good thinking,” he murmured once he passed the fourth floor, now definitely out of earshot from the woman. You could tell he was feeling tired by the way his arms strained holding you now and how he’d slowed down a lot, but you didn’t push it, knowing he wouldn’t put you down no matter how much you insisted you were fine.

When the two of you got to the top floor, there was just one door, which Namjoon walked up to and bent over slightly in front of, allowing you to unlock the door without him letting go of you. You pushed the door open as best you could, and he turned and walked in sideways, careful not to bump your feet on the doorframe.

You flipped on the lights, kicking the door closed with your non-injured foot, and Namjoon reached down with you still in his arms, making you giggle as he attempted to lock the door and move the swing guard in place without putting you down.

“Having fun?” you asked, reaching up and locking the door for him, putting him out of his misery.

“Totally,” he said, stepping into the room and heading straight for the room’s one very large bed. “Think she noticed you were in shorts, socks, and heels?” he teased as he set you down gently, nearly dropping to one knee in his effort to ease you down as carefully as possible.

“No way. She was too busy lusting after you,” you laughed, kicking off your shoes and vowing to yourself to never wear them again.

“Oh, come on,” Namjoon said, shaking his head as he eased off the backpack. You grinned when you realized he was blushing, though he turned away and tried to hide it, setting the backpack down on the cozy little chair that looked like it was meant for two people sitting very close together. Even though he’d turned away, you could see his ears turning red. Did he not know how hot he was? Did he not realize that most people he met were attracted to him?

“She was totally in love with you. I think she would’ve asked you out if I wasn’t there,” you laughed, relaxing back on the bed on your elbows. The quilt laid over the sheets matched the ones down in the lobby and felt wonderfully soft, like real cashmere.

Namjoon glanced your way, and you swore he did a double-take when he saw the position you were in. You watched him shake his head and focus back on the backpack, where he was currently setting out his spare rounds and putting your bag of toiletries and his on the table beside the bed.

“You should get some sleep. I think exhaustion’s starting to get to you,” he mumbled, his already deep voice lower than normal. You quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on that.

You were about to say something when he pulled his gun out from the back of his pants, doing something mechanical with it that seemed like checking the rounds inside. He looked so professional and efficient, the muscles in his wide shoulders and thick arms moving slightly as he worked. You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as you watched him.

He walked around the bed to the desk across the room, where a landline phone sat plugged into the wall. He put the gun down carefully on the table and picked up the phone, and you watched him immediately dial a phone number he must have memorized.

You sat up straighter, pushing your horny, distracted thoughts out of your head and preparing for the serious conversation Namjoon was about to have with the embassy about you being in danger. You watched him standing there as it rang, and he turned back to face you as he waited, giving you a weak smile when you made eye contact.

Namjoon frowned then, pulling the phone away from his ear and glaring at it.

“It said something in Polish, and then it said in English that this caller is out of my network,” he said, hanging up the phone before immediately picking it up and trying again. This time even you could hear how it immediately went to what sounded like a dial-up noise from the 90’s.

He tried again, and you sighed, watching him as he started to get frustrated. You stood, limping over to him, and felt Namjoon jump a little when you put your hand on his arm.

“I’ll go check in the lobby and see if she can fix it or get us another phone,” he said, sighing. He glanced toward the old-fashioned clock on the wall, which read it was almost midnight now.

“Hold on,” you said, catching him by his hand as he turned to leave, making him look at you. “Just stay. Please.” Your voice was quiet, exhausted, pleading. “We can just go to that internet cafe in the morning. Let’s just sleep, Joon. You must be so tired.”

“I need to call the embassy and let them know what happened,” he said, shaking his head a little, his hand still in yours, though. Up close you could see the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged.

“Please,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “We’re safe here. Let’s just sleep and call in the morning. If those men had followed us from the train, they would’ve found us in the forest, so I really think we’re safe here. Please, stay with me. Don’t leave me.”

Namjoon bit his lip, sighing as he seemed to consider it. He squeezed your hand back before nodding, some of the concern melting from his tired eyes when he saw you smile.

“Just tonight,” he said, bringing his hand you weren’t holding on to up to stroke your hair back from your face. “First thing in the morning, we’ll make the call. We might have to check out and keep moving tomorrow if it’s not safe here, so we do need to rest.”

“Sounds perfect,” you sighed, letting go of his hand and heading over to the backpack.

You slid off his jacket and laid it over the back of the chair, before pulling off your t-shirt so you could take off the bulletproof vest. Behind you, you heard Namjoon inhale sharply, and when you glanced over your shoulder you saw him turned away, facing the opposite wall.

“Are you planning on sleeping in your dirty dress clothes?” you asked him, taking off your bra before putting your shirt back on. You wanted to start a conversation that could somehow non-awkwardly lead up to you offering to give him a shoulder massage, in a way that didn’t sound inappropriate or too intimate. “I don’t think that’ll be very comfortable, plus you’ll get the sheets all dirty.”

“It won’t matter, since I’ll be sleeping on the floor,” he said matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.

You turned around now that you were fully dressed again, glaring at him, though the effect was lost since he was still facing away.

“Oh no you aren’t,” you said firmly, crossing your arms when he turned to look at you again. “This bed is huge. It could fit five people! You are not sleeping on the floor.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” he said, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt and making your heart skip a beat. “You just lay down and get some sleep. You need to rest your ankle.”

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t sleep in this bed, then neither will I,” you said, grinding your teeth and setting your jaw. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you raised one back, challenging him to keep arguing. “It’s up to you. Either we both sleep in this giant bed, or we both sleep on the floor. You walked for miles tonight, carrying a person after jumping off a train. You’re sleeping in a bed, even if I have to make you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes and unbuckling his belt. You tried to maintain your resolve and not think about the sight of him pulling his belt out of the belt-loops, but he was making it really hard for you.

“Fine,” he grumbled, laying his belt across the chair in front of the desk.

“And don’t even think about getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor after I fall asleep, mister. If I wake up and you’re not still in bed, I’m sleeping on the floor every night for the next week. I don’t care if we’re back home tomorrow night, I really mean it. I’ll do jumping jacks on my twisted ankle too, just watch me.”

“I believe you, ma’am,” he said, laughing a little at your stubbornness.

“Why’d you even ask for the honeymoon suite if you were planning on sleeping on the floor?” you snapped, going over to the bed and throwing the sheets and quilt back.

“I thought a suite would be more private, and it helped sell our act,” he said, taking off his watch and setting it on the desk. “We need to be as believable as possible to stay undercover and inconspicuous. Plus it won’t seem weird if we don’t leave our room, if people think we’re in here… honeymooning.”

“Honeymooning, right,” you scoffed, flopping down on the bed and crossing your arms again, pouting at him angrily.

Namjoon ignored your comment, coming over to the backpack again and pulling out both your cell phones, along with the bag from the gas station with the chargers. He started opening them, walking back to the desk slowly as he concentrated.

You sighed, knowing you’d gone a little too far with your anger. You wanted him to take care of himself and not put himself through any more struggles on your behalf. You were upset with him because he was trying to be professional and considerate, not because he’d actually done anything wrong.

“Hey, Joon,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Are you okay after carrying me and walking that far? Do you want me to give you a shoulder massage or anything?”

He was plugging both your phones in, bent over as he reached behind the desk to plug in the chargers, and you tried to ignore the great view you had of his ass. You heard him mumble something, letting out a short grunt as he strained and reached, before standing back up and turning to face you.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” he said simply, shrugging. “And it’s okay, really. You don’t have to apologize.” He looked devastatingly handsome, his hair ruffled up a little from bending over the desk, white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease a glimpse at his large, firm chest. You almost groaned at just the sight of him; this was so completely unfair of him, to look this good when you were trying to apologize.

“It’s not okay,” you said, picking up the pillow behind you and hugging it to your chest. “You saved my life today and got me out of there when I was kind of in shock. You wrapped my sprained ankle and carried me for miles in the snow. I shouldn’t snap at you.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. I was just doing my job.”

You blinked as you processed what he said, your lips parting as you felt your heart shatter. Namjoon seemed completely indifferent, just standing there looking at you blankly, and you set your jaw, huffing, trying so hard not to show how devastated you felt by that little reality check.

You were just his job. That’s all you were to him, that’s all your life meant to him, even now. He wouldn’t even let you apologize, because he was so professional and saw you only as a coworker – not even a coworker; he saw you as a task, a thing to protect for money, a job to do instead of a friend or someone who loved him.

You felt silly and stupid for even being upset by this, because of course you were just his job. You already knew this, so why did hearing him say it affect you so much? Why did it feel like a punch in the gut instead of a reminder of something you’d thought you’d already accepted?

When you didn’t respond, Namjoon turned back toward the desk, double-checking that the phones were both plugged in and charging before walking toward the bathroom. You heard the door close and the sink turn on, and you laid down, turning away from the door and curling up into a ball on your side.

You bit your lip as you tried not to cry, hot tears stinging your eyes as your throat and lungs tightened painfully. You felt so exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and you tried to tell yourself that being tired always made things feel worse. Tomorrow you’d wake up, feel a little better, and things could begin going back to normal between you and Namjoon.

You told yourself what you already knew, repeating it in your head to yourself as you tried to fall asleep. You’re just his job. He doesn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t love you.

***

Namjoon had shared hotel rooms with you a few times before, but never the same bed, never close enough to feel your body heat pulling him in.

He wanted so badly to turn toward you now and spoon you, kiss you all over your neck and shoulder and whisper promises about how he’d always keep you safe, but he knew there were lines he wasn’t allowed to cross. He felt guilty even thinking about it in your presence, like his perverted thoughts alone somehow violated you.

Though laying here now in the dark, listening to your gentle breathing as you slept, he found it hard not to let his fantasies run wild.

He hoped you weren’t uncomfortable by him sharing your bed or what he’d done to maintain your cover. The honeymoon thing, while helpful, definitely hadn’t been necessary, but he hadn’t been able to help himself, seeing it as the perfect excuse to have fleeting moments of intimacy with you, however fake and convoluted.

You’d gone along with it perfectly, and then you’d insisted on him sharing a bed with you when he’d tried to keep everything professional, ever-careful of your boundaries and what would make you feel uncomfortable. He just wanted to keep you safe and happy, and you were being such an angel, as always. His angel, he thought to himself with a lazy smile.

When you’d tried to apologize to him, he’d shut that down immediately. He knew you were stressed and tired and that normally the two of you never even disagreed on anything, so he’d tried to reassure you that everything was fine and that you had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t want you to feel like you owed him anything. You’d been so cute when you were angry, all pouty and passionate, and even when you were upset, you still cared about him and checked on how he was doing, caring about his wellbeing. It made Namjoon’s heart ache.

You’d reacted oddly when he’d told you that it was his job to protect you, your expression becoming unreadable. You were already asleep when he’d come out of the bathroom, so he tried not to think too much into it. He knew you must be exhausted, scared, in pain from your injury, stressed, still coming down from being in shock earlier, and more. You probably just needed a good night’s rest and to get out of this scary situation and back to the embassy.

Beside him, you sighed in your sleep, shifting a little.

Namjoon closed his eyes, mentally replaying the noise you’d just made, that contented, gentle, relaxed, beautiful sigh. He imagined you making that noise as he kissed down your body, spreading your thighs and putting his mouth on you for the first time. What would you sound like when he sucked your clit between his lips, or when he fucked you with his tongue? What would you say when he told you you had the most beautiful pussy he’d ever seen, that you tasted sweeter than honey and that your pussy belonged to him? Would you pull his hair and whine, maybe have that adorable pout on your lips as you looked down at him? What would you feel like when he finally slid his cock so deep inside you, your legs wrapped around him or up over his shoulders, his hands in your beautiful hair as he kissed you breathless and made love to you again and again, until you knew nothing but his name? Your perfect little pussy would squeeze him so hard, and he’d pound into you until you came for him, sighing and moaning and making the most beautiful sounds in the world.

Namjoon groaned quietly to himself, rolling onto his side facing away from you. He reached up and grabbed the second pillow he wasn’t using from his side of the bed, hugging it tight against his chest. It was a poor replacement for you, but he needed to stay professional, and a raging boner and sex dreams about you were as far from professional as he could get.

He had a job to do. He was here to protect you and keep you from being kidnapped or assassinated, not to fantasize about you inappropriately. He’d put his gun in the nightstand beside him, and he reached out and felt the handle of the drawer it was in, memorizing how far it was from him in the dark and where exactly the handle was in case he had to suddenly reach out and grab it. He needed to be ready.

As he tried to relax, Namjoon listened to the sounds of the hotel, the hum of the heater in the corner of the room, your gentle breathing as you slept. It was peaceful, and he already felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Beside him, you sighed again, and at that he closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

***

When you woke, Namjoon was still asleep, thankfully still in the bed and not on the floor. You’d been serious about your threat and were happy he’d listened, for both his sake and yours.

You stretched a little in place, your ankle throbbing in pain when you moved it, making you hiss and bite your lip. Your muscles throughout your whole body felt stiff, and you wondered if it was from jumping off the train, since it certainly wasn’t from walking.

You turned your head to look over at Namjoon, your heart aching. He looked so peaceful as he slept on his side facing you, his cheeks looking rounder and cuter, his hair all mussed up from sleeping well. He wasn’t quite snoring; it was more of a gentle purr, a quiet rumble in his chest. He’d slept shirtless, you realized, seeing his bare shoulders peeking out from under the covers, and just the thought of that made you squeeze your legs together.

God, you wanted to kiss him. His plush lips were parted and looked so soft, and the adorable noises he was making made you want to lay your head on his chest and feel the vibrations of his sounds. He’d been so warm when he’d carried you last night, like a human furnace, and you wondered if he was still that warm now, if cuddling up to his body heat would put you right back to sleep. You wanted him to hold you forever, the two of you never leaving this bed ever again.

Namjoon groaned to himself, rolling onto his back and stretching. He grimaced when he moved his shoulders, and you quickly closed your eyes when you saw his eyes start to open.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep from sleep. “I saw you.” He was teasing you, and when you cracked open one eye and peeked at him, he smiled lazily. “Are you pretending to be asleep?”

“No,” you said, closing your eyes again and trying to hide your grin.

He hummed softly instead of responding, a low noise you felt the vibrations of through the mattress. His head was turned toward you as he laid on his back, smiling contentedly as he just looked at you. It felt intense, so intimate and domestic, and you looked away, feeling a blush staining your cheeks and not wanting him to notice, though you could still see him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, and you tried not to look at the way his large, bare chest rose and fell with his slow breathing. You imagined running your fingernails along his skin there, making him gasp and squirm beneath you as you rode him. You sighed, pushing away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

“Good,” you said softly, your own voice groggy and quiet. “You?”

“Good.” He was still just laying there watching you, and you were sure you were bright red by now. “I think we overslept,” he added, smirking a little.

“By how much?” You remembered the kind woman from the lobby’s words about her guests always eating breakfast together, and you weren’t eager to break her rules so soon into your stay.

“It’s almost eleven,” Namjoon said, laughing softly at you when your eyes went wide.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head. “Guess we needed it.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still on you.

The sheets and quilt had fallen enough for you to see his defined pecs, tiny brown nipples you kind of wanted to put your mouth on, dark hair in his armpit when he raised his arm and tucked his hand behind his head, relaxing. They were such small details about him – you’d certainly never thought about his armpit hair or nipple size before in your fantasies – but you felt yourself becoming wet, your skin feeling hot and flushed. The moment was so intimate, showing you such small details about him and his body that you’d never even considered before. He was here and real. Even just the way his large chest expanded as he breathed made you want to touch him everywhere.

“I think I’m gonna run down to the internet cafe by myself,” Namjoon said then, making your eyes refocus on his face. You really, really hoped you hadn’t actually been staring at his chest when you’d zoned out, or at the very least that he hadn’t noticed. “I can grab breakfast for us and bring it back, and see if there’s anywhere I can get some more clothes for us. Definitely shoes for you, at least. I’ll be gone an hour tops, and you can stay here and stay hidden.”

“Joon, shouldn’t we stay together?” you said, furrowing your brow. “What if they find me while you’re gone? What if they break in and take me?”

“I’ll look around first and see if there’s anything suspicious,” he said. “I can survey a bit before I leave the inn, ask if anybody else checked in or asked about us. I won’t leave you unless I feel like it’s completely safe.”

“Can’t I come with you?” you said, aware you were now pouting at him and giving him the puppy eyes you knew always worked on him.

“You should rest and stay off your feet. You need to recover,” he said, sighing, and your heart skipped a beat as you watched him glance down at your lips.

He was just looking at the fact you were pouting, you told yourself. There was no way he’d actually looked at your lips like that, while shirtless and sharing a bed with you and looking like he wanted you, and there was definitely no way he’d actually licked his own lips while looking at yours. You had to be imagining things.

“I’ll only be gone a little while. I promise,” he said, turning onto his side to face you fully. “Besides, just me walking around will be much less noticeable than both of us, especially if you’re limping. And you shouldn’t walk on your ankle anyway, especially not in those heels.”

You made a quiet humph! sound, crossing your arms and glaring at him with no heat. You couldn’t actually be mad at him, but you didn’t want him to leave you here even for a moment. Namjoon smiled softly, reaching over and stroking your hair back from your face.

“If I leave now, I can be back before noon,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Your heart was racing now, and you hoped Namjoon couldn’t feel it. “Later, if everything looks safe, we could go sit somewhere. Maybe there’s some place cozy downstairs, by a nice warm fire. It’ll be nice to get out of the room if it’s safe.”

“That sounds nice,” you mumbled, pouting again.

He still had his hand in your hair, and you almost wanted to moan, feeling how warm and soft his big hand was. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, to feel those big long fingers inside you, but he was just being nice and comforting you. You remembered his words from last night: I was just doing my job. It was so hard for you to remind yourself of that now when he was stroking your hair and being so sweet to you.

Namjoon dropped his hand to your shoulder, squeezing once before turning away and throwing back the covers from his side of the bed.

You sighed, pulling the covers around you closer, not at all ready to get up yet as you watched him sit up and swing his feet to the floor. His back was now to you, and you took in a deep breath, letting yourself ogle the broad expanse of his bare shoulders. He had a couple of little moles on his back, just like the ones on his face you’d imagined kissing so many times, and you wanted to reach out now and touch him, trace the constellations on his golden skin with your fingers and lips.

Namjoon stood, and you tried not to gasp as your eyes bulged. Not only was he shirtless, but he’d slept in just his boxers. You figured that made sense, since he’d only had his dress clothes he’d worn to the summit yesterday and they’d gotten kind of dirty in the forest, but seeing him parade around the room now in just one little piece of clothing made your mouth water. His thighs were so muscular you almost moaned out loud, imagining how strong and powerful he must be. He was so big and muscular, it made your pussy ache to be filled.

“I’m gonna borrow that sweatshirt I bought you,” Namjoon said, standing in front of the chair with the backpack, facing away from you. “I think it’ll fit me. I got one a little big for you. That way I’m not in the same weird, dirty outfit I was in last night.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” you said, your eyes not leaving his ass. You were currently fantasizing about squeezing him there while he fucked you, digging your fingernails in and feeling his muscles clenching and moving as he thrusted, and you almost missed when Namjoon turned around to look at you again.

“I think we passed a cafe on the way here from the gas station. I hope they’re still serving breakfast,” he said, pulling on the sweatshirt. “If not, I’ll get us something like sandwiches or soup.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing down at his crotch in the brief moment his eyes were covered by the sweatshirt as he pulled it on.

“You want extra raisins in your food, right?”

“Yep, totally,” you said, not at all hearing him.

Namjoon smirked, and you looked back up at his face, blinking in confusion.

“Somebody seems distracted,” he said, coming back toward the bed. He climbed across the bottom, sitting cross-legged by your feet. “Is your ankle hurting?”

He pulled the covers off your legs and took your injured foot in his hand, handling it carefully as he held it up to examine it.

“Just a little.” You hoped he actually believed you were distracted from the pain, not from how fucking sexy he was, parading around in his underwear.

Namjoon began slowly unwrapping the gauze, revealing your red and somewhat swollen ankle. You tested moving it, and it ached but gave no resistance. Namjoon moved his hand up, holding your leg up by your calf, and you imagined him moving his hands up even farther and bending over and eating you out. God, you needed to get ahold of yourself.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he said, glancing up at you. “If you stay off of it, you should heal pretty quickly. Walking as little as possible would definitely help.”

“So are you becoming my butler in addition to my bodyguard and doctor? Just gonna dote on me and carry me around all day?” you said, smirking up at him from where you laid.

The covers were off of you now, and you were just in your tiny little shorts and the thin t-shirt with no bra you’d slept in. You watched Namjoon glance down at your chest and shorts before answering, his voice a little deeper than normal, like when he’d first woken up.

“I already dote on you,” he mumbled, and you swore he was blushing. He looked away from you, down to the floor beside the bed, unable to make eye contact. He gently laid your foot back on the bed, the bottom of your foot against his knee where his legs were crossed.

“You’re so good at it, too,” you teased, pressing your foot against him playfully.

Namjoon blinked a few times, sucking in a breath, before suddenly standing up and walking around the bed. You pouted, not wanting him to leave you yet or quit the teasing game you’d been playing.

“Here,” he said, picking up a pillow that had fallen to the floor by his side of the bed. He came back around and propped up your injured foot, using the pillow to elevate it. “Just stay relaxed like this, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh, whatever,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

“Do you want your phone before I go, so you can play games? Do you need help going to the bathroom?” he asked, completely serious, and you rolled your eyes at him, laughing.

“Just go if you’re going,” you said, ready to throw a pillow at him.

He smiled, walking back over to the backpack and pulling on his dress pants. You watched him take his gun out of his bedside table and tuck it into the back of his pants before heading out the door.

***

It took you about twenty minutes of laying in bed alone before you got bored and decided to get up, Namjoon’s advice about elevating your foot be damned. You needed to pee and really wanted to shower, so you got up and hobbled on over to your bag of toiletries, heading into the little bathroom that desperately needed updated and cleaned.

As the shower heated up, you sat on the toilet that alarmingly wobbled a little, staring at the closed door and thinking about Namjoon. You’d never seen him shirtless before, and his big chest muscles and broad shoulders were all you could think about. He was a god, an Adonis, an angel on earth, a marble statue come to life. And where on earth had he been hiding those massive thunder thighs? You’d always known he was a big boy, but good fucking god.

When you got in the shower, you used the inn’s little bottles of shampoo and body wash to clean yourself, groaning at the fact you would probably have to put back on your dirty clothes after your shower. You were grateful to be clean though, and more grateful to have something to do to distract you from your thoughts.

The hot water felt nice, and you stood there for a moment once you were clean, closing your eyes and letting the heat soak into your injured ankle and sore muscles. The water was hot enough to make the whole bathroom steam up, the mirror over the sink fogging up and condensation running down the walls.

Standing there with your eyes closed, you let your mind return to Namjoon and his body. You sighed, remembering how fucking sexy he’d looked this morning with his bare chest on display, and you imagined him rolling over and getting on top of you, covering your body in kisses and touching you with his big, gentle hands. He had such long, elegant fingers, and as you stood there imagining them, you let your own hand drop between your legs, feeling your slick heat and circling two fingertips around your clit.

“Joon,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed tighter, your breathing picking up.

Each flick of your fingers sent a spark of pleasure through your body, and you imagined Namjoon on his knees in the shower in front of you, his mouth on your pussy and tongue moving in and out of you. He’d pull one of your legs over his shoulder, holding your ass with both hands as he fucked you with his tongue, his dark brown eyes focused on your face as he ate your pussy.

Your whimpers and moans echoed off the tile walls of the shower, and you moved your fingers back and curled two of them deep into your pussy, now imagining Namjoon standing behind you and fingering you. You imagined him holding you against his big firm body with one arm, his hand on your tits as he played with you, grinding against your ass with his massive cock.

“Joon, fuck me,” you whined, whimpering with every exhale and imagining him bending you over right here and entering you from behind. He’d fuck you so good, slam against your ass over and over, and he’d take his pleasure from you and make the most beautiful noises, moaning and growling in that deep sexy voice.

Your moans devolved into gibberish noises of pleasure, barely able to say his name anymore as you drew close. You were breathing hard, your eyes closed as you fucked yourself closer and closer, thinking of vague parts of Namjoon and how much you loved him instead of imagining specific scenarios. You thought of his lips, the way he’d carried you yesterday, how sexy his thighs had looked, and came with a cry of his name that you swore shook the walls, your body tensing as you felt yourself throbbing as you came all over your fingers.

As you started to come down from your high, you sighed, rinsing off your fingers under the running water. You smiled lazily to yourself, imagining Namjoon’s lips sucking your fingers clean. You wished you could cuddle with him right now, feeling so contented and satisfied from your orgasm, you swore you could fall right back asleep.

Sighing, you turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body.

***

Namjoon had gotten back from his errands a few minutes before, and now sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands as he listened to you touching yourself in the shower.

Your whines and moans had made him hard in seconds, his lips parting and eyes rolling back in his head every time you made yourself cry out in pleasure. Part of him wanted to pull himself out of his pants now and stroke himself, his cock practically aching for it, but instead he just sat there and listened, committing every second of this to memory.

You were the sexiest thing on the planet, and right now you were making the most beautiful noises he’d ever heard. He imagined barging into the bathroom now and dropping to his knees and fucking you with his mouth. He wanted to more than anything, but he knew you were just letting off steam and doing this to relax. This wasn’t about him, and he would never go there and make you feel uncomfortable.

Still, he had his fantasies. He wanted to eat your pussy so fucking bad, it was something he imagined pretty much constantly. He’d always known he had an oral fixation, but with you, it had become so much more intense, sometimes he only imagined eating you out and not even actually fucking you.

He imagined bursting into the bathroom right now just to throw you over his shoulder, carry you out here, and toss you down on the bed, spreading you open under him and eating your beautiful pussy until you screamed for him. He closed his eyes and imagined it, imagined you pulling his hair and begging him to let you come, but he wouldn’t let you, not until you were in tears and crying nothing but his name and “please.” And then he’d let you come, just to keep licking your pussy through it, through three or four more orgasms, one after another, not stopping even if you screamed in overstimulation.

He wanted to destroy you with his mouth, reduce you to a pathetic crying whore, his angel he’d make fall apart and shatter just so he could put you back together. Maybe you’d squirt all over his face; he’d drink up every last drop of you, never taking his mouth off your pussy ever again.

Namjoon was so caught up in his fantasies, he almost didn’t hear what he swore sounded like you moaning his name. His heart skipped a beat when he heard it, his entire body frozen and eyes wide as he tried to listen, because there was no way in hell he’d heard that right.

“Joon, fuck me,” your beautiful voice moaned so loudly, and Namjoon groaned, his eyes closing and mouth falling open as he came in his pants just from hearing you.

Namjoon looked down at himself, the shock of the situation making him just sit there with his mouth hanging open and eyebrows near his hairline. He’d never blown his load in his pants like that before, not even when he was a hormonal teenager.

More importantly, there was no fucking way you’d actually just moaned his name while masturbating. His fantasies must be turning into actual hallucinations, because it was completely impossible that you were masturbating while imagining him. There was just no way.

He heard your moans crescendo as you came, and he bit his lip, imagining you coming all over his face. He let himself imagine it then, just for a moment, that you were actually touching yourself while thinking of him, and he almost got hard again at just the idea.

The mess in his pants was starting to feel disgusting and uncomfortable, and he desperately wanted to change and get clean. He needed to take a shower as soon as you were out, and he needed to get in there without you realizing he had a giant wet stain on the front of his pants.

When he heard the shower turn off, Namjoon quickly stood, going over to the bags of clothes he’d bought at a little boutique next to the internet cafe. He pulled out some of the ones he’d bought for himself, holding them awkwardly in front of his crotch while he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Part of him felt guilty for having listened to you, but he tried to tell himself that he hadn’t done anything terrible. This was a shared space. You’d known he was coming back soon. He tried to tell himself that, but it didn’t ease his guilt.

The door opened a moment later and you walked out, wrapping your hair up in a towel. You gasped when you saw him, your eyes wide, and he watched you try to play it off, smiling awkwardly and coming over to him. You were only wearing a towel, your body still dripping wet from the shower, and Namjoon ignored the way a brief fantasy flashed in his mind, imagining himself grabbing that towel and throwing it off to the side before dropping to his knees and making love to you with his tongue.

“Hey,” you said, peeking into the bags of clothes he’d bought. “How long have you been back?”

