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Fists and a Smart mouth

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader

Summary: When a rich cowboy moves into town you can't stand him, more so when he attempts to make some drastic changes but with a secret of your own he soon finds out that you'll protect your town and your privacy by any means necessary.

Genre: Idiots to lovers / Enemies to lovers / Angst / Smut / Wild west au / Cowboy au / One shot

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Abusive ex / Mentions of stabbing (not detailed description) / Guns / Talk of scars / Shooting (not described) / Oral (f receiving) / Sex / Minor character death

Word count: 8100

Project: Bts writers collective secret santa 2020

A/N: This is for my Secret Santa @joontopia I was not planning it to be anything like this but it took on a mind of it’s own as I wrote, so my apologies. It’s not the fluffiest thing I’ve written but I really, really hope you enjoy this. If you have an issue with any of the warnings, message me and I will try and edit it for you. It was really lovely getting to know you through asks and trolling your page for clues and info about yourself. Enjoy ❤

Thank you to @moccahobi for beta reading this and @birbdae also, your comments helped me a lot, it’s much appreciated. And thank you to @wheresmymoniat for being a general angel and reading along the way, with your endless encouragement when I’m unsure of my writing.

Two months since Namjoon moved to town.

"Have you heard?" one of your usual patrons, Hoseok, asked, leaning discreetly across the bar.

You look over with a questioning eyebrow. "Heard what?" you reply, half listening and half keeping an eye on Taehyung over on the piano. After one too many beers, you wanted to make sure he wasn't about to put a fist through the keys, with his wild playing; giving the room a personal concert.

"Namjoon's planning on building a mall." he whispers, glancing around suspiciously.

The empty glass you're drying slams against the counter as you turn and face him.

"How do you know this?" you ask, voice low and uneven with anger.

"I heard him talking to Seokjin about it, he wants his help with planning."

Seokjin, the local and resident builder, he's also the best builder in the state. You knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want to help with something like that. He wouldn't want to change this town...but maybe for the right price? We all know Namjoon has money, the way he flashes it around like a Hollywood star meant it was not a secret and he didn't want it to be. Even so, you highly doubt Seokjin would accept such an offer.

Doubt starts creeping in, an ugly voice whispering in the back of your mind.

"Hey, Jimin! Can you take over for me?" you call over to him.

He nods, joining you behind the bar instantly, as you grab your brown fringe-jacket and head out to Seokjin's ranch. You had to know if there was substance to this and not just rumours whispered between the townsfolk.

As your truck raced along the dirt roads, the sound of the roaring engine doing nothing to calm your mind, with flashing images, slicing their way behind your eyes like projector slides. Big corporate buildings, a shopping mall, more city folk, modernisation...not that you were against it. You just didn't want it here. That's what drew you to this place in the beginning a few years ago, that's why you stayed and built a life for yourself, that's why a lot of people stay here, for the vintage, small town life.

You fling your door open before your truck had even come to a stop and you waltzed straight up to Seokjin's front door. Your knuckles making loud contact as they rapped furiously against it.

He opens it with a frown, his face softening when he sees it's you but quickly his expression turns weary from the tense expression you hold.

"What's-"

"Are you helping Namjoon build a mall?" you demand, in no mood to be messed around.

His jaw tenses and he nods for you to come inside.

Storming into his living room too infuriated to sit, you stand and face him, arms folded, waiting for his response and dreading his answer.

"He did approach me about it but I said no. Did you really think I'd say anything but?" He shook his head at you, disappointment obvious on his face and immediate guilt rising inside you in response.

Your shoulders relax as you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding. "I had to check before I assumed anything."

You slump down on the sofa, leaning your head back and staring up at his slacked ceiling. "Why is he doing this?"

He lets out a laugh as he joins you on the couch. "Now, you know the answer to that. Money. It's all he cares about. He saw an opportunity for something and he's taking it. End of."

You rub your eyes, trying to ease the tension created from your anger pounding inside your head, desperate to escape like some caged, wild animal. "If I went to see him with my gun, do you think it would change his mind?"

He laughs again. "I don't think he'd change his mind even if you shot him, sweetheart." A groan rumbles inside you, the idea of him being so stubborn, makes your fist want to connect with his jaw. "That's not deterring me from doing it."

"If he's going to do it, there's not much we can do." he shrugs and puts his feet up on his wooden coffee table, the wood dipping slightly on impact.

Fury lights your insides anew. You stand, striding across the room, "Like hell there isn't." you say, as you storm out and head off ready for a confrontation with the person you hate the most in this entire town.

You expect your wrath to have died down somewhat on your ride over but, to your pleasant surprise, it hasn't.

You come to a halt outside his ranch, looking over his land and the new building he spent ages preparing to become a hotel...an empty one at that.

