#anyway let me stop brainstorming that’s how it starts

[joeyalohadream]

Find the word

How it works: I search for the words prev assigned me in my latest WIP and then choose four words for you to search for in your WIP.

Thank you @rambleonwaywardson (truly so excited to see new words from you! 💕)

My words: earth, sky, slow, luck

All from Chapter Four of Let your heart be light

Earth

It’s John’s turn to laugh at the message and he does so, trying to picture a grouchy Gale, maybe with a pout on his pillowy lips. It’d be a sight and it’s added to the list of things to look forward to. [11:04pm] John: Well, we can’t have that. [11:04pm] John: Are you in bed? [11:05pm] Buck🎄: I am. He hasn’t seen the upstairs of Gale’s little cottage yet and wonders what his bedroom is like. Filled with wooden furniture and creature comforts? Earth toned walls and soft bedding? A book on the night stand and a blanket on the foot of the bed? Is Bailey curled up on him? Have the dogs moved from their beds to his? He knows that he’ll learn all of these things with time and it sends his heart thudding along to put himself there, even just in his mind. [11:05pm] John: Snug as a bug? [11:06pm] Buck🎄: Yes, John. [11:06pm] John: Sleep tight, baby. Only good dreams allowed Dots appear and disappear for a full minute and John lets his thumb smooth over Gale’s name again.

Sky and Slow

The air is crisp and cold but the biting chill that had been in the wind since the snow blew in two days ago is not present this morning. The sun is out, shining in a cloudless sky and Gale’s having a good day. He’s sold eight trees, had two cups of coffee, one that he’d mixed with the peppermint hot chocolate Brady had greeted him with. He’d woken up to a text that John had sent just after midnight telling him he was home safe and sent a good morning message in return. Gotten back a simple ‘good morning, sunshine’ text back two hours later that had him smiling into the collar of his coat as he salted the sidewalks. And now John’s on his way again. For the fourth day in a row, John’s on his way to see him. To spend time with him and buy him a hot chocolate and maybe put one of those strong arms around him as they walk the farm and look for a tree for him to take to work. He wonders if John will notice if Gale goes intentionally slow on their search to stretch out the time. Will he kiss him hello when he gets out of his truck? Is that a thing Gale gets to have now? He hopes so.

Luck [10:59pm] Buck🎄: Think I might like dancing if it’s with you John pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkling, stomach fluttering again. [11:00pm] John: I’ll start brainstorming for a good song. Gotta find the perfect one to hold you close to. [11:01pm] Buck🎄: Just google, ‘longest song in the world’. He barks out a laugh, head shaking, feeling warm inside and out because of this sweet man. He’s never been a lucky guy so how did he find him? How can he make sure he gets to keep him? [11:01pm] John: You gotta stop being so damn adorable when I’m not there to see it in person. It’s not fair [11:02pm] Buck🎄: As you wish. I’m falling asleep anyway, better let it happen. John frowns down at the message. [11:02pm] John: 😞

NO PRESSURE tagging @swifty-fox , @heretoobsessstuff , @stars-remain2 and @pinenutpbj

Your words are: heat, step, heavy, light

[moonsavior]

writing for Queen!mc is dangerous because if I’m not careful I will write one of those "i'm a reincarnated princess isekai'd into the enemy King's court!" type manwhas/webtoons/comics

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part two | part four

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms rest against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[sanjisleggy]

beautiful things (zoro x reader) [pt1/2]

req: […] My prompt is that Zoro may cross the line a bit and say something rather insensitive (up to you, you can make it known or leave it to reader’s interpretation for them to insert themselves in) and it makes the reader somewhat insecure of that or somewhat sad, this goes on until Zoro puts his pride aside to apologize OR being an idiot doesn’t realize what he did wrong until he confronts his lover why they are acting odd around them

a/n: this req was sent before i finished Thriller Bark and now i’m already at the start of post-timeskip :’D what a journey it’s been,,, anyway here’s some angst, i think i hurt my own feelings brainstorming for this :>

contents: set at the end of Thriller Bark, arguments, hurt/no comfort (yet), much angst, Zoro is bad at conveying his feelings, some descriptions of sexy times but nothing explicit as usual (i think somewhere deep in my subconscious is the burning desire to write actual filthy smut but i am too shy oops maybe one day)

wc. 1.8k

wanna be on my taglist?

i.

trying to intervene might have been a mistake, you realise as you use your strength to keep Zoro pinned to the infirmary bed–which is barely anything considering you’d gotten fairly roughed up as well on Thriller Bark. still, you grit your teeth and try your best.

the stubborn swordsman struggles against you but he’s barely able to even lift himself off the bed. his tanned skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as the veins in his neck protrude prominently from the sheer effort.

“please, Zoro! you have to rest!” you beg, wincing from the ache in your sore muscles. “we’re safe now. i don’t know how but we survived so you can’t take that for granted. you have to rest!”

for some reason, the words you chose seem to have hit a nerve. you can tell from how he instantly stops resisting and plops back down into a sitting position on the bed, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he clenches his bandaged wrists by his side.

“for granted?” Zoro growls. an unusual burning sensation sparks in his chest, a stark contrast to the way his skin goes cold as he’s forced to recall what he had to do in order to save his captain–to save you.

his stomach lurches and his throat contracts as his body instinctively tries to force out the contents of his empty gut. the bitterness of the stomach acid clawing its way up his esophagus does nothing but pokes at the rage stirring in his heart.

logically, Zoro knows he has no reason to be angry at you. if anything, he’s always loved the way you fuss over him. over time he’d even developed a habit of pretending to get restless just so you’d take a nap with him in the infirmary bed.

he snaps his head back up to greet your worried eyes with his sharpened gaze, the sudden movement sending a sharp jolt of pain shooting down his spine. the agony is almost enough to overcome his frustration and, for a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll be able to bite his tongue and not say anything too impulsive. 

“just so you know, i’m not taking anything for granted.” the swordsman makes another attempt at standing again, his mind set on getting back to training in spite of the heaviness in the air. “you might not understand but i need to get stronger and i can’t do that if i’m laying in bed all day.”

“Zoro, my love,” you sigh, holding onto his hand as he struggles to even stand properly, “i’m not trying to stop you from training forever, y’know? Chopper said you need bed rest for at least–”

he tries his best to keep his cool, he really does; but when a sudden sharp pain shoots through his thigh, he feels his resolve shatter.

“can you let it go already?! i’m already having a hard enough time as it is, quit bothering me.” Zoro rips his hand out of yours, his eyes subconsciously tearing away from your face.

“Zoro, i’m not trying to be a bother–”

“well that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. you’re being a bother and a huge burden! why’d you think i have to train so hard? i’m always trying to keep you alive!”

he regrets everything the moment he finishes his sentence. he doesn’t even realise he’s raised his voice until he catches you flinching in his peripheral vision. his words seem to echo endlessly throughout the small space, intermingling with the sound of his uneven heavy breaths before a third noise enters the mix.

Zoro’s eyes trail back to your face when he hears you sniffle and he feels an overwhelming ache in his chest when he sees the heartbroken expression on your face. he watches for a moment–his own brain scrambling to register what he’s done–as you begin to sob right in front of him. 

the first mate opens his mouth but he doesn’t know what to say. 

you chew on your tongue as your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt and squeeze so hard your knuckles begin to tremble. an immense wave of anger floods your veins, stirring and mixing with the overwhelming sadness at being spoken to in such a way by the man you love. 

you stare at him through your tearful eyes for a second longer, waiting for him to say something–apologise, take back his words, cry, yell some more, whatever. you don’t care what Zoro does as long as he shows you he didn’t mean what he’d said.

but he doesn’t say anything.

so you leave without saying anything, too.

ii.

Zoro hesitated as he stood in front of the giant bubble before him. he knew this was what he had to do, a sacrifice only he could make to ensure the safety of his loved ones; and yet a small part of him—the part that remembered how even just a sliver of Luffy’s pain was worse than anything he’d ever felt—held him back. 

Thriller Bark was exceptionally peaceful now that the fighting had stopped and everyone was passed out. for a moment, the swordsman wished you were awake and with him. he knew your company alone would’ve made this all so much easier.

you made everything in his life easier.

now that you’d once again entered his mind and demanded all of his attention, Zoro couldn’t help but reminisce on your relationship. perhaps it was just his brain’s way of delaying the inevitable, he didn’t care. he just wanted to think about you.

Zoro remembered the first time you met. how you, a complete stranger at the time, helped him find his way back to his crew. you were patient and friendly, not once did you point out how terrible he was with directions,. it was the first time in his life he distinctly found someone attractive. 

Zoro remembered the first time you shared a kiss. you’d joined the crew for a few months by then after Luffy found out you were an author. none of them ever considered needing a chronicler until that point but once the idea came, it stayed. he had kissed you on impulse after saving you from what would have been a fatal attack. your lips tasted like matcha.

Zoro remembered the first time you were intimate with one another. you’d been dating for only a few weeks by then but the attraction you shared was palpable. you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and you looked at him as though he hung every single star in the sky. 

after your first time, it was far too easy for the swordsman to develop an addiction to you–your taste, the sounds you made and the way you clawed at his skin as you reached your peak. all his life he was used to chasing his own high by himself whenever he needed to let off steam but with you, Zoro couldn’t care less how he felt as long as you showed him how much you enjoyed yourself.

the last thing he allowed himself to remember was a memory of being nursed back to health by you. he remembered how you cried as you fed him soup. he’d laughed at how the spoon trembled in your hand and called you silly.

“i’m not being silly!” you retorted with a wobbly smile on your face. “i’m just always worried about you.”

“don’t be. i promise i’ll get stronger. i’ll get so strong you won’t even need to worry about yourself because i’ll take care of you.”