You’d tried to ask it casually, but he could tell you were on edge. He swore he could smell your scent over the cheap hotel shampoo, and it made his heart rate spike, his jaw setting as he tried to push aside his horny, possessive thoughts. Despite your nerves, he could tell that you were glowing from your orgasm, and he wanted to kiss you so bad his whole body ached from it.

“I just walked in a couple seconds ago,” he quickly lied, hoping to ease your nerves. He stepped around you, heading off to the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower real quick too. Lunch is in that brown takeout bag. Feel free to start without me.”

“You know I’ll wait for you, Joonie,” you said, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him. Namjoon’s heart ached looking at you, so fucking sweet and angelic and perfect.

“Well, look through the clothes I got you then,” he teased, smiling back to you. “Or better yet, get off that ankle and elevate it like I told you, young lady.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, fake-saluting to him, and Namjoon ignored the way his cock twitched hearing you call him that. He started to turn to head off to the shower, but you casually asking “Oh hey, Joon, what’d you hear?” made him freeze in place.

“Huh? Hear what? I didn’t hear anything,” Namjoon said quickly, turning back to look at you with wide eyes.

You looked confused, tilting your head and blinking.

“I meant, what’d you hear from the embassy?” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh,” Namjoon said, biting his lip and nodding, unable to look up and make eye contact with you. “Uh, yeah. The embassy.”

He made himself be serious, shifting into work mode and speaking calmly as he explained how that conversation had gone, still awkwardly holding his clothes in front of his crotch.

“They passed on the information to your mother, so she knows you’re all right,” he said blankly. “There was, uh, a bit of a situation though, so they can’t come get us yet. Your mother’s fine, but an unknown terrorist group attempted to breach the house last night, so the embassy’s on lockdown. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the same group that had men on our train last night. It can’t be a coincidence that it happened at the same time.”

He waited for a moment, letting you process that. You looked scared for a split second, before taking a deep breath and nodding for him to continue.

“Your mother’s secure at the embassy with the rest of the security team,” he continued, watching your reaction. “They told me to get you somewhere safe and stay hidden, and then in the next few days they’ll arrange an extraction and get you home.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding and looking down at the ground. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, shrinking in on yourself, and the scared look in your eyes you tried to hide made Namjoon’s heart hurt. You shivered, still standing there in your wet towel, and he wanted to go to you and hug you, warm you up, and tell you he’d always keep you safe.

“There’s a bus to Kraków at three o’clock today, and I want us on it,” Namjoon said instead. “It’ll be much easier for us to hide in a city, and it’ll be safer to get away from a town that’s right by the train tracks. The attack on the embassy means this is an even bigger operation than I’d thought, so I want us to play it safe.”

“Who are they?” you asked, ignoring what he’d said and frowning.

“I don’t know. The rest of our security team is trying to figure that out now. They’re working with the Polish authorities and our embassy here to get more information, and to arrange an extraction for you as fast as they can.”

You looked lost in thought, looking down to the ground and frowning again as the gears turned in your head. Namjoon wished he could put his hand on your shoulder comfortingly or do something, anything, to help you feel like things would be okay, but he was still holding his clothes in front of his crotch and didn’t want to risk moving.

“After lunch, we should pack up and get ready to go. We only have a few hours,” you said quietly, setting your jaw. Namjoon’s heart swelled in pride, seeing how determined and brave you looked. His wonderful, strong, brave angel.

“I’ll go shower, then,” Namjoon mumbled, trying to hide his dumb smitten smile and heart eyes as he turned to leave.

Once safely inside the bathroom, he sighed, his entire body relaxing as he turned on the shower and set his clean clothes down on the counter. He braced himself there, staring down at the sink as he tried to collect his thoughts and get ahold of himself.

You hadn’t moaned his name. He had to have imagined it. It was his fantasies coming to life, him projecting his desires onto you unfairly after he’d listened to you masturbating, like a complete pervert. He’d crossed a line today, and the idea of doing something like this to you, choosing to listen to you when he knew you were having an intimate moment, was way too far.

Namjoon bit his lip as he let his guilt overwhelm him. He squeezed his eyes closed, gripping the counter painfully hard and trying to focus only on his breathing.

Why had he not gone out into the hall and waited there once he’d realized what you were doing? Instead of respecting you and giving you privacy, he’d been so selfish, caring only about his fantasies and lust and eavesdropping on you in a moment you obviously didn’t want anyone to hear. He was a pervert, and he’d disrespected you. He’d projected onto you, to the extent of imagining hearing you moan his name. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Namjoon stripped off his clothes, feeling numb. He turned and stepped into the shower, making the water as cold as he could stand it.

He should give your mother his two weeks notice the moment he got you back to the embassy safely. It was the right thing to do, the only way to redeem himself after doing something like this. But the thought of leaving you, of leaving this job where he spent every day by your side sounded worse than any punishment or torture he could think of. Maybe that’s why he should do it: he deserved it, after this.

Namjoon washed himself quickly, trying to calm his mind and not think about you. He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t pressed his ear to the door or gone out of his way to listen to you; he’d just come back to your shared hotel room, and was able to hear you.

That didn’t help him feel any less shitty about the situation, though. As he rinsed his hair and turned off the shower, he sighed, shaking his head in disgust at himself.

He decided it then. Once you were safely home, he would tell you everything. How he felt, that he was in love with you, and that he’d heard you. He’d leave it entirely up to you: if you were uncomfortable, he would leave, and that would be that. It was the only thing he could think of doing that didn’t make him feel like he was lying to you or violating you. It gave him a sliver of hope, while letting him feel at peace with his conscience.

Namjoon dried off and got dressed quickly, trying to push away his stress and worries before coming back out to you. He didn’t want you to feel like anything was wrong, so as he went to open the door, he sighed, making himself smile weakly.

True to your word, you’d waited on him to eat.

After you’d gotten dressed in the clothes he’d bought for you, you’d set out the sandwiches and fruit on the little table in the corner of the room. Namjoon smiled when he saw you standing there setting it all up like it was a picnic or fancy dinner, not takeout in a hotel room. You were now putting napkins and plastic silverware by each of your takeout boxes, your adorable face deep in concentration as you made sure everything looked perfect.

Namjoon swore he’d never felt deeper in love with you than that moment, his heart swelling in emotion.

“Thanks for waiting on me,” he said quietly, tossing his dirty clothes over toward his backpack. You smiled up at him, realizing he was there, and he felt like his lungs and heart were being squeezed by invisible hands in his chest.

“Of course,” you said, sitting down at one of the seats and motioning for him to join you. “It’d be rude not to wait on my hero, who saved my life and got me new clothes and food.”

“All in a days work,” he mumbled shyly, sitting down across from you and ignoring the way his heart sang at hearing you call him your ‘hero.’

The two of you ate in comfortable silence. If you were suspicious about him potentially having heard you when you were in the shower, you didn’t show it at all, smiling to yourself and looking up at him every few minutes, the same friendly smile on your face as always. Namjoon kept catching himself smiling at you and watching you without even realizing, and he really hoped you weren’t noticing. He needed to get ahold of himself.

He was really going to miss this. A few days from now, when he confessed everything and you fired him for being such a perv, he’d look back on right now and all the times like this, when the two of you had wonderful moments alone together, eating or talking or joking with each other. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like once you were out of his life forever; he couldn’t bear to think of it, so instead he glanced up at you, watching you enjoy your lunch and look around the room with a pleasant, relaxed look on your beautiful face.

“I found a bed and breakfast in Kraków I thought we might like,” he mumbled after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “I didn’t book it obviously, but the website said they take cash, and it’s not too far from the bus station. It looked private and off the beaten path, but still safe and clean.”

“That sounds nice. Maybe this time we can actually enjoy the breakfast and not just the bed,” you giggled, making his heart soar.

“We’ll still need to lay low in case anyone’s still looking for you. Kraków is the closest city to where you were last seen.” Namjoon was trying so hard to be serious and professional, but your giggles and good mood and how fucking good you smelled were all short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, maybe on the way out of town when we’re extracted, we can drive by the touristy spots in town, at least. I’ll see everything through a bulletproof window in a car,” you said, making Namjoon laugh.

The rest of the meal was quiet, and afterwards, Namjoon cleaned up, insisting you stay off your foot. He brought a pillow from the bed over, putting on the chair he’d sat in, and brought your foot up, resting it carefully on the pillow. You pouted at him for not letting you help him pack, insisting that your foot felt fine now, and Namjoon just shook his head, smiling.

From there, he packed up his backpack, which was now stuffed full and barely able to close. If he saw an opportunity somewhere, he’d try to get you a bag of your own, so the two of you would look like normal backpackers and you could carry your own clothes. You were pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon, after all. You should at least look the part.

Once done packing, Namjoon got down on one knee and helped you into the shoes he’d found for you, a simple pair of white sneakers he hoped were your size. He was pretty sure he knew your shoe size, and as you slid your non-injured foot into the shoe perfectly, Namjoon let himself sigh in relief.

He tied up your shoelaces for you, double-knotting them and smiling up at you once he was done. He glanced down, suddenly noticing the fact he was on his knees in front of you as you sat, your legs slightly parted. He swore he could almost smell sex on you, and it made him part his lips as he imagined himself leaning in and kissing your pussy over the pants he’d bought for you. He’d inhale you, pressing his face against your cunt and just breathing you in until he got off on just that. He felt savage, like an animal in heat, like he needed to rub his face all over your pussy and mark you as his. That faint smell, undoubtedly from you getting yourself off earlier, was like a drug to him, and he felt like he could get high from it, from you.

Namjoon quickly stood, turning away and clearing his throat.

“We should get going soon,” he said, his whole body tense. He heard you stand up behind him and didn’t dare to look back at you. He didn’t trust himself. “We should get our tickets and make sure nobody’s looking for us near the bus station.”

“Okay,” you said softly, your beautiful voice a siren song pulling him in.

Before he could say anything else, Namjoon felt your small hand on his shoulder. He instantly melted under your touch, the tension leaving his body as he turned toward you.

“Are you alright?” you asked, looking up at him with your beautiful, concerned eyes. You could tell he felt off, because of course you could. You knew him better than anyone, so you could obviously tell he was acting weird.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his heart full from how sweet you were. “I promise. I’m just worried about keeping you safe.”

“Hopefully, we’re already past the hard part,” you tried to encourage, and Namjoon nodded. He wanted to reach out and squeeze your hand, but knew better.

“Hopefully,” was all he could manage to say. How could he feel completely level-headed yesterday when those men were busting into your room on the train, but now, just standing in front of you, he was a nervous wreck?

“Either way, I know I’m safe with you, Joon,” you said, and Namjoon bit his lip, taking in a deep breath.

You were an actual angel, a goddess among mortals. He was sure of it.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “I promise. We’ll get to Kraków by tonight, and we’ll be fine. No matter what, you’re safe with me.”

Namjoon’s heart jumped when you suddenly hugged him, your face pressed against his chest as you squeezed him. He was frozen only for a split second, and then he hugged you back, tightly, securely, and, most importantly, platonically. He wanted you to trust him and feel safe in his arms, because you were always safe with him. He was your bodyguard, your protector, and he had a job to do. His whole purpose was making you feel safe.

You stepped back and smiled up at him, and Namjoon was sure you could ask him to rip out his heart right now and give it to you, and he’d do it without hesitation.

The moment passed, and the two of you began getting ready to leave. It was almost two in the afternoon already, and the bus for Kraków left at three. You had plenty of time to get to the station and get your ticket, and he was glad the two of you didn’t need to rush.

Namjoon put on his jacket and the Tatry hat he’d bought yesterday in the gas station, while you pulled on the matching Tatry sweatshirt. The two of you looked like a couple of tourists, which was smart, he figured. The less you looked like the daughter of an ambassador, the better. The two of you were a young, foolish, cheap couple on vacation. Not a targeted political figure and bodyguard.

When you left the bed and breakfast, Namjoon checked out with the kind woman at the front desk, got a refund for the nights the two of you didn’t stay, and then quietly left out a side door he’d found earlier, instead of directly out onto the main street. He led you by the hand to the back of the inn, and the two of you walked along the town’s secondary road, much smaller and without a sidewalk, but it had much fewer cars passing by compared to the large main road.

It wasn’t snowing today, but a dirty slush still covered most of the ground, especially by the roads. The wind had a sharp edge to it that Namjoon noticed made you shiver. He squeezed your hand, wishing he could warm you up.

At the bus station, he bought two tickets for Kraków, and the two of you sat in the back corner of the empty little station, his arm around your shoulders as the two of you waited. He had his gun in his holster under his jacket, and he felt on edge, watching the door in case the men from the train suddenly burst in. He hated having you out in the open like this, though he knew he had no other choice right now.

“This town is so empty,” you mumbled, nuzzling in against his side. The building wasn’t heated, but at least you were out of the wind.

“Everybody’s probably at work,” he answered, matching your quiet tone. You had no reason to be quiet in this empty room, but it still felt safer. “Plus it’s not tourist season. Maybe they get more visitors in the summer, when people can go mountain-climbing or whatever.”

“We should come back here,” you said, turning toward him. “Once everything’s safe and those men are caught. We could come back in the summertime, maybe.”

“Sure,” he said quietly, wondering if he’d still be in your life then. If you didn’t fire him in a few days, maybe you could come back here together.

The bus rolled up right on time, and you and Namjoon were the only ones to get on at this stop. It would take almost four hours to get to Kraków from here, so you would definitely be arriving after sundown.

Namjoon led you by the hand to the very back of the bus, eyeing every other occupant on the way. There was a young couple cuddled up together near the front, a few elderly people, a small family, a few backpackers. No athletic men with tactical gear or earpieces.

Namjoon had you take the window seat in the back row, and he stored his backpack overhead, still looking around the bus warily. It all felt too easy, but he made himself sit down beside you, settling in for the ride.

***

It was now a little over two hours into the bus ride to Kraków, and you were pretty sure Namjoon was going to have a heart attack from stress.

You’d tried to hold his hand and talk to him, but you could tell he was on edge. The bus stopped every twenty minutes or so, a few people getting off to stretch their legs, a new passenger getting on every once in a while. It was a completely normal bus journey, but Namjoon didn’t take his eyes off the people outside the bus, the other passengers, even the driver.

The only brief break he’d taken from worrying was at exactly five o’clock, when a silent alarm lit up his phone and he’d reminded you to take your birth control and ADHD medication. Amid all the chaos and being on the run, you would’ve completely forgotten that today if not for him. Even when stressed out of his mind, he was still doting on you.

You understood Namjoon’s concern about the kidnappers, to an extent. You were definitely nervous too, but you felt safe enough. If you hadn’t run into the men from the train yet, you figured it was very unlikely to happen now, in the middle of rural Poland, at the random bus stops in little towns like Nowy Targ and Rabka-Zdrój that you’d never even heard of and definitely couldn’t pronounce. The further you got from the train tracks, the safer you felt, but the more tense Namjoon became.

“We’re fine,” you said, reaching over and taking his hand again and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

The bus was now stopped in Rabka-Zdrój for about ten minutes, and the driver and other passengers had all gotten off to use the bathroom and stretch their legs, leaving the two of you alone.

“I won’t feel like we’re fine until we’re in a locked room in Kraków,” Namjoon mumbled, watching a family with kids outside the bus. You wanted to tease him and ask if he thought that family and their toddler were part of the terrorist group, but figured Namjoon wasn’t in a joking mood right now.

“I was thinking about that, actually,” you said, turning toward him fully, leaning back against the window. You still held his hand in your lap, and you tilted your head, catching his gaze and pulling him away from the suspicious terrorist toddler outside. “Would it be safer for us to stay in a real hotel, one with a security guard and a front desk and everything, instead of a bed and breakfast?”

“I’m worried they’ll expect you to go for a nicer hotel, if they think you’re used to luxury,” he said, still keeping his voice low even though the bus was empty. “But we don’t have to stay in a bed and breakfast. We can go for some kind of hotel, if you want.”

You nodded, figuring that made sense, though you weren’t sure how much it mattered. After escaping the train last night but then having a relaxing night at the inn, you didn’t really feel like you were in danger anymore. They probably gave up on looking for you when they didn’t find you on the train.

You opened your mouth to speak, but froze when you saw Namjoon’s eyes widen in fear.

You looked over your shoulder and saw two tall men, both dressed in black clothing, walking out of the bus station’s little ticket booth. They looked like wannabe FBI agents, right down to the tactical boots and dark sunglasses. One was blond and talking on a clunky satellite phone, while the other, a balding man in his late 40s, had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning all of the people in the outdoor part of the station.

They stood together, in the middle of the platform, like they didn’t care who saw them.

A passenger from your bus – a tall East Asian backpacker traveling alone – walked out of the bathroom, and the two creepy men both went on alert for a moment, looking at the backpacker as he walked by, one of them saying something urgently on the phone.

The backpacker kinda looked like Namjoon, you realized. The assassin-kidnapper-terrorist-whatever men saw a tall Asian man and went on alert, because they’re stupid and racist Americans, but they were looking for you and Namjoon. If they got on the bus here, they would instantly see the two of you.

The two men realized the backpacker wasn’t Namjoon, one of them sighing while the other said something else on the phone. Beside you, Namjoon looked like he was trying to think of an escape route and failing, the gears in his brilliant mind spinning. The bus had no bathroom, no hiding spots, no exits besides the main one at the front and the emergency window exits. You knew Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate breaking a window to get you out of here, but that wouldn’t exactly be subtle.

“One of them was on the train. The blond one. He was in the snack car,” Namjoon said quietly.

“What are we gonna do?” you mumbled, turning back toward him fully.

“I’m thinking,” Namjoon said, not taking his eyes off the men outside. He was still holding your hand, and he squeezed it once, comforting you.

You glanced back at the men, and your heart stopped when you saw them walking toward the bus. Namjoon quickly reached up and grabbed his backpack, pushing it to the floor in front of him and pulling you down in your seat. The two of you crouched down on the ground, hiding just as the two men stepped onto the bus.

Namjoon had his gun out, you realized, and he turned the safety off as quietly as he could.

Oh, god. He was going to shoot them if they came back here.

You held your breath, resting your shaking hands on Namjoon’s back, your heart racing. He had positioned himself so he was fully between you and the aisle, slightly higher off the ground than you, so you were completely shielded. You couldn’t even see the aisle around him.

The men were on the bus, talking quietly to each other, and you wished you could take off your bulletproof vest from under your clothes and make Namjoon wear it instead. You heard the men coming closer, their heavy boots loud on the rubber floor of the bus.

They were coming down the aisle, walking slowly as they checked each seat.

“They were definitely on this bus,” one of the men said in a stereotypical Midwestern American accent. “The tracer says they’re nearby, too, so they can’t have gone far.”

The tracer? Were they tracking you somehow? You thought of your cellphones, wondering if it was even possible to track someone if they didn’t have data or wifi. By the sounds of it, they somehow knew you were on this bus specifically, other than just tracking your location.

You thought back to when Namjoon had bought your bus tickets earlier today; you hadn’t really gotten a good look at the ticket seller, but you could see him describing you and Namjoon to these thugs, especially for a bribe or under threat. These men could’ve been right behind you this whole time, gotten the information they needed from the ticket seller, and hopped in their car and caught up to the bus, their trace on you confirming it all for them. How else would they know you were definitely on this bus? Had Namjoon mentioned it on the phone when he’d called the embassy?

Regardless, a trace on your phones meant these men had been right on your tails, and you hadn’t even suspected it. Well, Namjoon had, but you hadn’t. If you’d stayed in that little town another day, would they have found you in the inn, burst down the door and killed you in your sleep? Maybe they would’ve killed Namjoon and kidnapped you, held you for ransom or in exchange for secrets about your home country?

You’d been so stupid to think you were safe, and now, they were here.

You felt Namjoon tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. He took in a deep breath, and you bit your lip, terrified he was about to do something stupid. Maybe the men would leave on their own. Maybe the driver would come back and ask to see their tickets, and kick them off. There had to be something else besides Namjoon putting his life in danger.

Namjoon suddenly jumped up and fired off two shots in less than a second, before you could even move or register he wasn’t in front of you anymore.

A few people on the platform outside screamed, several ducking down, most of them taking off running away from the bus. At least, you thought they’d screamed; your ears were ringing from the gunshots, and now everything was muffled by that and maybe from the shock of the situation. You blinked a few times, your eyes wide and mouth open, your hands still up where they’d been on Namjoon’s back, frozen in midair.

Namjoon stepped out of his seat into the aisle, heading for where the two men had fallen. You stood on shaky legs, unsure of what to do or what just happened, really. Your hands were trembling, your heart racing, your mind empty.

Namjoon had just killed two people. He’d fired his gun and scared everyone outside. The two men here were dead. One of them had been on the phone when he’d been shot, so whoever he’d been talking to had heard it.

You looked over your shoulder and saw the family with the toddler; the mother had picked up the child, clutching it to her chest, and the father had his arms wrapped around his family, looking around in fear as they crouched on the ground. Other passengers from the bus were running away from the station, covering their heads and crouching as they ran. A few were on their cellphones, undoubtedly calling police to report a shooting.

You turned back and saw Namjoon turning off the man’s phone before tossing it into a seat.

“We need to go, now,” he said, coming back to you and grabbing his backpack. “Police will probably be here in a few minutes. I have diplomatic immunity, but we can’t afford to stay here if these guys know what town we’re in.”

“You shot them both,” you said numbly, letting Namjoon take your hand and lead you down the bus aisle.

“Come on,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur as he squeezed your hand. He was trying to rush, but you could tell he wanted to comfort you.

You passed one of the men, the balding one, who’d fallen sideways into a bus seat. He had a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead, blood rolling down toward his nose. His eyes were still open, his expression not even surprised, like he hadn’t seen Namjoon coming at all and was now frozen in that state. If you couldn’t see the bullet hole, you’d think he was just staring off into space.

You couldn’t look away from the man’s eyes, your entire body frozen before Namjoon could pull you out of it, dragging you along toward the exit. It was like the dead man’s eyes followed you, making unbroken, unseeing eye contact, before you forced yourself to look away.

Namjoon had killed both of these men with perfect headshots. You hadn’t even known he was that good of a marksman. What had he done before becoming your bodyguard? Where had he worked? How many people had he killed?

You figured there were a lot of things you didn’t know about Namjoon.

Outside, the station was now empty, but you could hear sirens far off in the distance. There was a security camera above the door to the ticket booth, and Namjoon quickly ran over to it, pulled out his wallet, and held up his badge that the embassy had given him, the one that showed he was protecting a diplomat. He held it up right in front of the camera for a moment as he looked around the empty station and you walked up behind him.

That was the badge that gave Namjoon diplomatic immunity, but you wondered if it was enough to stop a manhunt after a public shooting. Would local police even care? Was this camera even on and recording?

“Come on,” he said, putting his wallet back in his pocket and taking your hand again. “We need to dump our phones and get away from here.”

“My iPad, too,” you mumbled, and he squeezed your hand, nodding.

The two of you went out to the street, seeing it completely empty. The passengers had all run away, or maybe some were still hiding in the station and you just hadn’t seen them. You were on the outskirts of a little town, but you could see shops and businesses just down the road.

Namjoon led you in a fast walk toward the shops, and then around back, behind the gas station. The two of you took your phones out of your pockets, and Namjoon got your iPad out of the backpack, tossing it onto the ground.

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped when Namjoon suddenly stomped on the iPad, cracking the screen and crushing the thing. He stomped on it a few times, thoroughly breaking it beyond repair.

“I’m going to factory-reset our phones and leave them here, so they can still think they’re tracking us while we leave,” Namjoon said, slightly out of breath as he still smashed the now misshapen iPad. “I’m destroying this though, so they can’t hack into it and recover any of you or your mother’s information.”

“That’s smart,” you said, flinching as Namjoon gave the tablet one final stomp before kicking it under the dumpster.

He then looked at his cell phone in his hand, typing something, and you stepped over and looked at his screen. Namjoon didn’t tilt the phone away, fully letting you look at what he was doing. You saw the text he’d just sent to the head of security back at your embassy, thankful you at least had cellular data in this tiny rural town.

Resetting and dumping our phones. We’re being tracked. I’ll check in as soon as I can. Don’t text this number again.

After that, Namjoon went into the phone’s settings and factory-reset it, before you did the same to yours.

“Couldn’t we just turn our phones off and keep them?” you said with a sigh, handing your phone over.

“Phones can still be tracked if they’re off or on airplane mode,” Namjoon said, kicking both your phones under the gas station’s dumpster. You heard one of them bump into your smashed iPad. “It takes NSA-level tech to be able to do that, and I didn’t think they had resources like that, but I was wrong. They were able to track us when we had no service, it appears.”

“Do you think they’re with NSA, then? Or the CIA or something?” you said, furrowing your brow.

“I doubt it, but I’m not ruling anything out,” Namjoon mumbled, coming over and taking your hand again. The two of you began walking, and you felt him lace his fingers with yours. “The American government loves to meddle, but to come after you this hard, when you’re not exactly a big fish politically and you’re from a country with close ties to the States… it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I feel like it’s most likely ransom-related, and they’re just some rogue terrorist group or something, especially with the attack on the embassy on top of this.”

You nodded, figuring that made sense. You’d almost forgotten about the attack on the embassy Namjoon had told you about earlier. Your mother must’ve been terrified after that; she would’ve been scared about her home being attacked, and then to hear about you being in danger on top of that? And you hadn’t even texted her before resetting your phone. You owed your mother a huge apology after all this was done.

The two of you walked through a small field behind the gas station, and then were on a road in what looked like a residential area. You began walking down the street, unsure of where to go or where Namjoon was taking you. You just let him lead the way and trusted him to keep you safe. In the distance, you could hear police sirens approaching the bus station. No cars passed the two of you on the street you walked down.

“That was an amazing shot you made, back on the bus,” you said after a moment. “Well, two amazing shots, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m qualified as a sharpshooter, technically,” Namjoon said, but that only raised more questions for you. “I wasn’t sure I’d still be able to do that with a handgun, but I guess I still got it.”

“Why didn’t you do that on the train?” you said before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon sighed, and you felt him move his thumb on yours a little, almost comforting you.

“Because I didn’t know how many there were, and we were being ambushed. We had the element of surprise here,” he said. “On the train, it could’ve been a dozen men bursting in, all with their weapons ready. I also don’t particularly enjoy killing people, even if they’re trying to hurt you. I will, but I’d rather avoid it if possible. They’re bad men, but their families don’t deserve to lose them.”

You nodded, understanding his reasoning.

The two of you walked about twenty minutes, passing small homes, most with smoke coming out of their chimneys and warm glows from lights turning on as the sun set. It was probably around 5:30 or 6 by now, and the winter sky was already getting dark. Soon, you and Namjoon would be walking around in a small Polish town after dark, with those men still after you. And now, maybe the police, too.

“Hey, look,” Namjoon said quietly, and you looked up at him, seeing him nod his head forward, motioning down the road a ways.

Up ahead, you could see a family packing suitcases into a minivan, skis strapped to the roof of it. They looked like they were leaving for a vacation, and you saw the other car in their driveway, a beat-up old sedan that looked like it was built during the Soviet era.

“Are you thinking of stealing that car?” you said under your breath, your eyes going wide.

“It wouldn’t be reported missing for a while, since they’re leaving,” Namjoon said, raising an eyebrow at you when he saw the look you were giving him. “We could just borrow it, take it to another town’s train station, and leave it there. When they report it missing, it’ll be found right away. I’ll even leave them some money in the car for their trouble.”

The dad at the minivan closed the trunk, and three rambunctious kids jumped into the car, sliding the side doors closed behind them. You heard the mother yell something out in Polish, and she sounded happy. You hoped it wouldn’t stress her out too much, to come home and find the family’s other car gone.

The parents got into the minivan and started the car. They backed out of the driveway and turned, and you realized they were about to drive right by the two of you, and there was nowhere to hide. Namjoon didn’t exactly blend in in rural Poland, so this family would see very recognizable strangers in their neighborhood, and then come back to find their car stolen.

Your heart began racing as you looked around, your eyes wide as you started to panic. Should you run? Should you and Namjoon grab each other and start making out, like people did in movies and romance novels, as some kind of distraction? They’d see you any second now and you were running out of time.

As if he’d sensed what you were thinking, Namjoon squeezed your hand.

“Act natural,” he mumbled, smiling pleasantly. “We’re just a couple on a walk. They won’t know it’s us who took the car, and if they do, we’ll be long gone by then. Acting suspicious will make us stick out more.”

