Archive of Our Own

— Namjoon —

You came to Namjoon as a dazzling nebula, bringing along new stars and granting them brilliant life with a delicate power all your own. At least, that’s how he remembered it.

He was staring into nothing just before, fingers outstretched and moving in practiced, bored time to the light display at the other side of the Institute’s courtyard. Showers of swirling streaks of white bent into colored panes of glass to paint fireworked pictures across a towering, canvas backdrop.

As the only light magic user currently in attendance, the task of manipulating the displays at most events always fell to him. Or, more often, he found himself volunteered for it by overly friendly members of staff whose help he needed too often to deny them his abilities. He had thought maybe in his fifth and final year of study, another light user might come along to take his place. But light magic was so rare that the task could only be left to him.

So here he was again, manipulating particles of light purely for the background aesthetic at yet another post-graduation winter festival. He might have at least thanked some nameless god that the festival had never fallen on a night with a full moon over the years. But that would mean someone had watched his life be forever changed and done nothing, so he decidedly withheld any divine gratuity.

Surrounded by the buildings of the campus, elegant architectured halls of glass and stone, the courtyard spread across the center of the snow-covered grounds, now dotted with students and faculty bundled around fire-magicked warming hubs, sipping steaming mugs of cider and honeyed beer. They would all spend the evening laughing and dancing with their friends and colleagues, celebrating the relief from dedicated study that the end of the year always brought, and giving congratulations to the students who would go out into the modern world to use their research of the magickal sciences to bring about whatever changes they saw fit.

One of Namjoon’s roommates, a fourth-year fox-shifter named Jimin, was providing some of the evening’s entertainment, singing with his band on stage. With the social company and the music, most people never paid attention to the backdrop of his light shows anyway. At least, sequestered away from everyone in the safety of one of the building’s balconies, Namjoon could avoid any civil small talk and keep his efforts minimal until the evening was over and all the drunken graduates and new students had wandered home.

Still, in the vicinity of so many others, habit had him reviewing the evening’s conditions as he had for years. Visibility: 72%. Cloud cover: Moderate. Moon status: 41.5% waxing crescent. Symptoms: Sense of smell gradually growing more sensitive, no noticeable rise in aggression. In need of a haircut.

Namjoon glimpsed a flash of familiar blond hair out of the corner of his eye. His old lab partner, Hoseok, appeared at his side sporting an anxious half-smile. A human specializing in wind magic, they had studied together for Namjoon’s third and fourth years. Though they were the same age, he could always sense Hoseok’s hesitation around shifters. Or maybe it was just him. That edge of mistrust kept their relationship mostly professional, which helped with Namjoon’s need for distance. Though, whatever Hoseok’s uncertainties, his temperament was even-keeled and he was a focused study, which also made a great match for Namjoon’s brand of quiet analysis.

“Hey Namjoon, this is Y/N. She wanted to meet the person in charge of the lights.”

Had he slacked off? It was possible. The magic for the light shows didn’t require his full attention, especially when the mirrored panels did half of the job through reflection. His gaze fell in the direction Hoseok gestured, to where you stood next to him. The world tilted onto a strange, new axis, a galaxy he had yet to discover moving into his field of vision, expanding the depth of the cosmos to something wondrous.

“The lights; they’re beautiful,” you said in the softest, accented lilt, and the awe in your voice built a home inside Namjoon’s chest, a cozy log cabin with a roaring fireplace, fluffy blankets, and an endless supply of sweet-filled pancakes.

You shifted shyly, your fur-lined ivory gown moving with you effortlessly, a ring of delicate, white winter jasmine woven intricately into your hair. Amidst the whites of your attire, against the background of sparkling snow lying along the balcony banister beside you, Namjoon branded your natural beauty into his mind. Your lovely brown skin, like warm, silken chocolate. Beautiful, bright eyes with specks of sunlight and all things good inside them. And the elegance you held in something as simple as standing, a noble, a goddess agleam among the lusterless background of man.

It took him an eternal moment of soaking you in to realize he had taken a socially unacceptable amount of time to respond. He blinked slowly and, at an encouraging head nod from Hoseok, moved to speak before realizing he’d gone breathless. He took in a deep one.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you prompted, offering him a friendly, encouraging smile. A new cluster of stars expanded in his periphery.

“Oh, uh, Namjoon.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Would…would you mind if I watch you work? I promise I’ll stay out of the way.”

Out of habit, and although he already knew the conditions, he glanced up at the sky.

“Oh, sure,” he said and watched another smile alight your face. Hoseok gave him a nervous wave and, with a piteous glance in your direction, he left the balcony, leaving only the two of you standing there in awkward silence.

Namjoon suddenly felt self-conscious. He always wore more formal clothing to the festivals; a layered beige turtleneck and dark dress slacks underneath his knee-length, coffee-colored overcoat this time. But in your presence he suddenly felt very underwhelming.

He turned back to his work instead, putting in a little more effort for your sake. The beams of light suddenly blazed with life, creating crystalline snowflakes in a dozen shapes and sending them spiraling towards the crowd below. He heard cries of surprised glee just as Jimin’s voice carried some awe-inspiring high note through the speakers. Lucky timing.

“Amazing,” he heard you whisper nearby.

He couldn’t place your accent, but the way you spoke was heavenly. He let himself breathe a little more and caught on that there was more than just an interesting accent to discover. Newly bloomed flowers. The comforting petrichor of rain-soaked wood. Crisp, rushing waters. The smell of nature was common on campus, where at least fifteen percent of the population consisted of animal shifters of all sorts. But it clung to you richer than most, as though soaked through to your very marrow.

“You’re a shifter?” he asked, then immediately regretted allowing his curiosity to lead. He knew better, knew to hold his tongue around anyone new until they left him alone. But the smell of you was sending his heightened senses even higher.

“Ajai-ani,” you said, closer than he’d expected. You had closed the distance between you on the balcony, likely to get a better view of the lights. It put you only at arm’s length.

Namjoon took another furtive glance at the sky, then raised an eyebrow in your direction and waited for his confusion to dawn on your face.

“Forest spirit,” you amended.

“Oh,” he said, more emphatically than he’d meant. Rare as he was privy to it, the language of the fey could always whet his interest. “You’re of the Feywild?”

“The Spring Court, yes.” Taking your cue from his misfired curiosity, you eagerly chanced another question. “And you’re a shifter, right?”

A familiar tension crept into his shoulders and suddenly, the light display was the most interesting magic Namjoon had ever performed. His eyes focused on making one particular swirling particle burn a fraction brighter. He hated the lie. Shifters were respected, made of natural magic that inspired fascination. He inspired only terror.

Mercifully, you didn’t follow-up your question, allowing his body to relax a little in the quiet space between you.

So you were of the Feywild, a place so mysterious to Namjoon, a place he would never gain access to thanks to his humanity. And yet he was able to find himself in your presence, in the presence of fey, and other mythical creatures, and humans all together. Simply because somewhere along his bloodline, someone had the fortune of being genetically predisposed to magic. Or energy manipulation, the force to alter qi, the kinetic convergence and reconvergence of fields of matter. Whatever terminology anyone wanted to call it, the staff at the Institute of Metaphysical Research and Technology simply referred to it as magic.

His manifested as the ability to bend and reflect light. Mostly parlor tricks, but he had been studying for years for ways to put it to good use in the world; to create energy or at least keep it consistent. He had studied light at different wavelengths, learned to bend light for invisibility, learned the physics of light and a small piece of its effects on the natural world.

But the studies at the Institute, like many things in this modern world, had to remain secret. Humankind at large wasn’t ready for the revelation that magic, that sentient creatures beyond your everyday person existed. And that included creatures like you.

He stole another glance at you, watching his display reflect in your eyes as you looked on. It was a pity. Anyone who wasn’t able to lay their eyes on you at least once in their lifetime was at a significant loss, would never know true joy.

There were so few in attendance, members of the Feywild were treated practically as royalty on campus. He had always worried that creatures of the Feywild would be the ones to suss out his secrets, that somehow they might be able to sense the difference between him and an average shifter. Seokjin couldn’t, but any time someone was announced to hail from that strange realm, Namjoon’s nerves spent a few weeks in turmoil.

“What does it feel like?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, your eyes on him now instead of the display. “Holding light in your own hands like that, I mean.”

Namjoon had the sudden desire to show off for you. He responded without words, making the magic dance around his fingers, move to you and circle the ring of flowers at your head, make a spin about your body and explode in sparkling light above you, landing against your dress in glittering droplets.

It was more cheap parlor tricks. But it had been a long time since someone had smiled at his magic like that, since their faces held that form of wonder.

“Amazing,” you said again, swiveling from side to side as the magic faded around you. “I’ve seen light magic before, but there’s something different in yours. It’s extra reflective somehow, there’s a trace of something greater in it. That’s why I really wanted to meet you.”

You spun, the soft material of your gown swaying with you as you chased the last of the dwindling light. Your feet stumbled a little at your hem and Namjoon’s arm was suddenly at your elbow, though he swore he hadn’t authorized the reaction. He helped you steady yourself on your feet and you smiled up at him, embarrassed.

"Thank you.” You glanced down at the dress as though it were some kind of traitor and Namjoon barely managed to hold in his amused laugh at the adorable expression. “I wish I'd worn something a little more practical, but I’m told this is the appropriate fashion for this festival."

His brain wasn't firing synapses like usual, too slow to cull his mouth. "I think what you wore is perfect."