After hammering on his door so hard the hinges rattled, he strangely and calmly invites you inside his house.

"You really should see someone about your anger issues. It's not healthy for one person to harbour so much...rage." he says, in such a condescending manner you clench your jaw to stop yourself from lashing out. You'd only be proving him right.

Something about him got to you, you two have clashed since the moment he arrived in this town, and he knew exactly how to play it too.

"The only issue I have, Namjoon, is you."

He sighs. "I would very much like you on board with this. I don't want to have you fighting the inevitable."

"The inevitable." you gasp with angered amusement, "as long as I'm living in this town, this is anything but inevitable."

"Why do you hate this idea so much?" he asks perplexed, with simultaneous interest and bemusement.

"Someone like you would not understand." You fold your arms in an attempt to hold in the pointless angry words you feel boiling inside.

He shrugs. "I would like to try. Humour me."

You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of the anger, tired of being so closed off but you had no choice but to be exactly that. "Some people have come here to enjoy the small town life." you reply simply, not having the trust in him or yourself to say more.

"And maybe some people have come here to escape something?"

You freeze, heart stopping before pounding so violently against your ribcage, you're sure it's echo fills the room.

He watches you carefully, searching your eyes and all you can do is stare back.

"You know, I did some research after our first encounter…"

You swallow, trying to ease the choking sensation in your throat.

"...I'm usually good at finding any useful information about people…"

He walks slowly around his kitchen island to you. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, your feet frozen to the spot but wanting to run, fighting for you to run.

"...But you...I couldn't find a single thing about you."

Your eyes connect with his as he towers above you, searching for your own answers, needing to find out what he knows.

"Don't you find that odd?" he asks.

Your mind races inside your frozen stature. You could not tell a man like Namjoon anything. You could not trust him. He will ruin this life you've made and turn it upside down.

"Well, I found it very odd. It's like you don't even exist...so that got me intrigued and asking some questions."

Your stomach drops as small beads of sweat break out across your forehead, the sudden heat under your flannel shirt almost unbearable.

"And do you know what I found out?" he taps his chin, drawing out the tension purposefully and making you want to headbutt the smug look off his face.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No one knows a personal thing about you."

The relief you feel inside makes you want to collapse to your knees and thank gods you don’t believe in.

"That is, if they're being honest. I know you like to protect your own in communities like this. But it definitely has me wondering…?"

He waits for a response this time.

"What?" your voice comes out a raspy whisper, his words leaving the taste of ash in your dry mouth.

"What are you hiding?"

You steel yourself, remembering just how pathetic of a man he is and let's face it, you've dealt with much scarier things than him. "Even if I was hiding something, I'd certainly never tell the likes of you."

You turn and head towards his door, when you hear his voice again.

"I'm not stupid enough to believe we'll be friends, you know but I would like us to at least be civil."

You let out a bitter laugh. "You can keep dreaming, pretty boy." You storm out, slamming his door hard enough for the glass to rattle in it’s wooden frame.

Three and a half months since Namjoon moved to town.

He's wasted, completely inebriated. You watch from behind the bar, getting ready to close, as he fumbles for the keys to his truck.

He came quietly into the bar this afternoon, face like thunder, ordering drink, after drink, after drink, no other words spoken. Most unusual for the chatty Kathy he is.

You've never seen him so drunk - so vulnerable. You wonder if perhaps something has happened. But, honestly, do you really care?

The keys slam to the floor and he goes head first into the driver's side door as he bends to retrieve them, face down in the dirt.

You shouldn't let him drive home. Definitely not.

Quickly shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your keys, locking the bar doors behind you as you rush over to him.

"Hey, big guy, come on, let's get you up." you throw his arm around your shoulders and use all your strength to get him on his feet and on balance.

"I don't...need...your help." he mumbles, leaning into you, almost ready to pass out.

You open his truck door and shove him in, sliding him over as you climb in beside him. He doesn't notice as you pry the keys from his weak grip and start the engine.

Driving to his ranch would be a mistake; the pretentious layout of it would mean you would have to walk him much further than you think you actually could. Not without dropping him a few times, although that's not a bad idea.

You sigh as you drive down the winding dirt road that led to your land. The idea of having this man in your house would usually have infuriated you. But after seeing the sadness that clouded his eyes this morning you...felt for him.

You once told him he must have a miserable existence, being surrounded by money and not love. You wince at the memory. You were no different, except you weren't surrounded by either, how miserable does that make you?

As you pull up to your ranch, you look over to him, passed out, face squashed against the glass of the window. You wonder what secrets he must have, what sadness he's known, what dreams he’s had. How does someone get to be the way he is?