Against your judgment and panicked thoughts, the two of you simply continued walking, hand-in-hand. As the minivan passed the two of you, Namjoon looked down at his feet, the front of his hat hiding his face as he looked like he was just casually glancing down. He swung your hand a little, like the two of you were a couple on a romantic little walk… in the middle of winter, in a non-touristy town, in a residential neighborhood, with police sirens in the distance from the shooting Namjoon just committed.

The minivan was gone, and the two of you kept walking. The family’s house was small, maybe three bedrooms at most, and a spike of guilt rose in your throat like bile at the thought of stealing from them. They obviously weren’t well off, but Namjoon dropped your hand anyway, walking up to the little sedan and peeking inside.

“Keep a lookout,” he said, and you immediately turned away, not wanting anything to do with this.

You looked at the other houses on this street, crossing your arms as the wind picked up. The windows were all empty, at least, as far as you could see. It was around dinnertime, so most people were already sitting down and in for the night, nobody coming or going or looking out their windows. You saw movement in a second-story window across the street, but realized it was just a cat walking across the windowsill.

Behind you, Namjoon was rustling with something, and you wondered if he was just going to shoot the car’s window to get inside.

You jumped when you heard the car’s door open. You spun around just as Namjoon was tucking something metal back into his pocket, what looked like a pocket knife of some kind. He pulled the door open further, threw the backpack onto the backseat, and sat down in the driver’s seat.

You rushed to the passenger side, and Namjoon reached over and unlocked it for you, both of you closing the doors as fast as you could to get out of the cold and out of sight.

“You can’t drive,” you said, rubbing your hands together. “What are you doing on that side?”

“I still need to hot-wire the car,” he said, reaching down below the steering wheel and messing with a panel you couldn’t see.

“You can hot-wire a car but not drive?” you said, almost laughing, and you raised an eyebrow at him when he shot you a look.

“I can drive,” he said as he eased the panel’s cover to the ground and began messing with wires. “I had my license revoked a few years ago, so now I just say I can’t drive.”

“What? What’d you get your license revoked for?” you said, your eyebrows now near your hairline in surprise. Namjoon had always told you that he couldn’t drive because he was scared, and because he was too clumsy to drive a car. You’d never really believed that, given how talented and fearless of a bodyguard he was, but you also hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d lied to you about it.

“Reckless driving,” he said, winking at you as the car suddenly roared to life, the engine starting up and heat thankfully turning on.

“Should I be worried?” you laughed, watching him ease the panel back into place below the steering wheel.

“I’m usually a safe driver. There was just an incident a few years ago, before I started working for you. I needed to get out of somewhere fast, and cameras caught me breaking a few traffic laws,” he explained.

“How many is a few?” you said, buckling your seatbelt as Namjoon eased the car out of the driveway and went opposite the way the family had gone. “Don’t they usually just give you a warning before revoking your license?”

“Okay, maybe more than a few traffic laws,” he said, glancing over at you. “And I might’ve caused a few accidents while driving recklessly.”

“Were you in a car chase or something?” you asked, and when he didn’t answer immediately, you gasped, laughing as you tried to imagine it. Namjoon, speeding through a city, causing accidents and breaking laws and getting his license revoked.

“Anyways,” he said, pulling onto the town’s main road now, “I can drive. The rest isn’t important. We’ll follow traffic laws so we don’t get pulled over.”

“Where are you taking us, anyway?” you said, relaxing in your seat. The sky was becoming dark now, and Namjoon turned on the car’s headlights, illuminating the empty road in front of the car. He was following the speed limit exactly, his hands perfectly on the wheel like he was taking a driving test.

“West,” he said, his eyes not leaving the road. “They thought we were going north to Kraków, so we’re going a completely different direction. We can go to a train station, and then maybe head into the Czech Republic or Slovakia. A train will be much faster than a bus, and we can try to get to a larger city and then on a direct train that won’t stop as much.”

“Are we going to try and go all the way home on our own?” you asked, and you watched Namjoon clench his jaw as he thought.

“If we have to,” he said. “My priority right now is just getting you far away from here.”

After that, the two of you drove in silence for a while, the Polish countryside a dark blur outside.

The family’s car had no radio, and the heat stopped working about twenty minutes into the drive. You found a little piece of paper with what looked like a grocery list, along with a pen, so you wrote on the back “I’m sorry, we needed your car for an emergency” on the back and tucked it into the cup holder. You were planning on holding Namjoon to his promise of leaving money for the family, and would have to make sure the cash was hidden, so nobody else tried to steal their car after you ditched it.

After about an hour and a half of driving, you tilted your head back, your eyes falling closed. You really didn’t want to fall asleep, but outside the car was only darkness, and Namjoon didn’t appear to be in a talkative mood. You blinked slowly, trying to will yourself to stay awake, but you knew it was a losing battle.

Namjoon’s hand came over and rested on your knee, squeezing once.

“You can sleep,” he said quietly, and you looked at him, seeing him glance your way with a sweet smile. “I’ll drive, and you just rest.”

You sighed, unable to even answer him. You didn’t know how you were this tired; you’d slept until almost noon today, and then sat around a hotel room and then on a bus. Still, you felt yourself dozing off, and this time you didn’t stop yourself.

***

You’d only slept about a half an hour before you felt Namjoon park and turn off the car. You groaned, stretching in place, and heard him laughing a little beside you.

“Sleep well?” he asked as you rubbed your eyes and let out another little groan.

“Mmm,” you hummed instead of responding, still attempting to open your eyes.

It looked like Namjoon had stopped in a parking lot beside a river. To your left, you could see a large, lit-up sign saying “Merkury Market” and pointing away from the river. Through the trees on the riverbank, you thought you could see lights of more buildings.

“Where are we?” you grumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“The town’s called Cieszyn,” he said, taking out his wallet. He tucked five hundred złoty under your note in the cupholder, shrugging because you both had no idea how much that translated to. It seemed like a lot, but you had no idea. You wished for it to be worth a thousand euros. “I wanted to leave the car in Poland, so it has a better chance of getting back to the owners. We’re right across the river from the Czech Republic. There’s a train station on that side that can take us to Ostrava, and then we can get on a direct train to Prague or Vienna, maybe even Berlin.”

“How do you know all this?” you said, giving him a look, and he smiled to himself.

“I’ve traveled and lived all over,” he said cryptically, and when you raised an eyebrow at him, his smile grew. “Okay, and I stopped and asked a little old lady for directions to a train station. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up, me rolling down the window and talking to her.”

You laughed, stretching again as you finished waking up. Namjoon somehow turned off the car, messing with the wires again, and then reached to the backseat and grabbed the backpack before stepping outside.

You followed, shivering the moment you stepped out into the cold. It was windy here by the river, and you hoped the train station wasn’t far. You were just thankful your foot wasn’t hurting anymore.

Namjoon locked the car before shutting his door, and came over and took your hand. You were pretty sure you were safe here, but you still liked him holding your hand and touching you. You remembered what he’d said earlier. No matter what, you’re safe with me. You believed him wholeheartedly.

Namjoon led you past an old building, a restaurant with “Pizzeria Wenecja” painted on the side, and you held his hand as tight as you could. His hands were so big and warm, easily enveloping yours, and when he felt you shiver, he brought your hand up, holding it with both of his hands now.

The two of you walked across a large cobblestone bridge, and at the other side there was a small sign saying “Český Těšín.” You weren’t sure what that meant, but you knew the difference between Czech and Polish enough to know you weren’t in Poland anymore.

It crossed your mind then that today, you’d technically stolen a car and crossed international borders. Namjoon had even killed two people! Despite your fear of those men finding you, it was all kind of exciting. You felt like a badass international criminal, the kind of person who drove in exciting car chases like Namjoon. You just hoped that family would get their car back, though. Some criminal you were, worrying about things like that.

You and Namjoon walked in silence for about ten minutes, following the signs that had a little symbol of a train on them. You wondered what Namjoon was thinking about, glancing over and seeing him looking around, his eyes scanning the area as you walked. He looked at every person you passed, every car, every license plate, every window and storefront, his jaw clenched and mouth in a tight line, as if he were in deep concentration. He was supposed to be acting like a man on his honeymoon, happily strolling to the train station with his wife, but he was in bodyguard mode, not willing to let his guard down even a little.

“Joon,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “Relax. I know we need to stay alert, but you look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

Namjoon didn’t respond, but he gave you a weak smile, squeezing your hand, too.

When you got to the train station, Namjoon was able to get two tickets for Ostrava, the closest big city he’d told you about, with some spare euros he’d had on him. Neither of you had any Czech koruna, so you were thankful they took euros too. You’d have to find a currency exchange somewhere soon.

The train station’s small gift shop sold backpacks and took złoty, euros, and even dollars, so you bought one, a little pink thing you were pretty sure was actually meant for kids. It was plain and didn’t have logos, but you noticed the zippers were sparkly and came with a unicorn keychain. Namjoon also got two waters and a bag of pretzels, which you assumed was going to be your dinner.

You sat together in the back corner of the station, your train not for another half an hour or so. You worked on moving some of your things from his backpack to yours, attempting to carefully work around the extra rounds for Namjoon’s gun, not wanting to jostle them too much or let anyone else in the station see them.

As you worked, Namjoon looked around the station, studying every other person in the large room.

“People are going to think you’re weird,” you whispered to him, elbowing him lightly in the ribs after you zipped up your new little backpack.

“I’d rather be weird than ambushed,” he mumbled back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. Your heart skipped a beat at his gesture; he hadn’t acted this couple-y since last night, checking in at the bed and breakfast.

“What’s the plan once we get to Ostrava?” you said, turning toward him as well as you could. He still had his arm tight around you, his hand rubbing little circles on your shoulder.

“I’m thinking we could go to Vienna,” he said, like he was deciding what to do right now as he spoke, making it up as he went along. “I have a friend there who owes me a favor, and he’ll have a place we can stay.”

“That’ll definitely be unexpected,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You wished you had your phone, so you could tell your mother you were okay, or at least have something to do to pass the time. “Do you think we can get there tonight, or will we have to stay somewhere and continue tomorrow?”

Namjoon looked at the clock on the wall and you followed his gaze, seeing it was almost eight. Your train was at 8:05, and it would take about an hour to get to Ostrava.

“It’ll be late, but I think we can make it,” he said. “The ticket seller said there was a connecting overnight train to Vienna, and another to Prague if we decide to go that way. I think it’ll be best to keep moving.”

“Okay,” you said, sighing. “How long will that take?”

“Ostrava to Vienna is about five hours.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, sinking down in your seat. This was going to be a long night.

Namjoon squeezed your shoulder, like he was trying to make you feel better.

“We’ll get dinner at the station in Ostrava, and you can sleep on both trains. I’ll keep a lookout and make sure you’re safe.”

“What about you?” you said, turning toward him again. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, and you wondered if his shoulders were still hurting from carrying you yesterday.

“I’ll get some coffee in Ostrava to keep me up,” he said simply. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I slept on the drive here. It’s your turn to rest, Joon,” you said, aware of how silly you sounded.

You wanted to help him and let him get some rest, but really, what could you do if those men showed up while Namjoon was sleeping? You’d never held a gun before. You’d never even taken a self-defense class, though Namjoon had suggested it on more than one occasion. You felt like a child or old lady: completely, utterly, annoyingly helpless. It made you feel foolish and like a burden, though you tried to tell yourself that this was literally the whole point of Namjoon’s job, to keep you safe in situations like this.

“Thank you, but really, it’s okay,” he said, smiling at you. “You can rest if you want when we’re on the train. I’m fine.”

“I’ll stay awake with you,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and pouting.

You glanced over and saw Namjoon still smiling at you, his eyes glancing down at the pout on your lips. You wondered if he was going to make fun of you for pouting, but the train pulling into the station made you jump in your seat, the horn suddenly blaring through the wall behind you.

“That’s our ride,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. You reached up and took it, letting him help you to your feet.

***

The ride to Ostrava was completely uneventful.

Namjoon had only been able to get the cheapest seats available, which were right by the bathroom at the back of the first train car. The smell wasn’t exactly pleasant, and you wondered when the last time the bathroom was cleaned.

Namjoon kept his arm around you the entire time, you in the window seat and him by the aisle. You couldn’t complain, enjoying his warmth and closeness and loving his protectiveness. Well, he’d always been protective of you, but this, how borderline-possessive he was, made you almost shiver in excitement. He was acting like a protective boyfriend, and it made you want to giggle and turn toward him like a teenager in love.

You needed to stop being so silly, you told yourself as the two of you got off the train in Ostrava, your hand in his again. You were in a deadly situation, and you were acting like an idiot. You needed to pull your mind out of the gutter and your heart out of clouds. Namjoon was being overly cautious, eyeing everyone the two of you passed, while you only had eyes for him. You needed to focus and stop being foolish, at least until you were somewhere safe.

It was so hard, though, with how safe Namjoon made you feel. You kept catching yourself looking up at him and sighing wistfully, before shaking your head and making yourself look at the other people in the train station too.

When you went to the bathroom, Namjoon waited right outside, arms crossed over his large chest. He would probably terrify anyone who passed by, but when you walked out, drying your hands on your pants after washing your hands, you smiled up at him like he was the moon and all the stars in the sky.

From there, Namjoon led the way to a little currency exchange machine, where he got nearly three thousand of the local koruna for five hundred złoty. You had no idea how much either of those numbers meant in currency familiar to you, but based on all the signs you could see that listed prices, it was more than enough for tickets and dinner. Eastern and central Europe weren’t expensive, so you took a moment to be thankful you weren’t currently traveling through somewhere like London or Paris.

The two of you got tickets to Vienna and then dinner, sitting in a little cafe near your platform. Namjoon was throwing back a large black Americano, while you nursed a small coffee too, much to Namjoon’s disapproval. He’d insisted again that you could sleep on the way to Vienna, but you ordered your coffee and he couldn’t stop you.

By the time you finished dinner, however, your hands were trembling from the caffeine. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, you thought with a shaky sigh.

After eating, Namjoon took you back into the main part of the station, and then, to your surprise, over to a different platform than the one your train was scheduled to leave from. The sign above the entryway here said Praha, Hlavní Nádraží – 11:10, and you knew Praha meant Prague, but you weren’t sure why Namjoon would’ve brought you over here.

“Joon?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Hold on,” he mumbled. He held your hand tightly, his fingers laced with yours, but his eyes searched around the platform, looking for something or someone.

You opened your mouth to question him, but stopped when he suddenly stepped forward, pulling you with him.

“Hello, sir, do you speak English?” Namjoon called out to an elderly man sitting by himself on a bench. The man nodded, and Namjoon continued politely, “My wife and I were mugged yesterday, and we lost our cellphones. Would it be okay if I borrowed your phone, just for a second, so we can call our hotel? It’ll only take a moment, and I’ll stay right here the whole time so you don’t think I’m running off.”

“Sure,” the old man said, apathetic. He looked like he wouldn’t even care if Namjoon did run off with his phone.

“Thank you so much. Děkuju,” Namjoon said, nodding to the man and taking the phone with both hands, smiling innocently.

Namjoon took your hand again and pulled you just one step away from the man, who immediately started dozing off. You watched Namjoon dial a number from memory and then held the phone up to his ear, waiting.

After a moment, you heard someone answer, their voice a cartoonish mumble.

“Hey, it’s Kim,” Namjoon said quietly, his eyes now scanning the platform for anyone potentially watching the two of you. “She’s safe. We’re in Ostrava, Czech Republic. We’re headed to Prague and should get there in a few hours. Our train leaves at 11:10.”

You looked up at him, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said in response to something you couldn’t hear. “Yeah. When we get there, I’m thinking the Grand Hotel Europa. That one right off Wenceslas Square. It’ll have security and all that, and they won’t expect her to hide somewhere so nice.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he raised one right back, smirking to himself.

“Okay,” Namjoon continued, his voice serious. “I’ll call as soon as I can. I got a burner phone, but I’m still worried someone’s tracking us. I’ll probably dump this phone when we get there, as soon as I can get another burner. Yeah, no contact unless there’s an emergency. Perfect.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Namjoon looked smug, like he was proud of how clever he was, and you supposed he deserved to feel proud after coming up with all this.

Namjoon hung up the phone after signing off, and you crossed your arms, looking up at him expectantly.

“Thank you so much again, sir,” he said, turning back to the old man and returning the cellphone. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, okay,” the man said, pocketing his phone and rolling his eyes.

Namjoon took your hand and the two of you went back into the station, and then over to the platform that said Vienna, Wien Hauptbahnhof – 10:00.

“You going to explain your big evil plan now, mastermind?” you asked, the two of you sitting down at the very end of the platform. You both took your backpacks off and set them down by your feet.

“They think we’re going to Prague, and that phone is going to Prague, too,” Namjoon said simply, shrugging.

“No, I got that. I meant why you lied to our own security team about where we’re going.”

“We need to know if anybody’s listening in on their end. Our embassy phones are supposed to be secure, so now we’ll see if they really are,” he said, watching the end of the platform, where two young women came in and sat down. He continued, “The thought also crossed my mind that someone at the embassy could be working with the men after you. I thought it would be best to trust only ourselves and stay off the grid until we can contact your mother directly on a secure line, or until they figure things out.”

“You actually think someone in our security team is a mole? Wouldn’t they have already helped the terrorists get into the embassy by now?”

“Potentially,” Namjoon said, putting his arm around your shoulder, like he was a boyfriend or husband cuddling up with his lover. “But I want to make sure. Wenceslas Square has a live feed people can watch anywhere in the world, since it’s a big tourist spot. I’m going to try and get ahold of something with internet in Vienna and watch it all day tomorrow, and we’ll see. If our friends show up there, we’ll know we can’t communicate with the embassy, because there’s a mole or because someone’s listening in. Either way, this will prove it.”

“Unless they hack into this station’s cameras and see us get on the train for Vienna,” you said. You ignored how he somehow already knew which spots in Prague would have a live feed.

“They have no reason to think we’re lying. I doubt they’d bother, since we gave them all the information they need.”

“And what if they track down that old man in Prague? Since they’re tracking his phone now.”

“Even the best, most advanced government-grade trackers aren’t that exact. It’ll only lead them to a general area, like a building or city block. And I said I was planning on dumping my burner phone, so that man will go wherever he’s going, and they’ll think that was me dumping the phone. By the time they realize we’re not in Prague, we’ll be settled in and safe.”

“Well, you’ve certainly thought of everything,” you said, almost wanting to laugh.

“That’s my job,” he said proudly. He became more serious, sighing before continuing, “We stayed all night at that inn with our phones on, and they didn’t show up. They didn’t know where to look until I called the embassy and said where we were. It might’ve taken all night to get into our phones, or it might’ve been my call to the embassy that made them know where to start looking. Either way, it’s not a risk I want to take. I want us to be as careful as possible from now on, taking all precautions.”

You looked up at him. This close, you could see three tiny moles on the right side of his face, a constellation across his cheek.

“I trust you,” you said, not breaking eye contact with him.

You watched him set his jaw, his expression flashing dark before he looked down and away from you. You almost would’ve sworn he was blushing.

“Like I said earlier, you’re my priority. Something weird is going on here, and I don’t want to trust anyone but you.”

“And your friend in Vienna who owes you a favor?” you teased.

Namjoon almost rolled his eyes before catching himself, shaking his head, like just the memory of this friend made him want to laugh.

“And him. I wouldn’t trust him under most circumstances, but I do trust him with my life.”

“How ominous,” you said, giggling. “And oxymoronic. A friend you don’t trust with anything but your life. Would you trust me alone with him?”

“Absolutely not,” Namjoon laughed. “He thinks he’s a real ladies man. He’ll steal you right out from under me, and I’ll be out of a job.”

You wanted to tell him that all of the attractive and eligible suitors in the world combined couldn’t steal you from your Joon, but the train for Vienna pulled into the station, screeching to a halt in front of you.

You both picked up your backpacks, heading onto the train the moment the doors opened, holding hands again.

***

Despite all the excitement and coffee, you were asleep within fifteen minutes of the train pulling out of Ostrava.

Namjoon looked over at you as you slept. You’d lolled to the side, resting your head on his shoulder, and he relished the moment, feeling your gentle breathing as you leaned on him. You looked so precious and small, but he knew how fierce and brave you were. You were his everything, his whole world, and just looking at you sleeping so peacefully made his heart swell in emotion.

As the train zipped through the Czech countryside, distant dots of light marking villages and highways, Namjoon tried not to think about what had happened earlier today. It had been way too close of a call on the bus. Those men could’ve killed him, and then they would’ve taken you or hurt you.

He had no idea what their intentions were, but he knew he’d die to keep you safe. If they somehow caught him and you got away, he’d let them torture him, and he’d never give up even one word of information about you or your whereabouts. He was your protector, and that meant something to him. His life revolved around you, and the only thing that mattered was your safety and wellbeing.

You were hugging his arm in your sleep, and Namjoon smiled to himself. He resisted the very strong urge to turn and kiss the top of your head. That’d be crossing another line, and he’d already crossed too many of those in the last twenty-four hours. He wasn’t a hormonal teenager. He had self-control.

Still, this close, Namjoon could smell the cheap hotel shampoo you’d used, along with your own scent underneath. He closed his eyes for just a moment, leaning his head back against the headrest and letting himself have a few seconds. The two of you were in the very last train car, and nobody else was in this car or the one in front of it. He felt safe enough to close his eyes for a moment, especially since he didn’t feel sleepy at all.

You smelled so fucking good, just your scent made Namjoon feel high. He didn’t turn his head and smell your hair directly, but fuck, he wanted to. He felt like such a pervert, especially since you were sleeping, so trusting and innocent, hugging his arm like a teddybear. He imagined a version of himself where he’d let himself smell your hair like a complete creep. He’d plant his nose and mouth right in your hair and inhale you, maybe rub his face around so he could get your scent all over him.

That thought made him think of another part of your body he wanted to inhale, and he stopped himself, opening his eyes and staring at the back of the seat in front of him. The last thing he needed was an erection to hide, in case you suddenly woke up. His depraved thoughts made his heart rate spike, but he couldn’t do this now. Not in public, not around you, not when you were in danger.

You sighed in your sleep, snuggling in against him, and Namjoon bit his lip and wondered if this was the universe punishing him for being such a pervert. You’d hugged his arm tighter and accidentally pulled his hand into your lap, between your legs. He’d imagined his hands there a million times, but this was wrong. You were sleeping, and you’d never actually want him like that.

Namjoon quickly pulled his hand away, back to the safety of the outside of your leg. He looked out the window at the dark countryside, the moon a thin sliver of light low in the sky, and he wondered what he’d have to do in his life to deserve an angel like you.

***

Three in the fucking morning.

You yawned to yourself, not bothering to cover your mouth as you and Namjoon walked through Vienna’s main train station, nearly empty at this late hour. Or rather, this early hour. You felt like a zombie, barely able to keep your eyes open as Namjoon led you by the hand outside, but the blast of cold air and snow that hit you the moment you stepped out woke you right up.

For some reason, Namjoon didn’t want to risk a cab, so the two of you were walking to wherever his friend was. Part of you wanted to pull the whole “I twisted my ankle the day before yesterday, remember?” card, but your foot didn’t actually hurt. Not your ankle, at least. As you and Namjoon walked forever, though, the bottoms definitely started to ache.

“Do you think we’re safe now?” you asked after a while, glancing over your shoulder at the empty street and sidewalk.

“I won’t think we’re safe until we’re back at our embassy,” Namjoon said, not slowing down, “And even then, I might not let you leave your room until every last one of those men are dead or in prison.”

You huffed, too tired to laugh.

“I’m sure that’s completely reasonable and not at all overreacting.”

“That’s my compromise,” he said, smiling in a way you knew was just teasing, swinging your hand as he held it. “If I had my way, I’d take you somewhere far away, where nobody could find you, and you’d never leave my sight again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you laughed, rolling your eyes and ignoring the flutter in your heart his words gave you.

The two of you were quiet for a moment, cutting down a side street through the labyrinthine old town Namjoon seemed to have memorized. Your footsteps echoed off the cobblestones, the imposing baroque buildings hanging over you like gargoyles in the night. This part of town had old-fashioned streetlamps, and you wondered if someone came around and lit them manually every evening.

“So who’s this friend of yours we’re going to?” you said after a moment.

“His name’s Jin. It’s a long story, but he owes me a big favor,” Namjoon explained. “He owns a hotel here, a real nice one, like you wanted to stay in.”

“He owns a hotel?”

“I know. He’s probably worth more than your mother is.” He looked up, seeing something down the street and nodding toward it. “There’s his hotel.”

You looked where Namjoon gestured, seeing a grand masterpiece of architecture towering above all the other historic buildings. It reminded you of the Plaza in New York and the Ritz in Paris, not that you’d ever stayed at either – the luxury that oozed from this place just made you think decadence, luxury, class, and expensive.

“You’re friends with the guy who owns this place?” you said, your eyes wide as you looked up at the grand entrance as the two of you approached. If you were friends with the owner of a place like this, you would’ve cashed in that favor years ago for a free year-long vacation here.

“Yeah. Jin’s like a brother to me,” he said, opening the door for you, and you almost gasped out loud at the sight before you.

The lobby was so opulent, you almost felt like your presence lowered the property value. Large crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling above, the grand entryway full of cream-colored furniture and vases taller than you. The walls all had what looked like antique wallpaper and intricate white crown moulding, the details lined with what you were sure was real gold.

“We can trust him,” Namjoon continued quietly, leading you through the empty lobby by the hand. “And like I said, he owes me a favor. He’ll help us. He always used to work the night shifts, so it’ll probably be him we speak to. Oh, there he is now, perfect.”

You looked to the grand check-in desk where Namjoon was gesturing, seeing a handsome Korean man sorting through some papers. He looked trustworthy, but more than that, he looked elegant and proud of his work. You wondered how a young Korean person came to own and run such an upscale hotel in Vienna, if it was family money and a passion for this city, or if he was raised here perhaps.

Who you assumed was Jin looked up, and you stopped in place when he suddenly gasped as he saw Namjoon.

“No,” Jin nearly yelled, pointing at Namjoon. “No way in hell. Whatever you want, no. Get out of my hotel.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, sounding like he was about to start bargaining.

“Do you know how much you cost me the last time you were here? I had to take out a loan to patch up all the bullet holes!”

“I had no idea,” Namjoon said, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. There was nobody else in the lobby and nobody out on the street, but you knew he was still being careful and wanted to not cause a scene, even if there was no audience. “If you’d told me, I would’ve helped.”

“I’ve seen how you ‘help,’ asshole,” Jin said. He looked like he was about three seconds away from calling the police.

“Were you in the mafia or something?” you laughed, looking up at Namjoon.

“No, and can you please both lower your voices?” Namjoon hissed, bringing you in closer to the desk. Jin took a step back, glaring at Namjoon.

“Get out of my hotel,” Jin said, thankfully quieter now.

“I just need a room for the night. That’s all,” Namjoon said. “I have about eight hundred euros worth of Polish money, and it’s all yours for that room, and for us to stay off the books. I can send you some more once we’re safe. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Do I even want to know why you have that much Polish money, or why you’re being so shady?” Jin asked.

“He’s my bodyguard,” you cut in quickly, glancing up at Namjoon. His eyes went wide and he shook his head at you, but you continued. “My mother is an ambassador, and some bad men are after me. Namjoon’s just trying to keep me safe and hidden until the embassy can help us.”

Jin looked from you to Namjoon, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, and last time, Namjoon was a billionaire from Daegu, and look how that turned out for me,” Jin scoffed.

“Billionaire from Daegu?” you questioned, tilting your head.

“It was a cover,” Namjoon growled, glaring at Jin.

“Oh my god, were you a spy?” you whispered a little too loudly, thankful the lobby was empty.

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, stepping in even closer to Jin’s desk as he ignored your question. “You owe me a favor after what happened with Yoongi.”

Jin’s eyes widened, and you looked between the two men, trying to figure out their past together.

“You’re an asshole for bringing that up,” Jin said.

“And you’re an asshole for being so rude to a diplomat when she’s running for her life,” Namjoon growled back.

None of you spoke for a moment, the two men glaring at each other and you just standing there awkwardly. Outside, you heard church bells chiming, echoing through the city, announcing it was now four in the morning.

Finally, Jin let out a breath, almost laughing to himself. He shook his head, looking like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to help or punch Namjoon.

“Are you really a bodyguard now?” he said, crossing his arms. “After everything that happened, you just disappeared. Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Almost four years now. I guarded other people before her, but I like having stable, long-term work.”

Jin was quiet for a moment, before eventually sighing, like he was being overdramatic just to show how much the two of you inconvenienced him.

“Fine. But only because it’s the off season and I have a lot of rooms.”

Namjoon started to take out his wallet, bur Jin raised one hand, stopping him.