You looked surprised, then shy, murmuring another quiet thank you. He immediately released your arm, taking a long step back to widen the gap between you.

“There you are.”

Suddenly the Feywild was on full display. Namjoon could count the number of vampires he’d ever seen on one finger and that had been from a considerable distance. But he would never forget the dangerous gold glint of their eyes.

“Yoongi,” you said with a smile brighter than daylight. The dark-haired vampire was dressed even more ornately than you, wearing an expensive-looking wool coat with burnished gold buttons, a crested brocade at the breast, and leather boots threaded through with an intricate design. It wasn’t surprising. Vampire families were considered nobility among the fey, and that often presented itself as immense wealth among humans.

Slightly surprising though was that the vampire was accompanied by a familiar face.

“Picked up a stray drake on the way,” the vampire muttered, moving closer to you and looping his arm through yours. A strange twist flexed inside Namjoon’s chest.

Shirtless regardless of the winter winds, with skin peppered in shining, gold scales from his thick neck, across broad shoulders to his slim waist, the sight of Seokjin was always a spectacle. A half-dragon also hailing from the Feywild, he claimed to run too hot a temperature to endure wearing much clothing, though he had the decency to wear belted slacks and boots tonight. He had been housed with Namjoon since his first year, remaining on campus as a professor’s assistant once his own studies were completed. They had built a respectful relationship over the years, but there would always be a thread of tension strung between them, for what Namjoon had to hide and what Seokjin had to protect.

Seokjin’s gaze was locked on you and Namjoon felt yet another odd twist inside. He took a slow step back from all three of you, sure it was simply getting too crowded on the small balcony for his comfort.

"Nice to meet you, gorgeous,” Seokjin leered at you with a wink. His eyes flicked to Namjoon. “Who left you with our resident clamshell?"

“Oh, a very nice human. Hoseok, I think? Anyway, Namjoon was kind enough to suffer my curiosity in his gifts.” Your gaze finally left the other two and fell back to him, another demure smile gracing your lips. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“N-no. Not at all.”

“I’d love to know more about your lumen studies. I’m entering my first year here, but I hear you’re the only light magic user on campus and I’ve always been so curious. Please say you’ll consider indulging me.”

You unlooped yourself from the vampire and, hands hiking up your skirt to avoid another trip, you closed the short distance between the two of you and stood in front of Namjoon. You held out both your hands before you, palms facing up, and stared up at Namjoon expectantly. He raised another confused eyebrow and you lifted your hands a little, eyes flicking toward his.

"Take her hands, human. From the bottom."

The vampire's gruff voice — what had she called him, Yoongi? — shook Namjoon from his puzzlement. He reached out to take your hands, placing his palms on the backs of yours. 

You beamed and Namjoon was torn. He wanted to pull his hands away, so unused to touching someone. He wanted to press his hands closer, if it meant you would keep smiling at him that way.

"Sorry, I forgot it's probably not a common greeting here," you said, slipping your hands from his. Namjoon let his drop awkwardly to his sides.

"What does it mean?"

"The promising start of friendship. I don't have a mobile phone yet, but I'll seek you out on campus and we can talk more." It sounded a little more like a question than a statement. You were asking his permission. He wondered if you could see the way his back muscles had knotted at your proximity, at the thought of being that close to you again for any length of time. If you had noticed his deep inhale, his profligate capture of your scent. Or the warmth that bloomed inside his chest at the thought of discussing his magic as though it mattered.

Namjoon nodded, unsure if it was out of social obligation at your kindness or a selfish need to see you smile again.

"I hope to see you again soon," you beamed.

He watched you turn and reloop your arm into your companion’s, watched you walk away with your kind, vampire on your right, dragon on your left, wondering how he had gotten involved at all.

His ears were ringing as you walked away, only barely able to make out the voice of someone far in the distance complaining that the light show had suddenly stopped.

— Y/N —

You learned quickly that Kim Namjoon wasn’t exactly the social type.

Your classes began only a month after the festival, and as you acclimated to the modern world outside of the Feywild, Yoongi finally helped you get a phone. Unfortunately, it meant your best friend could tease you even when he wasn’t nearby with text messages and rude pictures. Even less fortunately, it had been an entire week of your classes and you hadn’t seen Namjoon once to get his number.

Granted, you had been busy. Rashashir, the great forest of the Spring Court, had many places one could find solitude for extended periods. But here on campus, people sought you out. You were a rarity among humans and people were so friendly and curious. It meant long days of study and practice followed by longer evenings of socializing and you tried your best to keep up.

Though your family had been reluctant to let you come here for study, you were determined to expand the usefulness of your magic and to fit in well in human society, beginning here at the Institute.

Students began here at all ages, depending on their skill level and fields of study. They offered to start you as a second year, but you chose to take the basic classes of the first, learning everything from elemental to life to cosmic magic sciences and more, all at the fundamental level. Even only one week in and you were fascinated by something new each class.

Yoongi was in his second year of life magic research and, as your closest friend, he insisted you move into his apartments near the campus. Though “apartments” was a loose interpretation of the ostentatious half-mansion his family had had specially built for his stay while in attendance. You had an entire wing to yourself, but had fallen asleep on the living room couch next to Yoongi most nights so far. He never asked why, but each day you would find a new, small adjustment — a familiar ingredient in your breakfast, a new flower that only grew in your corner of Rashashir potted in your hallway, familiar birds singing in the trees outside the windows that were definitely not native to this area. It was his subtle way of fending off your homesickness and you didn’t know how to be more grateful for having the truest friend anyone could ask for.

One evening he invited the half-drake, Seokjin, for a quiet dinner and the familiar company of someone else from home. Though he came from the harsh, snow-capped mountains of the Winter Court, Seokjin had spent at least twenty years living among the humans, his last five here at the Institute. Over the course of the evening, you learned he was quite a shameless flirt, paired with the typical arrogance of a drake. But there was some softness about his edges and his good humor and chatty personality put you at ease. Plus, he was capable of the impossible, making Yoongi laugh, even as your friend tried to fight it. Though the bottle of wine you all shared might have helped in that regard. When conversation turned to the night of the festival, Seokjin’s memory was sparked.

“I have to say, I was quite surprised to see you standing there with Namjoon. I hardly ever see him speak to anyone, nevermind spend time alone with them.”

“I haven’t seen him since,” you said with a sigh, contemplating another slice of cake to soothe the ache of your misfortune. Not finding him had been disappointing on two fronts: one, because the lumenical studies was such a narrow field that he was really the only person you could discuss it with and two, because the lights had taken your breath away that night, but so had the man. A giant towering over you, he looked strong enough to grind sand into glass using his bare hands. But his expressions were all sweet, all shy, handsome face glowing in the light he captured with his own hands.

You sighed again and took the cake. “Hoseok said he was beginning his fifth year, so I’m assuming he’s been very busy. A shame though. I really wanted to learn more about him.”

“Why not just call him? I have his number. Better yet, just come to my place next time. We’re roommates.”

Roommates? Though that did explain Seokjin’s familiarity from that night. You decided against a visit, not wanting to make Namjoon uncomfortable by suddenly appearing at his door. You settled for his phone number.

After you’d typed it in, Seokjin knocked back the rest of his wine glass and leveled you with a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his prismatic eyes.

“Just don’t get your feelings hurt, Y/N. Our Namjoon isn’t much of a charmer.”

You sent Namjoon a friendly text that night.

Y/N: Hi Namjoon! This is Y/N. We met the night of the winter festival. I would still love to meet and learn more about your lumen studies. Let me know when you might have some free time.

Worried you had taken down the number wrong, it was four days before you finally received a response. 

Namjoon: Hi.

And that was all. You had to check with Yoongi to make sure your phone hadn’t glitched out and cut off the rest of the message.

“It might’ve taken him time to gather enough courage to send that. Grant him a little more patience.”

“Why would he need to gather courage to say ‘hi’ to me?” you asked.

Yoongi only shook his head like he was in on some secret.

Another week went by and you had resolved to leave him be, not wanting to be some source of discomfort for someone who clearly preferred being on their own. Many forest spirits were similar, yourself not excluded. You often preferred the quiet and solitude of life between the trees to any measure of social interaction, though you had worked hard to adjust to the influx of attention when coming to the human realm. If Namjoon wanted to keep his distance for whatever reason, you would respect that. But then...

Namjoon: Coffee?

It bolstered your hope; maybe there was a chance to get to know him after all. You met him the next day at one of the student lounges. He bought you a latte and steered you both to secluded seats at a little table near a window, just out of reach of the midday sun.

“What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Direct, to the point. Steel gray eyes stared you down across the table, mildly intimidating. You hadn’t noticed the color of them the night of the party, too mystified by his magic to capture the details. But sat across from him you could feel their weight, a raw force pressing against you, into you.

And not just his eyes. Namjoon was a force in all regards. Only standing next to him in the cafe line had you realized just how much he towered over you. Only sitting across from you now in a fitted, black sweater could you observe exactly how thickly muscled his body was. It also looked like he had cut his dark brown hair a little since that night, closer at the sides with the longer hair near the top pressed back away from his forehead. Somehow it all added to his intensity.

You took a sip of your drink and considered for a moment. “I want to know what it feels like. To hold light.”

He studied your face, thoughts racing behind his eyes. But he said nothing, only held up a hand between the two of you on the table. A simple sphere of light formed above his palm, silvery and hyper-reflective just like you remembered. You had seen light magic before, albeit from afar, the rare power present in two Summer Court heirs. And Namjoon’s was so different.

