#rm imagines

The stench of antiseptic and blood clung to the air, a sharp contrast to the sterile white walls of the underground clinic. Overhead lights flickered, their power supply unreliable at best. Namjoon barely glanced up as the heavy metal door groaned open, his hands steady as he stitched up the deep gash on his latest patient’s shoulder.

“Dr. Kim.”

A voice, warm and bright despite the suffocating despair of their surroundings.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened. He knew that voice. He didn’t need to look up to see her standing there, draped in expensive yet practical clothes—always immaculate, somehow untouched by the grime of this world. The daughter of the man responsible for half the suffering he treated day in and day out.

But this time, something was different. Blood seeped through the fabric of her sleeve, a wound on her side barely concealed by her posture. Yet she wasn’t focused on herself.

“Help him first,” she insisted, pushing forward a young man whose leg was slick with blood, a hastily tied bandage doing little to stem the flow. “He’s worse off than me.”

Namjoon frowned. Her complexion was pale, sweat beading at her temple, but she made no move to acknowledge her own pain. Instead, her grip on the injured man was firm, steady—even as her fingers trembled.

“What do you want?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

She didn’t flinch, used to his cold reception. Instead, she placed a case on the nearest table.

“I brought supplies. And funding for the next round of treatments.”

Namjoon finally looked up, searching her face for deception. He found none—just the same unshakable determination she always carried, as if she truly believed she could undo the damage her father had inflicted on the world.

“We don’t need your blood money,” he said flatly, turning back to his patient.

She sighed but didn’t leave. “You need resources, Namjoon. I have them.”

“At what cost?”

Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t waver. “At no cost. Just let me help.”

He scoffed. “Nothing comes without a price.”

“Then consider it my penance.”

His fingers stilled for just a second before he resumed his work. He hated how convincing she sounded, how easily she slipped into this world like she belonged. But no matter how many bandages she wrapped, how many lives she saved—she would always be the daughter of the man who made this hellscape a reality.

And he wasn’t sure he could ever trust her.

Minutes passed. The young man groaned in pain as Namjoon worked quickly, minimizing the damage with expert hands. She stayed silent, hovering nearby but never swaying, despite the blood still trickling from her side.

“You should sit down,” he muttered, voice gruff.

“I’m fine.”

Namjoon shot her a sharp look. “You’re not. You’re bleeding.”

She exhaled slowly, unshaken. “I’ll be fine once I know he’s okay.”

The sheer stubbornness grated at him. With a heavy sigh, he turned to one of his assistants. “Get her cleaned up before she passes out.”

“I don’t need—”

“That’s not a request,” Namjoon cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Sit down, or I’ll make you.”

For a moment, their gazes locked, her defiance clashing against his unyielding authority. Then, with great reluctance, she lowered herself onto a nearby chair, wincing as the motion jostled her wound.

Namjoon shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned back to his patient. Reckless. Unreasonable.

And yet, part of him couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, she truly did want to make things right.

Namjoon worked in silence, focus trained on his stitches, but his mind wasn’t as disciplined. Every few moments, his gaze flickered toward her—where she sat stiffly, letting his assistant wipe away the blood on her side.

Stubborn. Reckless.

But the worst part? Genuine.

She didn’t flinch when antiseptic touched raw flesh, didn’t complain when the assistant pressed too hard. She barely acknowledged the pain at all, watching Namjoon work like she belonged here. Like she’d always been part of this war.

“That’s deep,” the assistant murmured. “You should’ve been treated immediately.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, voice steady. “Just patch it up.”

Namjoon clicked his tongue, irritation bubbling in his chest. “You act like you’re indestructible.”

She arched a brow. “And you act like I’m a problem.”

He exhaled sharply, tying off the last stitch before moving on. “You are a problem.”

She laughed—soft, breathless. “Yet you keep letting me in.”

Namjoon hated how much that was true. Hated how, despite every logical reason to keep her out, she always came back. Always with supplies. Always with resources they desperately needed. Always with that infuriating belief that she could fix things.

His fingers twitched. Before he could stop himself, he turned toward her. “Why are you doing this?”

Her expression sobered, confidence slipping just enough to reveal something raw beneath.

“Because I can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Namjoon studied her for a long moment before returning to his work. He didn’t have the energy to argue. Not when there were still so many who needed him.

But the question lingered.

And so did she.

The room was quiet except for the occasional groan from the injured and the soft shuffle of assistants moving between cots. Namjoon focused on finishing his work, suturing the wound with precise, efficient movements. The young man would live, though he’d be out of commission for a while.