There are surely a few people who would ask that very question about you. Only, you had a reason...have a reason. One you will never be free from. You push the thoughts away, back down into the pit they're buried into. No time to dwell in self pity. You're in this position through no fault but you're own, you bought it on yourself and now you have to live with those choices.

You practically carry him the few steps to the front door and over to the sofa. He stumbles and almost trips over your rug but you hoist him up, almost injuring yourself in the process. You practically throw him onto the couch, where he tries to hold himself up but fails and collapses into the pillow you shove under him.

"I wish…" he starts, slurring every word. "I wish I was more like you."

"No, you don't." You reply into the thick silence that envelopes you in a inescapable cage.

His eyelids close and immediately a roar of snoring fills the room, vibrating not only your eardrums but you're sure the walls too.

You lift his legs and lay them flush with his body, his limbs are so long they hang off over the armrest.

Taking one last look at him and wondering exactly what he meant by that, before heading upstairs to bed.

Why would anyone want to be like you?

The day after you let Namjoon sleep on your couch.

You had taken longer than necessary in the shower this morning, pottered around upstairs, procrastinating, which is something you rarely do and all to avoid the man you'd left slumped unconscious on your couch.

You listen for any signs of movement down stairs and when you hear none, part of you hopes he's gone. That he woke up early and drove home, no awkward encounter, no questions, just peace.

You should be so lucky.

As you descend your wooden stairs, you hear the rattle of snoring and roll your eyes.

He lay on his stomach, face squashed on its side with limbs splayed out and hands sagged against your rug.

How were you going to get rid of him?

You prepare a few things in the kitchen before taking some pain killers and a glass of water over.

You nudge him tentatively with your foot. Nothing. Nudging him again, harder this time, but still nothing.

"Hey." You call harshly into the heavy silence. Nothing.

Inspiration strikes, as your hand lashes out, flicking the glass forward and sending water cascading over him.

He jumps up with a gasp, bolt upright, shock contorting his face.

You bite back a laugh at the sight of his drenched form.

His eyes widen when he focuses on you and then dart around wildly searching for answers.

"I drove you home last night as you could hardly stand but you passed out so I brought you here." You explain in a blasé manner.

Holding out the pills, he takes them mechanically.

"I'll just refill your water for you." You skip off with a smirk. His wet hair clinging to his forehead, little water droplets dripping off the end of his nose. The sight deeply satisfying, in more ways than one. As much as you would never admit it, he looked good wet.

He swallows the pills and greedily downs the water you return with. Gasping for air, he finally meets your gaze. "We didn't…" he stumbles on his words and you laugh loudly.

"Trust me, you were in no condition for anything physical last night."

A hint of a smile plays around his mouth but he tries to fight it. "That doesn't sound like you're completely repulsed by the idea?" One of his eyebrows pulls up into a challenging arch.

"Ha! If you were the last man on earth and the human race was left depending on us to continue, only then would I possibly consider it."

A shy smile and a dimple creating an endearing crevice in his cheek. "Well that's not a complete no, so I'll take that."

You shake your head, amused, if not a little perplexed by him.

He sighs, wiping down his damp jeans. "Well, I suppose I better get out of your hair." He stands, seeming slightly unsteady and visibly in pain as he clutches his head.

"Why don't you stay for breakfast, have some coffee then I'll drive you back to your place in the truck?"

He stares at you with his mouth popped open in a little 'o', the same expression you imagine looking at yourself with. Where in the fuck did that come from? Have you forgotten who he is?

"If that's ok with you, that would be great...unless you're planning to poison me?" There's humour in his remark but a sincere worry too.

You chuckle as you head over to the stove, switching it on and cracking some eggs into the heated frying pan, the sizzle filling the silence. "I can assure you, I'm more of a 'violence is the answer' type person, in case that wasn't obvious already."

You smile to yourself at the memory of the very first day you met.

He'd backed his truck into yours, denting the hood and completely knocking off the bumper before driving home. You had greeted him in his living room, not bothering to knock, just letting yourself in, backing him into a corner and threatening him with a wrench. The image of his wide eyed, frozen form brought you a fresh wave of satisfaction as he handed you a wad of cash and uttered frantic apologies.

"Hmm, so I recall." He replies, brows furrow in thought as he takes a seat at your table, clearly his mind travelling to the same place yours is. You'd gotten off entirely on the wrong foot, and if you were honest, still continued to.

"How do you like your eggs?"

He smirks. "I'm assuming, 'with a kiss' is pushing it."

You shoot him a glare, even though you feel amusement tug at your lips.

He holds his hands up. "Fair enough, as they come will be fine."

Once breakfast is done, you drive him home, smiling and laughing more than you thought possible with him, you realise he's actually quite humorous when he's not torturing you by his existence.