“Keep your Polish money,” he said. “Just be gone by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll try,” Namjoon said. “But it will all depend. I’ll probably need a few days; I really don’t want to risk moving her until it’s safe. Her life is on the line, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah, somebody’s life is always on the line,” Jin said, rolling his eyes. He began rustling around behind the desk, looking for something. “Fine. Whatever. But after this favor, never come back to this country.”

“The whole country?” Namjoon laughed, shaking his head. “But I like Austria.”

“So do I. I like it even better when you’re not in it,” Jin said, setting an old-fashioned golden key on the desk in front of him. The tag said ‘613’ in rich calligraphy, and the key itself looked like it was from the turn of the 20th century.

“Thank you,” Namjoon started, reaching out for the key, but Jin pulled it back away from him, making Namjoon listen to him before handing it over.

“Stay in your room. I’ll have meals sent up. I have a feeling it will be better for my hotel if you’re seen as little as possible,” Jin said. “There’s a phone in your room if you need it. It’s a suite, so it’ll have a kitchenette too.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, taken aback by his generosity.

“Nobody but me and the one staff I have bring up your meals will know you’re here. But please… stay in your damn room until you leave.”

“Can do,” Namjoon said, grabbing the key from Jin’s hand. “Can you also wipe the security footage of us coming into the lobby? And the one outside, if you have access to it? That’d be really helpful.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jin growled, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Namjoon wink back at Jin, which only seemed to annoy him more.

“Do you have a spare phone I can borrow?” Namjoon said, and you thought Jin might explode. “Maybe a tablet or something?”

“You really know how to wear out your welcome,” you teased, making Jin smile.

“It’s important,” Namjoon assured Jin, smiling smugly.

“I truly hate you,” Jin said, reaching under the desk and pulling out an old tablet in a clunky black case that had the hotel’s name and logo on the back. You wondered if it was supposed to only be used by hotel staff typically. “You know, this is starting to seem like more than one favor.”

“I guess I’ll owe you a favor after this,” Namjoon said, taking the tablet and tucking it under his arm.

“My favor will be you never coming back to Austria,” Jin said, writing something down on his check-in sheet. You leaned in and looked at what he’d written, seeing Room 613 – maintenance. “Maybe I’ll ask for all of Central Europe.”

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Namjoon laughed. “I’ll leave you this neighborhood in Vienna if you’re lucky.”

“You ever heard the phrase ‘biting the hand that feeds you,’ Joon?” you mumbled, elbowing him in the arm.

“I like her,” Jin said, genuinely smiling now.

Namjoon opened his mouth to reply, but Jin cut him off.

“Get out of my lobby, asshole. I don’t want to see you again until you’re leaving for good.”

***

Once you and Namjoon were safely in your suite, he moved a side table in front of the now locked and bolted door, checking the locks three times before determining the room was secure.

You slid off your backpack and set it down on the couch. The suite had a separate living space with a sitting area and kitchenette, and then what you assumed was a bedroom with a bathroom beyond that. The decor was elegant and looked expensive, royal, and refined, not unlike the lobby and the hotel’s owner himself.

“So,” you said, watching Namjoon putting the tablet down on the small dining table. “You said Jin’s like a brother to you?”

“Brothers bicker sometimes,” he said, though you saw the small smile he was trying to hide.

“The two of you seem to bicker a lot,” you said, throwing yourself down in one of the fancy armchairs in the sitting area. You slid off your sneakers, now dirty after walking around all day, before propping your feet up on the table that was probably built in the 1700’s. “Seems like there’s a lot of history between the two of you.”

“It’s a long story,” was all Namjoon said, coming over with the tablet and sitting down on the couch, the closest spot in the room to where you sat.

“Care to share that long story?” You tilted your head, giving him your infamous pout and puppy eyes.

He laughed dryly, shaking his head. He was focused on something on the tablet, maybe the live feed of that square in Prague he’d mentioned, and he didn’t seem to be planning on answering you any time soon.

“Were you a spy, Joon?” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No.” He sighed, looking up at you. “I was not a spy,” he said in a way that made you one hundred percent sure he was definitely a spy.

“Oh my god, you were,” you cackled.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said, “And if I was, I obviously wouldn’t be able to tell you, would I?”

“You totally were. You used to be a spy, and then something happened here at Jin’s hotel, a shootout maybe, with all those bullet holes he mentioned, and you decided to leave the spy life and become a bodyguard instead.”

“What makes you think I would’ve left after getting some bullet holes in Jin’s fancy hotel?” he said, not looking up at you from the tablet. “I think you overestimate how much I care about this building.”

“Something with Yoongi, then?” you said, and instantly regretted it.

Namjoon sighed, closing his eyes. He set his jaw and almost looked angry, tossing the tablet aside and leaning back on the couch as he took a deep breath, one hand taking off his hat and the other running through his hair. His large chest expanded as he breathed for a minute, his head tilted back and eyes closed. You knew he had to be exhausted physically from the day you’d just had, but he looked like you’d emotionally exhausted him in just four words.

You had no idea who Yoongi was or what he’d meant to Namjoon, but you knew something had to have happened, based on how Jin reacted earlier and Namjoon’s reaction now. Something happened to him, or with him, related to something Jin did, and Namjoon was still angry or upset about it all these years later. Potentially. You could tell by the context earlier that something bad had happened.

Maybe Yoongi had been Namjoon’s partner when he was a spy! Had something happened to this Yoongi person, and that was what made Namjoon leave the spy business? Was Yoongi dead? Maybe Yoongi and Jin had betrayed Namjoon, or Jin had done something that cost Yoongi his life?

You stopped yourself. Your sleep-deprived brain was thinking way too much into things. It wasn’t any of your business, and it was clearly a sore spot for Namjoon. You didn’t even know if he was even a spy for sure, and if he was, Yoongi could’ve been anyone. All you had to go off of was that something had happened that made Jin feel guilty, and Namjoon didn’t want to talk about it.

It didn’t matter. You wouldn’t ask Namjoon about it, or anything related to his maybe-spy life. It wasn’t your business. If he wanted to tell you, he’d tell you on his own.

Namjoon never answered you, instead just standing up and walking into the bedroom. You heard him rustling around, maybe checking the room out and making sure it was safe or something.

After a moment, he came back out into the main room. He closed all the blinds after checking that the windows were secure, examined the edges of the mirror and all the picture frames, ran his finger along the lampshades. You weren’t sure what he was up to, but figured it had something to do with his paranoia and keeping you safe. You wondered if he’d learned these tricks back during his top secret maybe-spy life you weren’t letting yourself speak about.

As you watched him, your exhaustion hit you like a train, your body sagging as you thought over how long today had been. This morning, you’d woken up at that cute bed and breakfast in that little town in Poland, Namjoon half naked beside you. Now, you were melting down into your chair in Vienna, your eyes half-closed as you watched him zipping around the room. He had dark circles under his eyes too, but you were sure he’d never let himself rest until he knew the room was safe.

“Are you going to shower tonight or in the morning?” he eventually said, standing in the doorway between this room and the bedroom.

“I feel gross, but I think I’d pass out if I tried to shower,” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall. Almost 4:30 in the morning, and it felt like it.

“Same,” he said, his voice soft. You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you sitting there. If he’d been mad or annoyed about you mentioning Yoongi, he didn’t show it now. He continued, his deep voice a gentle murmur, “Come on. Let’s go to bed. The Prague live stream has the option to go back up to twelve hours and play it at double speed, so I can catch up on Wenceslas Square when we wake up. We’re safe here.”

You stood, your bones feeling heavier than normal and eyes barely open as you dragged yourself over to the bedroom. Namjoon put his hand on your back as you passed him, and you were almost too sleepy to feel the butterflies in your stomach from just that.

“Close your eyes,” you mumbled. You didn’t want to sleep in dirty train clothes, but your only other option was dirty forest clothes, so you just took off your sweatshirt, your t-shirt, the bulletproof vest, and your pants, dropping them on the floor before pulling the t-shirt back on and clambering into into the bed. The bedroom was just as fancy as the rest of the hotel, the king bed so large it was nearly square, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care or even look around as you pulled the covers up to your chin.

Beside the door, Namjoon cleared his throat, glancing down at your clothes all over the ground. You were still in a t-shirt and underwear and you were now fully under the covers, and he’d slept shirtless and just in boxers last night, so you didn’t care if he felt prudish now. If he could sleep in just boxers, you could sleep in your undies.

You couldn’t even open your eyes now, but you heard Namjoon turning off the lights in both rooms and pulling off his own clothes. Something hard was set down on his side table, and you figured that was his gun. Straps coming apart followed. His gun holster. You sighed as you heard him undoing his belt, then clothes rustling and his pants falling to the soft carpet.

He climbed into bed behind you, and you wanted to look at him and see if he was shirtless, curiosity piqued in your sleepy brain, but you didn’t have the energy, and Namjoon turned off the lamp on his side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness.

You smiled lazily to yourself, imagining Namjoon shirtless as you let yourself drift off to sleep.

***

Namjoon hadn’t slept this soundly in what felt like years.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should force himself to wake up and be alert. You were still in danger. He should be watching the Prague live stream, or looking out the windows here in case anyone suspicious approached the hotel. He should eat and get protein so he could fight if someone burst into the room. There were a lot of things he should be doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You shifted, letting out a little moan in your sleep and nuzzling back into his arms, and Namjoon’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

He was spooning you. His arms were around you. Your bare legs were tangled with his. His face was buried in your hair, his nose right behind your ear. The two of you were so close, he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

This was wrong. He was violating you. He hadn’t meant to and would never do something like this on purpose, but his body had wrapped around yours in his sleep, and now he was very awake, his heart racing and eyes wide as he tried to will himself to calm down. He had a semi, not full morning wood, and he didn’t know how he wasn’t rock hard. He must’ve slept very deeply, because now that he was awake, his blood was on fire.

His hands were in respectable places too, at least. One rested on your stomach, over your t-shirt, and the other was beside you on the bed, your small hand resting in his. He felt your fingers move a little in your sleep, and he wondered if you were dreaming. You shifted again, your ass pressing against him harder, and his mind instantly went somewhere dirty as he closed his eyes and fought to suppress a groan.

He imagined himself with his hands on you, maybe lifting your leg up and sliding into you from behind. Like this, he could touch you everywhere, maybe kiss your neck or bite your shoulder, and he could whisper right in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. He could fuck you like this and reach down and rub your clit, and you’d be so good for him, his sweet little angel he loved so much. He could worship your body like this, make you fall apart in his arms just so he could put you back together.

Namjoon felt his cock twitch, and he instantly shut those thoughts down. He needed to untangle himself and get far away from this bed, now.

He tried to pull himself away, but you let out a sad little moan, holding onto his hand and tangling your legs with his even further. Your free hand came down and held his over your stomach, and you settled in against him again, grinding your ass fully against his cock and making him close his eyes and bite his lip. You were still fully asleep, your light snoring coming back just a moment later, but you were not letting go of him.

Fuck.

This was so inappropriate. You’d wake up and be disgusted by him, especially if he couldn’t make his erection go away. He tilted his hips away from you, at least getting that away, even if you still had all of his limbs hostage.

He could feel you breathing in his arms and had to close his eyes again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Y/N,” he said softly, right in your ear. His voice was deep and groggy from sleep and he resisted the urge to clear his throat. “I need to get up.”

You moaned back to him, sounding annoyed, and your hands tightened their grip on his. He hoped you wouldn’t wake up, because he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. He just wanted to slip away and go take a nice cold shower.

“I’m going to get up now,” he murmured, and this time you let him pull away from you, thankfully.

Namjoon sighed as he got out of bed, shaking his head. He reached back and made sure you were all tucked in, not wanting you to get cold while he was gone. You looked so snuggly and warm, and a huge part of him just wanted to climb back into bed and hold you some more, but he knew it was inappropriate. He needed to be strong.

Namjoon picked up his clothes from yesterday and headed into the bathroom, grabbing the tablet on his way. He turned the shower on and pulled up the live stream, clicking back to where he’d left off the night before and setting the video at double speed. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen until he finally made himself pause it and shower.

It was only ten in the morning now, which meant he’d slept about six hours. No wonder you were still sound asleep. He didn’t feel tired, though, especially not after waking up with your soft, perfect body in his arms, your warmth seeping into his bones, your scent all over him.

He smiled to himself, letting the water run through his hair. He’d decided against a cold shower, instead letting the warmth of the water spread through him like your body heat had. He was still hard, and he sighed as he reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, running his hand up and down it slowly and thinking about the way your perfect body had felt in his arms.

“Y/N,” he sighed, his hand moving faster now, biting his lip as he imagined you in his lap, bouncing on his cock as he kissed your perfect breasts. Maybe you’d throw your head back and moan his name, or whimper and beg him to fuck you harder. Your tits would fit perfectly in his hands, and he’d squeeze them, massage them, feel the weight of them as he thrust up into you.

His fantasy shifted and he imagined you on your knees in front of him, your lips wrapped around his cock and his hands in your hair. He’d fuck your mouth like he was mad at it, holding you by your hair and watching the way he slid between your lips. He’d have you stop with his cock buried in you to the hilt, your nose pressed against his pelvis and chin against his balls, and he’d stroke your hair and tell you how perfect you looked with his cock down your throat. Maybe you’d moan for him like that, just so he could feel it.

Namjoon groaned, throwing his head back as stroked his cock and thought about your lips. Your mouth was so fucking perfect, he just knew it’d be so soft and tight, and you’d swallow around him like a fucking angel, because you’d know just how to get him off. You’d be so fucking good for him, Namjoon’s whole body tensed at just the thought.

“Y/N…” he moaned, and then he climaxed, his body shivering and mouth falling open as his cum hit the tile wall in front of him. Breathing hard, he watched it slowly dripping with the condensation from the shower, letting out a deep groan as he imagined his cum on your face and chin instead. He’d rub the head of his cock on your lips, smearing it around and claiming you as his.

Namjoon finished his shower, his body humming pleasantly and muscles relaxed after what he’d just done. He thought about you, only you, as always, his mind overflowing with his fantasies, his memories of little innocent things you’d done over the years, the way you made him feel when you smiled up at him.

As he turned off the shower, he realized he was smiling to himself.

Once he got dressed again, Namjoon grabbed the tablet and started taking stock of the supplies the two of you had, closing the door to the bedroom so you could continue sleeping.

You both had phone chargers and no phones, but these chargers also worked on the tablet Jin had let him borrow. You had a few weeks worth of both your medications, and he had his first aid kit. You each had a bag of toiletries, and your passports you couldn’t use without putting yourselves on the map. You had no clean clothes, nothing to do, nothing to eat until Jin had food delivered, and no more euros, if Namjoon could even sneak away from the hotel to use them. He had his Polish money, around eight hundred euros worth. He had his gun and several mags full of bullets.

Namjoon found a small pad of paper, and wrote a short note to Jin. He’d pass along the note to whoever delivered breakfast.

We only have the clothes on our backs. I can give you money for more clothes if you want, but we really need some clothes, desperately. You’d have to exchange the Polish money for euros, but it’s still cash.

We’d also greatly appreciate some snacks if you’re feeling extra generous. Y/N loves chocolate and sweets, and I don’t hate them either.

-NJ

Namjoon had exaggerated a little – the two of you also had your change of clothes from the forest, so not just the clothes on your backs – but Jin didn’t need to know about that.

Namjoon wrote down his clothes size and yours, along with a few suggestions like pajamas, underwear, casual clothes, things that wouldn’t stand out if the two of you had to go in public. Just a few changes each, to last as long as you were stuck in this suite. Though Namjoon had a bad feeling that you’d need to keep moving sooner than he hoped.

He set the tablet down on the table, pressing play and sighing. In the other room, he could hear you gently snoring.

***

You definitely had not slept soundly.

The first time you woke up in the night, you felt Namjoon spooning you, and you wondered if you’d died and gone to heaven. His large, firm, strong arms around you, you’d never felt so safe and protected. You felt like you were his.

The second time you woke up, you heard Namjoon turning on the shower. You listened to him for a minute, wondering what time it was and if you should get up too. You still felt sleepy, but maybe after a day like yesterday, you’d feel tired for weeks.

After a few minutes, you started to doze back off, but your eyes snapped open when you swore you heard Namjoon moaning.

You tilted your head, listening hard, and gasped when you heard the sound of him definitely masturbating, very hard by the sound of it, due to the fact his hand moving was audible over the running water and through the wall separating the bedroom and bathroom.

Oh, god. You should plug your ears or go into the other room. He thought you were asleep! He would never do this if he thought you could hear him. This was so beyond inappropriate, and you were being inappropriate by listening to him. This was so wrong.

But you were a bad person, and so you just laid there and listened to him masturbating in the shower. You heard his moans crescendoing, and then your heart stopped when you heard him definitely, clearly, undoubtedly moaning your name.

You gasped as you heard him cum, your eyes wide as you froze and tensed up. Your panties were now completely drenched, your mind replaying what you’d just heard over and over as you heard him breathing hard and coming down from his high.

You heard him turn off the shower, your mind still racing and heart beating out of your chest.

There was no fucking way. You had to have heard him wrong. Maybe he knew someone else with your name! You had to be wrong. There was just no way Namjoon was masturbating and moaning your name. It was impossible, because that would mean he was attracted to you, and you knew he wasn’t because he was Namjoon, the perfect, sexy, unattainable bodyguard you’d spent the last few years head-over-heels in love with. He was so far out of your league it was laughable, and you knew he wasn’t interested in you. He just wasn’t.

But you knew what you’d heard, and you couldn’t stop your brain from replaying it over and over.

Namjoon opened the door, and you closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You heard him pick some things up and head into the separate living room, closing the door quietly behind him on his way out.

Your mind raced for a few minutes, but sleep eventually reclaimed you, your fatigue sinking back into you and knocking you out again.

The third time you woke up, hours later, you made yourself get out of bed, pulling on yesterday’s dirty pants and wondering if Namjoon could somehow ask Jin for more clothes. You refused to think about what you’d heard earlier, because you were pretty sure it was just an elaborate sex dream you’d had, and you hadn’t actually woken up and heard him. It was the only logical explanation.

You headed out into the main room, where you saw Namjoon sitting at the table, a piece of toast in his hand and the tablet on the table beside him.

“Hey,” he said, motioning toward a plate of food set out at the other seat, assumedly for you. He was acting completely normal, and you could smell the fancy hotel soap on him and wished you could just sit in his lap and smell him. “I was just coming to wake you up when I heard you walking around. Breakfast got here about five minutes ago.”

“Cool,” you mumbled, plopping down in the chair across from him.

Jin had sent up toast, scrambled eggs, assorted cut fruit, and thick cuts of bacon, despite the fact it wasn’t currently morning. Beside your plate were three little bowls with different kinds of jams and preserves, a glass of orange juice, and a steaming cup of coffee. In the middle of the table was a pot of hot water with a little tray of various bags of assorted tea, and a small bowl of honey and honeycomb.

“I saw our friends in Wenceslas Square,” Namjoon said, and you looked up at him, surprised by how casually he’d said that.

“What?” Your brain was still foggy from sleep and Namjoon maybe moaning your name, so him pulling you back to reality and talking about the men after you made you sit up straighter.

“Here, look,” he said, sliding the tablet across the table to you and taking another bite of toast, which he’s spread marmalade on. The stream was paused at 4:07 in the morning, and Namjoon pressed play.

You watched four men dressed in dark, casual, nondescript clothing walk across the empty square, right to the large yellow building with a “Grand Hotel Europa” sign. Two of them headed for the front doors, the others standing guard outside.

“See how they’re all wearing the same black boots?” Namjoon said, zooming in for a second. It was blurry and grainy, but they were definitely all in similar boots. You never would’ve noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out, given how popular combat-style boots were as fashion. “The shoes are always a giveaway. They’re tactical. Probably bought in bulk by the looks of it,” he joked.

Namjoon zoomed back out as two of the men went into the hotel. One of the others sat on a bench by the entrance, while the other walked out of view of the camera. He came back a few seconds later, and you realized he was pacing the square.

“They still haven’t left,” Namjoon said. He reached over and turned the speed setting up to play it twice as fast. The two men who’d gone inside never came out, and you wondered if they’d rented a room, or maybe were going door to door in the hotel or bribing the front desk. Namjoon skipped ahead a few hours, and the one on the bench outside still hadn’t moved, but now had a newspaper. The one pacing had sat down in the outdoor part of a café next door to the hotel, and was sipping coffee.

Namjoon skipped ahead again, now having it play live. It was one in the afternoon, and both men still sat right where they were hours before. Part of you wondered if they were cold, sitting outside in winter for that long, or if the one at the café was annoying the waiters by squatting so long.

“What does this mean for us?” you said, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“It means we can’t communicate with the embassy at all.” Namjoon finished off his toast before wiping his hands on the fancy cloth napkin and continuing. “Either we have a rat, or these guys are listening in on our security team. I’m not sure which is more likely.”

“What about my mother? If someone in our security is working with these men, she’ll be in danger.”

“I don’t know how we can warn her without immediately giving up our location to anyone listening in,” Namjoon said, sighing. “If we try to contact her or warn the rest of the security team, they’ll know where we are and come after you right away.”

“And if they don’t find us in Prague, won’t they look to the last place they knew where we were, the train station in Ostrava, and check the cameras and see us going to Vienna?”

“Exactly,” was all Namjoon said, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“So we should keep moving soon, then?” you suggested, wanting him to elaborate a bit more.

“I’m thinking tomorrow morning, maybe. If they hadn’t shown up in Prague, we could’ve stayed longer, but I’m sure they’re starting to suspect we aren’t there. Maybe they’ll think I lied, or maybe they’ll think we just went to a different hotel in Prague and wait for me to check in and tell them. We should always assume they know more than we think they do, though.”

“So we should assume they’re already on their way here to this hotel?” you said, and Namjoon cracked a smile.

“Maybe not that much. They’d have to have already seen us going to Vienna, then followed us through the whole city, since we walked and used so many side streets. That’s a lot of different business’ security cameras to hack, and there could be blind spots where they won’t know which way we went. It should buy us some time, but we shouldn’t stay here long, just in case.”

“Where do we go from here?” you said, and you watched him set his jaw, the gears in his brilliant mind spinning.

“I’m not sure. Have any ideas?”

You looked down at the plate in front of you, thinking.

“We can’t leave the Schengen area,” you said slowly, nodding to yourself as you spoke. “If we do, we’ll have to show our passports, and that will put us right on the map. Can’t travel by plane, and we should try to avoid places with lots of cameras, just to be safe.”

“Good,” Namjoon said, smiling just enough to show a peek of dimple, as if he were proud of you and the way you were thinking.

“If we go any farther West, things will start getting a lot more expensive,” you continued.

“I could borrow money from Jin,” Namjoon suggested, grinning when you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think he’d slap you if you tried to ask for money,” you said, before laughing and saying, “Unless you tell him you’ll take a bribe to never come back to Austria.”

“I could do that.” You saw a sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes and knew he’d definitely be lying if he told Jin that.

“Even if we get money from him, we should still be frugal. We won’t know how long we’ll have to make it last,” you said. “Should we go to Slovenia? Or maybe head into the Austrian countryside? Maybe we could get into Switzerland–”

“Switzerland is very expensive,” Namjoon commented, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Okay, not Switzerland.” You thought for a moment, before a lightbulb went off over your head. “I got it! What if, right before we leave Vienna, we call my mother to warn her about the security team leak, since we really should do that, and then we went back into the Czech Republic? It’s one of the cheapest countries in central Europe, and they wouldn’t expect us to backtrack like that. If we’re on the run, they’d expect us to try and get farther away, right?”

Namjoon seemed to consider it for a moment, tilting his head back and forth.

“We could call from somewhere where we know there are no cameras,” he said quietly, lost in thought. “If they don’t know which way we head, it could work. They’d most likely think we’d keep traveling in the same direction, and then we could settle in some small Czech town and stay hidden.”

You liked this plan and thought it was your best bet, but you wondered when you’d be able to stop running and go home. Spending time alone with Namjoon all day was amazing, but you didn’t want to be scared anymore and have the threat of being abducted looming over you. Namjoon was probably going to give himself a heart attack from stress with how rightfully paranoid he was, and it was only a matter of time before you’d run out of money or put yourself on the grid somehow. If your mother found out about the security team leak, and there really was a mole back home, would they be able to find out who it was? And how would you even know, if and when they did? You could call your mother, tell her what you know, and she could have everything sorted out in a few hours, and you would never know until you eventually contacted her again.

How long until all this was over, and you were safe again?

Namjoon seemed to notice your shift in mood, and he reached across the table, resting his hand on yours.

“We’ll be okay,” he said softly, his warm eyes searching yours.

You sighed, looking down at the table. You felt so utterly helpless and small. You wished there was a way you could feel less powerless, a way to be more prepared if these men ever found you. If you ever got separated from Namjoon or something happened to him, you’d be a sitting duck.

Another lightbulb moment struck you then.

“Joon?” you said, glancing up at him. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you continued, “Will you teach me how to use your gun?”

***

Namjoon stood behind you, his arms wrapped around you. The two of you held his handgun together, aiming by the window overlooking the street. You were on the sixth floor and the building across the street was only three stories, so you felt like aiming this way was safe enough, especially since you weren’t planning on firing it.

You were more than a little intimidated by the gun and even by Namjoon knowing so much about guns, but you knew it was important to know how to use it, just in case. This was important to you. Not feeling so helpless was important to you.

“When you’re holding a gun, always act like it’s loaded and could go off at any moment,” he said, showing you the proper way to hold it. “Even if you think it’s not loaded, even if you think the safety’s on. There are thousands of accidental deaths from guns every year. This is a deadly weapon, only for emergencies. Anything you point a gun at, you have to be willing to destroy it.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to think about that.

“Once you know the basics, it’s pretty straightforward. Aim and shoot. Make sure the safety’s off, like this,” he said right against your ear, showing you what he described. “Most people will do what you tell them if you’re holding a gun, so hopefully you’ll never have to fire it. But if you do, if those men find us and something happens to me, shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, nodding.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to do that though, if the time came. You’d always been someone who froze when you were scared. You didn’t want to think about a situation where you’d have Namjoon’s gun and he wasn’t there to help you. You were certain you’d be frozen, and probably inconsolable from whatever made him unable to use the gun himself.

“Here’s how you rack it,” he said, and you took in a breath, feeling his large hands moving yours. His body was pressed completely against you, your shoulders against his firm chest, your back against his stomach. When he spoke, the depth of his voice rumbled in your body and mind, making you have to fight to suppress a shiver.

“Will you show me how to reload it?” you said, your voice softer than you were expecting it to be.

“Sure.” He turned the gun sideways so you could see him work, pressing a button on the side. He brought your hand up, having you feel the button he’d just pressed. “Feel that?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, unsure of how to react to Namjoon’s fingers holding yours and having you feel something so small. Your heart was racing from how close he was, and from how exhilarating and scary it felt holding a real gun.

“That’s the magazine release. To take a mag out, press that, and then just slide the new one in.”

He showed you what he’d described, his hands moving with yours. You were breathless just from this, but you tried so hard to listen to his words. This was important, serious, and dangerous. Not the time for fantasizing.

“Make sure it’s in properly, like this, and then press the slide release here.”

He showed you, and then the gun was loaded and ready again. You held it up, aimed at the wall, and Namjoon’s hands closed around yours.

“Perfect,” he said right in your ear, and this time you actually did shiver before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon cleared his throat, stepping away from you suddenly. He didn’t make eye contact with you as you handed the gun over, and he turned the safety back on and put it away.

“You did well,” he said, his voice slightly deeper than normal. “I can show you again later, to make sure you remember.”

“Sure,” you said, unable to even look at him. Your face felt hot and you suspected you were blushing.

A knock on the door interrupted your awkward moment, and Namjoon rushed over, looking out the peephole before quickly opening the door to reveal Jin with a small meal cart with two plates covered by fancy metal cloches.

“Wow, this hotel is nice,” Namjoon teased, holding open the door for Jin. “The owner himself delivers room service.”

“Shut up, you,” Jin grumbled, the cart bumping over the doorframe as he entered. He stopped walking and pushed the cart lazily in the direction of the kitchenette, letting it drift until it bumped into the table.

“What a disrespectful waiter,” Namjoon joked as he closed and locked the door again. “This will be affecting your tip.”

“The tip for your lunch, or the tip for me going shopping and getting you both new clothes?” Jin said, throwing himself down on one of the armchairs. “The bags of clothes are on the bottom shelf of the cart, under the tablecloth,” he added, motioning in the vague direction of the cart.

