A girl Y/N who lost her mother after birth, her father got married to another women who never think of Y/N as her daughter, she hit her called her useless, but Y/N's grandmother raise her but she died when Y/N was a child...
She gets young as a simp...
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Namjoon glanced over at her as she slept, the soft sound of her breathing filling the car with a rare, quiet peace. Her head rested against the seat, her lips slightly parted, her hands loosely folded in her lap.
He found himself stealing glances at her between watching the road, captivated by the calm that seemed to emanate from her even in sleep. Something about her presence soothed him, made him feel warm and happy in a way he didn't fully understand.
As they reached his apartment, Namjoon gently parked the car, careful not to disturb her. After a moment, he got out and walked around to her side, opening the door quietly. She was still sound asleep.
He bent down, his fingers brushing against her shoulder to wake her, but she only murmured softly, shifting slightly before settling back into sleep. Smiling to himself, he reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Lifting her into his arms, he held her close as he carried her up to his apartment. She instinctively nestled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, her face relaxed and peaceful.
He could feel the warmth of her breath against his collarbone, and the feeling of her resting so trustingly against him stirred something deep inside him.
Once inside his apartment, he carried her to his bedroom, carefully laying her down on his bed. She shifted slightly, but her breathing remained steady. He slipped off her shoes and pulled the covers over her, tucking her in with a gentleness he hadn't known he was capable of.
A stray strand of hair had fallen across her face, and though he hesitated, he reached out, tucking it behind her ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment against her skin. She looked so vulnerable, so peaceful, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.
With a sigh, he turned off the light and stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. As he walked into the living room, he noticed the mess he had left that morning in his rush to get to school - a pile of clothes on the couch, papers scattered on the table, a stack of dishes left by the sink.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a pang of embarrassment. He wanted the place to feel safe and comfortable for her, especially after all she'd been through. So he set to work, picking up his clothes, washing the dishes, and straightening the room until everything was in its proper place.
After a while, he found himself looking over at the closed door to his room, wondering if she was awake yet, if she'd be okay with staying here for a little while.
He knew her situation was complicated, painful even, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise up within him, a desire to shelter her from the world.
Meanwhile, inside the room, she slowly began to stir. As her eyes blinked open, she found herself in a dimly lit space, wrapped in a thin sheet, the room was chilly. Disoriented, she sat up, trying to recall where she was.