You stand awkwardly by his truck waiting for him to say words that are clearly trying to escape from his mouth but he seems to be having trouble forming.

"Thank you...for last night...and this morning. You've been surprisingly kind, even if I really don't deserve it." He looks at his feet while clutching his hat tightly, looking utterly innocent and fragile, suddenly seeming like a much younger man standing in front of you.

"Don't mention it. It won't happen again, don't worry." You smile playfully as you knock on his truck and leave, feeling his eyes watching you as you saunter off down the dirt road to work.

"I'm sorry, did I just hear that right?" Seokjin asks, his voice shrill, shock making his eyes bulge comically at you. "'He's not that bad' since when, please tell me!? A few days ago you thought he was the devil in disguise."

You laugh at his reaction and poke him playfully on the chest. "Hey, listen, all I'm saying is we only show people what we want others to see, doesn't mean it's always real."

He thinks for a moment, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So what you're saying is, he acts like Mr big shot money bags but he isn't?" He gives you a quizzical look and checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

You laugh again and shove his hand away. "Yes, I am fine and yes in a way. Sure, he has money and he shows off but maybe he acts like that to hide something else. Maybe he thinks that's what people expect of him, maybe he's scared of something."

Seokjin's windshield wiper laugh shrieks in your ears. "Ok, now I've heard it all. Firstly, there’s nothing deep about this man, other than his cash flow and secondly, you think he's scared? The man is an arrogant moron, end of."

"Everyone's scared of something, it's not that far fetched."

He leans in to you slightly. "That is a lie. You, my friend, are scared of nothing." He gets up from his bar stool, placing his hat on his head and downing the last of his drink. "The day I see you scared is the day the world ends. There's not a problem you can't get out of with your fists or your smart mouth." He laughs as he leaves the bar.

The irony is, there is one problem that would get infinitely worse with your fists and your smart mouth. Something that would have you terrified beyond imagination. Something you plan to hide from for the rest of your existence.

Five months since Namjoon moved to town.

You are back at his door, although this time you stand on the doorstep and pound angrily to be let in.

When he opens it, he looks hesitant. "You don't usually knock, just barging in is more you style rig-?"

"Why was there a man taking photos of me today?" The words leave your mouth in a furious rush, the need to be out and to hear another dreaded deal he's made. To prove yourself right about the type of man he is.

"What? You mean the photographer?"

You take a shaky breath to calm yourself. "That's usually what they do isn't it? Take photos?" You say between gritted teeth.

He frowns. "Well, yes, I don't understand why you're upset? I listened to you and told you I'm not building the mall, I've hired someone to take pictures of the town as it is, just to get business for my Hotel, and you're still upset with me!? Jesus, I can't win." He runs a frustrated hand through his swept back hair, forehead exposed - it suits him best that way.

You melt slightly under his accusing stare and suddenly you feel embarrassed by your reaction, it's not all anger, it's fear clenching your heart in its iron grasp. You want to scream, to run from it but you can't, it follows you. It followed you here and to the town you were in before. It will follow you wherever you are. You know this, you've accepted it and this is why you can't afford to get attached to someone, not romantically. It would cause too much heartache on both sides, when you'd eventually have to leave again.

"No, I'm not upset about that." You sigh and rub a hand across your eyes, exhaustion and exasperation weighing you down like a ton of bricks. "I just….I can't have my picture taken. Do what you want, but please, I'm begging you, do not put me in them." You stare at him with desperation, flitting from one eye to the other.

"Ok, ok." He says quickly, putting an arm on yours to reassure you. The touch soothes you for a moment and takes you by surprise.

"I'll make sure they delete the ones of you, ok? You have my word."

You see the honesty radiate from him and you relax. You're on the verge of tears with relief and happiness, the fear deflating as you stand here.

"Thank you!" You plead.

There's a moment of silence between you and you're not quite sure why you're still standing here.

"You know, if there's anything you ever want to tell me or talk about, you can trust me. I know I've not been great but I'll always be here if you need someone to lean on."

An odd warmth spreads through your chest, until you feel it's ready to burst. You can't help the smile that stretches across your lips.

"I know you can bear the brunt but sometimes it's nice to not have to." He adds, eyes wide and welcoming, enticing you with his earnest expression and the dimple that appears from his sideways smile.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, lips crashing against his with ferocious hunger. You feel him freeze against you before he returns it with feverish hands running down your back and cupping you under the buttocks, lifting your legs beneath you.

You wrap them tightly around his waist as he leads you quickly inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He doesn't make it up the stairs, the plush living room rug against your back a suitable substitute for his bedroom.

Your mouths dance, tongues interlacing all the while his hands are everywhere all at once, the heat from them setting your veins alight with fiery lust.