Zoro smiled to himself as he recalled the way your face softened and your smile grew wide. then, he took a step towards the bubble, deciding it was time to get it over with.

the swordsman wakes up before the dream progresses any further but the pain of it all lingers. gasping for air, he instinctively stretches out his right arm, patting the bed to find your hand. it takes him a minute to remember he’s not in your room.

the morning sun shines through the infirmary window and he can hear the faint noise of his crew members going about their respective duties, preparing the Sunny to set sail away from Thriller Bark in a handful of days. Zoro turns to his right and though he already knows what he’s going to see, he still feels his heart drop when you’re not there beside him.

for a few minutes he simply stays in bed. it doesn’t take him too long to realise this was all you’d been asking of him. out of concern and love, you just wanted him to rest and recover and what’d he do in return? he might as well have spat in your face and that probably would’ve been less hurtful than the things he’d said. 

Zoro rubs his face in frustration, struggling to even remember why he was so angry to begin with, when he hears the familiar sound of your voice passing by the infirmary door. without a second thought, the swordsman forces himself out of bed and makes it just in time to grab your arm before you reach the bend of the corridor. it’s only then he notices that Nami’s with you, as well.

“i’ll wait for you on the deck,” the navigator simply says as she gives your shoulder a quick squeeze before walking ahead. once she’s out of earshot, you finally turn around.

the initial relief Zoro feels when you don’t push him away like he expected is quickly replaced by what he can only describe as dread. you’re looking at him now but you’re not saying anything or pulling your hand out of his grasp. you just stand there with a blank expression on your face.

scream at me. yell at me. do something!

it’s only when he opens his mouth does he realise he doesn’t even know where to start. the dreadful feeling in his chest grows bigger, threatening to swallow him whole. you’re here, you’re right here in front of him and he doesn’t even know what to say.

“you know i love you, right?” is what ends up slipping past his chapped lips.

i know.

you almost say it because it’s true. in spite of what happened yesterday, you know he loves you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine; and yet, a part of you says right now is not the time to say it. you would be lying if you did.

he can tell you’re struggling to think of how to reply and it nearly tears his heart apart. the physical aches and stings he feels throughout his recovering body can’t compare to the dull ache he feels in his chest. 

“i’ll see you around, Zoro.” you wriggle your wrist out of his calloused palm before walking away quickly, disappearing past the bend of the corridor. you leave Zoro behind with his hand still held out in place, his fingers still curled as though still holding onto you.

it takes him a moment to fully realise he might have ruined the most beautiful thing in his life. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense -3-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying. Things are slowly starting to unravel. Drinking and a drunken kiss Smut warnings: morning wood, hickeys. Word count: Chapter 3- 17k Credits: You already know @callmenoona25, is the reason I got back on track with this story. But what you may not know is the fact that she is also incredibly smart and creative, and brainstorming with her is one of the best things that could have happened to me✨ thank you for all your patience and help. Author's note: uh... so, the plan was to have this story completed by new years eve. funny how that worked out huh... but don't worry, we are closing in on the ending. Where we are standing now, there are just 2 more chapters to come. Because, lets be honest, how much more can these guys take?? part 1: here, part 2: here.

Oh, also, would anyone be interested in being added to a permanent tag list? I keep toying with the idea of making one, so if you're interested, hmu ig?

current tag lol @uniquetravelerone

Anyway. Merry Christmas?

You stirred tiredly, frowning at the sliver of light that had somehow managed to sneak through the only crack in the curtains and land directly in your eyes. It pulled you from your slumber far earlier than you deemed acceptable. With a soft groan, you tried to turn away, seeking solace from the intrusion—only to be stopped by a solid body pressed against you.

Namjoon’s arm was draped securely over your stomach, his hand having somehow wandered beneath your shirt during the night. The casual intimacy of the gesture jolted your groggy brain into overdrive, the last remnants of sleep dissolving in an instant.

You shifted again, this time cautiously, trying to gauge your situation, but the movement elicited a soft, low moan from Namjoon.

That’s when you felt it—his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against your ass. Your breath hitched instantly, the realization flooding through you in waves.

The warmth of his body pressed closely against yours, your legs tangled together, and the weight of his arm draped possessively over you made your heart pound violently against your ribcage. His hand, impossibly warm, splayed against your stomach, sending sparks of electricity skittering across your skin.

You bit your lip, utterly unsure of how to navigate the situation you found yourself in. Just as you began to plot your escape—or at least a way to breathe through the moment—Namjoon let out another sleepy sound, a low, gravelly hum that vibrated against your back. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hips, and with that movement, pressing his cock more firmly against your ass.

Heat surged to your cheeks, a wave of nervousness mingling with an undeniable spark of desire. Damn. He was big. You’ve always suspected as much, but now you knew.

And knowing only made the moment harder to ignore.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

At the sound of his name, he stirred slightly, the grip on your waist tightening for a fleeting moment before he relaxed again. A sleepy mumble escaping his lips— something unintelligible, but the low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You tried again, a little louder this time, but still soft enough not to startle him.

“Namjoon,” you repeated your heart thundering in your chest.

His response was a groggy grunt, and then, to your utter dismay—and maybe a little delight—he nuzzled his face against the back of your neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your face heat up even more at his senseless sleepy affection, and you struggled to cope with the current predicament that seemed to dawn only on you.

“Morning…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Uh, morning,” you managed to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sharp rise in your pulse. You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or combust on the spot.

Namjoon didn’t seem fully awake yet, his hold on you tightening slightly as he murmured something that sounded like ‘gimme five more minutes’ against your shoulder. You placed your hand over his, gently trying to pry it off your stomach, but the action only made him tighten his hold and let out a contented sigh.

This was supposed to be simple. You’ve done this before—cuddled up during movie nights, casual and comfortable— but never has his hand wandered beneath your shirt, never before did you get to feel him quite like you were right now.

You were hyper-aware of every single point of contact, the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the very… noticeable evidence of his arousal still pressing insistently against you.

You struggled, torn between waking him fully or hoping he might shift away on his own.

But after a few seconds, seeing that he made absolutely no move to let you go, you ventured awkwardly.

“Are you…comfortable?”

He hummed softly, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against your stomach. “Mmh…yeah,” he muttered, still half-asleep.

Then, as if realization hit him like an avalanche, his body tensed.

“Fuck-” His arm jerked away as if he’d been burned, and he rolled onto his back with a groan, the sudden movement pulling the blanket askew. A rush of cold air immediately slipped under the blanket, biting at your skin and making you instantly regret every choice you made that led to this moment.

“My god.” He muttered, dragging a hand over his red face. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, trying to ease the tension, your own face burning. “You were asleep, it happens.”

Namjoon let out a nervous laugh, still covering his face. “No, no, it’s not okay! I-I didn’t mean to…”

“Really, it’s fine,” you reassured, trying to lighten the mood despite your racing heart. “It’s quite normal for men your age, right? Means you’re healthy and everything’s-”

“Oh my god, please stop talking.” Namjoon groaned, dragging both hands down his face as if that would somehow erase him from existence.

 “What? It’s true! It’s just biology. Natural instinct-”

“Please stop,” he interrupted, peeking at you from between his fingers, his ears now the colour of ripe tomatoes. “You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, biting your lip to stifle the awkward laughter threatening to spill out. You turned your gaze to the ceiling, willing your own embarrassment to disappear, though the heat on your cheeks lingered stubbornly.

The two of you stayed quiet, the silence stretching long enough for the rhythmic sound of Namjoon’s breathing to steady and blend seamlessly with your own. The stillness should have been calming, but instead, it magnified the wild thrum of your pulse in your ears, a constant reminder of just how awkward this was.

You waited, hoping your heart would slow, that the tension coiling in your chest would dissipate. But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it felt, like a fragile thread about to snap.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you cleared your throat softly. 

“Seriously, though,” you said gently, “It’s fine. I’m not mad or anything.”

Namjoon let out a sharp exhale, finally dropping his hands to look over at you, his expression hovering somewhere between mortification and gratitude.

“You’re way too calm about this,” he said, shaking his head slightly, his voice still carrying the remnants of self-consciousness.

“Yeah, well,” you started, struggling to inject some nonchalance in your tone. “One of us has to be.”

A small, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips as he sat up, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Never!” you shot back with a grin, finally feeling the strange strain between you start to give.

“Great,” he muttered, shooting you a playful glare before pushing himself to his feet. With his back to you, he stretched lazily, his broad shoulders flexing with the movement.

“I’ll take a cold shower first, though, if you don’t mind.” He added, his voice carrying bit of nonchalance and amusement as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

You could only watch as he walked out of the room, his broad shoulders and confident stride disappearing through the doorway.

The moment he was out of sight, you let out a long, muffled groan, flopping back on the bed and burying your face in the pillow.

A swirl of emotions crashed over you —embarrassment, amusement, a flicker of regret, longing and something dangerously close to arousal. It was all too unsettling to fully acknowledge, leaving you in a confusing storm of emotions, their weight pressing down on you as heavily as his arm had mere moments ago.

The warmth of his presence lingered in the room, stubborn and inescapable. It clung to you, refusing to fade, making it impossible for your heart to actually slow down.

Get a grip, you told yourself. This doesn’t mean anything. It was an accident. A biological response. Nothing more.

The sound of the shower starting up jolted you out from your thoughts. You turned your head towards the closed bathroom door, watching as a faint curl of steam began to escape from beneath it.

 Stop thinking about it, you scolded yourself, but the image refused to leave. Namjoon under the spray of cold water, his head tipped back, rivulets of water streaming down his toned back… the thought send a fresh wave of warmth to your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands.

No! Not this again. Saying the words out loud might not help, but you muttered them under your breath anyway, as if sheer force of will could be enough to break the cycle. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. Focus on something else. Fast. 

But it was already too late. Your mind had betrayed you.

