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I don't think I heard him right. He's doing what to me? Kittynapping me? How dare he act cute in this situation!

Fight me. In the mother fucking. PIT.

"W-what makes you think-" I was planning on ending this sentence with 'you can hold me hostage' but he answers it as if I'd asked a different question.

"That I'm cute?" he flutters his lashes while smiling. "Someone once told me that I was the most adorable wolf they'd ever seen. And she isn't the type that gives out compliments easily so I believe her."

"She sounds like an idiot." I blurt, knowing full well he's talking about me.

"Kitty-"

"No! Don't Kitty me! Get the fuck out of my way!" Both of my hands come to rest on each of his biceps and I push. "Let me-"

HOLD UP.

Since when were his biceps this robust? The muscles under my palms feel hard as rocks and larger than I can ever remember seeing them. He isn't weak. Being picked up effortlessly a moment ago was proof of that. In fact I vaguely remember a brief conversation where he'd offhandedly mentioned that werewolves were stronger than normal humans but I'd never thought to check it for myself.

I wiggle my fingers a bit, feeling around and squeezing in curiosity until I realize what he's doing.

"Are you flexing?"

"Are you impressed?"

That smirk apparently isn't going to go anywhere.

Groaning in vexation, I move my hands from his arms to shove against his chest-

STOP.

That's even better.

What the hell? Is he completely ripped under there?

And what gym does he go to cause I might be interested in a membership.

Seriously.

I huff out a deep breath of annoyance and try to focus on the task at hand—trying to escape from this apparently beefed up, testosterone driven version of my soon to be ex boyfriend.

That was a mouthful.

...that's what she said.

Dammit Y/n, focus!

My palms shove into a way too interesting chest as hard as I can, putting all my weight into it—not that it does me any good. Namjoon just watches, seemingly amused by my fruitless endeavor.

"YAH!" I finally holler and drop my arms when I realize he hasn't budged a single centimeter. "Move your fat ass, Namjoon!"

"My butt isn't fat." he huffs. "It's thicc."

"Whatever." The words come out of me from between grinding teeth. "Let me go."

"No."

"Move!"

"No."

"Move right now!"

"No."

"Namjoon!"

"Kitty."

Clearly he isn't going to let me go anytime soon so I switch tactics.

"You're gonna have to let me go eventually, my dad will be home in a few hours." I can hold out for a few hours. Right?

"I'll just get my friends to help me out with that." he counters.

"Huh?" I falter, puzzled over this statement. "How would they be able to do that?" Of course I'd assumed he'd been talking about Taehyung or Jin. But that thought was proven wrong with his next words.

"Eun-ji will help me." he answers proudly. "She told me she 'ships' us. I don't know what that means but I think it's a good thing."

Wait.

"Does she know about this?"

His head tilts cutely and he blinks. "About what?"

My eyes narrow dangerously in on him as I say in a low voice: "Kittynapping."

"Oooh. Yes. Everyone knows." he says casually. That's it! I'm punching everyone in the throat after this. "The only one that objected was Jimin," Namjoon continued, his face forming into a pout. "How close are you two?"

For a second I contemplate saying something crazy and false and about our friendship, just to get him riled up. It'd been hilarious before when I told him I'd fucked a thousand guys on the phone. He'd actually believed that. I've never even had sex. Why had he been so willing to believe I was a such a ho? And why is his anger and frustration so amusing to me? I must be a sadist.

"Closer than two cockroaches on a bacon bit." I eventually settle on this answer, as nonsensical as it is. I don't know what it means but I thank Mr Kim for sharing it with me when I turned in that stupid essay of his.

"What...never mind." Namjoon sighs and his face softens while he gazes down at me. He moves until it's no longer his palms on the counter top next to my hips, but his forearms, and now he's the one looking up. "Let's talk."

I shift uncomfortably, not expecting this gentle sort of attack. I avoid eye contact while answering. "About what?"

"Y/n."

That, and the serious tone in his voice is enough to snap my gaze back to his face. I couldn't remember the last time he'd said my real name instead of the pet name he'd given me. The sound of one's own name shouldn't hurt when you hear it. But the sound of my name from his lips makes my heart constrict painfully.

"Fine." I concede with a whisper. "You go first."

He does go first, and doesn't waste any time.

"I know sorry isn't what you want to hear because it isn't enough. But I'll say it anyway. I'm sorry." he held eye contact as he spoke and his sincerity isn't lost on me. "I misjudged myself that night. We all did. I'd never known you before, and hadn't gone through a full moon since meeting you so I truly had no idea the pull you had over me or my wolf. I'm sorry I acted like a crazy man. I'm sorry I wouldn't leave you alone. I'm sorry I kissed you. But, Y/n," he paused and I gulped when I heard my name again. Why did that hurt so much?

"You're clearly more than just angry...right? You're hurt, aren't you?" My mouth suddenly feels really dry. I break our stare down to eye the wall across from me over his head.

"Please tell me," he begs in a whisper that pulls on my heart strings. "Tell me so I can make it right."

I don't want to tell him.

But I miss him.

So I should tell him. I have to tell him.

I hate feelings.

"I...I can but..." as I trail off he stands up straight again. I cover my face with my hands. "I can explain it, but...you might get mad at me."