Your hands find his hair and your fingers run through his silky locks, using them to pull him even closer to you.

He moans into your mouth, the sound enticing you further.

"I want you so bad." he says in a breathless whisper.

You hook your leg over his and push him, flipping him on his back, straddling him.

You pull your button up off over your head and he groans when he discovers you aren't wearing a bra. His hands slide quickly up your waist to fondle your breasts, plunging his teeth into his generous bottom lip before he sits up and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A hiss escapes you as pleasure shoots straight to your core and has you grinding against his denim clad erection.

He cups the side of your face and brings you back down to his mouth, your lips meeting once again in a hot, fervent kiss.

His lips find their way to your ear. "Stand up."

There was no authority in his voice, just a soft pleading, one you could not resist. As you rise, his fingers were already undoing your jean buttons then pulling them down around your ankles and helping you step out of them.

On his knees looking up at you with heavy lids, as he places a faint kiss against your clothed sex. The sight of it heavenly, you couldn't help but admire his beauty, the sheer amount of it having escaped your notice before.

He slips a finger under your panties and pulls them aside, lips instantly on you, hot and wet, causing your head to snap back with explicit language echoing past your lips.

He chuckles against you, the vibration making you gasp as his tongue delves to your most sensitive parts, a venture no previous man has been. The sensation; mind blowing and you find yourself grinding against him. The relentless pace of his tongue against your swollen bud has you crying out, hands gripped into his hair as you come undone against his mouth. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting your trembling frame as your moans of ecstasy repeatedly fill the silence of the room.

As the spasms of pleasure subside, you're vaguely aware of Namjoon removing his trousers, his hand still in contact with your skin, as you drift back down from your euphoric cloud.

You mount him before he's finished pulling his pants from his ankles, his hands find your buttocks and guide you onto him. You lower yourself, sliding him into you.

He lays back, a look of pure adoration as he watches you wind your hips round, back and forth and up and down, until he's a writhing, moaning mess underneath you. His lips constantly find your skin, leaving moist trails, cold from the air, all over you.

Your bodies crashing against each other as you eagerly chase your end.

Feeling yourself tightening around him, coiled like a spring ready to bound into a new realm of elation.

"That's it baby, let go." He says softly, clinging onto your hips to keep you moving.

Your orgasm explodes, more intense than before, completely taking over you as you contract around him. He joins you, filling you with his warm seed, cradling you in his arms as you both ride out your spasms of bliss.

When your mind has returned to your body, you slump onto the rug, your bare bodies beside each other, as he turns towards your back his fingers skate over the large scar on your back. You go rigid for a moment, preparing yourself for his questions, attempting to scramble up a lie in your mind. His lips find the puckered pink skin and place a chaste kiss on it. His questions don't come, instead he wraps you in his arms and holds you close enough you can feel his pounding heart against you.

No words are exchanged. There isn't anything to be said but you feel everything and more in that moment.

Two weeks since you had sex with Namjoon.

"Very nice. You've really captured the beauty of the town in these." you smile at him and lay a gentle hand on his knee. Something he chooses not to ignore, placing his hand over yours while he continues clicking through the various pictures on his hotel website.

"Yea, the photographer did a really good job." he looks over to you, with a raised eyebrow. "So you approve of these?"

"Of course." you say, standing and grabbing your jacket draped across the stairway banister.

"That's a first." he teases, a smirk playing across his full lips, calling out to you as usual.

You drape your arms around his shoulders and place a slow kiss on his neck, the moan you entice from him has your lips smiling against his skin.

"Stay." he says quietly.

"I can't, I have to work." It's regretful but true. "Besides, I've been holed up in here for nearly two weeks. Time for a change of scenery."

He pouts as he takes your hand, pulling it towards his chest. "There's nothing wrong with the scenery here...especially when you're upstairs...in my bed...naked."

His eyes hold burning heat, pupils blown with longing and it sends throbbing lust right between your legs.

"How about, you think about me naked and in your bed...until I finish work, then I'll make up for all that torture." you reply, winking at him before your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss.

No one has ever kissed you like Namjoon. No one has given you this feeling...one you can't quite describe. For the first time in years, you feel completely yourself and...happy. Your chest swells when you look at him and you find it odd how someone you could hardly stand, now has such an effect on you.

"This evening is going to drag." he rolls his eyes. "I'll pick you up after work."

Your insides grin. Part of you wanted to keep him your dirty little secret and the other part wanted everyone to see you together.

You nod and plant one more kiss against his mouth, as you tear your body and your eyes away from him.

That’s when you see it.

Your face. On his screen. Bold as a summer's day.