The moment from earlier replayed in vivid, torturous detail—the solid weight of his arm draped over you, his body pressed so closely against yours, the warmth of his hand resting so casually beneath your shirt. And then—as if your brain was determined to sabotage you further—the undeniable sensation of his cock, firm and insistent against you…

It all made it too easy for your mind to conjure images of him now, under the stream of water— each drop of water tracing its path down the expanse of his trim chest, the sharp lines of his collarbone, the defined strength in his thighs. Good god, his thighs.

And his shoulders, broad and commanding, perfect for digging your nails into. The curve of his arms, strong enough to hold you steady or pull you closer, each movement carrying that quiet confidence you couldn’t help but admire

You groaned again, louder this time, pressing your hands harder against your face as though you could scrub away the onslaught of thoughts. But the images lingered, refusing to simply be dismissed.

You haven’t felt this way since the early stages of your friendship, back when you harboured that stupid, fleeting crush.

Frustration bubbled to the surface—at yourself, at your stupidly overactive imagination, at the fact that none of this should even matter.

You were supposed to be pretending. Just pretending. So why the hell did it suddenly feel so real?

Why did he make you feel this way? His small, casual gestures—the brush of his hand against yours, the quiet laughter, even the soft mumbling in his sleep��were no longer just innocent moments. They were charged, electrifying, leaving you breathless and unsteady.

And the way he held you close when in public, the warmth and ease of it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His genuine compliments that seemed to see straight through you. The way his gaze lingered, soft and intent, like you were the only person in the room. It was all maddening.

Unfamiliar.

Overwhelming.

Completely messing with your head.

The sound of water running in the background didn’t help. Because now you suddenly wondered if he was just standing there, letting the cold-water wash away the awkwardness, or if his thoughts were just as mangled as yours. Was he even thinking about you?

God, was he touching himself? He must, after all—

Stop it! You shook your head again, forcing yourself to breathe deeply.

This was Namjoon. The same Namjoon you’ve known for so long, your friend.  Not someone who had any business making your heart pound like this or set your skin alight with a simple look your way. 

This was the same Namjoon who forgot to take store receipts and napkins out of his jeans before tossing them the washer. The same Namjoon who broke a mug without even realizing it, too distracted by a conversation to notice the mess he made across the carpet.

The same Namjoon who tripped over his own shoelaces, then laughed about it like an adorable dork instead of getting embarrassed.

The sound of the water shutting off abruptly jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you could hear him moving around in the bathroom. Your heart picking up again at the realization that maybe you weren’t that ready to face him again. You shut your eyes tight, willing yourself to calm down. Act normal. Nothing weird happened.

The door creaked open, and the fresh, earthy scent of his Cool Water shower gel wafted into the room. It hit you like a wave, freezing you in place as if your body had decided to betray you entirely.

Namjoon stepped out, his damp hair tousled messily, droplets still clinging to the strands and sliding down his neck. A loose t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric soft and slightly damp, hinting at the toned frame beneath. Grey sweatpants rested low on his hips, completing the picture with an ease that felt unfair.

Your cheeks burned as a clear, unwelcome image flickered through your mind: your lips dragging along his damp skin, leaving a slow, heated path cross his neck, down his chest...

 You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. You need to move out.

Namjoon walked over; his footsteps soft but deliberate. And before you could fully compose yourself, he leaned over your body to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

The sudden closeness was dizzying, and he seemed completely oblivious to your internal meltdown. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, and the clean, minty scent of his toothpaste rendered you nearly catatonic.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low, almost too casual, his gaze meeting yours.

 “Yeah, yeah. Just... why are you still soaked?” you blurted, scrambling for any topic to defuse the tension threatening to suffocate you.

He glanced down at his damp shirt with a lopsided smile. “Didn’t feel like drying off properly. Why? Is it bothering you?”

Was it? Absolutely. But not for the reason he thought.

“It’s the middle of winter, Namjoon. You’ll catch a cold,” you shot back, your voice laced with feigned exasperations, hoping it masked the warmth creeping up your neck.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, the barest flicker of amusement crossing his face as if he was holding back a smirk. “If you say so.” His tone was maddeningly calm, laced with a playful edge that made your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know you cared that much about me,” he added, his voice low, teasing and entirely too smug for your liking.

You opened your mouth to retort, but your brain short-circuited under the weight of his gaze—soft, warm, and far too knowing. It was as if he could see right through your attempt at deflection, straight into the chaos swirling beneath the surface.

“Someone has to,” you managed, crossing your arms in a last-ditch effort to look unaffected.

Namjoon didn’t move right away. He stayed above you for moment longer, his gaze fixed on your face, studying you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. The intensity of it made your cheeks heat again, through you tried your best to not show it.

 Finally, he stepped back with a shrug, breaking the tension like a twig. “I’ll go make us some coffee,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket as he turned toward the door.

You exhaled shakily the moment he disappeared from view, your body sinking into the mattress, and you pressed a hand to your heart in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart.

Why did every interaction with him feel like a minefield these days?

But the warmth he’d left behind refused to dissipate, nestling deep in the space between your ribs, even as you stepped into the bathroom. Turning the water to its coldest setting, you braced yourself, hoping the icy spray could maybe douse the fire he’d unknowingly ignited within you.

 Goddamn it! You were an adult, perfectly capable of rationalizing your feelings. And logically, there was no reason to feel anything in particular about Namjoon.

Sure, he was effortlessly charming when he flirted, his sharp mind and quick wit made it hard not to admire him. And yes, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you, holding your gaze a little too long, was hard to ignore. But that was part of the act—part of the pretense.

And yet, there was something undeniably intoxicating about being on the receiving end of his affection, even if it was just for show. You’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to be one of the women he pursued—those brilliant, breathtaking women who had him wrapped around their fingers. The ones who inspired grand, romantic gestures from him, the kind that left him stuttering and unsure in a way so unlike his usual self.

But that wasn’t you. It wasn’t then, and it certainly isn’t now.

You were here just to help him get through the holidays, nothing less, nothing more. The plan was already laid out, perfectly planned, and you couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head now.

Two days. That’s all you had left. And after that? Things would go back to normal.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Even though a small part of you wondered if that was even possible anymore.

You weren’t sure if you could go back to being just friends after this. Not when your heart was starting to stake its claim, not when every interaction felt charged with something you didn’t dare name. You’d gotten so used to the feeling of butterflies every time he was near. So much so that the idea of casually brushing against him, of not leaning into him like it was second nature, now seemed like punishment.

The holidays were meant to be temporary, a brief interlude where you could play pretend and then walk away unscathed. But the closer you got to the end of the week, the more you realized that this wasn’t something you could simply walk away from.

You were toeing the edge, willing to risk everything you’d worked so hard to bury in the past few years.

Sure, there had been moments when the lines blurred, but those were fleeting, right?

Like that little jealous outburst at the bakery… God why did you do that?

The weight of your emotions were suffocating, pressing against your chest like an anchor, dragging you further into uncertainty. Each rational thought told you to pull back, to maintain the boundaries that had kept your friendship safe and intact for years. But all those same boundaries now felt paper-thin, stretched to their limits under the strain of what this holiday had brought to the surface.

You had come so far in keeping your distance, convincing yourself that you were fine just being his friend, his roommate—just a temporary solution for the week.

But now…now it all felt like you were playing a dangerous game.

And it wasn’t just the casual touches or fleeting glances that unravelled you. It was all those quiet moments in between—when no one was watching, when it was just the two of you, and he looked at you as if you mattered in a way that went beyond pretense. It was in the way he held you so tightly at night. In the way he sought you out in a room full of people, his gaze always searching for yours, making sure you are comfortable, as if you were his anchor, too.

And that is what made this dangerous.

Namjoon had a way of making everything feel real, even the things that were supposed to be pretend.

Every part of you wanted to scream at yourself to stop, to push him away and hold on to the semblance of normalcy you’d worked so hard to maintain. Yet, with every passing moment, you felt that distance closing, felt the walls you’d built around your heart slowly crumbling under his unspoken promises. Especially since he had this knack for being affectionate with you when there was no logical reason you could point to. No audience. No performance. Just you, him, and an unspoken need neither of you seemed to acknowledge.

When you finally felt cold enough to forget why you were so unreasonably horny at seven in the morning, you retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed. You tugged on a soft hoodie, the fabric warm and grounding against your skin. It didn’t erase the tension coiled in your chest, but at least it gave you something to hold onto.

The scent of coffee wafted through the air as you opened the door, a fleeting reminder of normalcy—or at least a distraction from the mess in your heart.

Namjoon was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. His mom, still barely awake, moved around the kitchen, preparing the tools she needed for breakfast. A fresh mug of coffee sat on the table, steam curling invitingly from it.

“Hey, love," Namjoon greeted simply, his voice warm and casual, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile, his dimples making a devastatingly brief appearance. He gestured towards the steaming cup he’d prepared, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Good morning,” you greeted, directing a polite smile towards his mother before shifting your attention back to him.

 Raising an eyebrow at the unexpected term of endearment, you decided you won’t to let him get in your head again. Two could play this game.

“Thank you, baby.” you said, deliberately exaggerating the word with mock sweetness, drawing it out just enough to make your point clear.

Namjoon paused, his smile faltering for just a second, as if the weight of what he’d just said had finally hit him. It was almost comical—the way his eyes widened slightly, the subtle tilt of his head as he realized he’d called you “love” so naturally, as ifwithout even noticing.

His dimples deepened as he recovered, but then there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that suggested he was more aware of the tension than he let on.

You watched him carefully, keeping your expression neutral as you took the mug from him. He opened his mouth, about to respond, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head lightly.

“You know I can’t resist messing with you a bit.” He replied, the playful tone in his voice thickening, tough there was an edge of amusement in the way he looked at you.

Like he didn’t mess enough with you this morning.

 “What? Did you add salt instead of sugar?” you asked, keeping the sarcasm light enough to communicate your true intentions to him, but soft enough that no one else would notice the charged tension between you two.