You reached out, winding your finger through a shimmering tendril. Of course, you felt nothing. You looked up at him expectantly, found his eyes already on you. So heavy.

“I don’t know that it feels any different than any other magic user,” he mumbled. “What does yours feel like?”

You held out your hands and called on the earth. A flower grew and bloomed between your fingers, a simple carnation. Loose, red petals floated gently to the table.

“Like breathing, but deep breathing. The most restorative breath.”

Namjoon’s nostrils flared again slightly. It was a habit you were getting used to with shifters, and Namjoon seemed especially sensitive to the scent your powers must have given off.

He stared at you for a long moment, then dropped his gaze between you.

“It feels like theft. I can’t create light. Only change it, concentrate it.”

He refused to meet your eyes again, focused on your flower. Your heart ached. Did he really think so poorly of his own gifts? Gifts that were so rare and coveted?

“I think, without someone to pull the light together, it’d be difficult for a lot of us to find our way. I’m sure your studies have made advancements in light magic that no one else could have. I’d love to hear more about your projects.”

Something flashed inside the sphere, so quickly you thought you might have imagined it. But Namjoon still wouldn’t look at you, his jaw set rigid.

You joined his silent gaze, turning your attention to your hands between you. The carnation started to seek out nourishment, leaning slowly toward Namjoon’s sphere of light. You could feel its greed through your fingertips and smiled with a pinprick of jealousy at its basking. You would have loved very much to do the same, to be surrounded by that glow and soak it in.

The light in Namjoon’s hand winked out. He lifted a wrist, checking his watch.

“I have to go.”

“Oh. Alright,” you said, not hiding your disappointment well. You’d barely spoken a few minutes, had none of your real curiosities answered. “Maybe another coffee some time?”

He did it again. Stared at you for a long moment, gray storm clouds raging. With a curt nod he was off, hurrying out the lounge door.

You didn’t receive any more texts.

Unfortunately, if Namjoon had been determined to keep his distance, he hadn’t bet on Yoongi and Seokjin becoming such fast friends. Only a couple of weeks later, Seokjin invited you both over one night. You worried over making Namjoon feel uncomfortable, but Seokjin assured you he wouldn’t be home until late. It worked fine with the three of you piled into the living room playing card games, joined later by a sweet fox-shifter named Jimin and a charming wolf-shifter named Taehyung.

Until Namjoon came knocking on the front door and you heard the deep baritone of his voice as he complained about misplacing his key. Seokjin, frowning a little, went about opening the strangely complicated set of locks on the front door. Once opened, you watched Namjoon pause in the doorway, nostrils flaring just a little. Watched his eyes snap in your direction.

The room went suffocatingly quiet for a heartbeat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and headed deeper into the house and up the stairs to what you assumed was his bedroom.

“Seokjin,” you hissed, but the handsome drake was back to all smiles.

“What? Come on, I was in the middle of proving my superior stratagem.”

“You were in the middle of losing,” Yoongi corrected and tapped a finger against the cards still spread across the coffee table.

As the biting winter morphed into fresh spring and Yoongi dragged you to Seokjin’s house almost nightly, there was no progress to speak of. You never talked, but caught more glimpses of Namjoon each time, whether he was returning from class or sneaking into the kitchen for something to eat. Occasionally, you would exchange a glance. But only silence continued, the text message log between you still dormant.

Tonight you were back in the living room. Yoongi had left a few minutes ago, heading up the stairs at Seokjin’s quiet request. You were left with Taehyung and Jimin, who were discussing what they wanted to do with the rest of their evening.

You looked up at a noise across the room, expecting to see Yoongi and Seokjin returning, but instead watched Namjoon descend the stairs. He headed to the far side of the living room and took up one of the comfortable, empty chairs. You watched him crack open a thick book, a language you weren’t familiar with stretched across the cover.

Taehyung gave a pensive glance in Namjoon’s direction, then stood, Jimin jumping up next to him.

“We’re going to head out to the forest preserves and take a shift run. Want to come?” Taehyung offered you.

It had been a while since you’d taken your deer form and the thought of running through the damp, fresh grass was tempting. But Namjoon was here and you weren’t sure if you’d have another opportunity like this one.

Your eyes flicked in his direction and, against your better judgment, you decided to poke just a little.

“How about you, Namjoon? Want to go for a run?”

Namjoon looked stricken, gaze hardening as his entire body tensed. Thankfully, Jimin chimed in on his roommate’s behalf.

“Namjoon’s wolf is…uhh…very dominant," he said, then raked a nervous hand through his orange-red hair. "He doesn’t like to shift in the open, especially if more prey types are around.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. Namjoon relaxed in his seat a little, but you still felt guilty for the suggestion. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows peaked in sympathy and he asked again if you wanted to come along. Good instincts told you that it would be the smarter option. But you still declined and the two left through the front door, sealing a vacuum of quiet around only you on the floor near the coffee table and Namjoon, leaning back into his chair, nose back in his book.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as the seconds of silence ticked by. You rarely saw him dressed as formal as he had on the night of the winter festival. Often he wore comfortable t-shirts and sweatpants, just like tonight. A black beanie hat crowned his head and forced his long, slightly curled, brown hair into tucked tufts behind his ears. Had it grown so much so quickly?

Shaking yourself from your observations, you focused instead on your mission. You reached into your bag next to you, pulling out your sketchbook and another book from behind it. You took a fortifying breath and stood.

“Namjoon?”

His eyes flicked up to you.

“Uh...I brought this for you.”

You took a couple of steps in his direction, but tried to stay a respectable distance outside of his bubble as you handed the book over.

“What’s this?” he asked and your heart leapt a little at the genuine curiosity in his voice.

“The current Summer Court royal line has had a few powerful light magic users in it. I figured, even with all the resources here at the Institute, a Feywild private library might have some rare information for you. But please return it to me or I’ll be in big trouble.”

He lowered the book in his hands, eyes flicking between your outstretched hand and your face. 

“Y/N.”

It was odd to hear him say your name after all this time. Heat slid up your throat and into your cheeks at the sound of it. He took it from you and turned the book over in his hands in what you hoped was interest, but you were too nervous to stay and wait for his reaction. You hurried back to your spot on the floor and flipped open your sketchbook, welcoming the distraction.

The house’s living room was dotted with several plants, and one in particular, set on a large-paned window ledge and reveling in every drop of sunlight, always called out to you whenever you came over. You had been meaning to draw it for weeks now.

Your eyes betrayed your resolve and you chanced a glance at Namjoon. He had set aside his original book, already a couple of pages into the one you’d brought and something glinting in his eyes you had never seen before: wonder. You smiled to yourself and switched focus back to the plant. It was enough.

All you had wanted since that brief moment in the cafe was for Namjoon to understand how special he really was. For him to see his light as you saw it: brilliant, beautiful, and inspiring. If this helped him at all, even if friendship between you could never come, it would be enough.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there putting pencil to paper, attempting to get the shading of the leaf points just right. It was tricky as the last ribbons of late afternoon sun were streaming through the glass behind it. You hadn’t even heard Namjoon leave his seat. But suddenly he was on the floor beside you, squatting on his heels and looking curiously at your sketchpad over your shoulder. He said nothing as usual, but it was a comforting kind of quiet.

“You’re drawing the maple plant?” he asked after several minutes. The proximity of his voice sent a tingle down the back of your neck. Had he ever been this close to you before?

You nodded. “It’s so happy. I’ve been thinking about drawing it every time I come over. It’s one of your plants, right?”

A short nod.

“They’re all very happy.”

A few empty beats passed.

“You should enter a contest or something,” he said quietly.

“Oh no,” you said, attacking your last few strokes with an eraser, suddenly self-conscious. “I'm not that good.”

Drawing wasn't really something you did out of talent, but more because it allowed you to find some peace and quiet. People didn't usually disturb artists at work and on the days when you couldn't handle one more question from a curious human about the Feywild, concentrating on drawing something had been a lifesaver.

His mouth set in a stiff frown. “My eyes and your mouth are in disagreement.”

You looked up towards the stand just below the television and snickered.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You pointed. “The little cactus over there made a dirty joke.”

He glanced at it then back at you, eyes curious.

“They really talk to you?”

You lowered your pencil and closed your eyes, listening. “It’s less like talking and more like…you know how when you’re close to someone you can sort of sense the changes in their mood without them saying anything? They sigh or stand a certain way and it’s a little bit like you can hear or feel their thoughts. It’s that kind of language.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been close enough to someone to notice.”

You opened your eyes then and turned to face him. There was space between your shoulders, but not much. You didn’t dare move.

“You talk to your plants,” you offered.

“They...they told you that?” he spluttered, cheeks going pink. But it wasn’t really anything to be embarrassed about; happy plants loved to talk. They also loved to gossip, which was why it was difficult to keep much away from someone like you, inappropriate humor or otherwise.

“They like it. Next time you should try to feel them. I bet you can understand their language a lot more than you think.”

The wonder eyes were on you again, delicate, shimmering black ringed in that smoky gray, lids spread, eyebrows raised. He wanted to know more, questions bubbling beneath the surface.

Then you watched his habit, watched the joy floating there, the spark of something promising wink out. Watched him slam down on his feelings so hard it made your bones ache. Why? You were dying to know why he did that.

“Thanks again, for the book,” he said, hurrying up off the floor.

“I hope you find something helpful for your research. I know it’s your last year and you pretty much know everything about everything, but maybe there’s a little something extra the fey have figured out.”