“Thank you,” you said, figuring Jin deserved at least a little genuine gratitude instead of just Namjoon’s snark.

You walked over to the cart and pulled out the shopping bags of clothes, peeking in and seeing jeans, sweaters, and even undergarments. One bag had two folded winter coats, along with a couple beanies, scarves, and a large pair of black gloves and a smaller pair of red mittens.

“You’ll probably be happy to hear we’re planning on leaving early tomorrow morning.” Namjoon sat down across from Jin, crossing his arms. “We’ll get out of your hair, but we are concerned about funds. We have about eight hundred euros to live off of indefinitely.”

“I guess that means you’re asking me for money,” Jin said dryly. He let out a big, dramatic sigh, examining his fingernails like he was bored.

“I’d greatly appreciate a loan, so I can keep her safe and out of the cold,” Namjoon said, smiling politely.

“Fine. Whatever. But you’ll owe me another favor.”

“How many favors is that now? Three?” Namjoon laughed.

“Let’s round up to five small favors, or one really big one.”

“A big favor like him never coming back to Austria?” you said, cracking a smile.

“That’s one of the little favors,” Jin replied, winking at you.

You glanced toward Namjoon, noticing him setting his jaw. You wondered if he was grumpy because of Jin winking, or maybe from you joking around with him. You didn’t let yourself think about the possibility of Namjoon being jealous.

“So, where are you heading after Vienna?” Jin asked conversationally.

“Don’t answer,” Namjoon cut in when you opened your mouth to reply. “No offense to Jin, but I don’t want anyone besides us knowing, just in case.”

“Well, if that’s how this conversation is going to be, I’ll go,” Jin said, standing up. He brushed some invisible lint off his shoulders, straightening his vest and tie before heading for the door. “I can bring up some money with dinner, so you can slip away stealthily in the night without bothering me anymore. Any other requests, your highness?”

“Not unless you have a car we can borrow,” Namjoon said flatly, and your eyes bulged. He certainly knew how to ask the absolute most from his hosts.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jin said, which surprised you even more than Namjoon’s absurd request. “I have two cars, but I don’t really leave the hotel, so what’s the point, you know? May as well let my least favorite friend borrow one for a little while.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” you said, not quite sure you were believing your ears. Well, owning a luxury hotel in an expensive European city most likely paid well, you figured. Jin probably had more money than you could ever dream of.

“Whatever gets Namjoon out of Vienna fastest,” he said, winking at you again as he turned to leave. “I’ll give you the less expensive one. Please don’t crash it like you did my Bentley.”

“That was Jin’s car you crashed when you got your license revoked?” you laughed.

“You know what, only she’s allowed to drive my car,” Jin said as he approached the door. “I don’t trust you, Joon, and I don’t want you breaking more laws on or in my property.”

“I’m a great driver,” Namjoon pouted, crossing his arms.

“And an unlicensed one, apparently,” Jin said. “Anyways, please eventually tell me where you leave my car. I really like that one and would like it back one day.”

“Keep up your attitude, and I’ll leave it in the poorest neighborhood in Europe with the windows down and key in the ignition,” Namjoon said.

“Not nice,” Jin tutted, making you giggle. You saw a flash of maybe-jealousy in Namjoon’s eyes again, and decided you kinda liked this side of Namjoon.

With that, Jin left, and you looked to Namjoon, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“If you don’t say thank you to him before we leave, I’m turning myself in to those men in Prague,” you said, laughing when Namjoon looked up at you with wide, horrified eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled, pushing up off the chair and walking over to the food cart.

The lunch Jin had brought up for you two was some kind of grilled fish, along with mushroom soup, grilled asparagus, and warm, fresh rolls with what looked like whipped butter. Definitely what you’d expect from a hotel as upscale as this.

With the two plates of food were two glass goblets of water, two small bottles of sparkling water, and one singular plate covered with plastic wrap and a note scrawled in sloppy handwriting:

For Y/N only. No Namjoons allowed.

- Jin ;)

You unwrapped that plate carefully and discovered a slice of the most ridiculously decadent triple-layer chocolate cake you’d ever laid your eyes on, intricately decorated with dark chocolate frosting and ganache. Your mouth watered just looking at it, but you knew it would be best to save it for after real food.

Namjoon rolled his eyes when he saw Jin’s note, and you didn’t miss him crumbling the note in his hand and throwing it in the trash in the kitchenette, playing it off as him going over to the kitchenette to get silverware. You laughed a little to yourself, wondering how much of Namjoon wanting to leave this hotel had to do with getting you away from Jin.

After lunch, you looked through the clothes Jin had bought, sorting through what was for you and what was for Namjoon. You were half surprised Jin hadn’t bought Namjoon clothes in the wrong size, and even more surprised he’d bought clothes for Namjoon at all. They must truly be like brothers if they bickered this much but Jin still chose to help.

Jin had bought you both two pairs of jeans, two sets of pajamas, a pair of sweatpants, three sweaters, a pack of socks, and a pack of underwear, along with the winter clothes you’d looked at earlier. There was also one blouse for you and a flannel shirt for Namjoon, and you figured you’d both have to roll your clothes if you had any hope of getting all this to fit into your backpacks. You owed Jin a huge thanks, and you’d make Namjoon thank him too, even if you had to twist his arm.

Later in the afternoon, you turned on the television to some German soap opera, eating your chocolate cake and propping your feet up on the antique table. Namjoon was sitting by the window with the tablet, glancing outside at the street every few minutes.

“Joon?” you eventually called out to him.

“Mmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the tablet.

“Do you want the rest of my cake?” you mumbled, feeling sick from overeating and all the sugar.

Namjoon looked up at you, smiling softly to himself. He finally set the tablet aside, coming over to you and sitting down right beside you, his leg against yours.

“Getting full?” he said, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as he took the plate from you with his other hand. He set the plate in his lap, picking up your fork and taking a bite.

“A little too full,” you grumbled.

He hummed in response, his mouth full of cake.

You settled in against his side, enjoying the warmth of his arm around you. The heat in this hotel was nice, but the building was old, and it had started snowing again in the last few hours, the cold seeping in and making you wish you had a blanket to cuddle up with. Well, having a Namjoon to cuddle up with was even better, you figured. You wished you and Namjoon could go get back under the covers in the bedroom and just lay there for hours, spooning like you had this morning.

“I was looking for places we could call your mother from,” Namjoon said after a moment, swallowing a particularly large bite of ganache. “I don’t want to lead them directly to this hotel, because I’m worried they’ll see Jin and think he’s connected to me and try to interrogate him. We need to get away from this hotel without being seen, but then call from somewhere within the city.”

“A payphone somewhere without cameras?” you suggested weakly, figuring Jin would not be willing to part with a phone in addition to everything else he’d given the two of you.

“I found a subway stations in the Döbling area that I think will be perfect for us,” Namjoon explained, playing with the last few bites of cake with the fork as he spoke. “It’s surrounded by a residential neighborhood, so not a lot of street cameras. I think I can map out a way for us to get there without being on camera, and we can call your mother from there. What do you think?”

“I think that’s ingenious,” you said, thinking through his plan and trying to find any flaws.

“Döbling is in the northern part of the city, too, so it’ll be on our way out of town.”

“Perfect,” you said. “But if we leave in the middle of the night, I don’t know if my mother will answer the phone if I call her.”

“Does she know how to listen to voicemails?”

“Yeah, but can voicemails be tracked the way live calls are?”

“A payphone in Vienna will have an Austrian area code,” Namjoon said, and you felt silly for not thinking of that. “But if we call your mother directly and warn her, she may not tell anyone in the security team about our call anyway. She’ll know not to trust anyone.”

“So how do we let the terrorist guys know where we are, without letting them know we want them to know?” you said, pouting. “We wanted them to think we’re in Vienna.”

“I think I have an idea about that,” he said, and when you looked up at him, you could see mischief in his dark brown eyes.

***

Jin never ended up coming back to the room, and Namjoon was almost relieved. He hadn’t been looking forward to you making him be genuine and actually thank Jin, though he did greatly appreciate Jin’s generosity.

A hotel staff brought up a late dinner around eleven, along with a set of car keys and an envelope. The envelope had eight thousand euros in cash, which Namjoon could barely comprehend, along with a handwritten note.

Car’s parked on the employee level of the parking garage downstairs, row C, spot 17, right by the main elevator on sublevel 2. If you need more money… consider getting a job or asking someone else.

If you get bullet holes in my car, I’ll put bullet holes in you.

-Jin

PS: No need to get so jealous, Namjoon-ah! Y/N’s crush on you can be seen from space, by everyone but you, apparently. She’s only got eyes for a certain grumpy asshole bodyguard, for some unfathomable reason. The rest of us don’t stand a chance. Not even me, and that’s saying something. If she ever changes her mind and decides she actually likes rich, handsome, and charming men, please point her in my direction. Tell her I’ll be waiting with a $500 bottle of champagne at the world-renowned five star hotel I own.

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat at the beginning of the PS line. He quickly ran over to his jacket hanging on the back of the chair and tucked the note into one of the pockets, before you could come out and see it. He figured Jin was just making fun of him; you having a crush on him or liking him was as absurd as the rest of Jin’s note.

You and Namjoon ate the ridiculous dinner Jin had sent up, both veal and roast beef with mashed potatoes, more asparagus, and zucchini, along with another slice of chocolate cake, this time in a to-go box and again with a “for Y/N only” note. You groaned when you saw the cake, and Namjoon smiled to himself, shaking his head.

After dinner, Namjoon convinced you to take a nap, but he wouldn’t let himself sleep. He paced around in the living room like a caged animal, looking out the window every few minutes before making himself sit down and plan out the route the two of you would take later to avoid cameras. He felt restless, like he needed to be doing something helpful, jittery from staying in one place for too long.

You woke up around midnight, and the two of you packed your backpacks, rolling your clothes to make it all fit. You’d decided to leave your heels, but other than that, you both managed to get everything. Well, almost everything. Namjoon carried the coats and all the other winter accessories Jin had found in the shopping bag they’d come in, since the two of you were just walking down to the car. Your hands had the to-go box with your slice of ridiculous chocolate cake.

Around 2:45, the two of you headed out, heading straight down to the parking garage and following Jin’s directions. Namjoon didn’t plan on letting you see Jin’s note, but thankfully you didn’t ask.

The car was beautiful, more expensive than anything Namjoon could ever afford, and you went straight for the driver’s seat, smirking at him as he handed over the keys. You both remembered Jin’s orders about only you driving, and Namjoon couldn’t say he minded. You looked so happy and excited, and he’d do anything to see you this joyful.

Namjoon had decided to “borrow” Jin’s tablet, though it didn’t have a data plan on it, so it would stop working once you left wifi. He took screenshots of the camera-free route he’d planned out to the subway station, and of a roadmap of Austria and the Czech Republic. The two of you didn’t really have a plan, but Namjoon had a general idea of where he wanted to end up.

The two of you left the hotel, just as the bells in the old town chimed out, announcing it was three in the morning.

The drive to Döbling only took about twenty minutes, even with all the detours Namjoon had you take to avoid security cameras. The subway station was empty and closed this late, but the payphones were outside, just as he’d seen on Google Maps. There was a security camera pointed at the payphones, but not anywhere else in the area. Anyone looking for the two of you would be able to know you were here, but not what car you were in or where you went from here.

The two of you parked and headed over to the payphones, Namjoon’s hand in yours. You didn’t need to pretend right now, but it felt right. He’d reached out for your hand subconsciously, and you’d taken it, lacing your fingers with his.

You called your mother first, your expression worried as it rang. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, the two of you looking at each other as you waited.

Your face fell when it went to voicemail, but you set your jaw, preparing yourself to leave a message.

“Hi, Mom,” you said, your voice sad. Namjoon wished he could hug you and take away all your pain and fears. “It’s Y/N. I’m safe. Namjoon’s with me. We think someone in your security team might be working with the men who attacked the embassy, because after Namjoon called from a burner phone, those men still knew what he’d said and showed up where he’d said we’d be. We’re okay though. Please be careful, Mom. I love you. Bye.”

Short and to the point. You hung up the phone, nodding once to Namjoon.

“That was perfect,” he said, bringing his hand up and rubbing your arm. He could tell you were disappointed about not getting to speak to your mother, but knew there was nothing he could do about that.

“Your turn,” you said, sighing.

He sighed too, picking up the phone and putting in a few more coins.

Namjoon dialed his number and waited.

“Hello? Kim, is that you?” the head of security at the embassy said when he answered a few moments later.

“Where are you?” Namjoon said, his voice low and demanding. He glanced to you, seeing you watching him curiously. He hadn’t told you what he was planning on saying, and he wondered what you’d think.

“Where am I? I’m at the embassy. Where the hell are you?” the head of security said.

“I meant where in the embassy? Who’s with you?”

The head of security listed two other guards. Namjoon had figured a few of them would all be on duty in the security office, and that there’d be more of them working than usual, considering the recent attack.

“Put me on speaker,” Namjoon said. He waited until the feedback sound changed, and he could tell he was on speakerphone now. “Is anyone else awake? Any other guards in the building patrolling?”

“Yeah, but–” the head of security started, but Namjoon cut him off.

“Dial them into this call.”

“What? Kim, what are you–”

“Now.” Namjoon set his jaw, hoping his firmness and insubordination wouldn’t get him fired if he was wrong about there being a mole.

“Okay,” the head of security said unsurely, and there was a brief pause as he looped a few other guards in, dialing them all one by one, the background static increasing each time a new person joined.

“Who’s here?” Namjoon said after a moment, and he listened to everyone identify themselves. He wanted as many guards as possible to hear this, so the real ones could figure out who the mole was as fast as possible.

“What’s going on, Kim?” one of them said, and Namjoon took a deep breath before beginning.

“One of you is a mole, maybe,” he explained, speaking carefully and slowly. “The men after us knew right where we’d be after I called and told you guys, even when I called from burner phones. Either someone is telling them everything, or our secure phones aren’t as secure as we thought they were, and they’re listening in on everything. Figure your shit out and keep the ambassador safe. I’ve got Y/N, and we’re staying off the grid until it’s all clear.”

Namjoon hung up then, letting out a deep breath as soon as it was done.

“That was smart,” you said, reaching out and taking his hand again. He hadn’t realized how intense that conversation would be, and now his hands were shaking slightly. As soon as he felt you touch him, though, they stopped, and he felt stronger.

“I figured they’d already know we’re onto them by the fact we’re not in Prague, so may as well tell everyone and let them start figuring things out on their end,” he said, the two of you heading back to the car hand-in-hand.

“And now my mother knows, or will know when she wakes up,” you said. “They can figure things out, and they’ll be okay. The real ones will sort out who the mole is.”

“Hopefully,” he said, sighing.

You got into the driver’s seat again, and Namjoon gave you directions for his camera-less route out of the city. Once you got on the road, though, there’d be some unavoidable traffic cameras. He’d tried to plan a route northward that avoided towns at least, but there was only so much he could do.

Namjoon’s camera-less, town-less route into the Czech Republic ended up being about twice as long as following normal roads. What should’ve only taken three hours took six, and when the sun started coming up, his eyes burning from being awake too long, he wondered if all this was enough to keep you safe. He didn’t know what else he could do, though, other than making you walk through the woods and just avoiding civilization altogether.

He just hoped what he was doing was enough.

You eventually ended up in the countryside surrounding the town of Český Krumlov, deep in the heart of southern Bohemia. Namjoon could see the town in the distance, with its large castle towering over the rest of the village, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to come back here with you some day. He could see the two of you walking through the scenic town holding hands, looking at the art and architecture together, being a real couple instead of just pretending.

You drove past the town, eventually coming to a sign advertising holiday cottage rentals in Czech, German, and English. The rental office was right by the road, and the two of you pulled in, carefully parking in the spot farthest from the door, in case whoever was inside looked out and saw the car.

“I’ll go alone,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“No,” Namjoon said, turning toward you. “No way. I’m coming.”

“Do you think there’s any possible way we’re in danger here?” You raised an eyebrow at him, and he sunk down in his seat.

“I don’t like it,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Too bad. The men looking for us are looking for both of us. One of us alone will attract less attention. I’ll just go in, ask for a week or so, depending on the price, and come right back out. Can I have some of the money, please?”

Namjoon handed over the envelope of cash, watching you take out a few hundred euros.

“Please be careful,” he said as you opened the door to go. You looked back at him, laughing a little and shaking your head.

“I will. I’ll be right back,” you said, and then you were gone, and Namjoon was sitting alone in Jin’s stupid expensive car, waiting on you and trying to will his heart to stop racing.

You strode into the rental office confidently, and he could almost see you through the window. He saw a short, middle-aged woman working there, smiling wide when she saw you.

You spoke to her for a few minutes, laughing politely, chatting, signing a piece of paper, and then you were handing over money, and the woman handed you a set of keys and a different piece of paper.

Namjoon didn’t like this. Whatever you’d signed, it could have your real signature on it, and that would be easily trackable. Had you given your real name? He didn’t think you were that stupid, but whatever you’d signed made him feel uneasy, combining with his exhaustion and worry to make him feel almost sick.

You came out of the rental office a few minutes later, smiling to yourself proudly. Namjoon let himself relax, seeing you happy.

“Got it!” you squealed when you hopped back in the car. You handed him the paper – a map of the cottages with the one you’d rented circled – as you buckled your seatbelt. “It was much less expensive to book it on a weekly rate, so I got one week, for now.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “What’d you sign in there?”

“Oh,” you said, looking down at your hands. “I told her that we got mugged so we didn’t have our passports or ID, so she just let me sign, like, on an honor system. Normally she needs IDs, but she said it was fine. I put fake names, though. I panicked and signed myself as ‘Ursula Guin,’ like that author you recommended to me a few years ago. Hope the rental lady’s not the literary type.”

Namjoon snorted, remembering the exact story he’d sent you back then.

“She wanted your name too, so I said you were my husband Hermann, to keep with the author theme.”

“Wow, thanks,” he laughed. “Do I look like a Hermann to you?” He wasn’t actually mad; he was actually kind of touched that you’d used that name, wondering if you’d chosen it because you remembered him saying Hermann Hesse was the author of his favorite book.

“Do I look like an Ursula?” you giggled back, driving the car back onto the main road and heading off for the cottage you’d rented.

The rental cottages were deep in the forest, each on their own several-acre plot. You’d found the driveway to yours – Cottage 7 – and were still carefully driving down it ten minutes later. The snow was only a few inches deep here, the bare tree branches in the forest all lined with it like powdered sugar, but this road hadn’t been touched in what looked like years, so you drove cautiously and very, very slowly.

Based on the property size alone, Namjoon had been expecting a mansion, but instead the two of you eventually rolled up to what looked like a little one-room fairytale cottage.

“I hope you didn’t pay a lot for this shack,” he said, smirking when you shot him a look.

Besides its size, the cottage was actually pretty cute, and he could see a chimney, indicating a fireplace, hopefully. It looked like it fell right out of a storybook, and it was definitely off the beaten path. It was settled in a little clearing in the forest, and besides the driveway, there was nothing else here indicative of civilization. Just a house in the middle of the woods, perfect for hiding away, just the two of you.

You headed inside, Namjoon carrying the bag with the winter clothes. The front of the cottage had a nice little deck, and if it weren’t so cold out, Namjoon could see himself sitting out here, maybe reading.

Inside, the building had only two rooms – the main room, and a small bathroom in the back corner. It had everything the two of you would need, including a fairly modern kitchen, a table with two chairs, a little loveseat next to an old free-standing cast iron fireplace, and a bed Namjoon wasn’t sure would be long enough for his legs, let alone wide enough for the two of you to sleep without touching. It was livable, but definitely cozy.

The room had no heat, and he was surprised when he turned on the light-switch and found the place actually had electricity. It was almost as cold as outside in here, though thankfully out of the snow and wind, at least.

You headed straight into the bathroom, and Namjoon decided to look through the kitchen. The cabinets had no food other than salt, pepper, a few assorted spices, and a mostly-empty bottle of olive oil. The two of you would have to grocery shopping as soon as you could, and then not leave the cottage again for a while.

The room had no closet, no dresser, nothing to put clothes in other than the two little bedside tables that each had one drawer. Well, Namjoon figured, the two of you didn’t have much clothes, anyway. One drawer was all either of you really needed.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were wearing one of your new sets of pajamas, along with a new pair of socks. You tossed your backpack onto the loveseat, yawning wide and heading straight for the bed.

“It’s so cold in here,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“I can start a fire,” Namjoon suggested, ignoring what he’d actually wanted to say. I’ll keep you warm.

You hummed, throwing back the quilt on the bed and then the covers. He watched you settle in, curling up in a little ball and pulling the covers up to your chin. You were so adorable, he couldn’t help feeling warmer just looking at you.

Namjoon got started setting up the fire, throwing in a couple logs from the large stack beside the fireplace, and found matches in the kitchen to start it. You were already asleep by the time he got it going; he’d looked back at you, grinning proudly, but saw you dozed off, your mouth hanging open as you quietly snored.

He got ready for bed, plugging in the tablet and changing his clothes. There was obviously no wifi here, but the tablet had quite a few ebooks downloaded to it, probably thanks to some bored employee back at Jin’s hotel, so at least the two of you would have one thing to do here.

Namjoon hadn’t felt this tired in years, his eyes aching from being open too long, his limbs sore and mind blank. It was eleven in the morning now, so he’d been awake a little over twenty-four hours, and he hadn’t slept very long the night before, either. He and you were going to have a hell of a time trying to fix your sleep schedules after all this.

When he climbed into bed, you immediately rolled over toward him, settling in with your head on his chest, arm across his stomach, and leg hooked over his thigh.

Namjoon froze.

He should push you off. He should turn away from you. You were asleep; you didn’t really mean this. You were just cold, and he was a warm body.

But Namjoon was so infinitely selfish. He was a selfish pervert, and he knew it. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and he felt you shiver, cuddling closer to get warm in your sleep. Your breasts pressed against his side, your hair right where he could breathe you in, your little hand resting over his heart.

He would let himself have just this. He knew he’d never get anything else, so he’d hold you and tell himself he was just helping you stay warm. He was, but to him, this was so much more. This was everything. He was holding the woman he loved, and he’d let himself pretend, only as he drifted off to sleep.

You were so precious, he could hardly stand it. So beautiful, so small in his arms, so wonderful and perfect and his. He felt you breathing gently, and he closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he fell asleep.

***

When Namjoon woke up, you were already awake, curled up on the loveseat with the tablet.

“Hey,” you murmured as he stood. He groaned in response, his brain not quite awake yet, making you giggle.

He walked over to you, stretching his arms and shoulders as he went. You were reading one of the downloaded ebooks, and as he approached, you scooted over, making room for him to join you.

��We need to go shopping for food,” he said as he sat down, wrapping his arm around the back of the loveseat behind you, to give you both more space. “I don’t think we have any food besides that chocolate cake Jin gave you.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” You turned off the tablet and set it down. “It’s almost five, so we should go soon, in case the grocery stores here close early.”

And that meant the two of you would have to get dressed and leave the cottage, which Namjoon very much did not want to do. The two of you were in cozy pajamas, the fire in front of you crackling peacefully. Outside, he could see it had started snowing again, the sky already getting dark, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his lap and never let go of you, though he knew that particular fantasy was impossible and unwanted.

Instead, you stood up, heading over to your backpack and pulling out a sweater and pair of jeans. Namjoon sighed, letting himself have a few more minutes in front of the fireplace while you got dressed in the bathroom.

Had you woken up and realized you were laying on his chest? Maybe you’d rolled away from him while you’d slept, after the room warmed up from the fire. He wondered though, maybe you’d woken up in that position. Maybe you hadn’t hated it. Maybe it had been a choice you’d made, and not just something you did while asleep to get warmer. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but they were. Maybe you’d actually wanted to cuddle with him in your sleep, and it hadn’t been an accident or mistake.

Namjoon reached up, bringing his shirt up to his nose, the part right where your head had rested on his chest. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he smelled your shampoo and your scent.

Suddenly, you opened the door and came out of the bathroom, and Namjoon dropped his shirt, pretending like he’d just been scratching his chest instead of holding the fabric up and smelling it like a creep.

He got dressed quickly, used the bathroom, splashed some water on his face.

“Before we go, make sure to take your pills,” he said as he came back into the main room. He figured it was close to five now.

“Oh, shit, thanks,” you said, jumping up and rushing over to your backpack.

Namjoon smiled to himself. You were so adorable, and he loved feeling useful to you like this.

He pulled on his jacket, slipping on his shoes and watching you dig through your bag, finding your medication down at the very bottom. You bustled around the room, dry-swallowing your pills, grabbing your shoes, getting ready to leave.

Namjoon started to put his hands in his jacket pockets as he watched and waited on you, but froze when he felt something in both of his pockets.

Tilting his head, he pulled out what he felt, seeing in one hand, Jin’s note he’d hidden from you, and in the other, the two little packs of double chocolate chip cookies he’d bought in the train snack car, back before all this started. You’d sent him to go get something chocolate, and he’d been so excited to give it to you, but completely forgot, after everything that happened after.

Namjoon reread Jin’s note, frowning as his brain fixated on ‘if she ever changes her mind and decides she actually likes rich, handsome, and charming men, please point her in my direction.’

He scowled, quickly stepping over to the fireplace, throwing the note in the fire and watching it burn. He hated how stupid, insecure, and jealous he felt, how just Jin’s teasing could work him up like this. Namjoon wanted you to be his, for you to love him and be with him and know his heart belongs to you, but he wasn’t rich. He wasn’t charming or classically handsome like Jin. You deserved someone like that, someone who could take care of you financially and give you the whole world.

The only reason Namjoon was able to keep you safe and hidden so easily right now was because of Jin’s car and Jin’s money. Namjoon had only been able to get a little out of his work account when you went on the run, and without Jin, the two of you probably would’ve ended up sleeping in bus stations and stealing food to survive. You deserved so much better than that. Under normal circumstances, Namjoon wasn’t poor, but he was still working class. He couldn’t give you five-star hotels, fancy cars, or long-term stability. How could you ever want someone like him, when guys like Jin also showed an interest in you?

You’d never want Namjoon. He wasn’t rich, handsome, or charming. He was just your bodyguard. All he could ever give you was his protection, and his stupid heart.

“What do you have there?” You pulled him from his thoughts as you approached, stopping beside him and smiling when you saw the cookies still in his hand. “Did you get snacks somewhere and not tell me?” you teased, reaching out and pinching him on his side.

“They’re for you,” he immediately said, holding both packs out to you. “I got them for you on the train. The first train, the one we jumped off of. I forgot to give them to you, though. Got a little distracted.”

You smiled, reaching out and only taking one of them. You opened it right up and took a big bite, smiling to yourself and closing your eyes as you chewed. He knew how much you loved chocolate, and the grin on your face right now made him feel like he was floating.

“I know it’s not as good as fancy chocolate ganache cake, but still, I hope you like it,” he said, looking down at the other cookie in his hand. He didn’t know why, but he almost felt embarrassed.

“This is so much better,” you assured, your mouth still full of cookie. “That cake’s way too rich. I felt sick after just a few bites of the one yesterday. The new slice he gave us will probably go bad before we can even finish it.”

Namjoon hummed, setting the cookie in his hand down on the kitchen table. He planned on giving you this one too, even if you didn’t take it now. He noticed how you said ‘the slice he gave us’ and ‘before we can finish it,’ and wondered if you’d forgotten how Jin had given the cake to only you, not him too.

Once you finished your cookie, the two of you headed out for the grocery store, hoping to get in, get what you needed, and get out as fast as possible.

The place you found was a little locally-owned thing, and Namjoon didn’t see any cameras, thankfully. He still felt nervous being out in the open like this, but this seemed safe enough. He had his gun in his holster under his jacket regardless.

The two of you walked around together, Namjoon pushing the cart and following wherever you decided to go. You got eggs, bread, a whole array of fruits and vegetables, a few packs of raw chicken breasts, boxes and boxes of dried pasta, rice, instant coffee, hot cocoa mix of course, milk, and some canned foods he didn’t even bother looking at as you loaded them into the cart. He trusted your judgment and would eat whatever you picked out. In the small freezer section, you found a pint of chocolate ice cream, which made Namjoon smile to himself. You and your chocolate.

There was a small home goods section, and Namjoon grabbed a big fleece blanket, tucking it under his arm as he pushed the cart toward the checkout. The cottage was cold, and he thought you’d like something like this to cuddle up with in front of the fire. You also grabbed a pack of candles and a deck of cards, and he figured those were both smart purchases.