Namjoon let out a soft snort at your jab, but the real reaction came from his mother.

A giggle bubbled out from where she stood in the corner of the kitchen, halfway through washing the rice. Her eyes sparked with mischief as she glanced over at the two of you. “Salt instead of sugar?” she repeated, a teasing edge creeping in her voice as she set down the bowl she was holding. “Is that your way of flirting these days, Namjoon?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint flush crept up his neck. “Mom, please.” He mumbled, glancing sideways at you for support—or maybe escape.

You couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across your face, taking an almost perverse satisfaction in watching him squirm for once. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, holding the mug closer. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done this week.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, though the corners of his lips tugged upwards in an exasperated smile. “Don’t you start.” He warned lightly, his voice low and teasing as he shook his head.

Before you could get another word in, he stepped forwards, taking your hand with the mug still in it. With a mischievous smirk, he brought the cup to his lips and took a big gulp of your coffee, as if to prove there was no threat.

“See?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Perfectly fine. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment by his audacity.

“You did not just drink my coffee.” You said, glancing at your mug, your voice incredulous.

His mother chuckled, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. “Honestly, watching you two is like watching preschoolers flirt,” she remarked, her tone light but pointed. As she turned back to her task, she added with a sly smile, “Namjoon, do you still pull on her hair instead of just telling her you love her?” 

Namjoon froze, his hand still loosely holding yours, his wide eyes quickly darting from you to his mother as though searching for an escape route.

You, on the other hand, could feel the heat in your cheeks, spreading rapidly as her words sank in. Your heart stuttered under the weight of her question, her casual delivery doing nothing to soften its impact. Did she realty see you that way? Did everyone? Because this—the playful back-and-forth—wasn’t even part of the charade. This was just…you two.

The playful energy of moments ago dissolved into an awkward silence, thick with unspoken questions and the sudden realization that your dynamic maybe wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. You risked a glance at Namjoon, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his face was turned away, a flush creeping up the back of his neck.

Then, in true Namjoon fashion, he fumbled his way straight into the worst possible response. “Only when she asks me to.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop yourself, you swatted his arm. “Namjoon!”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you—or his mother, whose laugh bubbled up, filling the room with delighted mischief. Namjoon winced at your retaliation but managed a sheepish smile, as if realizing too late that his attempt at humour had only dug him deeper into the hole.

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Kim chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Honestly, it’s no wonder it took you so long to get together.” She said with a smile, her voice light but laced with the kind of amusement only a parent could muster.

Namjoon groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Mom, please,” he muttered, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. His hand lingered at the back of his neck, rubbing at the spot where his embarrassment always seemed to gather.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to react—or to let the warmth rising in your own face betray you, one of your telltale signs when you were lying. Instead, you lifted the mug to your lips, completely forgetting that Namjoon just drank from it. The faintest hint of him lingered on the rim, but you forced yourself to focus on the bitter coffee, letting it anchor you as you scrambled to regain some semblance of composure.

Namjoon’s mother didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject, though, casting a glance between the two of you, her eyes sparkling. “You know,” she began, her voice as casual as if she were discussing the weather, “I’ve never seen you this flustered. It’s kind of adorable.”

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly searching for an exit route, but his usual eloquence failed him. Because he very lamely defended with, “I’m not flustered.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but the sight of him so out of sorts was too much. You hid your grin behind the rim of your mug, the bitter coffee doing little to mask the warmth blooming in your chest. “Me either, now that I think about it,” you chimed in, your tone deliberately light. “I second that.”

His eyes snapped to you, a mix of betrayal and exasperation flashing across his face. “You’re the one who—Traitor,” he mumbled, though there was no real bite in his words.

You giggle at his reaction, watching with delight as he gently pushes off the counter. “I can feel you two ganging up on me in the very near future, so I’m going to start helping just to avoid any further embarrassment.”

His mom just grinned, clearly relishing the moment. “Don’t be silly. It’s good to see you getting along so well, that’s all. But if you’re so eager, you can help peel the carrots.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically, but began rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. “Peeling carrots,” he muttered under his breath, his tone mock-sullen. “This is what my life has come to.”

You watched him for a moment, his shoulders relaxing despite the exaggerated complaints, and felt a strange kind of warmth settle in your chest. Being here, in the kitchen, with him and his family—it felt easy. Familiar. Like you belonged.

Without a word, you set your mug down and stepped closer to join him.

“Joining in on my torture?” he asked, his lips quirking in a half-smile as he reached for something in the cupboard above.

“Can’t have you slicing off fingers on Christmas,” you replied, nodding up at him, adding a pinch of that normal back-and-forth you were so used to, the kind that kept things light.

Or at least, you tried to.

 Because, to your utter shock, Namjoon somehow managed to smack himself in the face with the cupboard door.

The corner of the door caught him right above his eye, and he flinched back with a quick, hushed curse.

You stare for a second, completely stunned, your mouth opening in surprise as a small trickle of blood appeared at the edge of his eyebrow. He cursed again, more audibly this time, wincing as he reached up to touch the spot, only to pull his hand away like the pain had caught him off guard.

“Holy—Joonie, are you okay?” you rushed to his side, instinctively grabbing a napkin from the counter.

He looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief, though there was an underlying amusement that seemed to peek through, despite the situation “Yeah. It kinda hurts, though,” he admitted, glancing at you like he was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Yeah, no shit, you’re bleeding,” you shot back, holding up the napkin and carefully pressing it to the cut.

Namjoon chuckled weakly, the sound oddly endearing despite the blood trickling down his face. “I am?” he asked, raising his eyebrows—only to wince when the movement tugged at the fresh wound.

You didn’t even notice how close you had gotten, too focused on your task to register that you were standing on your tiptoes to reach him, or that his hands grabbed your waist to keep you steady. The proximity was a detail you were too preoccupied to process, nor did you notice Mrs. Kim watching the scene unfold with a fond smile on her face.

“Hold still,” you instructed, gently holding the napkin in place. “You’ll need some ice to stop the bruising.”

“There’s peas in the freezer,” his mom casually pointed out, “and bandages in the drawer to your left.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on the napkin pressing against his face. The light pressure was enough to slow the bleeding, but you could already see the hint of a bruise starting to form.

You sigh, gesturing at him to hold the napkin while you get the supplies, his fingers brushing over yours in the exchange.

“Will you ever learn that you are tall and corners exist?” you chastised, walking over to the fridge to rummage for the peas.

Namjoon chuckled at your exasperation; the sound soft but warm. “Maybe one day.”

You managed to pull the freezer open, grabbing the bag of frozen peas and holding it up to the light. “Well, I’m not gonna hold my breath.”

When you turned to make your way back to him, you saw his eyes following you with an almost fond expression. “It’s lucky I’m cute,” he said with a wink, clearly trying to downplay the whole situation.

 “You’re lucky I don’t pass out at the sight of blood.” You quipped, handing him the peas with a soft chuckle. “Now, take a seat. I can’t reach you.” You grabbed the band-aids from the drawer, your fingers quickly working on finding the right sized ones.

Namjoon’s lip twitched, somewhere between amusement and exasperation, but he obediently pulled out a chair and sat down, slouching slightly so you could tend to him without straining.

When you turned back to him, you noticed how he was staring at you—his usual teasing gone, replaced by something softer, more genuine.

“Hold still,” you instructed, carefully dabbing at the blood on his face with a fresh napkin.

As you worked, your fingers brushed through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. It was a small gesture, but it sent a sudden flutter through your chest, because his eyes fluttered close under your touch.

The soft kitchen light seemed to highlight the details of his face—freckles, small moles, the curve of his jaw—details you hadn’t truly taken the time to admire before. But now, with his eyes closed, his features relaxing as though the pain was a distant memory, you allowed yourself the indulgence of taking it all in.

For a fleeting moment, you almost forgave him for drinking your coffee.

His breath evened out, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips as you pressed the band-aid into place with care. Your fingers lingered against his skin, cupping his face to keep him still, and your heart faltered when you realized how effortlessly he surrendered to your touch, as if trusting you entirely to put him back together.

It was only then you noticed how close you were—standing between his open legs, his hands resting quietly on your hips as though they belonged there, silently urging you closer.

The realization hit you like a jolt, and for a beat, you froze. The proximity sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving your hands a little shaky as you reached for the peas again, hoping to focus on something other than the magnetic pull between you.

But just as you moved away, the atmosphere shifted, heavy with the feeling of being watched. You glanced up, only to catch Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway. Her expression was knowing, her lips quirking into a faintly amused smile that made your cheeks burn.

Namjoon’s voice broke the silence, drawing your attention back to him. “Will I survive?” he asked, a hint of humour laced in his tone as he glanced up at you, still holding the bag of peas against his cheek.

His small, half-smile was so casual, so utterly oblivious to the storm of emotions tearing through you, that it only made your chest tighten further.

