Warnings: mdni 18+, hard dom!namjoon, brat!reader, dirty talk, degradation, crying, dacryphilia just a lil, bondage, impact play (spanking), fingering (f rec.), bruising, after care, name calling (sir, pretty)
Synopsis: You want to push Namjoon's buttons? Fine, fuck around and find out.
WC: 1.9k
You were asking for trouble. Watching Namjoon’s teeth set in a grimace, his eyes flashing to where you were sitting innocently on the couch in his home office.
You had been being bratty and provoking all day, determined to push his buttons. And he had been patient, as much as he could be with your snarky mouth and bratty smirk. But he was on his last straw, the phone to his ear as the person on the other line yapped like he wasn’t staring you down across the room, not paying attention.
Namjoon clears his throat, and your entire body comes alive. A thrill zinging down your spine and bringing goosebumps down your arms and legs as you match Namjoon’s stare head-on. “Excuse me, we will have to discuss this at a later time. I need to,” he pauses, and his eyes drag down your body slowly as he pulls his lips back into a sneer, “handle some stuff at home. I’ll call you.”
The air in the room shifts. Like a thread being pulled taut, the phone clicks with the call ending, and Namjoon leans back in his chair.
Without a word, your body is already reacting to him. A heat crawls up your neck, your thighs clenching together as arousal pools between your thighs. Your nipples pucker under your flimsy little tank top, and it takes everything in you to sit still.
This was what you were working towards. To get Namjoon’s attention on you. To feel his eyes burn over you like he does right now. “Nam-“
“No.” The single words has you sitting up straighter, the baby hairs on your neck standing at attention as you watch Namjoon slowly stand up. His gold wrist watch glints from the low lightning in the office and he leans his palms on top of his desk with a sigh. His eyes are dark and swirling seductively as he lets the word hang heavily in the air for a moment longer. “If you want to be a brat,” the label pools a tingling warmth in your lower tummy as he sneers with a wicked grin. “Then you can be treated like a brat. Bed, now.”
And you don’t need to be told twice!
Your legs carry you out of the home office quickly, leading yourself to your shared bedroom. Adrenaline pumps through your veins and you don’t need to be told to know how Namjoon wants you.
When he finally makes an appearance in the bedroom, it’s been an agonizing five minutes of waiting. You're lying on your stomach on the big bed in the middle of the room. Stripped from your clothes, you’re only wearing your cute pink lace panties, a little bow in the center of the hem. Your fingers clutch the bedsheets beneath you as you arch your back, ass in the air just how he likes it.
You can’t see him, but you hear his heavy footsteps slowly enter the room. He makes no comment at how good you presented yourself, your legs spread wide to show the wet spot soaking on your panties and sticking to your pretty cunt. And he makes no move to get closer. Your ear perk up as you listen to him walk to your walk-in closet. There is some rummaging and your heart races, the anticipation reeling through you and leaving you aching with need.
When Namjoon seems satisfied, he finally comes closer to you. His body standing to your left, he grabs your arm, pulling it to him. You know you’re not allowed to talk yet, so you’re left helpless as you watch him wrap silk around your wrist, tying it to the bedpost with one of his ties. He doesn’t speak to you as he does this, walking around to the other side to do the same with your right, leaving you breathless and a mess before he’s even begun.
“This was what you wanted, right?” Namjoon drawls with a condescending tone, his eyes trailing over your pretty body. Having you tied up, helpless, and at his mercy was a sight that would always make his cock swell. His fingers ghost down your bare back, relishing in the sharp inhale you suck in. “You wanted to keep playing with me, huh? You thought provoking me would be fun, right?” With each word, his fingers graze lower, causing a shiver to run up your spine and your nipples pucker against the soft sheets.
His hand stops at your ass, his palm warming your skin through your panties until you can feel another wave of your arousal gush between your legs. Namjoon has always been an ass man, and he grabs a handful of your cheek, rough enough to make you yelp. “Answer me. Did you think it would be fun?”
He lets go, and your lungs shake as you nod your head shyly. Yes, it was on purpose. Yes, you thought it would be fun. Your body jolts when a smack resonates through the air. A sharp sting blooms across your ass that throbs straight to your core. His fingers rip your panties, literally tearing the thin material off your body, and making your gummy walls clench around nothing, pathetically. “Use your voice, Pretty. Tell me. Did you think it would be fun?”
The cool air of the bedroom blowing on your pussy has another shiver running down your body. Namjoon has moved out of your eyesight, standing by the end of the bed, by your right leg, as you do your best to speak. “Y-yes!” Your thighs tense as you feel his finger tips trace up your inner leg slowly. “I th-thought it’d be f-fun!”
The heat exuding from Namjoon has your body shaking; the power dynamic of being completely bare to him while he was still fully dressed made your head spin. He leaned low enough that you could almost feel his lips on the back of your shoulder. “Let me show you fun."
It's sudden when his palm makes contact with your ass. He smacks the plump flesh with a loud, resonating thwack! - Its force makes your body jolt and your toes curl, your hips bucking to run from the sting. "Namjoon!"
"No," another smack, followed by a rub on the heated skin. "Count them out loud." He demands, and your face flushes as the pain morphs into pleasure that tingles in your lower stomach. And then he slaps your other ass cheek. Hard enough to make your ass jiggle and an imprint bloom across your soft skin.
"One," you gasp. "Two," your eyes squeeze shut. "Three," your hips buck trying to decide if you want to lean into his touch or run from it. "Four," your pussy throbs, obscenely wet and drooling onto the bedsheets below.
"Should have known you'd like this," His words bite, scraping down your skin until you shiver. "I can see how wet your pussy is. This is what you wanted, huh?"