Namjoon didn’t respond. He grabbed both books from the chair and hurried away, taking the house’s stairs two at a time. The last bits of evening sun seemed to fade from the room in response.

By late spring, you had all become quite the group, spending nights either at Seokjin’s house or Yoongi’s apartments, although Namjoon never came to Yoongi’s. Weeks on, you still felt like you didn't have him figured out at all.

Most people reacted the same to his presence, usually hurrying to stay out of his way, avoiding those brooding, piercing eyes and his terse demeanor.

He’d leveled them on you more than once and your instincts had warned you to run away, to leave him to himself. But whenever you found your bravery and asked him about his studies and listened to him gush theories. When you’d commented more on the pretty plants he kept in the living room at the house and he’d shockingly invited you to his room to show you more. Those times, you had glimpsed the real man behind the heavy mask he carried everywhere. Withdrawn and private, but sweet if you took your time. Wide-eyed when excited and innocently joyful. Passionate about his interests and more than a little nerdy. Sometimes, just a little, he let himself slip and you could feel the understanding between you expanding. Then, in reaction, he would grow brusque and shut down on you again. You tried to learn his moods while giving him as much space as he needed. He had taken your hands after all, had agreed to a promising friendship. You wanted to make sure he knew you were willing to get there at whatever pace suited you both.

The night he gifted you a small plant, a propagated African violet, felt like a breakthrough.

“I know you can grow them from your hands, but I’ve been listening like you said and I had a feeling about this one.” He took an awkward pause while he pressed the small pot into your hands. “Do you like it?”

He asked the question with all the cautious hopefulness of a chef having his signature dish judged by the strictest critic. You closed your eyes and listened. She was dancing, singing. Happy to be alive. Namjoon had done that, had shared his light and his life and such patient care with this plant and she was overjoyed because of it.

It filled you with such a swell of emotions that you did something unthinkable. After carefully sitting down the plant next to you, you threw your arms around Namjoon’s shoulders, squeezing him into as tight a hug as you could muster.

You had never been this close. Had never sunk into the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt. Smelled the complex spice of him so strongly. Felt the thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

Maybe ages passed with your arms around him. Maybe seconds. You were about to pull away and figure out how to recover from such a blunder. Then you felt his arms close around you wordlessly, his hands pressing against your back.

“Is that a yes?” he asked in a tight whisper.

You laughed awkwardly and nodded.

"She's perfect."

As you leaned apart, the cactus on the tv stand made another rude joke and this time Namjoon must have sensed a little something, laughing along with you. You sat on the floor next to him for the rest of the night, Namjoon flipping through the book you had brought him. You listened to him theorize about all that he’d learned and helped when he asked your advice on footnotes written in old fey.

As he searched for a specific passage and your gaze drifted just over his shoulder, you caught sight of Yoongi and Seokjin standing near the foot of the stairs, watching over the two of you like curious, hawk-eyed parents.

— Namjoon —

“I don’t like that look. It says, ‘I forgot my key again.’ It’s hotter than a salamander’s taint out here, Namjoon, please.”

He groaned inwardly. Today was truly begging to be cursed, wasn’t it? Fat beads of sweat dotted your forehead, just like the ones that were irritatingly dripping down his back and making his t-shirt cling to his skin.

“I forgot my key again,” he said flatly. Your groan was much more vocal. He didn’t understand where he kept leaving the damn thing. He would slip it into his pocket and wouldn’t find it until days later, inside the kitchen cabinet next to a box of ramen.

“I guess we could go to Yoongi’s instead?” you offered, though your expression read irritated. There were plant pots and heavy observatory equipment lying on the ground between you both, all of which you had just carried to Namjoon’s house for some last minute preparation.

The two of you had been out since before sunrise, collecting last minute samples from the conservatory, marking specimens, and practicing for your presentation, which was only a few hours away. Having a few things at Namjoon’s would make things a lot easier. At least, it would if he could ever get into the place. Seokjin did have good reason to keep it locked up like a maximum-security prison though.

He glanced up at the sky, the anxiety that had been creeping up on him for weeks dragging his back muscles taut.

Visibility: 90%. Cloud cover: Minimal. Moon status: 99% waxing gibbous. Symptoms: Irritability. Paranoia. Strong urge to get away from you. Strong urge to get closer to you.

You smelled like rainwater and mid-morning sun and something so sweet it made him salivate. He’d already had a nightmare about you, about opening his jaws and clamping down on your shoulder, getting the full flavor of your taste in his mouth. He bit his tongue to stop the thoughts. How the fuck was he planning to make it through the night?

Namjoon shook his head, refocusing on solving the problem in front of him. No one answered at his third knock on the door. He glanced over at the side of the house and sighed.

“My window lock’s busted. I can climb up and get in.”  Namjoon had broken the lock a few weeks ago and Seokjin was having a hell of a time hiring someone to come repair it.

Relief flashed across your face, but then your shoulders tensed. Your eyes followed the side of the house’s two stories, up the trellis path and onto the stretch of roof that Namjoon’s bedroom window faced.

“Maybe it’d be better if you let me,” you offered. “You’re not the most graceful human I’ve ever met.”

Namjoon scoffed. “You tripped on your own clothes the first day we met.”

You shoved your shoulder against his arm and headed over to the side of the house. “Shut up and give me a boost, you big, grouchy meathead.”

He wanted to run at you. Tackle you to the ground and...and what? He took a deep, steadying breath, though it only let more of the scent of you fill his lungs. Just a few hours. He joined you at the wall and you both stared up, thinking over the best way to get you up there safely.

“Just give me a boost. I think I can pull myself up.” You gestured for him to get down so you could get onto his shoulders.

It was like reality slapped him only as he bent. Hot as it was out here, and humid as hell in the conservatory, you were only wearing shorts and a cropped t-shirt. And though Namjoon had gotten comfortable — too comfortable — in your presence, he’d never touched your skin like he was about to touch you now.

His eyes traced the creamy, light spots on your thighs dotting the cinnamon brown, skimmed the light patch at the base of your back. You had similar patterns in the same places in your deer form, but they came alive in your human form, coloring your skin like a delicate smattering of stars.

Namjoon turned his eyes back toward the house. He just had to get through tonight.

You kicked off your shoes and swung one leg over his shoulder, then the other, steadying yourself with your hands in his hair. He stood, trying to ignore the feeling of your body draped across his, pressed against his neck and the back of his head. You reached up and lifted a leg and he held his hands against your calves while you moved to stand on his shoulders.

Thankfully, you made it up onto the roof safely and slid open the window without resistance. A minute later he could hear the locks at the front door turning.

You managed to get all your supplies up to Namjoon’s room relatively unharmed. Until the last trip, where Namjoon let one of the specimens slip from his fingers and crash into the floor, his hands ineptness for delicacy hindering him yet again.

“Are you alright?” you asked for the millionth time today.

He hadn’t meant to, but he waved off your concern, leaving to get a broom to clean up the ruined plant. When he returned you had collected it into your hands.

“Sorry,” he had the sense to mumble.

"Hey, it's alright. This baby,” you said, peeking at the tag sticking out of the pile of dirt, “180912? It had a fussy attitude anyway."

He cleaned up the mess quickly and you helped him place the ruined specimen into a spare pot.

"It's probably best to leave it here. It’s too shocked to work well for the show.”

You placed it on his desk and guilt ballooned in Namjoon’s chest. You glanced at him, then put a gentle hand against his forearm, sending his senses racing.

"Really, I think it'll like the quiet here instead. Plus, it thinks you're super cute."

He blinked. "Oh?"

"Don't get cocky. 130613 has been flirting with me all morning."

Namjoon grimaced. "I may not have many friends, but I think I'll draw the line at dating plant life."

You giggled and leaned against his arm, admiring the plant in its new place on his desk. Against any will of his own, his arm looped itself over your shoulder. You took the cue and leaned comfortably into his chest and the world spun around him a little. Despite the late summer heat, your energy was toasty, like the coziest down blanket in the heart of winter. His own personal winter, melting away bit by bit in your presence.

"You have non-plant friends," you said.

"Yeah."

"Friends...you're thinking about dating?"

You weren’t looking at him, but Namjoon suddenly felt naked, overseen and raging hot. A knock sounded at the door.

“What time are you heading to the auditorium?”

Seokjin had been home the whole time? He glanced down at you. It meant he didn’t have to know what your legs felt like, your thighs. The heat of your body against the back of his neck. But now he did and he would never forget.

“I heard you climbing the roof, figured you lost your key again.” Seokjin swung open Namjoon’s door. He didn’t mean to, but Namjoon pulled his arm away from you, though he stopped short of placing it in front of you as if to shield you.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” Seokjin said in your direction with a wink. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed at Seokjin, at his damn bare-chested muscles and shining gold scales always on display. He had been around him for years, but his lack of clothing had never bothered Namjoon more than it did right now.

A low growl sounded in his throat before he could stop it. You glanced at Namjoon nervously and he forced himself to swallow a follow-up growl.

“Hey, hey, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t miss it,” Seokjin said in placation. “Listen, I just finished making lunch. Why don’t you both come down and eat something?”

You made an excited ‘Ooo’ and hurried past Seokjin, probably expecting Namjoon to be on your heels. But his focus fell on Seokjin’s polychromatic eyes, glinting with warning.

“You need to be back in this room by 8:18PM. Not a second later.”