“You just might,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you expected, though your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Good.” He stood up, hands still holding you close. “Let’s get peeling. No one gets away from this job.”

~~~

You paced around the bedroom, rifling through the limited wardrobe you’d packed, desperately trying to assemble something decent for Hoseok’s Christmas party—something you’d completely forgotten about until the last minute. And honestly, who would blame you after a day like this?

Cozy sweaters and jeans had been your go-to during your stay at Namjoon’s parents’ house, but those felt far too casual for an event like this.

And while the little black dress paired with sheer tights and thigh-high boots seemed like a solid option at first, the howling snowstorm outside quickly made you reconsider.

Namjoon had assured you it didn’t matter, but one quick scroll through Hoseok’s Instagram had your anxiety kicking into overdrive. His house was sleek and impossibly modern, adorned with Christmas décor that looked straight out of a designer catalogue. The polished tree, the subtle golden accents—it all screamed sophistication, a stark contrast to the decidedly average contents of your suitcase.

After watching you agonize over your outfit for half an hour, Minhi had kindly offered to take you to the mall. You’d politely declined.

Because going to the mall during the holidays was, in your opinion, the worst form of torture ever devised by humanity.

Instead, she rummaged through her own closet and handed you a pair of thermal tights and a leather skirt.

With her help, you managed to put together an ensemble that felt both festive and weather-appropriate. The leather skirt paired perfectly with the tights, and your favourite thigh-high boots added just the right edge. You topped it off with a boatneck burgundy sweater that showcased your shoulders, cinching it all together with a sleek belt.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Namjoon was sprawled on the bed, already dressed for the party in a cream sweater and loose jeans—a frustratingly effortless combination—and halfway through a book. His eyes flicked up as you entered the room, and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face.

He probably wasn’t admiring at your outfit, you thought dryly. More likely, he was just relieved you were finally done monopolizing the bathroom.

“You look good,” he said simply, his voice warm with something that sounded suspiciously like admiration as he watched you settle at the little desk to finish your makeup.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, smoothing your hands nervously over the skirt before rummaging through your chaotic makeup bag in search of a lipstick.

His words seemed casual, but there was an undertone that made your pulse quicken. Compliments from Namjoon weren’t rare, but it was always how he said them—earnest and genuine, like he meant them even when he wasn’t trying to. It was something you were used to, or so you told yourself.

The sound of his book closing drew your attention, and when you glanced in the mirror, your eyes locked with his.

“Not at all,” he said, his voice warm and certain, his gaze unwavering. “You’re perfect.”

That was different.

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you kept your gaze on the mirror, pretending to be absorbed in the precise swipe of lipstick rather than the insane fluttering in your chest.

“Sweet talker,” you murmured, hoping to sound unaffected, though the grin plastered on your face gave you away.

Namjoon chucked, the deep, rich sound filling the room. “Just honest,” he replied, propping himself up on one elbow.  His gaze was intense, and it held you captive in that way that made your cheeks warm. Damn him.

You capped your lipstick and turned to face him, trying for a casual air as you smoothed down the sweater. “Alright, I think I’m ready.”

He rose from the bed, unfolding his tall frame with an easy grace and he made his way towards you with an easy stride.

Now standing in front of you, he reached out, fingers brushing against your temple as he to gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A simple, intimate gesture, that made your breath catch just the same.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his undivided attention on you. His eyes seemed to flicker with a thousand thoughts, a whirlwind of ideas that seemed to cross his mind before he finally settled on one.

“I want to give you a hickey.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, utterly stunned. “Excuse me?” you managed, your voice squeaking higher than you intended.

Namjoon’s dimples made an appearance as he tried to suppress a grin, though his eyes gleamed with pure mischievous delight. “I said,” he repeated, completely unrepentant, “I want to give you a hickey.”

You opened and closed your mouth, brain scrambling for a coherent response. “You-you can’t just say stuff like that, Namjoon!” you sputtered, heat rushing to your head and making you lightheaded.

“Why not?” His tone was maddeningly calm, as though he’d just commented on the weather rather than that sudden, unexpected declaration.

“Because!” you gestured vaguely at yourself and the outfit you painstakingly put together, still clinging to a sense of composure “Look at this! Do you know how much effort went into this? And you want to… to ruin it with a hickey?”

And fuel my late-night fantasies for the rest of my life while you’re at it, you silently added.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by your outrage, his hand still hovering over your face. “I don’t think it would ruin anything,” he said softly, his voice low.

His gaze flitted briefly to your collarbone before returning to your eyes, warm but challenging. “I think it might add something, and make this whole ordeal more believable.”

“Namjoon!” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting someone to walk in on this absurd conversation.

He laughed, the sound rich and teasing, before stepping closer, his legs bumping against your knees and almost making them open. The closeness made your heart go crazy, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. “Relax, I’m just teasing,” he said, tough the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I told you I like giving hickeys to my lovers,” he said with a casual shrug—a detail you’d conveniently buried but now recalled with sudden clarity. The realization hit you like a freight train, and the weight of the implication made your cheeks burn.

Before you could respond, his hand moved again, this time his fingers grazing over your cheek before gently cupping your chin. “We want this to be believable, right?” he said softly, his tone low and disarming.

He tilted your head up, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as his gaze bore into yours. His expression softened, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.

You huffed, clinging desperately to your last shred of defiance. “If you give me one then I’m giving you one too!” you protested, your voice more confident than you felt. You hoped the bravado would make him back down, but deep down, you already knew that Namjoon is just as hardheaded as you and would never back down when you push his buttons.

His eyebrows shot up, clearly intrigued by your declaration. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” he asked, his voice a velvety blend of amusement and challenge.

You crossed your arms, trying to look more confident than you felt. “That’s exactly how it’s going to be. Fair’s fair.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Fair. But are you sure you’re ready for that?”

 His fingers lingered on your chin moving down to your neck, his touch light, the words hanging between you, making the tension even more palpable. He lowered his gaze to your lips for a beat.

You squared your shoulders, watching him with a daring spark in your eyes. You weren’t quite sure where this new-fond courage was coming from, but you couldn’t back down yet.

After all, you couldn’t make his heart flutter like he did yours, but damn it, you could at least make his blood pressure rise.

 “Oh, I’m definitely ready. Did you forget how I woke up this morning?” At that remark his confidence wavered, and you smirked. “Are you?”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened. He took a step back, but there was something in his posture now—something that hinted he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this newly formed energy between you. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your sweater, but it was almost as if he were trying to compose himself.

“I’m game if you are.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to let the rush of nerves make you falter. “Fine.” You said, mimicking his calmness, tough your heart was undoubtedly going to burst out of your chest and land on his lap any second.

Without another word, his hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing softly against your pulse point. Then, with a fluid motion, he knelt in front of you, reaching under the desk chair to adjust it. He pulled you closer, the sudden shift leaving your knees brushing against his chest, until your faces were mere inches apart.

You gasped, the heat rising to your cheeks in a slow, burning wave as he leaned in, narrowing the space between you to a breath.

His lips hovered just above your skin, the warmth of his breath brushing teasingly against your neck. You froze, caught between the urge to pull away and the undeniable pull that kept you rooted in place.

He pressed closer, his body fitting perfectly into the space between your legs as you unconsciously spread them to make room for him. Your hands found his shoulders instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as though holding on for dear life.

You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your pulse point, a maddening mixture of confidence and playfulness. His cologne, warm and woodsy with a hint of something spicy, enveloped you entirely, clouding your thoughts and making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Relax, I don’t bite…much.” His voice was low and laced with amusement.

And then you wonder why your feelings were so tangled…

You held your breath as his lips brushed against your skin, featherlight yet sending fireworks through your veins. The shift in the air was palpable, and you were acutely aware how it all transformed from mere playful flirting into something undeniably intimate.

When his lips finally pressed against your neck—soft and deliberate—it was like the world tilted on its axis. The simple gesture unravelled you in ways you hadn’t anticipated, setting all your nerves alight. His teeth grazed your skin, and a soft gasp escaped before you could even think to stop it.

He consumed you entirely, leaving no room for rational thoughts. You couldn’t tell if it was the gentle pressure of his mouth, the confidence in his movements, or the sheer closeness of him, but it was intoxicating, overwhelming and undeniably, all Namjoon.

You could feel the way your body responded to him, melting into his touch, leaving you boneless under his attention, and for a second, you wondered if he could feel the heat building between your legs.

As his tongue traced the outline of the hickey he was leaving, you let out a sound—a quiet, needy whimper that surprised even you. It was the kind of sound that you’d never meant to make, the kind that gave away everything you were feeling, despite your best efforts to hide it.

Namjoon stilled at that, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face.

But you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you leaned further into him, burying your face in his shoulder, one hand threading into his hair in a silent plea.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t stop.”

His breath hitched at your words, and then his lips found that spot again with renewed purpose. This time, he didn’t hold back. His teeth sank into your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp, the sensation igniting a shiver down your spine. When you mewled, his tongue followed, soothing the sting with deliberate, careful strokes.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he worked, every second heightening the electricity coursing through you. Finally, Namjoon pulled back, his lips ghosting over your skin one last time before he leaned away to admire his handiwork.

You lifted trembling fingers to touch the spot, the warmth still radiating from the fresh hickey.

“Told you it would look good,” he said, his voice low and slightly rougher than before, though his tone was carrying he same teasing edge.

You blinked up at him, your brain still struggling to catch up. The audacity, the thrill of what his lips had done to you—it was all too much.

His confidence was effortless, and it stood in sharp contrast to the insecurity now blooming in your chest. You were a mess, your emotions tangled and raw.

This was supposed to be a game, you reminded yourself. A performance. A pretense for the world.

But the way Namjoon looked at you, the amusement and unspoken understanding glimmering in his dark eyes—it felt far too real. Almost like he understood something you didn’t.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with effortless ease. “Before you get your turn, my knees are starting to hurt.  Do you mind if I sit down?” He gestured casually to the bed behind him, his tone light, but his gaze remained steady locked onto you.

You nodded, your throat tight, the words getting lost somewhere between your racing heart and your scattered thoughts.

Namjoon casually sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here,” he said, the warmth in his voice undercut by an unmistakable challenge.

For a moment, you hesitated, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind. Every rational part of you screamed to play it cool, to call his bluff. But your feet were already in motion, betraying your resolve.

With a sigh, you stood, smoothing the edge of your skirt and walked toward him, heart still racing in your chest, but also a twinge of annoyance keeping it beating in contretemps—why did he get to be so effortlessly charming while you were left breathless and flustered by the slightest touch?

You reach him, and instead of sitting beside him like he expected, you boldly climbed onto his lap, your skirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of your thighs.

“Is this better?” you purred, meeting his gaze in an intense staring contest. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but the challenge was clear: you could play his game.

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, his composure cracking for the briefest moment. “M-much better,” he stammered, his hands instinctively finding your hips to steady you, though the surprise in his voice was quickly masked with a hitched breath.

“Good.” Your whispered, the word barely escaping your lips as you leaned in, pressing your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but smirk inwardly, noticing the way he fought to keep his eyes from wandering down to where your chest was now pressed against him.

Closing the distance between you, you let your lips graze his jawline in a slow, electrifying touch that sent a thrill shooting through your veins. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, its rapid rhythm mirroring your own, as though your hearts were tangled together in that moment. You smiled against his skin, trailing your lips down his neck, savouring the rare power shift you’d managed to create, though it was short-lived.

Namjoon’s hands slid from your hips to your lower back, his warm fingers pressing against you skin with a gentle insistence that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His touch was unhurried and deliberate, brushing beneath your shirt in a way that made your breath hitch and you skin prick with need.

You felt his body tense beneath your palms, every muscle coiled with barely contained restraint. His breath grew uneven as your fingers traced the curve of his neck, your touch lingering as you searched for that perfect spot to leave your mark.

Each movement was slow and deliberate, your intent clear as you took your time, savouring every shiver that rippled through him, every spasm that betrayed the effect you had on him. The quiet tension in the room thickened, each breath, each touch feeding the growing heat between you.

His fingers grip your back tighter, a silent plea for more. His eyes darken, and his mouth parts slightly, betraying the control he’s struggling to maintain as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. You catch his pulse flitter beneath your lips, and with that, you know exactly where to leave your mark.

You press your lips to the sensitive spot, and slowly, deliberately, you sink your teeth into his skin. Namjoon stiffens at the pressure, a soft gasp escaping him, but you don’t relent. Instead, you suck a mark—one that’s sure to linger.

He groans low in his throat, his hands moving up to your shoulders, but they’re not pushing you away. They’re pulling you closer, urging you to stay right where you are. His grip tightens again, not in restraint, but in a desperate need for more and you can’t help but indulge him.

You shift, moving lower to leave another mark, this time with more urgency, and then another and another until you reach the collar of his sweater. Once satisfied with his state, you leaned back, your gaze locking with his.

Namjoon’s eyes are blown wide, his ragged breath mingling roughly with yours. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands as you pull back, taking a moment to admire the marks you’ve left behind. The faint flushes of red against his skin making your heart race, a mixture of pride and something akin to love flooding your chest.

Your fingers glide along the sharp line of his jaw, your touch featherlight as you tilt his face upward ever so slightly. His compliance makes your heart stutter—how effortlessly he lets himself be guided by you again, trusting and open to you.

You pause for a moment, taking in the closeness, the way his dark eyes flicker with an intensity that threatens to steal your breath. Slowly, cautiously, you lean in, your lips hovering just a breath away from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

No more games, no more walls. Just this—raw, unguarded, and inevitable.

His breath was hot against your skin, the faint scent of mint makes your head spin. His hands tighten, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

But just as your lips were about to meet, the door swung open with a loud bang, the sudden noise splintering the tension.

“Ready to go? You two are going to be late-” Jackson’s voice trailed off as he froze in the doorway. “Oh?”

The room seemed to freeze along with him, the awkward, tension-laden silence settling in the air. Jackson’s eyes darted between you and Namjoon, his sharp gaze taking in every detail—the blush on your cheeks, Namjoon’s dishevelled shirt, and the undeniable red mark blooming on your neck. A playful eyebrow arched in genuine surprise, and an almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realised what he just walked in on.

Namjoon was the first to react, his grip on you loosening just slightly, though he didn’t let you go completely. He shot Jackson a pointed look, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, though his demeanour stayed intact.

“We were just-” Namjoon broke off, realizing there were no words that could really explain this without sounding absolutely ridiculous.

You, on the other hand, felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding, your cheeks flushed, and for the first time since walking into this room, you regretted wearing that confident smirk. You pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Namjoon’s shoulders, and glanced at Jackson, whose grin only grew wider.

“I-uh... we were just about to head out,” you stammered, standing up off Namjoon’s lap, awkwardly fixing your skirt before reaching for your purse, suddenly too aware of how dishevelled you both looked.

Fuck, fuck-fuckity, fuck.

“Yeah, sure looked like it,” Jackson grinned, leaning against the doorframe far too casually.

Namjoon exhaled sharply, his expression shifting from amused to mildly exasperated as he shot Jackson a look that could only be described as a warning. “Jackson,” he said, his tone light but firm.

 Jackson raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll be out here if you need me. Just try not to be too late, lovebirds.”

With a final chuckle, he stepped back, leaving the door ajar as he walked down the hall.

You let out a long breath, your hands now nervously smoothing over your skirt, trying to pretend like nothing had happened, getting a step ahead of Namjoon’s usual calm demeanour. But the charged energy between you two was hard to ignore.

“Well, that was... perfectly timed,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement, confirming yet again, that Namjoon was some kind of rare breed of monk that could remain calm even in the weirdest of situations, and it was only you and your stupid brain misinterpreting everything about the situation you were in.

You shot him a look, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. What would have happened if you kissed him?

He probably would have finally dropped the act, and you in the process with it. God damn it all. Freud would have a field day dissecting your brain right now.

Namjoon tilted his head, watching you fidget with your lipstick, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. It wasn’t smugness, like you expected, or teasing, like you feared. It was softer, genuine, almost curious.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that it didn’t feel like a question so much as an invitation to exhale.

You forced a shrug, your hand trembling just slightly as you turned back to the mirror, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, never been better,” you replied, the words too casual, too light to be entirely convincing.

Namjoon’s gaze lingered, the weight of it making your skin buzz, but you avoided meeting his eyes, focusing instead on reapplying your lipstick, pretending like the tremor in your hands wasn’t there

“You, uh, might want to wipe that off your neck, though,” you added, gesturing vaguely toward the red lipstick smudges you left on his skin, along with the faint, blooming hickeys.

He blinked, his fingers instinctively brushing over his neck, and when he caught sight of his reflection in the nearby mirror, his lips quirked into a big smile.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone light but carrying an edge of amusement that made your stomach flip as he reached for one of your makeup wipes.

You shot him a glare through the mirror, head flooding your cheeks.

“What?”

Your glare sharpened, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What do you mean, what? You’re just... too calm about this!”

He raised an eyebrow, his hand pausing mid-wipe. For a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously, but then that signature grin spread across his face.

And with maddening ease, he threw your own words from this morning right back at you.

“Yeah, well. One of us has to be.”