Across the room, she sat still, her usual confidence tempered by exhaustion. His assistant worked quickly, pressing gauze against her wound, but she barely reacted, her attention still on the man Namjoon had just patched up.

“Stop looking at him like that,” Namjoon muttered, stripping off his bloodied gloves.

“Like what?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Like it’s your fault.”

She blinked, surprised by his words, but then her lips curled into something wry. “Maybe because it is.”

Namjoon clenched his jaw. He hated that answer. Hated how easily she took on the weight of her father’s sins, as if guilt alone could absolve her.

“Guilt doesn’t save people,” he said, his voice edged with something unreadable.

Her fingers curled against her lap, but her face remained impassive. “No, but resources do.”

Namjoon exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t have the time or patience to argue. Not when there were still people waiting for treatment.

But as he turned back toward the supply table, he caught her watching him. Not with defiance, not with arrogance—just quiet resolve.

She wasn’t leaving.

The clanking of metal filling his ears as he walked outside of the coffee shop was the last thing he expected, especially when his foot had a throbbing feeling that got worse with each hit. “Yah! What’re you doing?” He screeched, hopping a bit to shake the pain away from his foot.

“Ah It’s You?!?” A woman screeched making him turn to face her seeing her stop her kicking and look at him angrily.

“It’s me? You’re the one kicking your car repeatedly, knowing I got your injuries!” He groaned as she kicked one last time with a deadpan look, “What was that for?”

“Look at my legs jerk, you always leave me with injuries and the one time I needed to have a calm day you hit your head leaving me with a big ass knot on my head and all of my coworkers messing with me. 

“I can’t help that I was born clumsy, you’re purposefully causing me pain!”

“Oh good I got my point across.” She smiled sarcastically, slamming her foot into the side of her car one more time, moving to get into her car but Namjoon quickly caught her wrist sending her an amused smile at her tantrum.

“Okay, I apologize for being so clumsy, I'll try to do better.” He offered, barely holding onto her wrist after finishing the sentence, “Can we go to lunch and get to know each other maybe?” 

After a moment of processing and hesitation she nodded, motioning for him to get into the passenger seat, and as he ducked down to get in, of course his tall self knocked his head.

And then he goes shopping for appropriate things to include as well as 6 small boxes that are to fit inside one bigger box.

Inside the first box, he makes a simple gift set to do with taste. A box of chocolates, a small bottle of your favourite drink, and some herbal teas that have various health benefits such as chamomile to help with sleep and calming the nerves, lemon to relieve headaches, fennel to boost your immune system, and so on. 

The second box was to be filled with things to do with smell. Since he felt that you could use a little relaxing session, he put inside this box some scented candles, lovely bath bombs, bubble bath and a scented soap set.

For the third box, sight, he had a special idea to encourage you to go on daily walks. He made his own nature pack based on some research he did of your local park; he printed cards of birds to look out for and trees / plants to identify. He also added one of his favourite books for you to read, a framed photo of the two of you and a little succulent plant that had a matching pot to go with the frame.

The fourth box was touch. A blanket and pyjamas with one of your favourite animated characters. Simple but thoughtful because it shows he remembered one of your favourite things.

The fifth box took some extra thinking than the others but eventually Namjoon had a good idea for a gift that could represent hearing. An old mp3 player that he no longer used with some audiobooks and music transferred onto it. There was a folder of audiobook to fall asleep to, a folder of calming music to relax to, a folder of nostalgic fairy tales for you to smile and reminisce at, and a folder of tunes significant to your relationship.

But why was there to be 6 smaller boxes if there are only 5 senses? That’s right, your lovely soppy boyfriend made a box for what you feel on the inside; love. Granted, some of these could have applied to the outer senses, but it felt better to present these things all together. In this box, he added a necklace with a heart shaped pendant, some heart shaped candies, and then lots of fun love themed things he made himself - well, mostly printed because he tried to make his own card and there was glitter everywhere and his hands were almost fully stuck together from the glue and after about 2 hours of trying he decided the whole crafts thing wasn’t his thing, bless. He made a word search sheet in which you could find words relating to things exclusive to the two of you, he printed out some positive and romantic quote cards which you could have around the house, there was even a jar filled with post it notes of fond memories.

He topped the package with a single rose (artificial despite him wanting a real one because he just knew it wouldn’t survive being closed in for days,) on top of the envelope that contained his letter and closed it with a smile on his face. The thought of the smile on your face put a huge smile on his.

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Care Package To You: Jin // Suga // J-Hope // Jimin // V // Jungkook