BTS || A Smut Collection

The Botanist [Part One] // NamKook

Warnings: Mentions of murder and violent crime, but no in depth detailing. Eventual smut. Read at own risk.

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"KNOWN ARSONIST FOUND DEAD AFTER VISIT FROM 'THE BOTANIST'" read the headline on the front page of every newspaper that morning. The city of Seoul had been rid of yet another dangerous criminal, at the hands of the same killer.

The Botanist was a name coined by the press, much to the dismay of the chief of police giving his press conferences almost weekly, at this rate. The number of murders was rising, but so far only heinous murderers and violent criminals were falling victim. Half the city was praising the 'botanist' for his 'charitable vigilante work', whilst the other thought of him to be no better than the criminals he would eradicate.

But why was he nicknamed 'The Botanist'? Simple. With each of the bodies, left behind was always a single flower or plant, different to the last and placed with care and thought. Each plant had a meaning, a definition, and somehow the Botanist picked the perfect flower to leave with each fresh corpse.

"Police have discovered the body of one Jung Minseo in the early hours of Thursday morning, at what appeared to be the scene of his next arson. The man was found with a single marigold tucked into his shirt pocket.

Preliminary investigations suggest this flower leaves the meaning "cruelty, grief or jealousy". Police interpret 'cruelty' to be the message from the Botanist, after Jung specifically targeted a family with two small children, who sadly all perished in the blaze at their home."

Namjoon folded his paper up and tossed it into the trash. Ever since the Botanist started killing people in the city, his business had dwindled. In fact, hardly anyone had placed an order with him for weeks. But he persevered, nursing his flowers and trees in his beautiful little shop as he had done since he'd finished his degree in plant biology.

He had a few orders here and there, but only enough to breakeven where bills and profit were concerned. Still, if he could keep himself afloat at least until the Botanist was caught and people were no longer afraid, he could manage. People were still holding weddings and funerals; flowers were a needed commodity for such events. However, foot traffic to his shop had wavered, and really, he only had one regular customer who returned to see him weekly, sometimes twice weekly if it took his fancy.

Although he never knew much about him, the young man had intrigued Namjoon since the first day he stepped into his shop several months ago. He seemed a little out of place in a florist, but Namjoon had learnt not to prejudge; he had all manner of customers filter through his doors.

Still, this particular morning Namjoon was feeling a little sour, or frustrated, if you will. With another murder, his customer base was sure to dwindle even more so. He tossed the paper away and lifted his apron from its peg behind the till to slip over his head, wrapping the ties around his back and tying them around his stomach. His tasks for today included his morning care routine for his slightly more needy flowers, and a series of boutonnieres for a wedding at the weekend. An easy enough day.

Botany was Namjoon's passion. Raising beautiful plants and fashioning them into pieces of delicate and intricate art had always sounded perfect to him, ever since his work placement with his uncle's business in a little town just outside of Seoul, when he was still in high school. Namjoon had always been an old soul at heart; a quiet and intelligent boy who had grown into an open-minded and gentle man. He loved books and vintage films, spent his evenings nursing his plants rather than drinking with buddies from his college days and frankly, was a hopeless romantic. And despite the well-built muscle encasing his body, he was the softest and most delicate flower of them all.