~~~

You were the last guests to arrive at Hoseok’s place.

Jackson and Minhi had dropped you off a few streets away on their way to the market for an intense last-minute Christmas shopping session. As the car slowed down to a stop, Minhi gave you a knowing smile, warm and teasing, while Jackson couldn’t resist throwing in one last jab from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t let anyone see that neck of yours, yeah? The marks might be gone by New Year’s though.” His grin was all trouble, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Minhi swatted his arm, rolling her eyes, but her laughter betrayed her amusement. “Ignore him,” she said, though the grin tugging on her lips mirrored his perfectly.

Namjoon shot them both a withering glare, his hand tugging at the collar of his jacket in a futile attempt to shield himself from their bullying.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he muttered dryly, his voice twinged with irritation as he opening the car door for you.

You busied yourself arranging your coat, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to fade. It didn’t help that Jackson leaned out of the car window, calling after him, “Don’t worry, Joon. We’re all adults here. It’s normal!”

The sound of Minhi’s exasperated, “Jackson, drive!” was barely enough to drown out his laughter as they sped away, leaving you and Namjoon standing in the cold, with an interesting kind of silence stretching between you.

As the car disappearing into the snowy street, you felt the familiar nerves creep back in, knotting in your stomach.

Namjoon must have noticed because, without hesitation, his hand found yours. The gesture was casual, but the warmth of his palm grounded you. He gave your fingers a small squeeze before guiding you down the quiet street towards Hoseok’s house.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice soft and steady as he glanced at you with a small, warm smile. “It’s just Hoseok.”

You managed a smile in return, through it felt more like an act of bravery than genuine reassurance. “Yeah, which means everyone will be there.” you laugh, even as anxiousness bubbled in your stomach

It wasn’t just the idea of walking into a house full of people you barely knew. It was what the party represented: being introduced to Namjoon’s closest friends, the ones who’d grown up with him, who knew him inside and out. It felt like lying all over again.

The role felt just as daunting, the weight of pretending just as heavy as when you first arrived at Namjoon’s parents’ house, stepping into the same carefully constructed charade. But now, it seemed even more complicated—because these people weren’t just family. They were the ones who’d shaped him, who might see through you with a single glance and not be afraid to call it out.

The cold nipped at your skin, but Namjoon’s touch was steady and warm. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in your hair and melting against your searing cheeks.

Ahead, the glow from Hoseok’s house spilled onto the snowy lawn, warm and inviting. The windows framed silhouettes of people milling about inside, the occasional bursts of laughter spilled into the quiet night. It was the kind of place that instantly felt alive, where every sound promised laughter and warmth—but to you, it was another reminder of how much was riding on this evening.

Namjoon’s voice broke the quiet. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer than usual. He slowed his steps, turning to look at you fully. “You don’t have to be nervous. They’ll love you.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Love me, or love the idea of you finally bringing someone over?”

His smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a sheepish look that made your stomach flip. “Maybe a little of both,” he admitted, his tone light. But before you could dwell on it, he added, “But I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought it wouldn’t have been great.”

“I just feel like I’m lying again.”

Namjoon’s expression softened at your words, his steps coming to a full stop as he gently tugged your hand, prompting you to face him. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, the comforting motion grounding you despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your head.

“You’re not lying,” he said firmly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re here because you’re important to me, and that’s the truth. And the rest…” He paused, searching your eyes. “The rest doesn’t matter as much as you think it does.”

You frowned, your nerves still quickening under the surface. “But they don’t know that. To them, I’m your girlfriend. This whole thing—it’s still lying.”