Your stomach drops, turning into a lump of concrete inside you, weighing you down. Rage alights in you but betrayal counters it, racing through your veins in your shaking limbs and spilling out of your eyes in hot tears.

Namjoon follows your eye line and freezes. Neither of you move.

All you can do is stare at the smiling, care free photo of you, behind the bar. And all you can think of is, how many people have possibly seen this? Who has and what now?

He turns back to you, eyes wide and encased with a frown, a pleading hand outstretched towards you, as you realise you're backing up and heading to his front door.

"I didn't know." he says quietly.

"You promised me that I wouldn't be in any of them!" you yell, skin hot and your stomach churning. "I can't believe I let you fool me. I genuinely thought you were telling me the truth. How could you do this to me?"

Something flickers across his face but it's gone before you realise what it is, as he takes another step towards you. "I didn't do this!"

Your heart pounds in your ears, every part of you throbbing with treachery.

He drops his hand, sensing it's useless.

"Clearly your word means as little as I do to you." you close the distance between you, a finger pointing in his face. "If I ever see you in my bar, so help me, I'll make you unable to ride your horse for a very long time."

He opens his mouth to speak.

"I beg you, give me one reason." you spit, venom encasing every word. You storm out, feeling sick to your stomach. This is the man that you've been having the most amazing, passionate sex with for the last two weeks. You've been inseparable, opened yourself up to him in every way. Laid yourself bare and vulnerable for him.

You wanted to scrub yourself down, feeling like you've gone past enemy lines and turned against your own. He was a risk, you'd known that but had still let yourself get caught up in him. Believed in his lies. In him. You left him in the middle of the room, staring after you, getting in your truck and driving. After calling Jimin to cover you, you head to the next town, where you can be alone and drink until you forget.

Three months since Namjoon betrayed you.

You've been a wreck. For three months you've been constantly looking over your shoulder, sick to your stomach. Your emergency bag packed and hidden in your truck, should you need to flee. Your life shoved in that small leather bag. You didn't have much, that was clear to you but it seemed sadder than ever to have your most important things in one tiny holder. No one that would care when you were gone. Maybe Seokjin, but he'd forget about you eventually, any friends you make always do.

Namjoon had not been back into the bar, not while you were working anyway, you're not sure he'd have the guts. You had seen him fleetingly on a few occasions, his hopeful glances towards you rebuked by your impassive, stony face.

At some point Seokjin informed you, your photo had been removed from the website, Namjoon clearly trying to make amends for his deception - unsuccessful and useless attempts. You do not bend or yield to someone who has stabbed you in the back, you learnt that the hard way a long time ago...quite literally too.

You shrug into your jacket, noticing how much roomier it had become recently. Eating has not been high on the priority list when your stomach churns with anxiety and trepidation. You turn off the lights and head to the door of the bar, keys in hand.

A squeak from the hinges sounds into the silence, you look to see the doors wobbling slightly, the breeze catching it.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck are on end, goose bumps leave a bumpy trail across your skin. You're just being paranoid. No one's here. It’s just the wind.

Your feet move quickly to the doors, imagining you can hear following footsteps. Just as you reach your exit, a swift, sharp pull on your hair sends you slamming into the wooden boards.

A weight on top of you, pinning you down and unable to fight. A hand across your mouth to stop you from screaming and making it difficult to breathe.

His scent. It encases you, trapping you in another time and freezing you in those moments, those memories. The abusive days, the violent temper, the possessiveness, the cuts and bruises, the stabbing. Staring death in the face had been the final moment to give you the confidence to run, to escape but forever looking over your shoulder, forever living in fear.

Terror has taken over your body, not even trying to fight at this point.

"Did you miss me?" his sickly voice whispers in your ear.

Inside you're screaming, begging and pleading but nothing comes out into the silence, just the sound of his harsh, excited breathing.

"I knew I'd find you, knew it wouldn't be long until someone led me to you."

You could feel your limbs shaking wildly underneath him.

"You knew I'd find you didn't you? You led me here with that photo, I knew you missed me, baby." he kisses your forehead, your skin crawling beneath his lips.

"I'm going to take my hand away now, you're not going to scream, are you? You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

His words twist your insides in the most repulsive way as you nod your head.

His hand comes away, freeing your face and you gasp, desperately filling your lungs with air.

"It's so good to see your face, baby."

Your eyes, now adjusted to the dark, could make out his teeth, his lips pulled into a sinister smile.

"Will you at least let me sit up, Yoongi?" you ask, sounding much braver than you feel.

"You're not going to do anything stupid." he orders.

"No." your face is deadpan because it has to be, a slither of anything he deems untoward would make matters much worse for you.

Even as your brain frantically tries to find you a way out, any idea hitting an immediate dead-end, your face remains impassive.