Did he think Namjoon didn’t know, wasn’t aware of the risks if he was late? As if he hadn’t lived this life since he was a child? He bared his teeth in another growl, but Seokjin didn’t flinch, the hard line of his mouth unmoving.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea. I know you don’t want to let Y/N down, but it doesn’t seem like you can handle it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Namjoon snapped.

Seokjin regarded him with a long stare, then turned toward the hall to head back downstairs. “I hope you’re right. For everyone’s sake.”

Tonight would be the culmination of months of work between the two of you.

While you were still taking your general first year classes, your independent studies were more focused on plant-life growth, altering genetic predispositions of flora to make them less vulnerable to rapidly changing climates and more resilient to provide nutritive feedback to other localized flora. You longed for sustainability, to have them feed others safely, to have plant ecosystems be happy, harvestable, and easily replenished.

Namjoon’s light magic woven into a form of electromagnetic manipulation helped the plants to push their feedback further distances and support larger ecosystems to work together. It also helped with a rare form of expression, the reflective quality aiding the communication.

Tonight was a visual display of that combination, on show for your peers and professors. It was ambitious, but between both your minds and the guidance of the faculty, it was possible.

He had been trying to prepare himself ever since you told him the date of the presentation. Since he realized the full moon fell on the same night. He’d tried to think of a million ways to back out of it. Making excuses had been part of his life forever, bowing out of things without hesitation.

But he couldn’t tell you no. He was more afraid of the look of disappointment on your face than of losing control. That fear was the only thing helping him keep it together.

After lunch, you were both back in Namjoon’s room, taking a break before it was time to get ready. You sat on the floor, sketching the plants on his desk while he went over his calculations for the millionth time.

His eyes wandered to you, absorbed in your drawing, the low light from his table lamp casting the warmest, prettiest glow on you.

As he got to know you, it was this side of you he had been most surprised by. By all accounts, you were a campus darling, another social butterfly. But you really did prefer the quiet. You flourished in the noiseless stretches with him. The quiet talks. The hushed appreciation of what was in front of you.

You had spent so much time together working on this presentation. And not just working. In your free time you joined him on bike rides, on runs through the forest preserve, keeping your human form for his sake. On walks near the river, observing the little animals that populated the streams.

You were everything Namjoon didn't want in his world. Though you were a lesser fey, most students at the Institute were humans and shifters, fascinated by the Feywild they would never be allowed to enter. Every student that came across you treated you like a celebrity. Similar to Seokjin, you often drew a crowd. Except it was three times as bad with you. One, because you were kind to everyone. Two, because Namjoon wasn't immune to your kindness. And three, because he was starting to hate the idea of sharing you with anyone else. 

Usually he could pull away, could disappear and ignore people enough that eventually, all of them would leave him alone. It wasn't that he necessarily wanted to always be on his own. But for everyone's safety, he had always had to be.

But with you, he slipped. Again and again. All you had to do was smile at him, ask about his work in the observatory, ask after his bonsai tree, bring him snacks you must have seen him eating. Even just sit there quietly in your own world. And he slipped. Fell. Hard.

With Seokjin and Yoongi attached at the hip — Namjoon was half-convinced they were in a relationship but Seokjin's bedroom had always been a revolving door so he could never tell — it meant you were at the house so often.

It meant he got to know your scent, your laugh, the way you stared at him so intensely when he spoke, like every single word really mattered. The timid jumps you made when startled. The way you chewed the inside of your cheek when you were focused.

He had spent too many quiet evenings in the living room with you, when the others had gone out for parties and you had stayed behind, choosing to continue your conversation with him rather than step into the limelight.

He learned the way you curled into yourself when you nodded off, sometimes leaning against his arm. The way you smiled up at him when you woke up, apologized for getting into his personal space. When you let him walk you back to Yoongi’s in the middle of the night, moving a little closer to him each time.

That kind of trust snuck up on him, the understanding growing between you like climbing  ivy, strong enough to support a house. It was the last thing anyone should ever do. But now that he had a taste for it with you, it felt irreversible. Inescapable.

As his feelings expanded over the weeks, his appreciation morphing into admiration, friendship transforming into dangerous, deeper feelings, he didn’t want to push you anywhere. He had no real chance of anything with you anyway because of what he was beyond human, what no one else could ever be allowed to find out.

You had been kind to him from day one, even when he’d tried desperately to close himself off. That kindness, the soft of you; it was part of your alluring nature. Namjoon had spent so many years pushing people away for their own good. So why was he too selfish to do the same with you? 

You stretched your body across his floor and laid down flat, turning your head to the side to smile up at him sleepily like a sated cat.

You were magnificent. And Namjoon was in an exceptional amount of trouble.

— Y/N —

“No one has seen him. Seokjin took off earlier, so maybe they went home together.”

You chewed your lip, glancing behind Yoongi as though Namjoon would suddenly reappear. The presentation had gone so well, but now that people were gathered around asking questions about your research and its broader applications, Namjoon was nowhere to be found. This was meant to be his moment, for him to be proud of all the analysis and trials you had done together and show off the possibilities of his magic. 

You sighed up at the sky in frustration. A fat, full moon hung visible in the sky already, though the sun was only just setting. You wanted to take it as a sign that things would be alright, but your nerves refused to settle.

After fending off another curious professor, you moved to the rear of the auditorium and called Namjoon again, but there was still no answer. You wanted to be sympathetic. Being among all these people wasn’t exactly inside Namjoon’s comfort zone, even if it was for something so positive. But he understood more than most that it wasn’t in yours either. Still, you both deserved to be recognized. And more than anything, you just wanted him to be here with you. He had become someone constant in your life, someone you could rely on for anything. And more than that, you liked him. You really, really liked him.

He kept people at a distance in general, clamming up just as he got excited about something or coming up with excuses to leave places in a hurry. Every once in a while his attitude would turn a little surly or he might stop responding to your texts for a day or two. The first couple of times it happened, you worried that he was closing off again.

But things changed as the months grew warmer, frost melting from across the Institute grounds and simultaneously, around Namjoon’s demeanor. Once you peeled back the steely layers, he was mild and sweet, refreshing like summer fruit. Your own affection shifted as you grew closer. Though you didn’t know how to broach your feelings with him or if you ever wanted to if it meant he might pull away from you.

You blew out a sigh at the still unanswered call. Your irritation was starting to change into worry. He had been on edge all day, snappy, fidgeting, face a little pale. You thought it was from the anxiety, but what if something else was wrong? What if he was sick or hurt?

You stayed a little longer to field questions, but as soon as it seemed socially acceptable to take off you were shifting, galloping quickly toward Seokjin’s house. You just needed to know Namjoon was alright.

You shifted back to human as you approached, though it took you a second to shake off your trot. The light-footed canter of your doe form felt so natural sometimes, even on two legs.

You tried the front door, switching quickly from pressing the doorbell to banging on the knocker. No answer. You tried Namjoon’s phone one more time. No answer. At this point, you were sure he’d lost his phone, that it would turn up at the edge of the river in a week’s time.

So if he wasn’t here, where was he?

You looked up, the moon hanging like a silvery globe in the night sky, pinned among a backdrop of stars. Maybe he had gone somewhere else for privacy? Your mind ran over his favorite spots for when he wanted to get away from others. As you were about to go looking, you caught the glow of the lamp in Namjoon’s room at his window. The lamp he had definitely turned off before you’d both left and headed for the auditorium. Maybe he really was hiding in plain sight?

You just wanted to know he was alright. If he was sick or panicking or something, you just wanted to know.

You slowly climbed up the trellis, grateful that the arm workouts Namjoon had been bringing you along for were working. As you stepped onto the roof, you hoped Seokjin hadn’t found someone to repair the window since you’d left earlier. Thankfully, it opened as easily as it had the first time and you slipped inside.

The air felt wrong. Unease traveled up your spine before your feet even hit the carpet, the window clattering closed behind you making you jump.  The dim, pale, yellow glow of his desk lamp cast a tint more eerie than inviting tonight. Your friend was nowhere to be seen, only his unmade bed, a small mess of his clothes gathered at the foot, and an enormous, mahogany-colored, fur blanket heaped in front of the bedroom door.

The blanket opened a sharply narrowed eye. An ear larger than your hand flicked up in attention, tufts of beige uncovered as it moved. It rotated toward you, listening to your heart as it threatened to punch its way through your chest.

Then it began to growl.

You took a step back, then another, but what you now understood was some great beast was too quick. It pushed itself up onto colossal paws and lunged in your direction just as your back hit the window. Shaking, your hands grasped for the edge, hoping you could pull yourself out backwards.

But it was too late. The beast was on you in a fraction of a second, pinning you against the glass, another steaming growl rolling from fangs poised just next to your cheek.

You didn’t hear your scream until it was echoing in your ears. You slid down the wall, cowering from whatever had come charging toward you as it threatened to crush you beneath its paw. You were going to die. Some monster had invaded Namjoon’s room, possibly killed your friend, and now you were going to die to it too. Tears collected in your eyes, a strained whimper sounding from your throat.

Footsteps thudded in the hall outside of Namjoon’s room, a fist pounding at the door.

“Namjoon! Who’s in there with you?”

You couldn’t stop trembling. You were going to die. The creature towered over you, staring you down with menacing, hungry eyes, deciding on the best way to swallow you down whole. Haunting eyes boring into you, holding you frozen in terror.

Beautiful, gray eyes.

The voice at the other side of the door cut into your thoughts, even as you heard the locks start turning.

“N-Namjoon?”