“I know it feels like that,” he said gently. “But... it doesn’t feel like pretending to me. Not when it’s you.”

His words caught you off guard, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest even as your stomach twisted with doubt. You searched his face, trying to read between the lines, but his expression was earnest, open, and it only made your heart ache just a bit more.

“But what if they see through it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if they realize it’s all an act?”

Before you could overthink it further, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He smiled, a small, crooked grin that managed to melt away some of the tension in your chest. “They’ll be so busy being excited that I finally brought someone, they won’t even notice.”

Namjoon’s lighthearted comment earned a soft laugh from you, even as you shook your head against his palm. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips.

“I mean it,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And trust me, with you looking this stunning, it’s going to be hard enough to keep the boys from hitting on you, let alone anyone noticing.”

The comment pulled a genuine laugh from you this time, the weight over your shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind if things get awkward.”

Namjoon’s thumb gently brushed against your cheek. “It won’t. And even if it does, I’ll be right there with you. Promise.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer, finding something steadying in the way he looked at you. “Thank you Joonie, I’m sorry I keep making this difficult on you.”

Namjoon shook his head, his expression morphing again into something soft, almost weak. “You’re not making it difficult,” he said gently. “I get it. It’s a lot to ask of you, and I’ve probably handled this in the most Namjoon way possible—which, let’s be honest, means a bit of a mess.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating humour, even as your heart ached a little. “You’ve handled it fine. It’s me who keeps overthinking everything.”

He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours with a quiet intensity. “You’re not overthinking—you’re just feeling. And that’s okay. I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Joon, you make it sound like I’m the most complicated person in the world.”

“Maybe you are,” he teased lightly, his grin reappearing. “But I like complicated. Complicated is honest.”

The warmth in his voice made your cheeks flush, and for a moment, you felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the crisp night air and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots fading into the background.

Namjoon smiled, the kind of smile that made his dimples appear and seemed to light up the cold night. Without another word, he started walking again, leading you up the stairs, your hand still firmly in his.

Before you could chicken out, he reached the door and knocked. It swung open almost immediately to reveal Hoseok, dressed in an awful Christmas sweater with reindeers humping, beaming like he’d been stationed there just waiting for you to show up.

“There they are!” Hoseok’s voice was jubilant as he threw his arms wide, ushering you both inside. “The couple of the hour!”

The heat inside hit you instantly, a stark contrast to the cold that made itself at home in your bones, but it was nothing compared to the heat that rose to your face at Hoseok’s greeting.

“Hobi, tone it down,” Namjoon said, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. He stepped forward to pull Hoseok into a quick hug, shaking his head. “You’re going to scare her off before we even get inside.”

Hoseok turned to you; his grin as impish as ever. “Not a chance. If I remember correctly, she’s tougher than she looks.” His smile only grew wider when he walked over to hug you, “It’s really good to see you again, peach,”

Then, with a theatrical lean forward, he added in a mock-serious whisper, “I’ve always known the two of you were endgame, by the way.”

Your mouth almost fell open, but before you could think of a reply, Namjoon groaned, “Don’t start this again.”

“Oh, I’ve barely started,” Hoseok shot back with a wink, stepping aside to let you both in. He gestured grandly toward the lively house behind him. “But first, welcome to the party. And just for the record, I’d like to take full credit for this coupling.”

“You?” you asked lightly, finally finding your voice. You steadied yourself with a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as you leaned down to tug off your boots. “What exactly did you do?”

“I’d like to believe,” Hoseok said, his grin growing impossibly wider, “that my relentless flirting with you last time I visited was the final push Namjoon needed to grow a pair and actually make a move on you.”

Your laugh came out before you could stop it, equal parts shocked and entertained. You glanced at Namjoon, who looked simultaneously mortified and amused, his ears flushing a telltale red.

“You’d be surprised,” Namjoon chuckled, shooting Hoseok a sidelong look that was both warning and affectionate. “Though I’d hardly call your meddling relentless flirting. More like annoying provocation.”

“Semantics,” Hoseok said breezily, waving his hand as if to dismiss Namjoon’s critique. “The important thing is that it worked. You two are here now—perfect couple—and I have front-row seats. Life is good.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but his grip on your arm tightened slightly, as if to silently ask if you were okay. When you gave him a small amused nod, he relaxed, steering you further inside, with a warm palm against your back.

“Come on,” Hoseok said, leading the way. “Drinks are in the kitchen, snacks everywhere, and just about everyone’s dying to meet Namjoon’s mystery girlfriend. No pressure.”

The house hummed with warmth and energy, a perfect blend of festive chaos and cozy familiarity. “This is quite a big event, huh?” you asked, your tone light, though your eyes darted over the bustling crowd in the living room absorbing the vibrant energy.

“Only the best for my favourite people,” Hoseok replied smoothly, his grin widening as he gestured ahead. “You included, of course.”

Namjoon chuckled softly beside you, the low sound a comforting anchor in the lively chaos. His hand stayed firmly on your back, a grounding presence as the room’s details unfolded before you.

The chatter, bursts of laughter, and the smooth strains of jazzy Christmas music created a lively background symphony. The sweet, inviting scents of cinnamon, mulled wine, and a hint of vanilla wrapped around you, mingling with the warmth of the room. The golden glow of twinkling lights bounced off the ornaments, their soft shimmer casting a dreamy radiance over the space.

Your attention shifted on a familiar face—Jungkook, donning a garishly cheerful sweater that matched his girlfriend’s equally ugly one. Their cheerful waves caught your eye, Jungkook’s grin as bright as ever. His girlfriend nudged him with a playful laugh, clearly teasing him about something you couldn’t catch over the hum of the room. You waved back, a sense of relief blooming at the sight of friendly faces.

Namjoon followed your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile. “Looks like they’re already excited to see you,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Or you,” you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “He’s your gym buddy. I’m just here to admire his biceps.” You said, unable to resist the playful jab.

Namjoon let out a warm laugh, the sound rolling out effortlessly as he shook his head. “You’re my girlfriend.” he shot back with a smirk, “You’re only allowed to admire my biceps.”

Little did he know you already did.

You giggled, the playful banter a small but welcome release of tension. The knot in your chest loosened, a sense of ease slipping in. Whatever was waiting for you tonight, Namjoon was by your side. And if things went sideways, well…you could always throw him under the bus.

Of course, you already knew most of his close friends, whether from their random visits or the funny stories Namjoon had shared during your late-night talks. Still, you couldn’t ignore the curious glances that followed you both. Conversations dipped into pauses as people noticed Namjoon, greeting him with warmth—enthusiastic hugs and handshakes—and every time, their attention shifted to you, eyes filled with intrigue.

True to form, Namjoon was the perfect fake boyfriend. With a proud grin, he introduced you to everyone, weaving a believable story about how you met and ended up together. The pride in his voice sent a subtle flutter through your chest, even if the situation felt a little surreal.

After each introduction, he leaned in close to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered who they were, adding in fun tidbits or inside jokes about each person. It felt natural—too natural—like you’d always been a fundamental part of his world.

At some point, you found yourself chatting with one of Namjoon’s childhood friends, a quiet but kind woman named Jisoo, who had been part of their friend group since high school. Her presence was calming, and you found yourself sharing a laugh over something she said about Namjoon being a “closet softie” in his youth.

Meanwhile, Namjoon was off talking to a few people near the kitchen, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. You could see the comfort and familiarity in his body language as he laughed along with his friends, but every so often, his eyes would flick back to you, checking in. It was such a subtle thing, but it made you feel like you were still the centre of his attention, even amidst all the noise and laughter.

Jisoo, noticing your gaze, smiled knowingly. “He’s a good guy, you know. You’re really lucky.”

Taken aback, you blinked, unsure how to respond. “Oh, uh, thanks,”

“I just mean,” she continued, “I’ve known him for years, and seeing him like this—happy, with someone who makes him smile—it’s a big deal. He’s been kind of... closed off since Su-Ho.” She gave you an appraising look before adding, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You knew that Namjoon hadn’t been in a relationship since his last heartbreak. In the years living with him, you’d seen glimpses of the scars it left behind—the guarded moments, the hesitation when he let someone close, the way he avoided lingering too long in conversations about love. Hearing someone else acknowledge that weight, and imply that you might be a part of helping him carry it, it was humbling, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once. It made your chest tighten impossibly.

You had always wanted the best for him, of course. That’s why you’re here, wasn’t it? Back when you first moved in together, you’d even gone out of your way to suggest some of your single colleagues from work as potential matches. Because Namjoon was incredible—a unique combination of a golden heart and a brilliant mind. The right amount of sexy and dorky, a poet with a stubborn streak. The idea that someone could break that heart had always felt deeply unfair.

Especially since he barely held any resentment towards his ex.

But he’d always gently turned down your suggestions, saying he just wasn’t looking. You’d understood, of course. And if you were being completely honest, after years of living together, you couldn’t deny the small pang of dread at the thought of him finding someone else. Not because you didn’t want him to be happy, but because the two of you had fallen into a rhythm, a quiet, comfortable life shared between two people who had no one else to come home to. The thought of losing that, of being replaced, was a kind of ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

You also understood his frustration when all he wanted was to visit home without having his relationship status turned into an interrogation. His life, his choices, they were enough—but somehow, they never seemed to be to anyone else.

And now, here you were. His friends accepted you so easily, welcomed you into their circle as though you’d always belonged there. But instead of feeling relief, you couldn’t shake the small, gnawing sensation of betrayal. It wasn’t towards Namjoon or his friends—it was towards yourself.

Because you weren’t entirely sure if you were pretending anymore.

“Oh! You’re Namjoon’s girlfriend, right?” a melodic voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you abruptly back to the present.

You turned towards the voice, immediately recognizing the woman approaching. “I’m Iseul, I work at the pastry shop you visited!” she said with an easy charm. Her big pouty lips curved into a warm smile, and before you could react, she enveloped you in a friendly hug.

