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Summary: The arrogant Dr. Kim Namjoon has gloated of his superior intelligence all his life. Always in the pursuit of his own realization as an inventor one day he finally manages to shape what he believes, is the culmination of his life’s work.

But at what cost, and under what consequences.

Now he will be willing to break any barrier in front of him- even putting his own work at risk with only one goal in mind: Power the clock, turn back time and fix the fault.

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TimeTravel!AU | Steampunk!AU

wordCount: 1.7k

pairing: namjoon x reader(she)

genre: angst| fiction| fluff

triggers: mentions of severe health condition and mentions of death.

tarot cards: the chariot | death

masterlist | Ch 1 - 2 -3 - 4

A Dead Writers Co. Collaboration - Masterpost

Who takes the poison so the other person doesn’t have to?

“Just breathe, ok?”

“Take my hand you’re gonna be fine”

“Somebody help!”

“You are okay! I’m okay, We’ll be okay.”

“Focus on my heartbeat, just focus on that.”

The dust from the storm hadn't yet settled. The untamed power reverberated and echoed across the barren land. While standing at the top of the gritty hill, it was easy to see over the horizon the big gray upcoming stormy clouds leaving towards the north, and the thunder rolling across the malevolent sky.

Clenching his fist strong enough to turn his knuckles white he raised the device constricting his wrist to look at it.

‘It’s no use.’ the weary footsteps of the adventurer stopped making a subtle noise while stumping over the dried sand. ‘We can’t chase that storm forever.’ The voices on his head tangled as one by one tried to take control of his actions, to make the venturer stop his mad quest and actually think for a moment. Namjoon cast his eyes to the charcoal sky, his attention held by a golden streak, a crack in the cloud layer where the sun should peek.

“I need the power of that lightning,” the mad-man stepped forward, the decisive weight of his stride leaving a rooted mark over the sand. “I need to make amends for my mistakes.” Without waiting for the storm to break he hurried forward, only paying attention to one thought that conveyed him forward.

Power the clock,

Turn back time,

Fix the fault.

The gods must have felt merciful and obedient after seeing the storm-hunter exhaustive journey.

The only way to escape was to go in the storm. In the middle of the desert, he had nowhere to safeguard from the rippling waves of wind. He had to be fast, otherwise, his risk would be without a point. If he died now then it would all be lost.

Thunder cried out from the blackened sky and a growl so low that would scare the heart of any sane man. Oh, but for Namjoon the more brutal the storm, the more hopeful his heart. He feared not what was ahead, only what was left behind. The brass goggles protected his eyes from the grains of sand biting and leaving marks over his skin. When the rain began to howl and lash the lightning conductor was finally placed firmly, the only thing left to do was connect it to the wrist-watch and pray somehow he'd make it alive to the other side.

Time is of the essence, the dampened sand could potentially ruin everything. But if Doctor Kim Namjoon calculations were correct, the big lightning that gave life once before to his time-jumper ticker was close. And so, he raised his eyes as thunder rumbled and a bolt of lightning cracked the sky in two behind the droplets of rain hitting the goggles. Jagged flashes of pure light cast a glow against the monochromatic background that reached the metal stick settled on the ground. The charge was complete in less than a second, and he pushed the small copper button in the side.

He was left blind by the intense light, but it was only for a few minutes.

There was now no rain, no sand, no storm- but a big dinner table set for two people on a large and elegant hall, outside the oriel window there was healthy green grass as far as the eye could see, and somewhere, on the upstairs floor a waltz played from a gramophone, and the sound of heels moving to the rhythm.

“It worked.”

The water dripping from his long jacket was making a mess once they touched the dainty floor. In haste, he sprinted towards the back of the cottage where the kitchen was- he could use the door leading to the backyard and drop outside his soggy clothes. Namjoon knew very well the handmaiden would be upstairs taking care of dusting the top floor while the miss of the house practicing her dancing so the kitchen would be empty.

While making a beeline for the door and taking off his coat, the rich aroma of something being cooked over the stove beckoned him, triggering so many senses at once that even his tongue circled the edges of his fleshy mouth.

In his trance, he accidentally tripped with a small wooden bench which crashed into a milk bucket, which in turn met with a tall coat rack making a whole domino of pretty noticeable noise.

"Miss Y/n?" called the grating voice heading fast down the stairs. "Miss Y/n is that you, M'lady?"

Without trying to rearrange anything, Namjoon opted to get out the house completely and hide under the kitchen window instead- he had no other chance but to wait until Ms. Hill went away to re-enter afterward.