"Five!" Your thighs tremble, your stomach flipping as Namjoon's fingers rub your ass, your glutes tender and tensing up for each spank. "Six," your eyes well with tears, your body squirming. "How many more, Sir?" The title makes Namjoon coo, another spank to your left ass cheek. "S-seven!"
"Eight more," He answers with another smack and watches the wave of your arousal seep from your puffy, wet folds. It's filthy how turned on he is by this, your cries choked, legs trembling as your pussy weeps for more.
"Eight," you're sniffling now, your entire body humming as your skin heats up from the lashings. "Nine, Ten, Eleven." Your eyelashes are wet with your tears, and your fingers curl around the neck tie wrapped around your wrists, keeping you at Namjoon's mercy. You briefly wonder if you can make it to fifteen, your sopping pussy clenching around nothing, crying for relief. "Twelve!"
Three more.
Big, fat tears slip down your cheeks and into the pillow below, your nose sniffling with your tears as Namjoon pulls your hips up. You had been squirming so much that he needed to hold onto your waist to get the last three down. "Thirteen, fourteen, f-fifteen!"
Your body shakes, your ass throbbing with its own heartbeat, and Namjoon coos. "Good job," he hums, and his fingers ghost the heated skin, making you arch so beautifully for him. "Did so well for me, Pretty." Your mouth drops when his fingertips glide through your puffy, wet folds, your slick drenching the two digits. He wastes no time in sinking them into your quivering hole, stuffing them knuckle deep, and stretching your gummy walls with the wettest squelch.
"Oh- oh fuck!" Your head drops, and your ass pushes back to let your pussy slurp his fingers in deeper. His thick digits stretch you deliciously, curling deep to brush the sweet spot inside you.
"Yeah, that's it - fuck yourself back onto my fingers, show me why you were such a brat. You just wanted to be filled, right? Didn't know how to tell me you just want to be used, so you decided to be a brat." Your tongue lolls out, a lewd expression plastered on your face as Namjoon slips another finger inside. He's thrusting them roughly and deliberately, smacking into your G-spot again and again until you're a babbling mess.
"Yes, yes, jus' like that - oh!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your hips roll back to meet each of his thrusts. The room fills with the filthy squelches of your drooling cunt, and it's only making you wetter. The knot in your stomach is twisting, and you're arching your back even more as he stretches you with a fourth finger. It's too much, oh fuck, your mind is melting as he brings you to a fast-approaching climax. "Mm, keep going, m'gonna cum, oh! oh!"
"That's it - cry for it, pretty thing. Ride my fingers, get yourself off." Your hips stutter, and your mouth gapes, drool spilling onto the pillow as you clamp down on his thick fingers. Your orgasm shudders through you, leaving your thighs trembling and your eyes crossing as you soak his fingers with your sweet slick.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you chant breathlessly and mindlessly, your ears ringing as Namjoon helps you ride out your high.
When you're slumping into the big bed under you, Namjoon carefully slips from your pulsating cunt. He licks his fingers clean while you quiver in the aftershocks. And it brings him a lot of pride that you trust him to bring you to this type of pleasure in such a vulnerable way.
He's gentle when he unties your wrists, giving each one soft kisses as the tie slips from your skin. And he puts the ties back before heading to the bathroom, shortly coming back with a few things. He rubs pain medicine into your heated, spanked skin, helping relieve the pain while cleaning the mess between your thighs. The entire time, he murmurs encouragements and praise. Telling you how well you handled the punishment, how good you were for him, how pretty you looked cumming on his fingers.
When everything is said and done, he makes sure you drink some water before lying next to you and pulling you closer to him. And it's when you're on the edge of falling asleep to his fingers tracing along your back that he speaks up, "You're a brat, y'know that, right?"
You hum in amusement, a sleepy smile on your face as you snuggle into his side. "Yeah, and you love it."
A/N: this was requested, and I was finally catching up in my inbox to answer. I honestly am not part of the BDSM community, so I had to look up the difference between a hard dom that anon talked about. So, I'm not sure if what I wrote tracks, but here we are!
As always, comments, kudos, and feedback are welcome
guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.
attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.
☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader
☆ word count: 4.7K
☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head?
☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts.
☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!
- minty <3
It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist.
The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.
The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose.
As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA.
The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there.
“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”
You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine.
After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him.
“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.”
So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?
You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him.
“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon.
As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee.
Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard.
You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.
You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...
Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.
You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse.
One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.
As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”
His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.
“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges.
“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.”
The older man nods.
“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”
You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.
“Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.”
“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.”
“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.
“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”
Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”
“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”
“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.”
“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.
A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“
“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”
“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.
He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration.
“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“
Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore.
“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.”
He seems astonished. “Really?”
“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.
His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.
“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.
You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?
___________________________
You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top.
“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging.
“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“
“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?”
He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.
“Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“
“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.
He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him.
“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash.
You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face.
“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy.
Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.
“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.
You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”
Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.
He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.
“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”
“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity.
“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.
“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”
“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.
“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”
“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”
“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.
“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding.
“So what about the town you grew up in?”
“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!”
“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.
“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”
“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”
You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”
“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”
“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.
“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”
You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.
“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.
“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.
“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?”
“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”
He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.”
“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?
You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.
“Yes. I am.”
What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly.
“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”
It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment.
“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”
What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away.
You recoil at that and curse yourself.
They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing.
The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.
“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”
“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.
“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”
“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.
Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.
“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.
“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...
“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.
“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.”
“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”
“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”
“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.
He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.
“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.
Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with.
“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”
“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”
After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”
“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”
You cannot say no to this man.
“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”
“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”
“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”