It couldn’t be right. You had never seen him shift, but shifters became the same as animals. Wolves, foxes, cats. Not impossibly towering beasts. He was nearly brushing the ceiling, terrifying as he filled out so much of the bedroom.

The creature’s eyes widened a little at your voice, ears pinning back slightly.

“Namjoon? Is it...is it really you? It’s me, Y/N. Can you hear me?”

You reached up with shaking fingers and pressed them into his fur, dense and soft to the touch.

He made a few slow blinks and, as you stroked a little at his fur, he closed his eyes.

“Namjoon?” Seokjin’s anxious voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Namjoon’s eyes snapped open, head turning back at the door then again toward you.

An enormous paw pressed your body back against the wall beneath the window. You only managed to half-choke out a scream as his fangs closed in over your shoulder, the strap of your dress snapping as his teeth sank through to meet your skin.

He pulled away and whimpered, nuzzling the end of his muzzle against your cheek. Your shoulder ached, stinging so bad you had to be bleeding.

The bedroom door burst open behind Namjoon. Seokjin stood in the frame, flanked by Taehyung in his wolf form, sleek, black fur puffed as though standing on end. At Seokjin’s other side, Jimin sat up tall, bushy orange and white fox tail flicking out behind him.

Namjoon turned away from you to face them, making another deep, rumbling growl.

“Imue save you, girl. Listen, don’t run. Don’t struggle. You’ll only set him off.”

Crackling sparks of golden light circled Seokjin’s body. Namjoon turned around fully, blocking any path you might be able to walk as if to shield you from them. He hadn’t stopped growling since the door opened.

“Please stop!” you shouted as the scales on Seokjin’s bare torso began to glimmer. “I’m alright.”

“We heard you scream,” he said calmly, eyes focused on staring Namjoon down.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please don’t hurt him.”

You reached out a hand and stroked Namjoon’s flank, sinking your fingers into the fur and tugging him back in your direction. He stopped his growl and stepped backward toward you, but didn’t turn his back to Seokjin.

“I’m ok. It’s ok.” You said in what you hoped was a soothing voice even as your nerves made it a little shaky.

“Y/N, for your safety-“

“How long will he be like this?” you interrupted.

“Usually only one night, but that’s if he doesn’t get too much direct exposure to the full moon. He was outside at that event half the evening, half-transformed by the time he got here. So we’re not sure.”

“What…” you started to ask. Warning flickered in Seokjin’s eyes, but you had to know. “What is he?”

A bloated pause hung in the room.

“He’s a lycan,” Seokjin said, voice solemn. You didn’t know what it cost him to give you that information, but the wince in his cheek told you he didn’t share it lightly. “So we need to get you out of there. It’s a miracle he hasn’t killed you already.”

Namjoon turned his head slightly, one stormy silver-gray eye catching yours.

“Seokjin,” you started slowly. “If you try to take me out, one of us will get hurt, maybe all of us. He’s not being aggressive toward me. I can wait it out. Just go. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I can overpower him,” Seokjin insisted.

You found strength in your legs and stood slowly, walking along Namjoon’s body with your hands in his fur. You reached up and scratched his muzzle and he leaned into your touch.

“It’s alright, just go,” you whispered. Seokjin hesitated for another moment, but you watched the magic fade from around him. He turned and left the room, closing the door as Taehyung and Jimin headed back out beside him.

Once they were gone, you sank again to the floor, this time with your back pressed against Namjoon’s bed. He made a slow turn before curling his enormous form around you in a half circle, then settled his head heavily into your lap.

You winced at the bite he had pressed into your shoulder. You’d checked with your hand, but he hadn’t drawn blood. Managing to pull your bag from where it had fallen underneath the window, you tried to look at the bite with your phone. You couldn’t make out anything in the camera, no broken skin or marks. It had only left behind some strange tingle. 

You reached up and grabbed a pillow from his bed, slipping it behind you to help give your back some support and stay comfortable while Namjoon laid on you.

“So this is why you never shifted,” you murmured, more to yourself.

You wracked your brain, trying to remember the very little you knew about lycans. They didn’t exist, first of all, a story made up to scare kids from sneaking out at night. Well, that was out the window. Their affliction was supposedly caused by an infection in humans. It was probably why Jimin and Taehyung had shown up only in their shifted forms.

Which meant it couldn’t be transmitted to you.

You thought of a younger Namjoon, how much he must have suffered since he’d been infected, and your heart broke.

“You’ve had it tough, haven’t you? Dealing with a secret like this.”

He snorted, breath hitting you warm and sweet. He peeked open an eye, looking anxiously between you and the window you’d come through.

You placed your hand atop his head and gave him a gentle scratch.

“It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere, Joon.”

By morning, after dozing off in not exactly the most comfortable position, you awoke to your stomach growling fiercely and Namjoon still in his wolf form. The chestnut brown of his fur had the prettiest layers in it in the daylight.

“Hey,” you said quietly. You watched his ear flick up at the sound, but he didn’t look at you.

“Don’t be an ass. I know you can understand me.”

He snorted.

“I’m really hungry. Can I go get something to eat? I promise I’ll come back.”

After a few moments he lifted his head from your lap, standing to his full height and stretching back on his front legs as if shaking off the night. You stood, but kept your steps to the door slow.

When you opened it, he was right there with you. He didn’t intend to let you out of his sight. You paused in the doorway, reconsidering, then stepped back inside to send Seokjin a text instead.

Y/N: I want to come to the kitchen and get something to eat and I think he plans to come with me. Can you ask everyone to stay in their rooms?

Seokjin: I can bring you something.

Y/N:  I don’t want to aggravate him by having anyone come close again. I promise I’ll just grab something quick.

Seokjin: Alright, I’ll let you know when it’s safe.

Once you heard from Seokjin, you left the room, Namjoon’s enormous body next to you the entire way. It made squeezing through the house’s narrow hallway a little tricky, you pressed into his fur halfway down the stairs, but somehow you made it.

“You hungry?”

He grunted again through his snout.

You grabbed a couple of his favorites for him and hurried back up to his room.

After you ate and watched him swallow an entire bag of snacks whole, you settled back into your spot next to his bed. Namjoon curled up at your feet this time and you had the sudden urge to pull out your sketchbook.

He was terrifying in this form, a quality beyond your skill to capture, but undeniable. Even while he laid there resting, there was no doubt in your mind that if you made the wrong move he could tear your head right off. But, just like Namjoon in his human form, the terror felt more on the surface. He was also beautiful, the layers of color and light in his fur casting him in a natural glow.

You nodded off as the early morning sunlight shifted away from his window, somewhere between trying to get the shading of his ears just right and listening to his quiet hums and whines as he dozed and dreamt at your feet.

— Namjoon —

Vague memories collected in the space between Namjoon’s human form and the wolf as it finally released him.

His nose flooded with the intoxicating scent of you.

Eat . Hungry .

He heard you scream, saw your body shaking in front of him. The smell of your fear didn’t mix well with the rest of you. He didn’t want you afraid. Not afraid of him.

Eat . Claim .

So soft, so pretty, so sweet.

“Namjoon? Who’s in there with you?”

Claim , claim . Mine . Want .

“It’s me, Y/N. Can you hear me?”

Want .

He heard the locks on the door turning, felt the press of Seokjin’s magic mounting. They would take you. They would come and take you from him.

Claim .

You cried out again, but he had to do it. He had to protect you. The door sprang open behind him and he turned to shield you, keep them away from you. They would try to take you.

Mine. Only mine .

They would die first.

Namjoon sat up, lifting his head from the floor in front of you. You had fallen asleep with your sketchbook in your lap, leaning back against the side of his bed in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

His senses were still at their highest and the scent of you this close was almost overpowering. You smelled like sweet spring, like the earth at its most vibrant and alive.

And something more. Something calling him to you even as the understanding of what you now knew sank painfully into his chest. But you were still here.

I’m not going anywhere, Joon.

Panicked, he hurriedly undid the locks and ran from the room.

Seokjin was already standing in the hallway, staring him down, gaze stony. Yoongi’s blond head poked out of Seokjin’s door, a penetrating, gold eye leveled in Namjoon’s direction.

“Please tell me the girl is still alive,” Seokjin said quietly.

Namjoon nodded slowly, more memories flooding back. Seokjin had been ready to stop him, to use his dragon form and kill him if necessary. And Namjoon had been ready to fight if it meant keeping hold of you. He felt like he might be sick all over the hall.

“Do I need to let someone know that she knows?”

“No,” Namjoon said with a pensive glance back toward his bedroom door. “Not yet anyway. Let me talk to her.”

Yoongi let out an irritated huff. “If you hurt my friend, wolf, I swear on the go-”

Seokjin whirled and cut off Yoongi’s impending tirade with a soft kiss. He pushed Yoongi back through the bedroom’s threshold and kicked the door closed behind them.

Namjoon went to shower, hoping to gather his thoughts in the steam before facing you. There was no going back now. You knew his secret. Even if you didn’t tell the Institute, there was no way you’d want to see him again.

He stood outside the door to his bedroom, grasping at scraps of courage that wouldn’t pull together. He reached for that skill he’d honed for so long, the power that would push you out of him, cut you off like a bad limb and let him move on alone.

But you were in too deep, coursing through his veins and granting rare peace inside his heart. Losing you would destroy him, tear him apart from his core, and let the first true light he’d felt in years fade out like a black dwarf. His vision went blurry, tears started to well. He took one long sniff to force them back and pushed through the door.