He releases your wrists above your head and slowly climbs off of you, still crouched and ready to pounce should you run.

You had to be smart about this if you were going to get away, you had to think. THINK!

"You've been very bad, haven't you? Running from me like that. And I know you like playing games but I've not appreciated this hide and seek exchange between us. Four years I've been searching. That's a long time, baby." his menacing tone has you on edge, wondering just what he is going to do.

"You left me to die." you reply, recalling that night with a chill creeping up your spine. A knife in the back and for what, having said a few too many words to the corner shop owner, like 'how are you?'

You wonder what type of weapon he has on him tonight and you push the thought away.

He stares at you shocked, as if attempted murder is so far fetched from what he's capable of.

"Who do you think called the ambulance? I would never let you die, I would never let you leave me."

Lies. You knew a passer-by had rung the ambulance, had stayed with you until they came and had waited to hear your prognosis at the hospital. You even met them a few weeks later, when they brought you flowers. But for now he had to think you believed him.

"Is that what they told you?" he leaned in stroking your face and you had to swallow the recoil that your body reacted with.

"Is that why you've been running from me? Oh baby, you should have said and we could have had this all straightened out, wouldn't we, hm?"

He grips your chin, keeping it aimed directly at him, his fingers just forceful enough to leave bruises.

He watches your mouth, licking his lips. He wants to kiss you and you're preparing yourself for it.

"How many other men have been on these lips? How many have been inside them?" he sneers pushing his thumb, harshly inside your mouth, the taste bitter on your tongue. The Yoongi you know, well and truly here.

"No one."

"Don't lie to me." he squeezes your jaw, pain blazing underneath his fingertips causing a whimper to escape your lips.

The satisfied look in his eyes has bile rising in your throat.

"I'm not lying. You think I'd want another man anywhere near me."

He smiles, clearly not catching the bite in your words.

"If I find out different, there's going to be problems." he sing songs. "You understand?"

You nod and he releases your chin, harshly discarding you like a useless piece of meat.

He stands and offers a hand out to help you up. You want to spit at it and slap it out of your face but you shiver at the reaction that would bring.

You take it and he pulls you up, harsher than was necessary but you ignore it. He's on you, stalking towards you, backing you against the hard, wooden panels of the wall behind.

Your heart pounds violently, the sound all you can hear, you can hear your breathing spike as does his. He's excited, but you're trying to survive.

He closes the small amount of distance between you, his body pressed firmly against yours. One hand grabs your waist, pinning you harshly in place, the other travels to your throat. He keeps it there pressed lightly against your windpipe, not doing any damage but enough to show you the threat that's there. You swallow involuntarily.

The wind picks up outside and you hear the door wobbling, your attention back on it. How can you get to it?

You can hit him with something, but it would have to be hard enough to take him down and give you enough of a chance to run. Every thought seemed risky.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come with me willingly?" he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Yoongi, I can't just pick up and leave."

He adds a pressure to throat, fear rising up in you hot and fast.

You put your palms up. "I'm not saying no. I'm saying, I have a job here, people know me. If I get up and leave without a word, they'll think something awful's happened and that'll create problems for us."

He watches you for a moment, eyes thin and suspicious, you can practically see the cogs turning in his mind. "What do you suggest then?" Before you can even open your mouth, he adds. "I'm not leaving you."

"Why don't you stay here with me for a little while?" you can feel the sweat on the back of your neck, the idea of him being with you any longer than he has been already filling you with absolute horror.

"Then we can announce that I'm moving back with you."

"How can I trust you, after the way you've behaved?" his face is millimetres from yours suddenly, the tips of his noses touching.

"W-what do you want me to do to prove it to you?" you stammer, losing your composure momentarily.

"Kiss me. Like you used to." he smirks, knowing that towards the end of your relationship, touching him in any way had repulsed you, you hadn't kept that a secret.

You take a breath to steel yourself, if this is what you had to do…

Namjoon's shadowed face captures your attention as it appears just behind Yoongi's head and directly in your line of sight, holding - what looks like - a metal crowbar in the air. He nods to you.

The relief you feel cascades around your body, washing waves of solace through you, your skin tingling as your adrenaline spikes even higher. Everything seems much more hopeful in this moment and you've never been so happy to see Kim Namjoon.

Your eyes flash back to Yoongi, you could not lose it now, otherwise it's another person to be endangered by him.

You grab either side of his face, tilting your head, he closes his eyes as he prepares for your lips to touch his. He moans from anticipation, the sound bringing a fresh wave of nausea over you.

You meet Namjoon's eyes once more, watch him raise the crow bar higher, preparing to swing…

You push Yoongi's face as hard away from you as fast as you can muster and duck. Your eyes squeeze shut as you hear his gasp and then the noise of the metal connecting with his skull.