A stompy pair of steps entered the kitchen. "Good lord," she exclaimed presumably due to the turmoil found.

"Ms. Hill? Oh dear," a softer, calmer voice entered just behind. "Did you fell again, Ms. Hill? Are you okay?" Namjoon's pulse accelerated just by that elegant, tone.

A desperate need formed inside his heart, scorching everywhere. He needed to peek, to see that face he had been chasing after, throughout time, throughout his painful memories. 'It's dangerous.' The voice inside his head warned 'too dangerous.' -and it was right. If Namjoon was discovered outside the window his journey would come to an end. He couldn't meddle, not yet at least—or not like this. He was after all now a mere intruder, still a stranger to both of them.

“It must've been the stupid dog again running about.”

Oh, but the temptation. How much his poor, and lonesome heart missed her. How many days he had cried over her before planning this escapade through time. Not caring for anything else, not even his own life, only to make things right again- to save her.

His legs moved faster and made a choice on the behalf of his head. Chatter was still going inside the kitchen, he can now only pray both women were looking away from the window as his eyes scanned to meet hers.

There is an ache once he is able to see her, something that comes as goes, somewhere between complete blissful happiness and a blackness so deep that devoured every color in the world.

She talked to her handmaiden in the most natural way, because of course, it was. But for Namjoon her silhouette resembled a photograph. She was there again, present right before his eyes, but in a time where both still haven't met. Where he still hadn't changed her, where he hadn't hurt her to then reassemble again like a toy, so insensible and detached from human emotions as he was before.

“You need to change those clothes, Miss,” Hill mentioned, giving a little nudge to her waltz practice clothes. Namjoon couldn't help but smile, remembering how she absolutely adored that copper-colored striped dress, even if the corset Hill made on her own was a little too tight for her figure. “Chop-chop! Or you’ll miss the tinker’s fair.” she hustled Y/n outside the kitchen.

Namjoon tilted his head, did she just said...tinker?

“It's not a tinker’s fair,” she chuckled rolling her eyes, but with an amused expression. “It's the ‘Age of Steam: Inventors Fair’, Ms. Hill”

“Same difference,” The handmaiden insisted. “It’s just a bunch of old off-their-rocker people showing off their fancy and not too reliable knick-knacks.”

“Not all of them are-,” she stopped mid-sentence.

Ms. Hill cocked a brow up, crossing her arms over her prominent chest. “You were saying, Miss?” she taunted.

“Nevermind.” she turned around and began walking away.

“Was the lady about to mention... Dr. Kim Namjoon?”

From his hiding spot Namjoon opened his eyes wide at the mention of his name, he traced the steps and watched as the two ladies left for the front part of the cottage.

His curiosity kicked: Why was she trying to dismiss it? Did she knew him?

A little more dare wouldn't be dangerous, right? So Namjoon took the opportunity to stealthily move under the windows to where they both had went, his eagerness to powerful to be countered. His ears perked up trying to locate from under the windowpane her voice.

“I’m simply saying Dr. Kim Namjoon is a well-respected member of the inventor's society,” she argued, with a much more deliberate and conscious form of speaking.

“...A dapper young member,” Hill inserted.

She gulped a visible blush forming at her delicate cheeks, whilst she continued speaking voice trembling just a little. “ And I do not think he deserves to be under the same light as other, less-respected, members of the socie-”

“Just go and get changed, Miss. The Chariot will get here in an hour.” Hill interrupted after giving a look at the father clock on the center of the living room.

“Yep, I’ll do that.” She let out relieved of the interruption, that hard and stern washing away from her face while darting to the top floor where her room was.

So it was a lie when you assured never to have heard of me before. he thought remembering specifically the first time both met. After the—

“Welcome to the aether!” Namjoon entered the big, ornate, waiting room greeting with a prideful smile that grace his features.

A figure, sitting by the massive windows, gazed at the flourishing gardens beyond the tinted glass. She didn't turned her head at the sudden interruption.

“My humble home.” Namjoon continued speaking while he strode across the room, coat-tails swingin behind him with his every step.

Stopping right in front the wheelchair he towered the girl sitting on it. Her whole body still wrapped around in meters of bandage and patches of gauze. Her dead eyes reflected the green of the garden. They seemed without soul, so voided of emotion that Namjoon couldn't help but to think they fitted perfectly what she was now- an incredible biological contraption- a machine so exquisite -so rare- so formidable and beautifully strong that saved her life at the very door of death.

The project that promise, his name to endure through history. The very first fusion between human and automaton- The everlasting White Rose.

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