— Y/N —

A gentle clicking sound shook you awake. You blinked away your restless sleep and turned to the source. Namjoon had closed the door behind him, returning to the room in his human form wearing only a pair of black shorts, a white towel wrapped around his bare shoulders, brown hair still damp.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shook your head and stretched out, sliding up off the floor to sit on the edge of Namjoon’s bed instead. He ran the towel through his hair again and tossed it onto the back of his desk chair.

“Yoongi’s here if you’re ready to go home,” he said quietly, eyes moving everywhere around the room except to you. “I’m sure the adrenaline has your body completely stressed out.”

You let a few seconds of awkward silence pass, unsure where to start.

‘Nam-”

“Y/N-”

You laughed nervously.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded. Namjoon finally looked at you, eyes holding onto something heavy. He crossed the length of the room and sat down on the bed next to you, shoulders sagging with guilt.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You frowned. “You should be. Everyone wanted to hear all about lumenical resonance last night and I can’t make it sound half as cool as you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Joon. What do you have to be sorry for? Something you have no control over?”

“For putting your life in danger. For not being able to tell you the truth about me. If you were human, I’d have infected you. Or worse, I could have...could have killed you.”

“You didn’t though. And you don’t have to apologize for the rest. I know why you can’t tell anyone. I’m the one who snuck into your room without permission just because I couldn’t take the hint to leave you alone.”

You raised your fingers to your shoulder, grazing the still tingling spot where he’d bitten you. Namjoon’s eyes fell to the movement, to the broken strap of your dress where he had bitten you. His eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no.”

“What? Can you see something? I can’t see it, I can just feel it.”

“It’s a-” He swallowed, looking horrified. “-a mating mark.”

“A mating mark,” you repeated, stunned.

“It’ll leave you with my scent, which shifters will definitely pick up. But it’ll fade within the month.” Namjoon chewed at his lip. “I didn’t even know it was possible to mate mark a fey.”

You pressed your fingers against the spot again, new meaning expanding at the back of your mind. “I’m a lesser fey. If we’re in tune enough with our animal side…it must be possible.”

He hung his head in embarrassed shame, mumbling his apology over and over. You leaned in his direction, pressing your forehead against his temple. This man had spent his life in hiding, hating everything that made him who he was. Feeling like a monster. When he was everything but. And if he’d felt strongly enough about you to mark you, then it meant...

“Can you do it again?”

“Huh?”

“If I decide I want that in the future…you can do it again?”

“I guess my wolf can, but I don’t understand-“

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, pathing from the spot where the prettiest dimple appeared when he smiled to the edge of his lovely, plump lips. You were trembling again, but it was the good kind this time.

Namjoon took the last leap, sliding his lips against yours and setting your mouth as his new home base. It was eager and a little clumsy. But it was you and Namjoon entirely, finding your own sweet rhythm together.

He pulled away first, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Rosy color dusted his cheeks, wheels turning as he held your gaze.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months,” he said, deep voice scratching, aching. You leaned in and pressed another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I...I couldn’t.” He straightened his back, leaning away from you. “I can’t. You know now. The real me.” He swallowed. “I can’t.”

You reached down to his lap and slid your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. “Joon, I know you fear that side of you. But infection or not, you don’t have to live in fear of yourself. Your wolf understands you. Maybe that’s why he marked me. Sometimes our animal side knows us best.”

“It was on instinct, Y/N. That part of me has a will of its own.”

You leaned closer to him, barely a breath separating your lips from his. “And the Namjoon part of you? What does his instinct say?”

Namjoon’s lips crashed into yours, powerful hands sliding around your waist and pulling you over to straddle his lap, to lean against his chest. You sank into the decadent taste of him, searching fingers sliding into his thick, damp hair as he told you everything you needed to know with his lips.

In time, his kisses grew bolder, needier, the rhythm between you pounding faster in your chest. Hands drifted down your back to where your dress had ruched at the tops of your thighs. Fingers roamed against your skin, up your legs and thighs leaving heated trails behind.

You lifted up onto your knees and Namjoon took your invitation, hooking the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your head. His gaze traveled across your body as you resettled into his lap and the longing suspended in that gaze sent a fiery blaze curling through you.

“Beautiful. You’re so damn beautiful, Y/N.”

His lips came back to yours, pathed down your chin, along your neck, down to your breasts cupped in your bra. You felt him between your legs, the hardness in his shorts pressing up against you. He exhaled noisily into your mouth when you rolled your hips, grinding your sex against him.

You followed his lead, running your hands across his still slightly damp skin, over his muscled chest, and thick, strong arms. How dare he call you beautiful when he shone like this, peachy skin glimmering underneath with his own beautiful light.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, eyes half-lidded and drinking in the sight of you under his hands, of your hands exploring his body.

“What a fool I’ve been. I could’ve been kissing you like this for so long.”

His smile turned shy. “Two fools. Both with a lot of time to make up for.”

His hands were at your back, pressing you forward into him, lips capturing yours in another indulgent kiss. You buried yourself in the gorgeous smell of him, sunlight warming fields of wildflowers, and reveled in the warmth of his bare skin against your own. The taste of his tongue against yours was sweet and heady, leaving you a little dizzy.

His fingers were at your bra, slipping a few times before he finally got it to unhook. He pulled away, expression checking your face, making sure you wanted to continue this far. You slid the straps from your arms and let it fall to the floor.

Namjoon rolled both of you sideways, laying you down gently onto the bed underneath him. His lips found their way back to yours, the swell of your breasts pressing into his bare chest and you moaned into his mouth at the close contact. It should always be like this between you, no space, only skin to skin connecting you, pressing you into one .

He left your lips, moving down to kiss your bare chest, stopping at each sensitive nipple to kiss and lick. He circled each tenderly and you couldn’t hold back your moans, arching into the feel of him.

Then he was trailing down your stomach, stopping to press gentle kisses to the light spots along your sides, your thighs. You lifted your hips as his hands reached your panties and let him slip them off your body and down your legs, leaving you bare beneath him.

“You’re so pretty everywhere.”

You had never felt so vulnerable, so seen. Namjoon was lying between your legs in admiration, appreciating your bare wetness like a fine work of art. You fought the urge to close your legs under his stare.

He planted kisses along your thighs and you sucked in a breath when he finally licked a long, slow stripe at your heat. Namjoon growled at that, at the taste of you. Whined. Your back arched in response.

He worked slow, testing patterns of his tongue between your legs, lips grazing your clit. His tongue took its time to learn you, agonizing licks against your sensitive pearl until you were squirming underneath him, your hands buried in his hair, lips begging for more, for the teasing to end.

He sped his tongue in time with your ascent, responding to your keening, recognizing when you could handle more. His fingertip grazed your entrance and you bucked your hips in response, dying to feel the press of them inside you. He spent a few moments, mapping teasing circles with his finger just at the edge of your wetness and driving you near madness.

“Please,” you managed to breathe out and finally, he obliged and slid one thick finger inside you, curling it into you slowly to match the soft licks of his tongue.

It was over for you quickly once he found his speed, the heat between your legs unraveling, mewling cries of his name floating from your lips as you came. 

As your orgasm subsided you looked down at him, still watching you between your legs, smiling up at you sheepishly. "Was that alright?"

You slid a hand under his chin, guiding him up your body. He stared at you in wide-eyed wonder and you pressed a soft kiss to his wet lips, still slick with you.

“So good,” you breathed into his mouth.

You reached down and slid your hand into his shorts, giving the enormous length of him a satisfying pump. More satisfying as he pulled away from your lips at the touch, leaning forward to moan into your neck.

"I have to feel you inside me,” you said, your own voice raspy with want. “Now."

Namjoon’s breath grazed your neck, mouth panting at your strokes against him. He swallowed audibly and pulled back, nudging his face against yours to catch your eyes. His gaze was soft on you, hesitant.

“I want to be honest, Y/N. I’ve never…”

You stopped your hand for a moment, feeling dense for not thinking of it sooner. Of course he hadn’t. When had Namjoon ever let anyone close enough for this kind of intimacy? He hadn’t been teasing between your legs. He was learning, taking the time to understand what your body wanted, what he was capable of. Your heart swelled, wholly charmed by his efforts. You kissed his lips again, then again, appreciating him more with every touch, every kiss he eagerly returned. With effort, you forced yourself to stop and leaned your cheek against his.

“Do you want to?”

He nudged your face, lips seeking yours out in another soft kiss, the kind that sent gentle butterflies fluttering through your chest. “…Yeah,” he answered in a whisper.

Your fingers found him again and he moaned against your lips at the stroke of your hand.

“I don’t suppose you have a…?”

Namjoon’s back snapped straight, body leaning away from you. Embarrassment flooded his cheeks and he shook his head. He looked at you longingly then slid off the bed.

“Just…wait, hang on.” He hurried out of the room and you heard quiet voices in the hall. Seconds later and he was back, the blush in his cheeks now spreading down his neck. In his hands he held onto a stack of condoms, little gold foil packets with ‘XL’ emblazoned in huge text.

He closed the door behind him, but paused as his eyes fell on you, clumsy hands almost dropping his bounty. You looked away shyly from his gaze, moving your arms to cover your body. But Namjoon was having none of it, hurrying over to the bed and pressing another kiss to your lips.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N. Please. Please don’t ever hide from me.”

He kicked off his shorts and threw the rest of the condoms to the floor save for one, ripping open the pack with his teeth. But in his eagerness he bit through the condom itself, flaps of unsalvageable latex hanging between his fingers. He was still too full of his wolf to be delicate, full of that ferocity he feared so much.