The last thing Namjoon grabbed was a cheap, prepaid burner phone by the checkout, just in case he needed to call someone in an emergency. He didn’t like the idea of being out at that cottage and having no way of calling for help if you needed it.

Once the two of you got home and put away the groceries, you made spaghetti with tomato sauce, and Namjoon helped stir the pasta while you worked on more important things. The two of you stood side by side at the little gas stove, working quietly as the water boiled and sauce bubbled. His arm skimmed against yours every once in a while, and he tried to ignore the way just that made his stomach flip.

“It smells so good,” he said, watching you stir in some dried basil you’d found in the cabinet.

“I wish I’d thought to buy butter,” you mumbled, stirring the sauce. “I could’ve made garlic bread to go with this.”

“I’m sure this will be good,” he tried to reassure you.

“Maybe if we’re here long enough, we can go to the grocery store again and get some.” You glanced over his way, looking hopeful, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The two of you ate together in comfortable silence, the little kitchen table so small, your plates were touching. You complained about your feet being cold despite wearing socks, so you tucked your feet under his, and Namjoon’s heart began racing. This was almost like playing footsie under the table, but he tried to tell himself you were just cold. This was just like you cuddling up to him as you slept; it didn’t mean anything. You didn’t see him that way.

After your dinner-that-was-technically-breakfast, the two of you sat on the loveseat together, cuddled up under the fleece blanket he’d bought. You had your legs resting across his lap under the blanket, and the two of you were playing Go Fish, joking around and talking about nothing.

Namjoon could really see himself getting used to this, to a life like this. He could probably afford a cottage like this one, maybe closer to where your mother lived. He couldn’t afford big things like fancy cars and luxury hotels, but he could give you a life like this and make you happy. You looked so beautiful right now; carefree, relaxed, cozy, content, happy. He felt like he was home when he looked at you, like you were his home and his life and his whole world. He wanted more than anything to make you happy and be your home, too.

When it was your turn to play and you didn’t notice, he tickled your foot under the blanket, and you shrieked, giggling and squirming. You never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment.

After the card game, you picked up the tablet, pulling up a different ebook than the one you’d been reading earlier.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Please?” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

And he was so wrapped around your finger, he took the tablet from you with a big dumb smile on his face and immediately did as you asked, because he would walk across continents and swim across oceans to be the one to read to you.

The two of you sat like that for hours, Namjoon reading and you just looking at him. You sat on the loveseat sideways, your head tilted so you leaned against the back of the seat, your arms crossed as you listened to him. He wished he could pull you over into his lap and cuddle with you as he read, but this moment as-is was already such a gift, and he didn’t want to ruin it for you.

Every time he glanced up at you, he saw you watching him with an expression he didn’t understand. The look on your face stirred something within him and gave him hope, and that was dangerous. You were looking at him like you loved him, and he knew he was just projecting his feelings onto you and setting himself up to get his heart broken. He needed to be realistic, so he didn’t let himself glance up at you anymore. He just read and read and read until his throat was raw from speaking.

Around midnight, you both tried to go to bed, hoping to sleep a few hours and then stay up tomorrow, so you could try fixing your awful sleep schedules. You both changed back into pajamas, Namjoon throwing an extra log in the fire so it could hopefully last through the night.

When the two of you climbed into bed, you turned toward him and cuddled up against him, just as you had the night before. This time, though, you were definitely fully awake.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, looking up at him with big innocent eyes as you rested your head on his chest and hand on his heart.

“Of course,” he said, and he took your hand, holding it there where you could feel his heart beating. He wished he could tell you how much he loved you right now. He wished he could kiss your forehead and say, Do you feel that? Do you feel my heart? It belongs to you. I belong to you.

But he kept quiet, and you snuggled in against him, closing your eyes and sighing. Namjoon wrapped his other arm around you tight, holding you close and keeping you warm. This was all he could really give you. You deserved so much more, but he could protect you and keep you warm. He didn’t let himself consider the possibility that you’d be happy with just that… with just him.

***

When you woke up in the morning, Namjoon was still holding you.

You’d both slept like that all the way through the night. The fire was down to just glowing cinders, the room chilly but not freezing. Namjoon was a human heater, though, and the two of you were completely intertwined, like real lovers keeping each other warm in the cold winter.

You could feel his chest gently rising and falling as he breathed, and you closed your eyes, just listening and feeling him for a moment. This was everything to you. You could hear the steady thump of his heart. You could feel the warmth of his body. You could pretend like he was yours and you were his. The moment was so still and perfect, and Namjoon was so warm and smelled so good. Everything about right now was perfect to you.

Part of you couldn’t believe he’d let you snuggle up to him last night. You’d expected him to push you away, thinking you were going too far or being annoying, even though he’d never treated you like that before. You’d just thought you were maybe going too far this time, and had expected him to reject you.

But he’d held you and you’d melted in his arms, and you’d never slept better in your life. You hadn’t even been that tired, but now your sleep schedule was fixed, and you were relaxing in the early morning calm, feeling contented, in love, and so, so happy.

You never wanted to leave this cottage. You wanted to stay here with Namjoon forever, sleep in his arms every night, not leave for anything other than groceries. You didn’t even need a television or computer; you and Namjoon could find other things to do, like reading and games. You could buy some yarn and learn how to knit, and made Namjoon some socks or a sweater. You could find a cookbook not in Czech somewhere and learn how to properly cook, together. Maybe you could buy this cottage and have a big garden out back and make this your home. The two of you could do anything you wanted here, and you wanted to do everything with him.

You smiled to yourself, imagining living here with Namjoon. You imagined him cutting down a tree for firewood, chopping logs with a big ax while shirtless. Your head was resting on his big firm chest, so your imagination was vivid. He’d chop wood in the yard and then come in all sweaty and tired, and the two of you could take a shower together and you’d help him get clean. You’d run your hands and mouth all over his muscles, massaging him and worshipping him, and he’d be yours.

You wondered, then, if you should tell Namjoon about your feelings for him. You’d known for a long time now that you were attracted to and in love with him, but telling him could mean making him uncomfortable when he was essentially trapped here with you.

You thought back over the last few days; Namjoon had been very affectionate toward you, holding your hand when he didn’t have to, putting his arm around you, letting you snuggle up to him for warmth, being so sweet to you. Could it be possible that he had feelings for you too?

You remembered the other morning, when he’d showered and you’d heard him moaning your name. At the time, you’d thought… well, you weren’t sure what you’d thought. He was just horny? You’d misheard him? But you knew what you’d heard, and you knew you moaned his name every time you masturbated because you thought of only him, your heart and body belonged to him, every cell in your body was his.

If someone else were in your position, you would say, of course he has feelings for you! Are you stupid? But you were terrified. What if you told him you were in love with him and wanted to be with him, and he was disgusted? What if you ruined your friendship with him and made him uncomfortable? What if you made his job unbearable? What if he left you here alone?

You frowned. The good mood you’d woken up in was gone, in its place your fears and insecurity.

As if sensing your mood shift, Namjoon’s arm around you tightened, pulling you against him. He’d moved you so that your head was right over his heart, and then he was back to snoring, completely sound asleep.

You let your mind clear as you just listened to his heart, the steady, slow beat a comfort to you. He was so relaxed and cozy and warm, and you wanted to live in this moment forever. You wanted to wake up in his arms every morning. You wanted him to be yours, because you were already his, even if he didn’t know it. You’d never love anyone else like this. Your heart would always belong to him, even if he one day quit or left and he never knew how you felt.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of bed and away from him. You put another log in the fire before heading over to the bathroom for a shower. You hoped this place had hot water, and when you turned on the shower and felt it slowly heating up, you sighed in relief.

As you bathed, you thought over everything again. Maybe you should tell Namjoon about your feelings for him. You could present it like, hey, this is how I feel. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted you to know. Love you forever, okay bye.

You sighed, the noise echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water.

You bathed and then quickly turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around your body and a smaller towel around your hair. Part of you had been worried the hot water would run out, and you wanted Namjoon to have enough if he decided to shower too.

As you got dressed, you decided you’d tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, so you’d have time to plan out what exactly you’d say. You wanted it to be as comfortable of an experience as possible for him, so he could reject you painlessly and without extra awkwardness. You’d tell him and he’d say he didn’t feel the same way, and things could continue as normal. It’d be fine.

You felt like you might throw up from nerves, but it’d be okay. You needed to do this.

Once you got dressed, you went back out into the main room and saw Namjoon making two cups of instant coffee in the kitchen, now dressed and out of his pajamas too. He turned when he heard you, smiling and motioning toward the two mugs in front of him as he spoke excitedly.

“I just had a great idea. What if I put a little hot cocoa mix in these? What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” you said, and his eyes lit up as he grinned proudly. He was too cute for words, you thought, smiling at him as he executed his brilliant idea.

While he finished mixing those up, you went to the stove, turning it on and getting ready to cook some eggs for breakfast for the two of you. You’d always loved cooking, and getting to live in a cute little fairytale cottage with Namjoon and do nothing but cook for and with him sounded like your version of paradise.

“Here you go,” he said, holding out one mug of the caffé mocha proudly. You took it from him and sipped, smiling up at him as you tasted it.

“It’s good,” you said, licking your lips. You heart skipped a beat when you saw him glance down at your mouth, and you’d almost call the look in his eyes wanting.

Maybe you were right to tell him about your feelings. Maybe the chance of Namjoon feeling the same way wasn’t as small as you’d thought. You almost couldn’t consider the possibility, but you watched him pick up his mug and take a drink, his eyes not leaving you the whole time.

You shook your head, setting down the mug and getting back to cooking eggs.

The two of you ate your breakfast at the table, and then you cuddled up on the loveseat in front of the fire, like yesterday. This time, you read to him, and he kept looking at you the entire time with that same look, longing and love and wanting in his eyes.

You were sure you were imagining things. Namjoon couldn’t actually feel like this about you. Had he always been this obvious, or were days of not sleeping well and being stressed and on the run finally getting to you?

After you read for a while, he reached under the blanket and started massaging one of your feet over the thick wool socks you wore. You thought he was going to tickle you, but when you looked up at him, he murmured, “Keep reading,” in the deepest, warmest voice, and so you did. His hands worked on one foot and then the other, and there was nothing playful or even sexual about it. He just massaged you and looked at you while you read. He wanted you to relax and feel good, and you did.

You loved him. You loved him so much your heart couldn’t stand it. You wanted to grab him and kiss him and say it over and over, to go outside and scream it so people all the way in Vienna and Prague and Poland could hear you. You loved Namjoon, and there was a little sliver of a chance he felt the same way, and you wanted to do nothing but love him and only him forever, to kiss him all over his face, to sleep in his arms and be loved by him. He looked at you like he loved you, and he treated you with love and respect and care, so maybe he loved you too. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

You just kept reading, and Namjoon just looked at you, his hands now running along your lower legs, like he was getting ready to massage your calves. You couldn’t even look at him, because then you’d blurt out your feelings and ruin this perfect moment. His touch made you feel wound up and relaxed at the same time, like he was massaging you just to tease you. You were so wet for him, and when one of his hands moved up enough for his fingertips to skim against the back of your knee, you bit your lip, sucking in a sharp breath.

Eventually you finished the ebook from last night, the one Namjoon had started reading to you. You were horny and desperate, and you needed to get away from this loveseat and this man before you did something really stupid, like confess your feelings or climb into his lap and beg him to keep touching you.

You decided to make lunch, and when you got up, Namjoon followed, his hand resting on your shoulder when you got to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” he said, and you were touched by his sweetness but also kind of wanted to scream from how badly you wanted him. Had he known what he was doing when he’d massaged you and looked at you like that? Or was he just being his usual sweet self, and you were just projecting your feelings onto him?

“I’m not sure what to make,” you said, forcing yourself to focus. “Maybe something with some of the chicken we bought?”

“That sounds good.” He moved his hand on your shoulder as if he were comforting you, and you fought the urge to arch your back and close your eyes.

You got chicken out of the refrigerator and started looking through the vegetables you’d bought, and Namjoon came up behind you, his hand on your lower back now.

“We could boil the potatoes we got and have that with the chicken,” he said, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

The two of you cooked side-by-side, Namjoon standing guard over the boiling water and you grilling chicken in a cast iron skillet with some of the olive oil you’d found in the cabinet. You seasoned it as best you could, but the next time you went to the grocery store, you’d have to try to find some more spices and sauces.

Namjoon was humming to himself as he stirred the potatoes, an off-key, silly tune that made you giggle. He glanced your way, cracking a smile, and you’d never wanted to kiss him more than that moment. He was trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

His humming shifted to loud singing, and you laughed as he turned toward you and started serenading you.

“I’ve heard you sing before, and you are not this bad,” you giggled, shaking your head. “Sing seriously!”

“How dare you?” he said, pretending to be hurt but unable to hide his grin. “I have a lovely singing voice. I’m trying my best right now.” He sang another line, this time closing his eyes as he attempted to hit a high falsetto note but purposely sang very off-key.

“Are you trying to break the windows?” you teased, and then you shrieked as he reached over and pinched your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

You gasped as you squirmed and giggled, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he didn’t let up. He tickled your stomach and sides, smiling and holding you against him so you couldn’t get away.

When he stopped, you were both breathless, and he still held you there against him, the two of you just breathing hard and looking at each other as you calmed down. Your cheeks hurt from grinning, but he was looking at you with that look again, the look that made you feel like maybe he wanted you too, and you parted your lips, holding your breath all of a sudden because he was looking at you like he wanted you to be his. He made you feel flushed, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

Your mouth was only a few inches from his. He was so close you could feel his warmth, you could see his little moles and freckles and the slight stubble on his chin, you could feel his breath on your lips. You looked down at his mouth, his beautiful plush lips you’d dreamed about so many times, and you watched him swallow hard, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes not leaving your lips.

And then the two of you were kissing, so suddenly and overwhelmingly it stole the air from your lungs.

One moment you were both staring at each other’s mouths, the next he was wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body fully against him as his soft, plush lips claimed you. He growled, a deep rumble in his chest, and you responded to him with a moan that he used to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it with yours so wonderfully it made your toes curl and sparks spread under your skin.

There were no thoughts in your empty head, no fears, no worries about what this meant. You just kissed him, giving yourself to him completely. He tasted like the deep, velvety cocoa he’d put in your coffee this morning, dark chocolate mocha and a flavor that was just him, and you never wanted anything else. Just Namjoon, forever.

One of his hands came up to your cheek, holding your face sweetly as he tilted his head to kiss you deeper. Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. Namjoon was kissing you. He wanted to kiss you. He kissed you like you were all he needed and you were about to be ripped from his arms, so you held onto him, knotting one hand in his hair, letting him know without words that you weren’t going anywhere.

One of his arms was tight around your waist, holding you close against his body. His tongue was down your throat, his soft lips moving yours and controlling the kiss, and you melted in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. He was so good at kissing, you wanted to do nothing but this forever. You wanted to taste him and feel his wet tongue and soft lips and be held by him and not worry about anything else ever again.

The two of you parted for air, gasping against each other’s mouths. When you stroked his hair, he growled, pulling your body tighter against him.

“I’ve wanted you so bad, for so long… Y/N…” he gasped, his forehead pressed to yours. He was still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moved a little, stroking your skin like he was cherishing you.

“I want you, too,” you breathed, your eyes closed as you felt him so close to you. “Touch me, please, Joon. I need you.”

He groaned, running the tip of his nose beside yours. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, the firmness and strength of his body, the way his touch made you gasp and become even wetter for him. You were throbbing for him already, and he had you wound up so tight, you were sure you could come just from him kissing you so intensely again.

“If you let me put my hands on you, baby… fuck, I won’t ever stop touching you. I want you so fucking bad. Always have,” he murmured, the depth of his golden caramel voice making you moan. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from bending you over a table or burying my face between your legs.”

“Yeah?” was all you could say, your voice broken and higher than normal. You whimpered when you felt him nodding, your mind not strong enough to think about the possibility of what he was saying. You remembered, with a shiver, him moaning your name when you’d overheard him the other day, and almost moaned out loud at just the memory.

You’d been more than right about him having feelings for you. You felt foolish for doubting yourself so much about it.

“I think about you constantly. About us,” he said, against your cheek now. “I dream about being with you every night. I want you so fucking bad, angel. I’d be so good to you, if you let me.”

“I know you would be,” you said, closing your eyes as he breathed across your neck.

You tilted your head for him, granting him access as he ran his lips over your pulse. His arm was wrapped so tightly around you, that hand rested on your opposite side. You could feel how hard he was, his length pressing against your lower stomach, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at just the thought of him being hard for you.

“I think about you too, Joon,” you sighed. “All the time. I know you’d be so good to me.”

“I’d worship you,” he murmured, his hand on your side squeezing gently. “I’d treat you like a princess. A goddess. I’d make sure you know you’re mine.” He moved his other hand on your cheek back, his fingers tangling in your hair and making you gasp.

You whimpered, your head falling back as he pressed his lips to your skin, kissing over your pulse, right behind your ear. His kiss turned into a playful bite, and then he was sucking on your skin there, leaving hickeys on you like a teenager, and you loved it – you wanted to be covered in his marks, claimed by him completely and totally. You wanted him to make you his.

“Joon,” you moaned, feeling his mouth fall lower, kissing and licking at your jugular now. Your hands held onto his shoulders, grasping at his sweater, and you gasped when you felt your back hit the wall behind you, his leg between your thighs. You hadn’t even realized he’d backed you up like that until you were there.

“Mine,” he growled against your skin before sucking on another spot on your neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your throbbing clit and making you gasp. You felt his tongue swirling between his plush lips, the warmth of his body, his hair tickling your cheek.

“Want you, Joon,” you whined, squeezing your hands on his shoulders.

He growled, not taking his mouth off of you, but he moved his hips forward, letting you feel him. You moaned just from how big and hard he felt, how needy and dominant he was, how badly you wanted him to lose control and ravage you. He didn’t stop what he was doing, though. He sucked on your neck harder, before kissing a few inches away and sucking on another spot, closer to your shoulder now.

“Please,” you moaned, digging your fingers into his shoulders. “Make love to me.”

He stilled, and you opened your eyes. Had you done something wrong? Was that the wrong thing to say?

Namjoon pulled his head back, looking down at you. His lips were swollen from kisses, wet from what he’d been doing to your neck, and you couldn’t read his expression or guess what he was thinking. In the background, you could hear the boiling water with the potatoes bubbling and the cast iron skillet with the chicken sizzling, and you reached over and turned both sides of the stove off before focusing back on Namjoon.

He bought his hand back to your cheek, cupping it gently.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes falling to your lips.

His thumb ran along your lower lip, tracing it slowly, his eyes lost in wonder. You watched him for a moment, the look in his eyes as he stared at his thumb moving on your lip. He looked like he wanted to rip his heart out and give it to you.

You wanted to say something stupid, like the fact you were in love with him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was looking at you like you were the most incredible thing in the world, touching you so gently, and you never wanted him to stop.

“We can’t go any further unless I tell you something,” he said quietly after a moment. He sighed, closing his eyes before continuing. “We can’t do this unless you know how I feel. I’d feel like I was lying to you if we had sex without you knowing that I’m in love with you.”

“You… you’re in love with me?” You blinked, unsure you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking his thumb on your cheek again.

You saw the look in his eyes, the sadness, the worry, the pure adoration. He was scared you’d reject him, you realized; terrified of his own feelings and what you’d say, and it broke your heart, because you felt the exact same way. You’d been terrified that he didn’t feel the same way about you, when you’d had nothing to fear this whole time. You were always his, and he’d felt the same way all along, and it made you sigh in relief and catharsis.

Before you could speak, though, Namjoon continued, “I’m so fucking in love with you, it makes my heart ache sometimes. I know you deserve so much better than me, but I love you, Y/N, so fucking much, so I think just having sex and fucking around but then going back to normal… it’s just not something I think I’m capable of. I think it’d actually kill me, for it to not mean anything to you when it means everything to me. So I want to stop now, because I don’t want to get my heart broken, but I–”

“I love you too, Joon,” you blurted out before he could go any further.

His eyes went wide, like now he was sure he’d misheard you. You watched his kiss-swollen lips part as he processed those words, his hand on your cheek still as his brilliant mind raced.

“I love you so much, my heart aches from it, too,” you said, and he let out a broken breath, his hopeful eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to just fuck around and go back to normal. I want to be yours, I want this every day, I want you, Joon. I’ve been yours for months now, maybe even years. I love you–”

Namjoon surged forward, pressing his mouth to yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth before you’d even finished the “you” in “I love you.” He devoured you, pressing you against the wall and picking you up, your legs wrapping around his hips as you moaned into his mouth. He poured his love into you, claiming your mouth and kissing you so hard, your whole body shuddered from your need for him.

Namjoon loved you. Despite how impossible it seemed, how perfect he was, he loved you, and he held you in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, because you were, you realized. He moved his mouth with yours and swirled his tongue with yours, his hand in your hair and body pressed to you completely.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, grinding into you and holding you against him, his large body so warm and firm.

“Mine,” you replied right back, after making him smile by sucking on his tongue when he tried to kiss you again.

You loved Namjoon, and he loved you. You were his, and he was yours.

He carried you toward the bed, his mouth not leaving yours as he stumbled through the tiny room. His hands both fell to your ass, squeezing firmly as he held you. You pulled your mouth away from him just enough to kiss him all over his cheek, and you felt him grinning, his cheeks rounding and dimples showing as you covered him in kisses. You kissed his cheek, his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his dimple, every inch of him you could reach.

He laid you back on the bed like you were made of glass, his hand coming back up to your cheek as he settled in on top of you. He kissed you gently, pressing his lips to yours and just holding himself there for a moment.

Your hand rested on his chest, right over his heart, and you could feel how fast his pulse was, how his heart raced from being here with you like this. The moment was still and gentle. He was almost being chaste, but you could feel him throbbing against your lower stomach, his neediness making him grind down into you.

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joon,” you murmured back between his kisses. “Love you so much.”

He sighed happily, kissing you again. You wrapped your legs around him and felt him grinding down into you, his body perfectly fitting against yours. You were made to fit with him, to love him, to be loved by him.

He kissed down your body, pulling your sweater off and tossing it to the floor. You shivered when the cold air hit your skin, goosebumps spreading and your nipples pebbling as he covered you in kisses. You hadn’t been wearing a bra or anything else under your sweater, and Namjoon’s eyes lit up when he saw you, already half-bare before him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he sighed right over your heart, one hand coming up to squeeze your breast in firm pulses, your nipple hard against his palm as he licked and kissed his way over to the other.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt him lavishing you. You brought one hand up to the back of his head, stroking his silky hair as he worked.

His kisses trailed lower, down your stomach and around your navel before you realized you were shirtless and he was still fully dressed, and that was just completely unfair. You reached down and pulled at his sweater, your hands grabby and clumsy as you tried to pull it off of him at the awkward angle.

He realized what you were doing and sat up between your legs, pulling his sweater off and tossing it on the ground toward yours, and the sight of his body took your breath away.

His chest was large and defined and looked so firm. He had abs, because of course he did, and his stomach was taut and muscular. His pants hung dangerously low on his hips, showing off the wide V-lines leading down below his belt. You could see a slight hint of hair above his thick bulge, and you sucked in a harsh breath when you realized you were staring at him and he was just watching you with a sly smile on his face.

“You’re sexy,” you giggled, biting your lip.

“Yeah?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you. He bent back over, kissing down your stomach again and bringing his hands up to slowly pull down your jeans and panties together. “I think you’re sexy,” he said as he kissed your hipbones, your thighs, all the way down to your knees.

And then you were naked before him, your legs spread, your jeans and panties on the floor behind Namjoon. He looked down at you like you were a work of art, his lips parting and eyes glazing over as he stared directly at your pussy, and you almost felt shy, wanting to close your legs and hide your face.

You didn’t, though; you just breathed and looked at him, letting yourself feel sexy and exposed in the best way. The way he looked at you made you feel confident and beautiful, like he’d never seen anything so wonderful, and you bit your lip, arching your back slightly and spreading your legs even further, like you were presenting yourself to him.

He groaned loudly, immediately bending over and settling between your legs. Your lips parted, looking down at him as he kissed and licked your thighs, nuzzling his face against your skin before kissing you there more. His lips were swollen and puffy and wet, and you wondered if that would make what he was about to do to you feel even better.

“Joon,” you sighed, letting your head fall back.

Nobody had ever gone down on you before, but you’d imagined him doing this to you so many times. Now, he was here, or at least about to be, still lavishing your inner thighs, and you had a feeling he was going to make it amazing for you. He was so protective, thoughtful, and intense. You knew he would take care of you.

Namjoon pressed his face against your crotch then, breathing in deeply. You widened your eyes and looked down at him, surprised, but he just buried his face in harder, inhaling you in long, deep breaths. You almost wanted to feel embarrassed; he was just smelling you, like he was trying to get high off your scent. You hadn’t been expecting this, but it made your heart flutter and made you feel even wetter for him. He was so sexy and depraved; you wondered what else he’d do to surprise you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nuzzling in against your slit and breathing harder. He breathed like he was trying to smell you as much as possible; deep, slow inhales and then fast exhales, so he could breathe you in again sooner. His large hands held onto you, his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for him as he just inhaled your scent.

“Do you have an oral fixation or something?” you laughed lightly, but you sobered when you looked down at him and saw the expression on his face, the intensity in his dark eyes, the possession in his features. He was pure sex, and he looked like he wanted to eat you alive. He looked at you like he wanted to consume you, like you belonged to him, and you wondered how much he’d thought about this before.

“You have no idea,” Namjoon growled, and before you could respond, he opened his mouth and licked slowly from your opening to your clit and then back down, his tongue plunging so deep inside you, you gasped and instinctively grabbed his hair with both hands. Your whole body jerked at his movement, moaning as he moved his mouth and ate you up.

He slurped loudly, pressing his face in hard as he moved his lips and tongue so expertly, you couldn’t help throwing your head back and moaning, the movement completely involuntary to you. His head moved around as he devoured you like a starving animal, moaning to himself as he worked, his tongue fucking in and out of you so fast before coming back up to your clit and sucking hard.

You’d never felt pleasure like this before; he was so much better, so much more intense, so much more than you’d ever imagined, and you’d always thought he’d be incredible. Your eyes closed and you bit your lip, feeling the way his tongue swirled around your opening and licked up your wetness like he was savoring you.

“Look at me,” he demanded, squeezing his hands on your thighs almost painfully, his voice a deep growl in his throat. You obeyed him without thought, looking down at what he was doing to you, and he rewarded you by sucking your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over it while suctioning it as hard as he could, not breaking eye contact with you the entire time.

“J-Joon…” you gasped, nearly pulling his hair out of his head. You wanted to close your eyes and melt into the bed so badly, but his eyes held you there, making you watch him as he pleasured you. His intense, dark brown eyes almost seemed to scowl, his brow furrowing as he concentrated on fucking you with his tongue, his upper lip rubbing against your clit as he worked, firm and demanding and gentle and loving all at once.

“Mine,” he moaned against your pussy again, not taking his mouth off of you so you could feel the vibrations of his voice. He was worshipping your cunt, devouring you like he was starving for you, growling whenever you pulled his hair too hard or moaned for him in a way he liked. Your back arched and you let yourself close your eyes, unable to stop yourself as your loud moans turned into gibberish, raising in pitch as he brought you right up to the edge.

Your sudden orgasm overwhelmed you, your eyes closing and mouth opening wide in a silent scream as Namjoon pushed you through it, his mouth not easing up even as you shook, unable to breathe, nothing in your head but the electric pleasure he pumped into you.

“Joon, please, fuck,” you gasped, moaning loudly with each harsh exhale, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down as your body began writhing and twitching in intense overstimulation. He just held your thighs apart, his mouth still connected to your pussy and tongue still moving inside you and lip on your clitoris as you cried out and held onto his hair.

You’d never understood before, how people could scream during sex. Whenever you’d read about it in the past, you’d always thought it was some kind of silly exaggeration, or figured it was just something you didn’t do. However, now, feeling what Namjoon was doing to you, you understood. He was torturing you and giving you the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt, and you screamed his name as you came on his tongue again, your hips rolling as you gave in to the pleasure completely and tried to ride his mouth through your orgasm. Your body moved on its own accord, seeking out pleasure and grinding against his face as he fucked you with his tongue. He held his tongue in place and let you fuck his face, his intense eyes never leaving yours as you lost control.