These words seem to give him pause, if the way he momentarily stiffens and then relaxes just as abruptly is anything to go by. "I won't get mad." he says after a moment, and I know he had taken the time to think it over before saying it. "You're too cute for me to get mad at."

That's a damn lie and I know it, but I appreciate his effort to lighten the mood.

"Ok." my tone is low but I know he can hear it. "Just...turn around."

"Turn around? Why?"

My hands fall from shielding my face so that he can see how pink I've become. "I don't like talking about feelings! Don't look at me while I do it." I snap, probably harsher than I should have be but I'm feeling unusually timid at the moment and it's put me on edge. "Please." I follow up with a gentler tone as way of an apology.

I swear I heard him grin.

The next moment he's turned around as requested and I'm met with the comforting sight of his back and shoulders. No more questioning gazes or dimples to fluster or embarrass me. My forehead comes to rest on the point between his shoulder blades. The warmth from his back and the the smell of his natural scent alleviates my stress far more than I would have expected it to. Is that the mate bond doing it's work? Or is it just because this is my Namjoon?

Whatever it is, it gives me the courage to go ahead, as much as the other half of me dreads having to bare my feelings for him to see.

"Before you..." Suddenly I'm struck with the sudden desire to hold him hostage, much in the same way as he's held onto me. My arms wrap around him from behind and I lace my fingers together tightly in front of his chest. If this takes him by surprise he certainty doesn't show it. Instead he waits patiently for me to continue.

There it is. That calmness I've always felt when I hug him. Now I know what that means and for once the feeling doesn't scare me. Instead I'm grateful for it, as it's able to soothe me now when I need it.

I take a deep breath. "Before you, I had a boyfriend a couple years ago." As his muscles stiffen subtly under me I grip him tighter. "And he...he was, uh...normal. Until one day." My throat feels tight and painful with the effort I'm putting into holding back my tears and I hate myself for it.

I hate crying. I hate feelings. I hate feeling weak. I feel like I can't stress these points enough.

"He saw me." I whispered, my face turns into his back, halfway hoping that he can't hear my voice clearly. "Like you saw me. In my—as a cat. He...hated it. He said I was disgusting. And that no one could ever love me. This was coming from someone who'd said he loved me, from someone who'd made me feel priceless. But after that I felt worthless."

At this Namjoon begins to move, I'm guessing to turn around. "Not yet!" I beg. "Give me a minute." He halts in his movements but I can hear the angry huff of breath leave his nose, can feel the way his muscles remain tense.

"I felt like trash. Namjoon. I'm not like you. You like and accept that part of yourself but I...I hate that part of me. I hate being a werecat. But then you came along and I felt...wanted again. And then you saw me and it was like this horrible cycle was starting over. But then you not only made it seem normal, but you showed me that you were the same, in a sense. I thought...I don't know what I thought. I guess that we had laid it all out on the table. So when they told me...they told me, not you told me that we were—that I'm your mate-" it's at this point that the tears break free and trail down my face. "It felt like a rejection again. Maybe that's stupid and maybe I'm projecting my past experience onto you but...that's how it felt."

Silence falls and I sigh in relief. It feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. That is, before I remember that I confessed to having a boyfriend before. He'd said that werewolves didn't do that so I'm fully expecting him to lash out at me and/or possibly go behead my ex.

So anxiously I wait for a response as I listen to his heart beat from his back. One beat, two beats, four beats, seven.

"Can I turn around now?"

He doesn't sound angry? I loosen my grip and he turns on the spot, only to engulf me in a hug of his own. I absolutely hate the sob of relief that comes out of me as I hug him back. Since when had he become so important to me that I was crying this much over him? I never cry.

"Kitty, why would I be mad about that?" There's my name. His voice is soothing in my ear as he gently strokes my hair, unaware of how much joy the name shift just brought me.

"You said wolves didn't date someone who isn't their mate." I sniffle into his chest. When did I become such a whiny bitch?

Way to sour the moment, Y/n.

"Yes. Wolves. Werewolves don't do that. It's our culture. You're human...ish. So it's different." he soothes. "We don't like it if our human mate does that but it's forgiven because it isn't expected of them."

Well this is humiliating.

Just as I'm drowning in tears and an ocean of embarrassment he draws back to look at me, taking hold of my chin in one hand so that I'm forced to meet his eyes. "And I wasn't rejecting you! Listen, for the longest time I thought you were a human so I had to ease the truth onto you. Then I found out that you were even better than human. But you were still human in the way you were raised, and your lack of knowledge on our world. I didn't tell you about being my mate right away because I didn't want to scare you. Trust me, I'd rather die than reject you. Don't ever think that again, because it's never going to happen."

I sniffle again, feeling like a giant baby. His hand releases my chin and I wipe my face until it's dry before I look back up at him.

"What if I grew a tail?"

He smiles a bit. "You already have one. Sometimes."

"What if I shave my head?"

His shoulders move upwards as he shrugs. "I'd be fine with that, honestly."

"What if I gained five hundred pounds?" I tried.

Silence. Then- "please don't do that."

"So you're saying you'd reject me?" I yell in fake outrage. But strangely he believes it.

"No!" Panicking, he assures me: "Gain six hundred pounds! I won't reject you."

I smile.

"But I will help you lose weight."

I frown.

That's it. I'm gaining weight just to annoy him.

—

Edited 7/28/21