You took the next one from between his fingers and opened it for him, staring up into his eyes as you rolled the condom down his cock.

“I want you so bad,” he growled, gaze locked onto yours.

You leaned up and kissed him, licked into his mouth and swallowed his needy groan.

“Please take me then, Joon.”

He leaned his body over yours, seeking out your lips again and positioning his hips between your legs. You reached down to help guide him and, slowly, Namjoon slid home, dipping inside your wetness without much resistance and filling you up in the best way.

“Namjoon,” you whimpered as he slid out and back into you again. He was big though and you held a hand to his chest to slow him down. Without a word he read your message, slowing down his eagerness for you, shallowing his thrusts until you adjusted.

He kissed you again, again, and again. Plunged into you deep, again and again.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Your moans were enough to echo his words.

“Is it ok?” he panted, breath hot against your cheek. You wrapped your arms around him, leaning up into him, giving his lower lip a soft bite.

“So good. So good, Namjoon, please.”

“I’m...Y/N, I’m…shit-”

You captured his lips, swallowing his warnings with what you hoped was clear permission. His hips rocked into you with a few more dizzying thrusts until he broke away from your mouth, moaning into your neck, shuddering as his orgasm rippled through his body against you.

He relaxed into you as he came down, breathing slowly beside your ear. Only there was something confusing between your thighs.

“Joon?”

“Mm?”

“You’re still…hard?”

He pressed his hips forward into you again at the same time his mouth connected with your neck where he had marked you, teeth sinking into your skin enough to make you hiss.

“Want you more,” he said in the most feral tone you’d ever heard. There was some blend still there, the man who wanted you, the creature who had marked you.

He bit down into you again, hips sliding forward burying himself deep inside your wetness. You only found just enough sense to speak.

“The…condom…”

It took a moment of you pressing a hand to his chest for him to realize. He slid out and you helped him replace the full condom with the new one. With the way it sagged with his seed, it was clear he had definitely climaxed. But his thick, pretty pink cock was also definitely still rock hard and Namjoon wasn’t giving you a chance to think about why.

“Want you to cum,” he mumbled, hands roaming your body. They settled on your hips and with a squeak he had you flipped over onto your stomach.

He plunged into you from behind, sinking in to the hilt and your body curved up and into him, pressing your back against his chest. Whatever delicacy he’d had before was gone, hands roughly gripping your hips, teeth nipping at the skin of your neck.

You couldn’t form words, thoughts. Only feel Namjoon inside you, against your back, the feel of his hips as he pressed roughly against your thighs, over and over. His ferocity had taken over, but it didn’t feel so terrifying. Instead, in his hands, it felt exciting.

“Fuck,” he breathed out weakly.

“Namjoon, you can. It’s alright.”

“Not without you,” he said, voice husky, grinding like uneven stones.

He slid one hand from your hip to your breast, cupping the soft flesh roughly. His other hand found its way between your legs, circling your clit in fevered strokes that raced you toward your edge. Your body was an instrument and Namjoon stroked you like an expert player.

You pressed back into him, the new angle driving him in deeper, dragging against the perfect spot, your sanity unraveling with each thrust.

“Fuck. Yes, Namjoon, there. Oh, fuck.”

He growled in your ear, lips, teeth on your neck, lewd, wet sounds echoing through the room as he pounded into you over and over.

It was a crash landing for you both, the tripping roll of his half-growl, half-moans colliding with the stars sparking in your eyes as your orgasm crested and recrested and refused to let go.

Sweating and spent, you collapsed into the sheets, Namjoon falling next to you, lips swollen, chest heaving.

Once he’d rolled off the condom and tossed it away, you curled into his chest, his arms wrapping you up tightly against him. You both laid there in that comfortable quiet that meant something so different now than it did the day before.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asked into your hair, deep voice weighted in the vulnerability of his thoughts. “Now that you know the truth.”

You could only imagine what was going through his head. Lust sated, reality had to come. Once a month he became a threat, aggressive and dangerous to anyone who came in his vicinity. It was why he’d always spent the day of the full moon locked in his room, letting nothing tempt the wolf to act. And now you’d come tumbling through his window and tested that danger.

“You’re a lot of things, Kim Namjoon. Scary isn’t one of them. Your affliction is a part of what you are. But it's not who you are. Only you get to decide that. And I love who you are, and I'll love whoever you grow to become.” You shuddered as the words came out, as you realized the depth of your own feelings for the first time. “Because I love you."

Namjoon’s body made its own tremor against yours. He pulled you closer in his arms, lips grazing your temple. “I love you too.”

You relaxed into his arms, stroking your fingers absently along his hand, letting your confessions wrap around you both and solidify in the connection you’d carved out between you. However, after a few minutes of basking in it, you couldn’t ignore your earlier question any longer.

“Please explain to me how you’re still hard.”

You hadn’t wanted to ruin the tender moment but his erection was still very much present, and currently pressing against your ass.

“Would you believe me if I said it’s a lycan thing?”

Your eyes flicked to his desk, giggle escaping from your lips even as you tried to hold it back.

“What?” he asked, following your gaze. “The plants? Are they already gossiping?”

You turned in his arms to face him, smiling, shook your head.

“They’re just happy. Because you are.”

You spent the rest of the day in his bed, kissing, cuddling, fucking, scratching, biting, riding, living with his mouth on yours, his cock inside you. By evening, you had gone through most of the handful of condoms Seokjin had given him.

The moon was already up by the time he left to get food for you both. When he came back you were curled up in his bed with your sketchbook, adding bits of your memory to what you had started of Namjoon’s werewolf form. He sat the food down at his desk and slid into the bed next to you, peeking down at your work. Then he choked out a surprised cough.

“Is that...me?”

You nodded.

He screwed his lips into a disapproving frown. “Weird. You make it look as if I’m beautiful.”

You laid down the drawing, sliding across the bed and into his arms and pressing a feather-light kiss against his lips.

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

— Namjoon —

“Just let the mirrors do most of the work for you.”

Jungkook nodded, expression crossed somewhere between patience and awe. Namjoon knew he had explained how the light display worked plenty of times and, even though the boy was only coming into his first year at the Institute, he already had a natural grasp on using his light magic. He had arrived just in time for the end of year festival and, upon meeting Namjoon as the only other light magic user in attendance, quickly volunteered to handle the light display and let Namjoon join the festivities considering it was the night of his graduation.

“There you are.”

Magnetized, Namjoon turned at the beautiful sound of your voice. You stood near the balcony entrance, a white camellia tucked into your hair just above your ear, the contrast against the radiant umber of your skin making you look every bit the gleaming goddess as you had when he’d met you a year ago. You lifted the iridescent gray of your fur-lined, winter dress, the fabric billowing about your legs as you walked to where he stood.

“Come on. You promised you’d spend at least two minutes not hiding up here tonight.”

You waved your fingers, another camellia springing to life in your palm, the rush of your magic coursing through him. You reached out a gloved hand and tucked the flower into the lapel of his coat. Smiling at your handiwork, you looked up at him expectantly, knocking Namjoon from his musing adoration of all that was you. He slipped his fingers between yours, holding you steady as you both descended to the ground floor of the building and out into the decorated courtyard.

Seokjin and Yoongi stood near one of the warming hubs, steaming beers in hand. Taehyung and Jimin were both on stage, voices filling the speakers with beautiful harmonies.

“He walks among us,” Yoongi joked as you both approached. Seokjin, too, was all cheerful smiles as the pair of you approached, bringing your own heated drinks along with you.

Though he was now technically a graduate of the Institute, Namjoon had chosen to stay on campus as a lab coach and research assistant in the very small lumenical field. That the staff had even offered him the opportunity had given him more faith in light magic than he’d felt all his life. And that it meant he would be close by while you worked on your own studies was a very appreciated perk.

The mating mark had long since faded, but the relationship between you had only grown. You had helped him in ways he never knew he needed, accepting the dark and rejoicing in his light. And in return he always offered you the quiet place you needed to recharge, which sometimes meant exploring the city together and sometimes spending the entire day in bed.

He watched you greet another new student that hailed from the Feywild, offering your hands out in friendship as you had done with him before returning to his side and retaking your drink.

“You know, you never told me what would’ve happened if I’d taken your hands from the top?”

“Oh, then I would’ve had to kill you,” you answered, then casually took a sip from your mug.

Namjoon swallowed, wondering what might have happened if he’d taken that wrong step. But your expression was mischievous and you nudged his arm with your elbow.

“I'm kidding. It just would’ve been rude.”

As the night wore on he found his eyes drifting up to the sky.

Visibility: 40%. Cloud cover: Overcast.

His gaze dropped at the sound of you laughing over something Yoongi had said, your giggle sparkling in his ears.

Moon status: 32%...no. 42% waxing...no…

Your eyes shifted to him, curious for a moment before you left Yoongi’s side and came to stand next to him. 

Symptoms: …

You leaned up on your toes and kissed him, a soft, innocent peck at his lips. Somehow you could always read his silent language, always knew when he was worrying and gave him a reminder that you were there with him. That you weren’t going anywhere.

He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest and pressing a kiss against your temple, another to your cheek. You cuddled against him and, even though it happened every time he held you, his heart still did an elated flip inside his chest.

Day or night, you brought each of your stars along. With you at his side, Namjoon knew he would never spend another day in the shadows. You were the star that fell into his life when it seemed at its darkest and finally made light feel whole again.