Your vision went white, your body numb except for the all-consuming pleasure you felt in your core, your limbs shaking and back arching again as Namjoon moved up and sucked on your clit. You stopped breathing as stars exploded behind your eyelids, your throat hoarse from moaning and screaming, Namjoon’s hands squeezing your thighs comfortingly as you started to come down again and he still didn’t take his mouth off you.

“Joon,” you gasped, pulling his hair, and you moaned when you felt him growl, his mouth still on you. You could feel his warm, slick tongue circling your clit slowly as he watched you, and you groaned, unable to form any words other than his name.

He was breathing hard through his nose, inhaling you again. His tongue moved slowly, his dark eyes animalistic and possessive, and you whimpered and closed your eyes, unable to do anything else. Your body was jelly. You were fairly certain you wouldn’t be able to move if you tried, though your legs twitched a little in overstimulation when Namjoon moved back down and gently licked your folds, still not taking his mouth off you.

“Please,” you breathed, stroking his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

You weren’t sure what you were asking for, but his eyes softened and he pulled away, only a few inches, a strand of your wetness still connecting his mouth to your cunt. You could see how his lips were still swollen and the whole bottom half of his face was dripping wet, but despite it, you couldn’t help thinking he looked like such a sweetheart in that moment. He was your sweetheart, your Joonie, and you loved him more than your heart could bear.

“Joon, come here,” you moaned, reaching out for him.

He came back to you immediately, settling in on top of you and kissing you all over your face as he held himself carefully off of you. You giggled softly, closing your eyes as you felt him leaving wet kisses on you, but you didn’t care. You loved how messy and intense he was.

“You were so good for me, princess. You taste so good, better than I ever imagined,” he murmured, and then he kissed your lips, slow and gentle and loving. You moaned for him, wrapping your shaky arms and legs around his body as he deepened the kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he stroked your hair back from your face.

“Love you,” you breathed against his lips, feeling him smile.

“Love you too, my angel,” he said, kissing you again. “I still can’t believe this is happening. I’ve wanted you for so long, and now it’s real, and I…” He trailed off, his eyes lost in wonder as he looked at you.

“I know what you mean,” you said, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. He was so beautiful like this above you, his mouth still wet, his hair wild from you pulling on it, his pupils blown with desire.

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you sighed happily into his mouth, feeling like you were his.

Looking back now, you didn’t know how you could’ve ever thought he didn’t love you too. His devotion, his protection, his friendship with you were all cast in a different light now, and you could see his love in all of his actions. The way he always remembered the things you love and made you happy. How he reminded you to take your pills, because he knew how you were forgetful and hated missing them. How he joked with you and tickled you and teased you. The way he protected you the last few days and promised he’d always keep you safe.

He was your protector, your guardian, your love, your Namjoon. Yours.

“Make love to me, Joon,” you sighed, and he groaned against your mouth. He pulled back just enough to look at you, stroking your hair back from your face as he searched your eyes.

“Are you sure, baby? We don’t have to, after what we just did,” he said, and he cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. He looked scared, like he actually thought you’d turn him down now.

“Yes,” you said, maybe a little too eagerly, which made you both smile. You continued, “I want you so bad. I need you. You know I’m on birth control, and I trust you. Please make love to me, Namjoon. We’ve waited long enough.”

Namjoon nodded as you spoke, his eyes lost in wonder as he looked like he was almost tearing up at your words. He surged forward and kissed you, taking your breath away and making your back arch in ecstasy, just from this.

You worked together to push his pants and boxers down his legs, his mouth not leaving yours as he kicked them off. You wanted to look at him and see his body, his big muscular thighs, his cock you’d felt so hard against you, but you couldn’t; he just kissed and kissed and kissed you, your lips numb and heart full of his love.

You could look at him later, you told yourself. You could lay him back and spend hours exploring his body later today or tomorrow. Right now, you were both too worked up to stop.

You felt him reach down and pull your leg up higher around his hip, and then he was lining himself up at your entrance, circling the head of his cock around your clit and making you gasp into his mouth.

“You like that?” he teased, his smug smile making you want to flip him over and ride him and give him something to smirk about. Instead, he rubbed himself against your clit again, catching on it and making you both gasp against each other’s mouth.

“Please,” you begged, and he bit his lip, his teasing smirk melting away and adoration filling his eyes.

“Yes, baby,” he said, as if he was answering your unspoken question. He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in carefully and making you close your eyes and throw your head back, instantly grabbing at his shoulders as you moaned.

He was so big. You should’ve known, really, with how big and perfect he was in all other areas, but the feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You felt him bottom out and press his hips to yours, and you bit your lip, your eyes squeezed closed as you tried not to moan at just the feeling of him deep inside you. He wasn’t even moving yet, giving you time to adjust, but just this had you nearly delirious.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his face pressed in against your neck. He was breathing hard, and you wondered for a moment if he was smelling and inhaling you again, like what he’d done when he’d eaten you out.

The memory of that made you unconsciously squeeze him, and Namjoon moaned, his hand moving to your hip and squeezing hard.

“Stay still,” he growled, nearly seething.

“You okay?” you giggled, and your slight movement from that made him bite his lip and grind down into you so hard you gasped.

“Trying to calm down,” he said, his voice deep and rough and so sexy, you almost subconsciously squeezed him again. “Don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

“You that worked up?” you teased, watching the way he set his jaw and breathed hard as he tried to get used to the feeling of being inside you.

You were both breathless, desperate, barely hanging on by a thread, but you wanted to live in this moment with him just a little longer. Namjoon was inside you. He was about to make love to you. He was yours.

“You have no idea,” he said, stroking your hair back from your face. He seemed to like doing that, and it made you want to wear your hair down as much as possible from now on. “I could probably come just from eating your pussy.”

“How romantic,” you giggled, and he quirked an eyebrow at you, smiling as you grinned up at him.

“I like to think so,” he said, and he moved his hips a little, only slightly, but enough to make your lips part and a small whimper escape you.

“Namjoon,” you sighed, watching the way his eyes softened further, hearing you say his name like this.

“Y/N,” he said right back, his voice gentle and loving.

He held your cheek, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as he rocked his hips carefully, watching your reaction. He felt so good, you wanted to close your eyes, but couldn’t, not with him watching you like this. You made intense, unbroken eye contact, connected to him in every way possible.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathed, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead. You wondered it was from exertion or the heat the two of you were creating in this cozy little cottage, or if it was from him holding himself back. “So tight and wet for me.”

You’d imagined your first time with Namjoon so many times over the years. Your fantasies were graphic and usually based on sexual frustration, so you typically imagined him bending you over something or pushing you up against a wall, something hard and fast and deliciously rough. You’d wanted him to fuck you so badly, even before you’d fallen in love with him.

Now, though, was the opposite of what you’d always thought of. He held your face and looked at you like he treasured you. He was slow, your bodies moving together like the two of you were made for this, for loving each other, breathing in each other’s pleasure, and when you moaned, he kissed the corner of your mouth, his body rocking with yours as you tightened your legs around him and threaded one hand through his thick black hair.

“Love you,” he breathed against your lips, and you started to respond but were cut short when he hit a spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head. He bit his lip, angling himself so he could hit it again, sliding in and out of you so slowly, you swore you could almost feel the shape of his cock, the thick veins on it, the ridge on its head. When you whimpered and looked up at him with pleading eyes, he said, “You like that, princess?”

“Yes,” you gasped, groaning when he kept hitting that spot so slowly, so steadily, so wonderfully, you wondered how you’ve lived this long without knowing you could feel this kind of pleasure. It made you hike your legs up around him higher, hold onto his shoulders tighter, pleading him with your eyes and your moans because your words were failing you.

He brought the arm he was supporting himself with down just long enough to grab one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours above your head. His other hand still held your cheek, and you moaned from how romantic and sweet he was, how close to him you felt, how much you loved him. You felt like your soul was becoming unwound and bound to his.

“Feels so good,” he sighed against your mouth, your lips moving with his as he spoke. He was sweating and you wanted to lick his skin, but he was moving a little faster now, the sound of his hips meeting yours now audible.

“Joon,” was all you could say, your mouth falling open as you felt him pounding into you. He was losing control, his brow furrowed and hand squeezing yours as he moaned against your mouth.

“Love you so much,” he gasped, and then he kissed you, sloppy and breathy and just as desperate as you felt. “Love you, love you, I love you…” He trailed off, repeating it with every harsh exhale as he poured his love into you.

You forced yourself to speak, despite how overwhelmed with pleasure you felt, because you knew you’d always regret it if you didn’t tell him as much as possible during your first time together.

“I love you,” you gasped, holding onto his hair with your hand he wasn’t still holding, and he pulled back just enough to look down at you as he kept rolling his hips desperately, his knees on the bed spreading as he kept bucking into you.

“Say it again,” he said, his dark eyes wild, his hand on your cheek moving so he could rub his thumb against your lip again. “Please, baby, say it more. I need to hear it.”

“I love you, Joon,” you nearly screamed, because you needed him to hear it too, and because his pelvic bone was now hitting your clit with every hard thrust and you were so close you could already see stars. “I love you, I love you, I…”

You groaned and closed your eyes as you came, squeezing his hand and arching your back as your orgasm hit you like a crack of lightning: sudden, electric, overwhelming, reverberating. He watched your expression closely as you came, still caressing your face, and you didn’t even care that he was looking at you like this. It was overwhelmingly intimate, but you just felt closer to him.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, rolling his hips slower now, and you wondered how he was still holding onto his composure. You could see a vein in his forehead throbbing, the way his jaw set, how he groaned when your pussy fluttered around him. He was close, and you wanted to watch him come. You wanted to see him experience the pleasure he’d given you again and again.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, unable to move. “Come inside me, Joon. Please.”

He didn’t even respond.

Namjoon suddenly let go of you, sitting up on his knees and pulling your hips up with him, your head and upper body still on the mattress, your legs bent and back arched. You’d never had sex like this before, never even imagined it, but it was incredible; you felt so exposed, your whole body bare before him as he truly fucked you.

His eyes were glued to where the two of you were joined, watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, how you took every inch of him, how wet you were for him. You felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and you moaned and let yourself relax, let yourself watch him take his pleasure.

“Mine,” he growled under his breath, his eyes not leaving your pussy.

“Yours,” you whimpered, and he looked up at your face, his eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that, like it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard.

His mouth fell open as he came, a choking noise escaping him from deep in his throat, his eyes open and not leaving yours. You felt how his hips stuttered, the way he squeezed your hips so hard, how the warmth of his seed filled you up and spread within you. He looked so beautiful, like a painting of an angel or a marble statue, his muscular body taut and sweaty before he gasped and let himself relax, breathing hard as he came down from his high.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, careful to keep his weight off of you but throwing one arm across your body. You turned on your side toward him as he pulled you against him, his body warm, flushed, and slick from sweat.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice twice as deep as normal. He huffed as he turned on his side toward you, clearly exhausted and spent from how thoroughly he’d fucked you. You’d have to give him a massage later, and maybe that could lead to more fun.

“I love you too,” you said, giggling as he wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you tight against his chest.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect for me,” he said against your lips, and you giggled when he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you, Joon,” you repeated, more serious now. “I didn’t say that enough. I was too busy having my brains fucked out, but I love you. I’m going to say it a hundred times a day from now on.”

Namjoon snorted, but you didn’t miss the blush on his cheeks and ears.

“I love you too,” he said quietly, his eyes falling to your kiss-swollen lips. “You’re my everything. My whole world. I’ve loved you for years now, since maybe the first month I started working for your mother.”

“This whole time?” you said, and your heart fluttered when he nodded.

“I can’t give you things like fancy cars and hotels or a big house,” he said, and your brow furrowed, confused where he was going with this. He continued, bringing one hand up to hold you cheek, “I’m not rich like Jin, and I know I don’t have a lot going for me, but I have some savings. After this is all over, I want to try to give you the whole world, or as much as I can. I used to write poems, and I want to write some for you. I want to build you a house, maybe. Something small, like this place. I want to give you everything I can, and I know it’s not a lot, but–”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you said, and you reached out and held his face with both hands, making sure he was focused. “I don’t need anything like money or cars or a big house, or even a small house. You definitely don’t have to build me a house yourself. I just want you. I don’t care about anything else, as long as we’re together.”

“But you deserve–”

“I deserve you and your love,” you cut him off. “We deserve each other. We deserve to be safe and happy and in love. We deserve to go home after all this, and to be together for as long as you still want me.”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you as you still held his face with both hands. His cheeks were squished together slightly, and he looked like a cute little chipmunk.

“I’ll want you forever,” he eventually said, and you smiled, seeing the teasing look in his eyes and the little smirk on his perfect lips. “It’s you wanting me that’s the problem. You’re stuck with me until you realize what a loser I am and kick me to the curb.”

“Not gonna happen,” you giggled, and he turned his head just enough to kiss your palm.

“Then I guess we’re stuck with each other,” he said, and you gasped when you felt him tickle your side, just a little before pulling you tighter against him. “And I’m going to tell you I love you a hundred times a day, too.”

“That’s all I need,” you said, beaming. “Though I might take you up on that small house offer you made, since we’ll need to live somewhere, and I think I’m ready to get away from embassy life after all this. We can just buy one instead of building it ourselves, and we’re going halfsies on it. I definitely want some of those love poems you mentioned, though.”

“Deal,” he said, and he leaned in and kissed you, sighing happily against your mouth.

You tried not to smile so wide as he kissed you, but you couldn’t help it. His presence, his love, his kisses all made you grin like a fool in love, because that’s totally what you were.

***

When Namjoon woke up a few hours later, he realized he was spooning you.

Your legs were tangled together, and both of you were still very naked, laying on top of the covers. You had each other’s body heat though, and the fire across the room was still crackling in the cast iron fireplace. He had a feeling the two of you had messed up your sleep schedules again, right after fixing them, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

He smiled to himself, feeling your gentle breathing and leaning in just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder. He didn’t remember when or how the two of you had fallen asleep, but he’d definitely needed the nap after everything the two of you had done.

He almost couldn’t believe it. Other than his most lovesick fantasies, he’d never dared to imagine a version of his life where you loved him as much as he loved you. He never thought he’d be able to tell you, or that he’d be allowed to touch you and make love to you like he wanted. He remembered back to Poland, how he’d briefly considered resigning from this job and telling you about his feelings. All that felt like eons ago, not a few days.

Now, Namjoon was the luckiest man alive. He was sure of it.

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling back against him, and he tightened his arms around you protectively. He leaned his head up just enough to see you were still sleeping peacefully, and he reached up and stroked your hair back from your face, where a strand had fallen across your forehead. He was addicted to touching you and caring for you, and he knew he was only going to get more doting, more protective, more in love.

You were an angel. Your body had felt like heaven, and you’d tasted sweeter than honey, better than he’d ever imagined. He hadn’t been able to hold himself back from breathing you in like that when he’d eaten you out, and you’d almost seemed to like it, he thought with a smirk.

He had big plans about spending an hour or two between your legs at some point in the next few days, worshipping you and driving you crazy, and he wasn’t sure yet if he was going to make you come over and over until you couldn’t take anymore, or if he was going to not let you come until the very end. Both sounded so wonderful, and as he looked at you in his arms, sleeping peacefully and cuddling so close to him, he decided he’d just have to do both, one tomorrow and one a few days later, maybe, just to see which approach you liked more.

His dick twitched at the thought, hardening slightly against your ass. He closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about it. He wanted to hold you and let you sleep until you woke up on your own, and to not seem like such a sex-obsessed pervert.

You sighed in your sleep, though, wiggling back against him and grinding against him unknowingly. He groaned, biting his lip and attempting to hold you still, but you made a beautiful little noise and arched your back slightly, and he realized then that you were now awake.

“Joon,” you sighed, rubbing up against him in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head. You took both his hands, which had been resting innocently at your stomach, and brought one up to your breast, pushing the other down between your legs.

“Baby,” he groaned back, immediately seeking out your clit. You were still wet for him, your pussy like silk beneath his fingertips, and he leaned in and sucked your earlobe between his teeth, his chest rumbling in satisfaction and frustration alike as you moved against his erection.

“I was dreaming about you,” you said, your voice a siren’s call pulling him in. “We were back in that bed and breakfast in Poland, and we were in the shower together. You remember that outdated little bathroom in our honeymoon suite?”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hummed, circling your clit in lazy strokes. “What was I doing to you?”

“Touching me like this,” you breathed, gasping when he brought his fingers down to your entrance, dipping two of them into your tight wet heat. You’d been so tight for him earlier, he’d nearly lost his mind when he’d finally sunk into you. Now, feeling that again, his heart raced as he felt you squeezing his fingers, his mind going blank when he felt you squirming in his arms.

You brought your leg up, hooking it back over his legs, and he pushed one leg between your thighs, letting you grind back against him. You rode his fingers, grinding your clit against his palm, and all Namjoon could do was bite his lip and let you fuck yourself on his hand. He was so hard, his cock throbbing against your ass, but this was about you. He wanted to pleasure you.

His plans for keeping this all about you died, though, when you whimpered, “Joon, fuck me, please,” as you reached down and squeezed his wrist.

Namjoon immediately rolled you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and lining himself up as he mounted you. You were so wet you were dripping for him, so he knew you were ready. He couldn’t wait a second longer, not with you begging him like this. He wanted to ravage you. He wanted to claim you.

He pushed in until his hips were flush against your ass, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. You moaned loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabbed your hip, keeping the angle perfect as he started rolling his hips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. He was pressed against you fully, all but laying on top of you as he fucked you like this. You were making the most beautiful noises, moving with him as he rolled his hips again and again and again, the sound of his pelvis hitting your ass filling the room in wet slaps.

He kissed your shoulder, nipping and licking your skin as he moved his arm around you up so he could squeeze one of your breasts. You were so small under him, he was worried he’d crush you, but you were breathing and moaning loudly and begging him for more.

“Harder, Joon, please…” you cried out, your small hands grasping at the sheets.

And he could never not grant your every wish.

He moved his hips hard and fast. He held you tight against his chest, his face buried in against your neck as he moaned with every harsh exhale. Both his arms were now wrapped around you, squeezing you to him as he fucked you as hard as he could, pouring his energy and love into you. You were crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he turned his head and licked your neck. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to taste your sweat. He wanted to feel your skin, to claim you, to taste you as he fucked you stupid and made you his.

He brought one of his hands down to your clit, and you screamed and thrashed, writhing in his arms and fucking yourself back against him. He rubbed your clit hard, not relenting with his hips, and he felt you gushing as you groaned loudly. He could feel you milking his cock as you came, your orgasm messy and long, and his hand was now much, much wetter. Holy fuck, had he just made you squirt? His eyes rolled back in his head as he came too, the idea of him giving you that much pleasure way too much for him to handle.

He came inside you again, like earlier, and it fulfilled a primal part of his mind, his caveman side that wanted to fuck you hard and fast and never stop. This part of him wanted to cover you in his cum, to choke you on his cock, to dominate you and make you his. He normally pushed this part of his mind away, telling himself you were your own person and that women didn’t like over-possessive cavemen, but right now he couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to know you belonged to him. He let his possession and caveman instincts take over.

Still in the height of his pleasure, he leaned in and bit your shoulder. You moaned so loud it was almost a shout, writhing as he squeezed you in his arms, holding you still as he filled your pussy with his cum. His cock was still inside you, and he felt you throbbing as his bite made you climax one more time, a gentle orgasm that made you shudder.

“Mine,” he growled against your ear, and you whimpered, nodding.

“Yours,” you said, and he felt your pussy fluttering.

“This pussy belongs to me,” he said, pressing his face against the side of your head and breathing hard. He felt like a feral animal, staking its claim and marking its territory.

You moaned loudly in response, nodding. Your cunt was throbbing around his softening cock now, and he wondered if you wanted more now. Maybe he could eat your pussy until he got hard again, or finger you and watch your face as he made you come.

“You’re such a good girl,” he said, and he moved his fingers where they were still buried in your pussy. He flicked his finger over your clit and you gasped, your legs twitching in overstimulation, and he felt your movements where he was still connected to you, still buried deep inside despite the fact he was overstimulated, too. “You want more, beloved?”

“Not yet,” you whimpered, and that made Namjoon go still.

He immediately pulled out and rolled off of you, moving onto his side beside you. He put one hand on your back, rubbing gently. Fuck, had he gone too far? Why hadn’t you told him to stop before now? Shit. His stupid caveman shit had been too much, too intense. Why had he let himself get carried away like that?

“Was that too much?” he quickly said, stroking your hair back from your face as you rolled onto your side, facing him.

“No,” you said, smiling at him lazily. “That was amazing. I just want a little break before more, though.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, but he was still worried you were just being nice.

“I think we need to change the sheets,” you said, glancing down at the large wet spot now beneath you. “I’ve never… done that before. I didn’t even know I could.”

So he had gotten you to squirt, Namjoon thought with a smug grin. You giggled when you saw his expression, reaching out and pinching his arm. He was still worried he’d gone too far, but he let your easy-going mood calm him down.

“That was the best sex of my life,” you said after a moment, still breathing steadily, as if you’d just finished a huge workout. “You’re incredible, Joon.”

“Your shoulder’s okay?” he said, grimacing and bracing himself as he glanced toward your bite mark. He hadn’t broken skin, but the mark was red and bruising.

“My shoulder’s fine. Everything was perfect,” you sighed happily. You looked love-dazed, smiling at him lazily. You moved forward, snuggling in against his chest and hooking one leg over his hip. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, putting one leg between your thighs.

He let himself feel relieved. He wanted to have a talk with you later about boundaries and what exactly you wanted from sex, but for now, the two of you could cuddle and enjoy your afterglow. He never wanted to feel like this again, to worry he’d gone too far. You seemed happy and satisfied, but he needed to make sure he was being good to you. He wanted you to feel safe with him, for you to feel cherished and protected and loved.

“I love you, baby,” he said, and he meant it with his whole heart. Your cute little smile up at him made him melt. He was so far gone, and he knew it.

“I love you too,” you said.

He watched your expression shift from loving to happy to what he thought might be hungry, your eyes glancing over toward the kitchen. You were always such an open book, and he loved how he could look at you and tell what you were thinking. Well, apparently not, he thought, since you’d had feelings for him and he’d never suspected.

“The chicken’s probably bad by now, sitting out this long,” you said, your kiss-swollen lips pouting.

“That’s okay,” he said softly. He stroked your back, running his fingertips along your skin. “We can have something else.”

You made a silly face at him and he snorted.

You got up, and Namjoon had to stop himself from grabbing you and pulling you back into bed. He watched you pad over and pick up the sweater he’d been wearing earlier, pulling it on and apparently being satisfied wearing just that. It was big on you, falling down past the swell of your ass, and Namjoon pushed down the spike of possession he felt, seeing you prancing around in his clothes and with your legs and thighs on display.

He sat up, reaching out and snagging the boxers he’d been wearing earlier. If you were happy half-naked then so was he, and he stood, stretching in place.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the way you were staring at his body, openly ogling him.

He smirked. You hadn’t noticed him looking at you yet, still staring at his stomach, or more likely his crotch. You sure were a horny little thing.

“My eyes are up here,” he said, smiling when your eyes went wide and face turned red.

The two of you salvaged the potatoes you’d boiled earlier, Namjoon mashing them up in a bowl while you threw out the chicken. It had only been halfway cooked and then had sat out for over four hours, so neither of you wanted to risk it. You had a few more packs in the refrigerator anyway, so it wasn’t like you’d starve.

You cooked another pack of chicken breast in the skillet, finishing off the olive oil and a few of the spices. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, playing footsie under the table for real this time. Namjoon had never been one for cutesy couple antics like this, but now, he loved it. He loved it because it was with you.

After a late lunch that Namjoon was pretty sure actually qualified as early dinner, he sat back in his chair, full and satisfied and watching you with a lazy smile.

Without a word, you got up and came over to him, sitting in his lap and tucking your head under his chin. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you and hoping you wouldn’t get up for at least a few hours.

He almost frowned in disappointment when you pulled back, but he looked at you, biting his lip as you resettled in his lap. You were sitting so that you could look at him, sideways across his thighs, one of your hands on his bare chest. He’d imagined you sitting in his lap hundreds of times over the years, and now you were here, cozy and warm and smelling like sex and firewood.

“Where do you think we’re going after this?” you said. Namjoon’s heart beamed as you reached up and stroked his hair. He held you tighter, loving feeling you close.

“We don’t have to leave for a while, since we’re safe here. We can stay as long as we can afford to, if you want. Don’t even have to leave the cottage.” He didn’t want you to worry. He figured this was much safer than some city, and he wanted to keep you here with him. Forever, ideally, here in this perfect little cottage barely big enough for the two of you.

“We’ll need more food soon,” you said, giggling when he crinkled his nose at you. “I’ll also eventually have to go to a doctor, or at least a pharmacy. Maybe I could go under a fake name or something. I have three weeks left of birth control, and maybe a month left of Ritalin before I need refills. I don’t think I’d be able to quit them both, especially around the same time.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, rubbing your back. “I’m sure we can get ahold of them somehow.” Namjoon knew how much it upset you to go off of your prescriptions, how exact you liked to be in taking them, how much they both affected your mental health. He didn’t care if he had to rob a pharmacy, he’d get you your meds.

His plans to commit felonies melted away as you turned in his lap and leaned your head on his shoulder, nuzzling in against him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll always keep you safe, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, closing his eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you said, and he held you closer, kissing your forehead over and over and over.

***

You and Namjoon had had a very late night, taking turns teasing each other and trying out a few of your fantasies until neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer.

Your favorite had been riding him and telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch you, and watching him squirm and beg and squeeze his hands into tight fists, having to hold himself back from reaching down and grabbing your hips.

Namjoon had said his favorite of last night’s activities was going down on you, which did not surprise you at all. Your legs were still shaky from that, how he’d eaten your pussy for well over an hour, giving you so many orgasms you’d lost count and passed out at the end from an especially intense orgasm. Like, full-out unconscious, waking up to Namjoon shaking your shoulder and calling your name, his eyes wide and fearful. Up until that point had been incredible, though, and you fully believed him about his oral fixation now.

Now, it was morning, the two of you had eaten breakfast and taken a shower together, and now you were getting dressed and preparing to run to the grocery store again. You wanted to buy more meat and more supplies to last here longer, so that you wouldn’t have to leave the cottage for anything for a few weeks. You were considering buying a puzzle or two, and maybe you could run to a bookstore in town and see if they had an English section.

As you finished pulling on your socks, Namjoon was humming to himself as he washed the dishes in the kitchen sink. You didn’t know why, but seeing a man willing to do housework was a huge turn on for you. He just seemed so domestic, like someone you could see yourself living with forever and growing old with. He was perfect, like your fantasy of your ideal man come to life, except better and here and real.

“I’m almost done,” he said when he looked over and saw you were now fully dressed. “I just didn’t want to leave the sink full.”

You strode over to him and hugged him from behind, squeezing him tightly. You felt him grunt, and you kissed his shoulder.

“What was that for?” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. You could see the gentleness and curiosity in his eyes, one of his eyebrows raised.

“Just wanted to love on you a little,” you said, kissing his shoulder again. The soft fabric of his sweater tickled your nose, and you nuzzled in, still hugging him.

You felt him laugh a little, and then he got back to doing the dishes, the water splashing in the sink. You just held onto him the whole time, loving feeling your perfect man.

After a few minutes, he was done, and the two of you pulled on your jackets and boots and got ready to go. You didn’t want to bring all of your cash with you, so you dug out about two thousand Czech koruna and tucked it into your pocket.

While you got the money, Namjoon put on his gun holster and tucked a few rounds into his pockets. You didn’t really think it was necessary, but you knew he liked playing it safe. Plus, seeing him holding a dangerous firearm and knowing he could use it was kinda sexy, you had to admit. You weren’t a gun person by any means, but he was so badass and sexy and masculine. You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his gun away, your eyes zeroing in on his big hands and long fingers.

Outside, it wasn’t snowing anymore, but there were still a few inches on the ground and trees, and the car’s windows would need scraped. Your breath fogged in the chill morning air as Namjoon locked up the cottage, and you looked out at the forest, sighing happily to yourself.

It was so still and peaceful out here. There were no sounds from the trees, no birds, no animals or passing cars. The only people for miles were you and Namjoon, most likely. You didn’t know how close the other cottages were, but you loved the idea of being out here alone with Namjoon. It was like your own little world.

“I want to drive,” he said once the cottage was locked up, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. You’d both opted not to wear your mittens, figuring it was such a short walk to the car, you didn’t really need them. The two of you walked hand-in-hand down the porch stairs, both of your shoes crunching in the snow.

“You can drive if you clear the windows,” you said, pointing at the snow-covered car.