"Run! Go now!"

You do. Your legs charging forward before you even have a chance to process Namjoon's words to you. You push through the double doors, the cool night air hitting your skin and giving you added power to your legs. You race along the dirt path, hearing the ruckus ensue in the bar. You stop. Namjoon's face bloodied and bruised flashes in front of your eyes. An image you can't escape.

You couldn't leave him to deal with this man alone. You had to face your past. Face him, like you would face anyone else threating your life, or your town, or your friends. You yank out your phone and dial Seokjin's number.

"Do you know what time it is?" his voice thick with sleep sounds on the line.

'Jin, I need you to call the sheriff and come down to the bar! I'm in trouble. Bring your gun!" you hang up not giving him a chance to respond as you race back to Namjoon.

You throw open the doors and see the two men throwing punches in and out of tight holds as they roll around on the floor.

How could you get to Yoongi without hurting Namjoon?

You stand hesitating in the doorway.

But watching Yoongi take control and pin him down before connecting punch after punch, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, something inside you snaps.

You charge at him, bringing your foot up to connect with his face, the impact sending him flying backwards. By the sound, you're pretty sure you've broken his nose.

You crouch down to Namjoon as he sits up, wiping his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his plaid shirt.

"You ok?" you ask, eyes wide as they skim over his face, assessing him.

"What are you doing here!?" he exclaims, desperate eyes pleading with you to leave. "I told you to get out of here!"

You want to say so many things in that moment, looking at him and realising; he's got a good heart, even if it is a little misguided at times. Looking at him and realising all the unspoken feelings between you. From the moment you met him, he's been a disaster and every time he tried to be nice and make an effort you violently pushed him away to protect yourself. But you couldn't do it anymore. You cupped his purple marked face in your hand, wishing you could erase these marks, left because of you.

He leans into your hand, just for a moment before his attention is behind you. Grabbing your waist and pinning you to the floor before spinning on top of you, shielding you from the skull cracking snap of the gunshot. The deafening sound echoing in your ears, as pain sneaks through the hole in your left arm, the one underneath Namjoon's weighted, limp body.

Six months since the shooting, Christmas day.

Your first Christmas without the thought of Yoongi hanging over your head like a dark cloud, the kind that gives you headaches and makes your mind feel heavy and slow.

Seokjin had gotten there with Sheriff Jungkook just after the first shot rang out.

You don't remember everything but you do remember hearing the second shot clap like thunder around you, a split second of light illuminating the thick darkness, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

That was it, he was gone, no more looking over your shoulder, no more running and no more fear following you with every decision. The demise of Yoongi. You are free.

You feel lighter as you open the oven and baste the turkey once again.

"When is dinner going to be ready?" Seokjin whines from the sofa.

"Oh, have a little patience." you scold him.

You are more than grateful to have him with you at this time of year, seeing as neither of you have any family here, it's worked out nicely.

"I see Jimin is doing well after taking over Namjoon's Hotel." he remarks.

You nod. "Yep, business is going well for him. I'm glad. I will miss him at the pub though."

"What about Namjoon's house?"

Your hand stills, stopping stirring the vegetables bubbling away in the pan and a hard swallow slides down your throat. "What about it?"

"Is it going on the market?"

You glance over and notice him watching you from the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure, it's not been discussed."

He nods carefully.

Footsteps down your stairs have your head turning towards them. The sight of him, bare chested, hair swept back effortlessly almost takes your breath away.

"We can discuss it now, if you like?" Namjoon teases you and places a kiss on the side of your head. "Seeing as you keep ignoring my question."

Seokjin sits bolt upright. "What's this? What question?"

You laugh. "Not that question!"

The disappointment across Jin's face is obvious.

"I keep asking her to sell this place and move in with me but I haven't had an answer yet." Namjoon watches you, an arrogant look on his face as he turns towards your guest.

The wrinkled, pink scar on his back greets your view, a perfect circle from where the bullet entered. He was lucky. You'd almost lost him before you even had him, before you realised how much you wanted, needed him.

You go toward him, wrapping your arms around his stomach. You go on tip-toes to kiss his scar. You match. Two scars in exactly the same place caused by the same person. In a sick way that connected you forever and the thought brought you comfort somehow.

Namjoon had saved your life, endangering his in the process. Now it's you who would protect him from anything.

"Yes." you say quietly against his back.

He turns, wrapping you in his arms.

"What?"

You look up at his bewildered face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

His face blooms into the most beautiful smile, making your insides flutter. He brings his lips crashing down against yours, a kiss that takes your breath away and makes you giddy.

This is the true start to your life, after existing for many years you're now truly living, with the sound of Seokjin's cheers and hollas in the background.

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