“Deal,” he said, squeezing your hand.

As the two of you approached the car, Namjoon suddenly stopped.

You looked up at him, furrowing your brow. You opened your mouth to question him, but he squeezed your hand again, this time much more firmly.

He was searching along the tree line, his eyes flitting around as he stood there frozen. You couldn’t see or hear anything, but it was like something had set him off, a small noise you hadn’t caught, or maybe a flash of something you hadn’t seen. He looked like he was even holding his breath, his eyes squinting as he looked for something you couldn’t detect.

“Joon?” you asked quietly, unease spreading in your stomach. He was scaring you, and you wanted to pull him back inside the cottage and hide away.

His eyes suddenly went wide as he inhaled sharply.

Namjoon grabbed you, throwing you both onto the ground, nearly tackling you. He put himself fully on top of you, his arms up around your head, and despite how careful he’d tried to be, the wind was knocked out of you from his sudden movement.

Behind you, the ground exploded as a gunshot rang out. A missed shot, you realized. Someone had shot at you and hit the small hill behind the car instead.

“Joon, what’s happening?” you gasped, your eyes going wide as you looked up at him. He growled, pulling you beside the car and moving to his knees. He had you positioned so that you were sitting beside the wheel, completely blocked from the gunman on the other side of the car.

Namjoon pulled his gun out and fired off a few shots, staying hidden behind the car as well as he could.

“There’s so many of them,” Namjoon growled, and your heart nearly stopped. Many? You’d only heard one gunshot, but now you could hear a lot of people running through the trees, at least ten, maybe more.

You were frozen. Was it the terrorist group? It had to be. How had they found you? You and Namjoon had been so careful! You’d stayed hidden and off the grid. What had you done wrong? Was it traffic cameras? The woman at the cottage rental building? The grocery store? Jin’s tablet being hacked? What had you done wrong?

Namjoon was shooting his gun, using the car for cover, and he stopped to reload.

“Take him out and grab her!” you heard one of the men yell.

You turned where you sat, peeking out over the hood of the car.

You could see eight of the men, but heard more as gunshots rang out and hit the car and the hill behind you. They were all dressed in black tactical gear, like a SWAT team in a movie, and they all had assault rifles, earpieces, helmets, and bulletproof vests. Namjoon had his handgun, but you hadn’t even thought to wear your vest.

Namjoon stood then, firing off several shots in quick succession. You saw one of the men go down, but a few more of them fired back, bullets hitting the car and the hill behind you. Snow and dirt exploded where the bullets struck the ground, the gunshots ringing in your ears all at once as you covered your head and tried to shrink in on yourself.

You looked up at Namjoon, watching him close one eye as he used the top of the car to steady his shot. He was trying to pick the men off one by one, but there were so many of them, and he was so outgunned, he couldn’t keep up. One more of the men fell, but the others continued slowly pressing forward, using the trees for cover.

Your heart stopped as Namjoon was hit in his right shoulder, the force of it making him take a step back in surprise as he grunted.

He was still holding the gun in his right hand, and he tried to raise that hand again to keep shooting, but couldn’t.

“Joon,” you gasped, your eyes wide and focused only on the way blood now soaked his jacket there, the dark red spreading out further every second.

You couldn’t breathe. He was shot. Your Namjoon was shot.

You started to stand up and help him, but another shot rang out, this time hitting him in his stomach, glass shattering as the bullet went through the car’s windows and into him. Namjoon looked down, almost in confusion, and this time he dropped down to one knee, hiding behind the car with you. He dropped the gun in the snow, holding his stomach with both hands.

“Namjoon,” you cried, pressing your hands on his shoulder wound.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, biting his lip as he pressed on his stomach hard, blood seeping out around his fingers. “I’m fine. We’ll be fine. It’s okay, baby.”

“No it’s not! You were shot! What are we gonna do?”

“It’s okay.”

He reached up and cupped your cheek, his hand covered in his own blood, and he had you look up at him, his eyes searching yours. You were breathing too fast, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind racing through every horrifying way this situation could end. You could feel how wet his hand was from his blood, and you didn’t even care about him touching your face with that hand. The only thoughts in your head were your fears for him.

Namjoon was shot. He was bleeding. These men could take you from him, leaving him here to die alone.

Tears were streaming down your face, and you hadn’t even realized. Your hands on his shoulder were shaking, your face horrified as you looked up at him. He was calm, though, almost smiling as he looked at you and held your face.

Only a second or two passed, but time was frozen for you. Namjoon looked at you like you were his whole world, his eyes lost in wonder and love as gunshots rang out and hit the car.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he said quietly. He took a deep breath, wincing in pain, but tried to not show it.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice small and broken.

Namjoon bit his lip and looked down at his stomach, his shoulders becoming tense. He was in more pain, maybe as the adrenaline started wearing off, and his breathing became rougher and more strained. He took his hand from your cheek and held his stomach again, blood seeping out and covering his sweater and jacket.

You set your jaw as you looked at him.

These men made Namjoon feel pain. They were trying to take you from him. They hurt the man you love.

They hurt Namjoon.

Your hands stopped shaking. Your vision went red.

Namjoon called out your name as you picked up his gun and stood. You aimed at one of the men, the closest one, and shot, watching him fall and clutch his chest, right above the bulletproof vest he wore. You shot another, then another, not stopping or blinking as you hit them in the head, the chest, even one in the neck.

Gunshot. That one was for making you jump off a train and twist your ankle. Gunshot. That one was for following you to that little town in Poland, and making you have to steal a car from that poor family. Gunshot. That one was for interrupting your lovefest with Namjoon in this perfect little cottage you’d never wanted to leave, but was now ruined for you.

You shot two more men, the gunshots so fast they echoed together like thunder.

“Reload,” you said, letting the empty bullet-holder-thing drop out. Namjoon handed you another round, his blood-soaked fingers skimming against yours, and you reloaded the gun exactly how he’d shown you back in Vienna as you let pure, cold rage coarse through you.

You’d never fired a gun before today, but your aim was shockingly good, and you didn’t care enough to think about it. Your hands were steady. You weren’t frozen and in shock, how you normally reacted when you were scared. You felt nothing, thought nothing, didn’t see anything other than the men who’d hurt Namjoon. You were going to make every last one of them pay.

There’d been a dozen men total, but now only three were left standing, the others on the ground either holding their wounds or not moving at all. You aimed and hit another right in the face, snarling and breathing steadily as you watched him fall.

“Y/N…” Namjoon started, but you ignored him.

“Two more,” you muttered, seething now, watching the men reload and hide behind trees. One of these men could’ve been the one who shot Namjoon. You felt pure bloodlust, and you didn’t plan on stopping until all of them were dead.

“Baby,” Namjoon said, pulling you from your thoughts and taking your hand. His voice sounded strained, but like he was trying to power through it. “Be careful. Take cover more, or they could hit you.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. You ducked down slightly, using the top of the car to steady the gun like Namjoon had. You wondered if the men weren’t hitting you because they wanted to take you alive.

You shot another man in the throat right as he peeked out from behind a tree. Only one left now.

The last one was hiding, but could see his leg sticking out. You shot at it, the ground exploding around him as he tried to pull his leg in and hide fully, but you fired again and got him right in the knee, and heard him yell out in pain.

You immediately walked for him, ignoring Namjoon calling out for you to stop.

You walked straight for the man on a war path, passing by the bodies laying all over, blood splatter all over the fresh snow. You heard one of the men groaning and saw him trying to pick up his gun, but you shot him again, not even looking his way.

When you reached the man behind the tree, you kicked his gun away, pointing your own in his face.

“You shot Namjoon,” you growled. You didn’t care if he was actually the one who shot Namjoon or not; you felt like you could rip all these men apart with your bare hands for just being involved in hurting Namjoon. “Who are you people? Why are you after us?”

“I’m sorry,” the guy yelled, his hands up, palms toward you. “Please don’t hurt me!”

You rolled your eyes. You had a feeling this guy wouldn’t have cared if your positions were swapped, if you were the one begging him not to hurt you. These men would’ve come and killed Namjoon without remorse and taken you somewhere, not caring about your feelings or Joon’s life.

“Who are you?” you said, and you moved the gun, now pointing at the man’s crotch.

“No! Please,” he cried, now even more panicked. “We were just trying to get the ransom money. My boss said the ambassador would pay big money to get you back. We were never going to hurt you or anything!”

So it was just a kidnapping job for ransom. You wanted to roll your eyes, but felt nothing but rage. All this, just for money. Of fucking course. What else motivated people to hurt strangers like this?

Back by the car, you saw Namjoon standing up, leaning on the back of the car for support. He looked over at you and gave you a thumbs up, telling you he was okay. You let yourself sigh in relief, but focused on the man again.

“If you were just after me for ransom, why did you attack the embassy too?”

“We thought we might be able to get some of her secretaries, maybe an aide or something, so we could increase the ransom,” he said, shaking now. “We hacked into their comms and watched for a couple days after the attack, but we never had a good opportunity. You were always our main target, though. We knew she’d pay the most for you.”

We hacked into their comms. There was no mole in the embassy’s security team like Namjoon had thought. The embassy’s security was just not as secure as they’d always believed.

“This couldn’t have been worth it,” you said, looking around at all the dead bodies. “How much money did you spend, traveling all over trying to find me? All these guns and supplies couldn’t have been cheap, either, plus hacking the embassy and tracking us? My mother’s not worth this much. Ambassadors aren’t paid as well as you think they are.”

“Your mother is worth nearly a billion US dollars. We were going to ransom you for five hundred million,” the guy said, and you almost wanted to laugh. “More if we got anyone else from the embassy.”

“You have the wrong person, I think,” you said, taking a step back, gun still pointed at his crotch. Your mother made about $300k a year, which was more than enough to live comfortably and pay back all your student loans, but not enough to afford a huge multi-million dollar ransom like that. She definitely wasn’t worth almost almost a billion dollars.

You glanced toward Namjoon again; he was holding his stomach, but he was upright, glancing around at all the other men. He was watching to see if anyone suddenly jumped up and came toward you. Your heart swelled; Namjoon was keeping you safe, even now.

“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “She’s a huge trader. She invests in everything. Drones, pharmaceutical companies, stocks, everything. That’s how she bribed her way in and bought her ambassadorship. Now she operates on a much bigger scale, and we’ve been following her work for years. We thought we’d just grab you, get our ransom, and bring you back unharmed.”

You didn’t have the mental energy for this. Your mother secretly being much richer than you thought explained why these men came after you so hard, but you had no way of knowing for sure right now. If this man was telling the truth, your mother had some major explaining to do, but it didn’t justify them hurting Namjoon. Nothing would ever justify that. They were evil, and they’d hurt Namjoon. You would make them pay.

You raised the gun to the man’s head, and he started panicking, backing away from you and crawling across the ground.

“Y/N,” Namjoon called out.

You looked at him, and he shook his head.

“He was going to hurt you,” you said, furrowing your brow. You wanted to punish this man for hurting Namjoon. You wanted to punish all of them.

“You already shot him the leg,” Namjoon said. “Let him face justice instead of ending his life. Besides, he seems like a rat, doesn’t he? He’ll probably rat out the rest of this operation in exchange for a shorter jail sentence. You want the rest of them to face justice too, right?”

Namjoon was right. You definitely wanted all of them to face justice and be punished, not just the ones here. They wouldn’t have sent the whole team to a raid like this. There were probably more hidden away elsewhere, and a guy like this would sell them all out.

“Fine,” you huffed, and the man let out a huge sigh of relief. You kind of wanted to shoot him in his other leg too, but decided against it.

You made the man take off his vest and jacket and empty his pockets, to prove he wasn’t still armed. Once you searched him and were satisfied, you stepped around the tree and started heading back to Namjoon, stopping only to take the man’s gun. You’d kicked it away from him before, but you wanted it in your hands, not on the ground a few meters from him while you walked away.

“That was really hot, you shooting all those guys,” Namjoon said as you approached, smirking down at you. He was still glancing back toward the man every few seconds, but once you were back by his side, he wrapped an arm around you.

You snorted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, and you shifted so that his arm was over your shoulder, resting part of his weight on you. You helped him walk over to the house, where you’d call an ambulance and the embassy. You were concerned there were more gunmen secretly hiding somewhere, but Namjoon needed medical attention. It was time to get authorities involved.

You eased him down on the steps of the porch, giving him a gun before running inside and calling for help on the burner phone he’d bought at the store the other day. Namjoon seemed fine and stable, completely alert and not out of his mind from pain, so that was something, at least.

When you came back outside after calling, you sat down beside him, letting out a big sigh.

“You okay?” he said quietly, lightly bumping his elbow against yours.

“I’m fine,” you laughed. “You’re the one who was shot. Twice! I should be the one asking how you’re feeling. Are you in pain? Can I get anything for you?”

“I’m okay,” he said. He still had his hand over the wound on his stomach, while the one on his shoulder seemed to have stopped bleeding. “I mean, it hurts, but I feel like if it hit an organ, I’d be unconscious by now, not able to walk around.”

You hummed, hoping he was right. You looked at him, biting your lip in worry. He was pale but not deathly pale, probably from blood loss. He grimaced in pain whenever he moved too much, but he was holding still now, sitting here with you, upright and alert. You wanted to baby him and kiss him all over his face and take away all his pain, but were scared you’d make it worse or bump into one of his wounds.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said when he saw you looking over him.

“Good,” was all you could manage to say, but Namjoon didn’t appear to be done with you.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, his tone fake-serious as he leaned in toward you, “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, laughing dryly and looking out at the yard. None of the men were moving anymore besides the one you’d shot in the knee, who was currently sitting where you’d left him, holding his knee and crying. “I feel like it’ll hit me later, the guilt and everything. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.”

“And I’ll be there to help you cross it,” Namjoon said simply.

You sighed. He was truly the perfect man. You wanted to hug him and never let go, but didn’t want to risk hurting him, so you settled with holding his blood-soaked hand and lacing your fingers with his. His fingers were red and wet and slimy, and you didn’t care. You’d always be willing to hold his hand.

“Thank you, Joonie,” you mumbled. You snorted, thinking of something else then. “My mother is apparently some evil almost-billionaire, by the way. I had no idea. Maybe I’ll ransom myself and give all her money away.”

“I could help you with that,” Namjoon teased, squeezing your hand gently. “I think I mentioned the other day how I wanted to take you somewhere far away, where nobody could find us. I can pretend to be the bad guy coming after you, maybe even tie you up, if you want.”

“Let’s wait until you’re healed before we experiment with that,” you giggled, watching him smirk. “I am totally down to scam my mother, though.”

“As long as I don’t end up in jail for kidnapping, me too,” he said, laughing softly. You could hear the sirens of the ambulance and police cars approaching in the far distance, echoing through the snowy valley.

“I think the possibility of jail might come sooner than we expect, at least for me,” you said, your shoulders sagging. In the moment, you’d wanted all these men to pay for hurting Namjoon, but now you realized you’d technically kinda murdered a bunch of people, and that usually had legal consequences. You were probably fucked up for being more concerned about that than the whole murder thing, but whatever.

“It was self-defense,” he quickly said, letting go of your hand so he could wrap his arm around your shoulder. You heard him grunt in pain at the movement, but he ignored it, focusing on comforting you. “Anyone can see there was obviously a huge gunfight here. A dozen men in tactical gear stormed our house and tried to kidnap you and kill me. We defended ourselves. Plus, if your mother’s actually rich, she won’t let you go to prison. She’ll bribe somebody, and you’ll be fine.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned. Your mother lying to you about apparently having a side job making hundreds of millions of dollars by investing in things like drones and Big Pharma was something you did not want to think about, ever, unless you were stopping it. Your home country had so much wealth inequality, and she was one of the people making it worse.

The ambulance and police cars pulled up, the medics rushing to you and Namjoon as the police began going around and checking the pulses of the men laying in the snow.

You and Namjoon went together in the ambulance. Only the man you’d shot in the leg was still alive, and he was stable and in police custody, waiting on a second ambulance to show up. You tried not to think about how many people were dead. Guilt would come later, and so would lots and lots of therapy… if you weren’t in prison for murder.

The medics gave Namjoon something for his pain, setting him up on an IV as they cut his sweater away. The bullet wound on his shoulder had missed bone, only skimming the top of his shoulder muscle, but the medics began treating the more serious wound on his abdomen. There was no exit wound, so one medic said he may need surgery to have the bullet removed.

Namjoon didn’t seem to notice the medics rushing around the moving ambulance, instead just holding your hand and smiling at you lazily.

“Love you,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. His voice was deep, contented, maybe from the painkillers kicking in.

“I love you too,” you said, shaking your head and smiling. Even now, he looked at you with so much love, like you were the moon and all the stars in the sky.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, squeezing your hand weakly. You believed him.

***

– Epilogue, One Year Later –

Namjoon held the door for you as the two of you stepped into your favorite hotel in Vienna. As you passed him, he reached down and took your hand, playing with the engagement ring on your finger as the two of you strode through the opulent lobby.

The two of you had arrived very early in Vienna this morning, just so you could check in with your favorite hotel’s owner, who, for some reason, chose to only work night shifts. You had a feeling he’d be happy to see you, at least. Maybe not Namjoon, but too late now.

Your little vacation had begun in that Polish bed and breakfast near the train tracks, and you and Namjoon hadn’t left the honeymoon suite much, though you did made sure to come down for breakfast a few times. From there, you’d taken a detour to a little town in Poland, where you’d slid a check for five million złoty under a certain family’s front door, along with a note saying just “Sorry about borrowing your car last year” in sloppy Google-translated Polish. Now, you were back in Namjoon’s favorite city in Europe, with big plans to actually see the city this time.

At the check-in desk, Jin looked up, huffing and rolling his eyes when he saw the two of you approaching.

“Hey, hyung,” Namjoon said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the keys to Jin’s car, which now sat outside and still had many, many bullet holes in the side. Namjoon tossed the keys to Jin, who flinched and almost but not quite managed to catch them.

“I thought I told you not to come back to Austria, asshole,” he grumbled, but you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“Just returning your car,” Namjoon said innocently, “And taking my fiancée on vacation.”

“Congratulations, unless this is just an act like last time,” Jin said. “Should I hand over my wallet to help you hide from mysterious villains now or later?”

“Not necessary,” you said, smiling up at him. “But we do greatly appreciate how much you helped us last time we were here. You saved our lives.”

“Not much worth saving in his case, but you’re welcome,” Jin said, glancing towards Namjoon, though you saw the way Jin seemed to stand a little taller after your compliment.

You elbowed Namjoon in the side, looking up at him expectantly.

“Thank you so much for helping us last time,” Namjoon said flatly, as if he were reading off a cue card, or being held at gunpoint.

“Of course,” Jin said smugly. “That’s what good friends do. I, after all, am the best friend you or anyone has.”

“Wait ’til he sees his car,” Namjoon muttered, wrapping his arm around your waist. “He’ll go right back to trying to kick me out of the country.”

“Anyways,” you said loudly, hoping Jin hadn’t heard him. “We’d like a room, please. We’ll pay this time, and I think Namjoon mentioned owing you for last time, too.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Jin said, typing away on his computer at the desk. “You’re back again during the off-season, and I’d never make my friends pay to stay here.”

“Again, when he sees his car…” Namjoon started, but you elbowed him in the side again, cutting him off.

“How’s the executive suite sound?” Jin said, thankfully not hearing him.

“That sounds perfect,” Namjoon said, moving to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“I’m surprised you’re not putting Joon in a broom closet,” you laughed.

“Only because you two seem to be a package deal,” Jin replied, winking at you. You expected to feel Namjoon growl at him in jealousy, but he didn’t.

Jin personally showed you up to your room, saying he’d have a bottle of champagne sent up later in the day. You were on the top floor, in a room nearly twice as big as the room you’d stayed in last time. A separate sitting room, a full kitchen, two walk-in closets, an extravagant master bedroom, and a bathroom the size of a normal hotel room were all part of Jin’s over-the-top gift to you and Namjoon.

The two of you had a private museum tour scheduled later at what Namjoon insisted was the best art museum in Europe, and maybe for dinner, you could order some fancy room service, or convince Jin to dine out with the two of you if he was awake then. Your mind reeled with possibilities, happy you weren’t confined to the hotel room like the last time you were in this city. You had money, you had the nicest hotel room you could imagine, and you had your Namjoon. You could do anything.

Over the last few months, you’d been essentially blackmailing your mother, though you wouldn’t exactly phrase it that bluntly. Last year, you’d gone home and pretended to settle back into your life, Namjoon recovering by your side, and then you’d gone into your mother’s office a few nights in a row, emailed yourself copies of all her shady practices and the things she’d been investing in, printed everything out and hid away copies, and then threatened to turn her in for tax evasion and expose her for funding things she’d publicly lobbied against as a politician. She cared a lot about her reputation, and tax evasion carried a minimum three year prison sentence in your country – and it only went up, depending on how rich someone was – so she took your threats very seriously. You had backups on backups and had gotten your friends in on it too, so your mother knew if something happened to you, she would get exposed no matter what.

In exchange for your silence, she would have to stop investing in all her evil shit, and you would have access to her bank account indefinitely. You were now slowly giving most of it away, one massive donation at a time, and had taken some out and put it in your own account, just in case she decided to suddenly cut you off at some point. You didn’t turn her in or expose her, and she got to look like a huge philanthropist in the media through your many large donations. She continued investing in some things, but not stuff like drones or oil or Big Pharma. Win-win for everyone.

You and Namjoon had both quit your jobs at the embassy and bought a small cottage in the countryside, with a big garden out back and a huge bed the two of you loved to lay in together for days. You both worked full time on philanthropy, researching charities and fulfilling random GoFundMe’s, and you both felt like you were truly helping people and changing lives. You were happier than you’d ever been. Helping others and spending every day with your Namjoon; you were living your dream life. You’d even adopted a dog together, a fluffy white thing the shelter had named Monie, who Namjoon spoiled rotten and treated like his big baby.

Monie was currently staying with Yoongi, Namjoon’s very alive friend and former partner in a business Namjoon still refused to tell you anything about. He’d given you some big hints over the last few months, though, and simply winked at you whenever you asked if he really was a spy back in the day. He’d eventually said that he’d tell you everything once the two of you were married, which had led into him proposing and the two of you not getting out of bed for three days.

Now, in the opulent master bedroom in the hotel, Namjoon plopped down on the bed, laying back and spreading his arms out. You had a few hours until your museum tour, and you had an idea of what the two of you could do between now and then. You watched him tuck his hands behind his head, the bottom of his shirt rising up enough to show you the scar from when he’d been shot and stitched up last year.

Seeing Namjoon’s scars used to make you go still, a brief stab of sadness filling you. He always insisted he’d been fine and it was just a minor injury, but you knew it’d been more serious than that. And, it reminded you of that day, when he’d almost been taken from you.

You remembered Namjoon joking about it in the hospital, saying most people thought scars were sexy and asking if you thought he was even sexier now, and at the time you’d just rolled your eyes and shook your head.

You’d been in therapy ever since that day, half for your new paranoia over Namjoon being killed, and half over your guilt from what you’d done, killing all those men. You’d looked into each of their lives and found three of them had had children, and you’d anonymously donated a few million dollars to each kid, knowing nothing could replace their parent, but at least they could go to college or do whatever they wanted to do with their life. It didn’t help your guilt, but Namjoon always told you the fact you felt guilty was good. If you felt bad about killing people, even evil ones who meant you harm, it meant you were a good person. It meant you were human.

You hadn’t faced any legal repercussions for that day, with most of the police you’d spoken to about it calling it self-defense and you protecting yourself and Namjoon from a group of highly-armed terrorists. Your attempted abduction hadn’t been their first job, and that actually did help your guilt. Other people had been abducted by them in the past, and you’d ended the cycle. Nobody else had to feel afraid because of them. The whole operation came down with the man you’d let live ratting them all out, just as Namjoon had predicted.

You sighed, pushing those thoughts from your head. You wanted to enjoy your vacation with Namjoon, not think about the past.

You turned around and saw him watching you, biting his lip. He’d been staring at your legs, and when he saw you looking, he raised an eyebrow, smirking to himself. Despite the snow outside, you’d worn a dress today, and you knew Namjoon was very appreciative.

“Like what you see?” you teased, giggling.

“You fucking know it,” he growled.

He was still laying back on the bed, his hands behind his head as he lounged lazily, and he looked so sexy to you right now, you couldn’t stand him. He knew exactly how hot you found him, too, and was probably laying like that just because he knew what it did to you.

He continued, his eyes slowly moving down your body as he spoke, “Keep looking at me like that and we won’t leave this hotel room today.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to see the museum anyway,” you said, sauntering over to him. “Maybe I’d rather sit on your face than walk around a boring museum for hours.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, and don’t insult my museums,” he said. He brought his hands down, reaching for you as you approached him. “And I know you like art museums as much as I do. You’re just trying to rile me up, aren’t you?”

“Depends,” you said, climbing onto the bed and settling on his lap, his hands both falling to your hips. “Is it working?”

He suddenly pinched your ass, making you jump and squeak.

“I am suddenly feeling very thirsty, so maybe,” he said, biting his lip. He pulled on your hips, encouraging you to move forward. You now straddled his stomach, but you played dumb, pretending to not know where he wanted you to end up. You kept your weight off of him though, not wanting to rest on where his wound had been. He was fully healed, but still. You couldn’t.

“Thirsty for what? I can get you a glass of water, or some wine from the mini bar,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling his hard muscles there.

“I want something else,” he purred, pulling on your thighs and trying to bring you up to his face. You knew exactly what he wanted, but you wanted to tease him more. He had you straddling his chest now, and you could feel him breathing steadily.

“Something else? I could call Jin and ask him to send up something, like that champagne he mentioned. Maybe he could hang out with us, too,” you said, and you gasped when Namjoon reached up and grabbed your ass with both hands, squeezing hard.

“Jin is not invited,” he said, pushing your dress up around your waist. He growled when he saw your little black panties, and he reached down to pull them aside, but you stopped him, holding both his hands in yours.

“Joonie,” you hummed, smiling down at him. He quirked an eyebrow at you, looking far sexier than he had any right to look.

You moved back enough so you could lean over and kiss him. You felt him sigh into your mouth, kissing you back as he wrapped his arms around you. You were always happiest like this, making out with Namjoon in bed. Your fears and guilt and all your feelings about the outside world didn’t matter here.

“You know what?” Namjoon murmured against your lips. You could feel him smiling, and you swore his smirk felt mischievous. You could always tell with him, the slight quirk of the corners of his mouth, the way his dimples were deeper than his other smiles. He was up to something.

“What?” you said, kissing him again.

“Let’s go to the museum tomorrow. I have an idea for something I want to do to you for an hour or two, and you’ll be pretty worn out afterwards,” he said, winking up at you.

“Is that so?” you said, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You knew just how well he kept his promises, but he was such a flirt. He knew how his flirting and winks always made you giggle, and he loved to tease you.

“Yeah. I want to show my beautiful fiancée just how much she means to me, and it’s been too long since one of our special days in bed.”

Your and Namjoon’s ‘special days in bed,’ as the two of you called them, were when you let him eat you out for hours. His oral fixation had only gotten stronger over the past year, and he seemed to have a personal goal of making you either pass out, squirt, or tap out at least once a week. Not that you were complaining, by any means.

“Too long? It’s only been three days, you shameless man,” you snorted.

“That’s what I said; too long.” He squeezed your ass with both hands, biting his lip as he smiled up at you.

You looked at him then, really looked at him and studied his face. His little moles, his dimples, the shape of his full lips, the playful sparkle in his dark brown eyes. Namjoon was the most beautiful thing in the world to you, perfection personified, your soulmate and fiancé and lover and best friend. Your future husband. The love of your life.

“I love you, Joon,” you felt compelled to say then, despite the fact the two of you had just been joking around and flirting.

“I love you too, angel,” he said, and he reached up, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear.

He was looking at you like you were his whole world, and you knew that you were. He told you constantly, always held you close, regularly wrote you love poems about how much you meant to him. You knew the look in his eyes right now. He was looking at you like he wanted to worship you and prove his love to you.

“Let’s spend all day in bed together,” you said, now wholeheartedly into his idea to skip the museum and all your plans and reservations. “Let’s have one of our special days in bed, and then let’s take a bubble bath together in that ridiculous bathroom. You into that?”

Namjoon grinned, a deep dimple appearing on his left cheek.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#namjoon smut #bts smut #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #marnie text #namjoon scenario #namjoon fic #my writing #*#the bodyguard #also YES the teaser said it was only 62.4k but i added a little more #i couldn't help myself on my last read-through

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