“I kept meaning to come over and say ‘hi’, but I couldn’t get a break,” she huffed, her tone amused, her energy bright and disarming.

But none of that registered fully because your brain had latched onto something else entirely—Namjoon had introduced you as his girlfriend at the pastry shop.

Even in a situation where there was no need for the relationship, no one to convince, he’d called you his girlfriend.

The realization hit hard, quickly spiralling into another—your mini jealous outburst that day, the kiss you’d pressed to his lips out of pure, irrational possessiveness, all over something that didn’t even happen.

Heat crept up your neck as the memory replayed in vivid detail, your stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something far more complicated.

“You should have seen those two” Iseul chirped, her voice light and cheerful as she glanced at Jisoo. “Barely managed to keep their hands off one another.”

She giggled, clearly entertained by the memory, and you froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she turned to you. “Really? Namjoon? Didn’t think he was one for public displays.”

Your mind scrambled for a response, but all you could do was let out a nervous laugh, one that sounded forced even to your own ears.

“Ah, well,” you started stalling for time as your brain worked overtime to piece together something coherent. “I guess he was just… excited about the milk bread.”

Iseul’s giggle turned into a full laugh at your weak explanation, and Jisoo smirked knowingly.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but thankfully, Namjoon appeared by your side, his timing nothing short of miraculous. He slid an arm around your waist, his presence grounding you instantly.

“What’s this about milk bread?” he asked, his tone light but curious as his eyes dared between Iseul and Jisoo.

Iseul grinned mischievously. “Oh, just reminiscing about how involved you two were the last time you came to the shop.”

Namjoon’s brows shot up briefly, but he recovered quickly, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. “Ah, yeah. This one likes mistletoe.” He gave a playful nod your way, his words laced with a teasing edge.

You felt your face heat up, your cheeks likely resembling the colour of the poinsettias in the room. “It’s festive,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at Namjoon.

Jisoo raised an amused eyebrow. “Are you two always this committed to the holiday spirit?”

Namjoon chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist. “What can I say? She makes the season bright.”

The warmth of his tone made your heart stumble in your chest. It was the kind of comment that should have been part of the act, but the way he said it felt too genuine. Just a little too real.

“Sap,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze, which in turn earned a delighted laugh from the group.

Iseul sighed dramatically, clasping her hands together. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

Namjoon laughed again, his dimples flashing as he shrugged. “I’ve actually seen worse.”

As the conversation continued, you leaned into Namjoon’s side, his steady presence helping you navigate the teasing with a bit more grace. Still, the whole conversation lingered into your mind, and it made you wonder just how much of this you could actually take.

After a little while, the group moved to the couch, each one getting a glass of wine. You exchanged pleasantries with Jungkook and his girlfriend, laughing over some story of Namjoon being a klutz in the gym, and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. As you took another sip of your wine, you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Namjoon was in this environment—the ease with which he moved through the room, greeting people and making them laugh. His energy was contagious, and the way his friends reacted to him—warm, animated, full of admiration—was proof of the bond he shared with them.

“What’s going on here?” you said, half-teasing, as you watched him chat with a group by the fireplace. He’d just taken a seat on the couch, and you leaned over the back of it, one of your hands naturally moving over his shoulder and resting against his chest.

“I think I’m being serenaded by Taehyung,” Namjoon looked up at you, his smile widening as he caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but grin. His hand quickly found yours, intertwining your fingers together as he leaned back comfortably into the couch and you.

“Really? A serenade?” you raised an eyebrow, intrigued and amused at the same time.

Namjoon chuckled, a soft smile creeping into his face as he glanced at Taehyung across the room. “Yeah. Didn’t see that coming, but it’s pretty great.”

You followed his gaze to where Taehyung, guitar in hand, was effortlessly filling the space with a beautiful melody. Namjoon’s smile softened as he listened, his eyes briefly closing as he relaxed into the music.

“Tell him your taken,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his temple, convincing yourself that you were just playing your role.

Namjoon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh as you whispered in his ear, the warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, his expression both amused and tender. “I think he knows I’m taken,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if grounding you both in this moment.

You smiled, the words lingering in the air for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Your heart raced, but it wasn't from the playful banter. It was the quiet reminder that even though you were pretending, this—this closeness, this connection—was something far more real than you had allowed yourself to admit.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it met yours. “But just so you know,” he added, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sharing my spot on the couch.”

You laughed quietly, settling further into his side, the warmth of his body against yours giving you a sense of peace that you hadn’t expected. “That’s fine. I’m going to go get another glass of wine. Do you want one?”

Namjoon’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze as he leaned back, his eyes briefly fluttering closed. “Yeah, I'll take one,” he said, his voice relaxed but still playful. “But make sure you get something strong, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the boys are about to turn that guitar into a full-on concert.”

You giggle softly, standing up and threading your way to the kitchen. As you walked, you silently thanked whatever deity had smiled on you, allowing the evening to go so smoothly.

That is, until you turned the corner into the kitchen and froze, hearing your name called out loudly over the small crowd.

Before you could react, Meyong appeared from the crowd and wrapped you in a bear hug, squeezing all the air from your lungs.

“Wait—what the hell?” Meyong’s voice was loud, her words slightly slurred, and it only took a second before your mom-friend instincts kicked in. You cupped her flushed cheeks as she grinned up at you, her eyes full of excitement. “Oh my god, you’re here!”

“Meyong, hi,” you managed, trying not to panic.

“It’s so good to see you!” she mumbled the words happily, staring at you with that familiar starry-eyed admiration. The alcohol on her breath was evident, but you couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy.

“It’s good to see you too,” you responded, returning the hug. But inside, your mind was racing. If Meyong was here, then Jin was probably somewhere in the mix, and that only meant one thing—this night was about to get tangled. This meant that there was no chance to avoid taking this home with you, because Meyong and Jin would undoubtedly tell absolutely everyone back home. You almost scolded yourself for forgetting the fact that your ex-roommates would also be visiting.

“When Hoseok said Joonie is bringing over a girl I just knew it was you,” she slurred sweetly, blinking affectionately at you

“And why is that?” you chuckled, trying to steer her away from the potential disaster of what she might say next as you unwrapped her hands from around you and gently pulled her toward the fridge to get her some water.

“Because you always had the fattest crush on Joonie.” She deadpanned. “Like, I knew you two were banging once you moved in together.”

“Oh my god Meyong! Keep your voice down!” you blushed furiously, quickly glancing around to make sure no one around heard your absurd conversation. This was exactly what you needed—your best friend, totally oblivious, blurting out something that could easily ruin the delicate balance you were pretending to maintain.

“Aww, Mrs. big shot lawyer is scared of talking about her feelings,” she giggled, taking the water bottle from you and twisting it. “So tell me? When did this all happen? And why didn’t you tell me you were fucking?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at her words, the colour rising in your cheeks in a way that felt downright painful. “Meyong, please, you’re making it worse,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice low while glancing around again, hoping no one was eavesdropping.

Her grin only widened as she took a long sip from the water bottle, totally oblivious to the chaos she was causing. “What? I’m just saying, it’s obvious you two are more than perfect for each other. How’s the sex?” her smile was almost wicked when she wriggled her eyebrows.

But then, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, her expression shifted, and her eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Jin owes me 100 bucks!” she said, as if everything made sense.

You blinked, a mixture of confusion and frustration flooding your system. “What?” you managed to get out, feeling like you were on the verge of losing your sanity. “Why does Jin owe you money?”

“We made a bet, he said there is no way Namjoon has the balls to confess to you, but I won!” She smiled, tacking on an unwarranted “Namjoon has balls!”

You stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait, hold on,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. “Jin bet against Namjoon confessing to me?”

Meyong nodded vigorously, clearly proud of herself, but before she could elaborate, Jin walked in.

“There you are,” his voice cut through the conversation, his face a mix of relief and amusement at the state his girlfriend was in, “I figured I’d find you here gossiping.” he looked directly at Meyong, carefully collecting her in his arms, keeping her steady.

“You owe me money,” she muttered looking up at him, completely undeterred by his shushing.

“Yeah, I figured,” he replied unamused. He carefully adjusted his grip on Meyong, who was swaying just slightly in his arms, looking utterly pleased with herself.

 Jin’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his tone shifting slightly. “Just for the record, I just figured that since Namjoon never made a move when you first met, that it would never happen.”

Jin’s words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said, your mind racing with confusion and disbelief.

“Namjoon liked me?”

Just then the subject of your gossip session walked in, his warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You turned quickly, almost startled, as Namjoon’s presence loomed behind you. His hand on your shoulder was steady, grounding, and yet there was an unmistakable tension in the air. He must’ve sensed something was off from the way you were standing, the way your eyes lingered on him, wide with surprise.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his gaze flicking between you and Jin, his voice a little too casual.

Before you could respond, Meyong, still blissfully unaware of the tension she’d stirred, grinned at Namjoon. “Okay, spill. You’re dating now?” Her tone was loud enough to catch the attention of the people around you, and you felt your cheeks heat instantly. “It’s new,” Namjoon said smoothly, the practiced ease of his response both reassuring and unnerving.

“New?!” Meyong repeated, letting out a laugh that was just a little too loud. She turned to Jin, “I told you! You owe me money!” She gave a bubbly giggle, “They’re idiots in love. What did I say, babe?”

“You said it every chance you got,” Jin said dryly, though he was clearly enjoying himself, his arm protectively wrapping around her waist. “For years.”

You groaned internally, shooting Namjoon a quick glance. He gave you a subtle nod, like he was silently reminding you to play along, that he will fix it all later.

“Well, it just made sense,” you then added, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “We work well together. That’s all.”

Meyong squinted at you, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, honey. That’s all?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “You telling me you’ve been sharing an apartment with him and you haven’t been climbing him like a Christmas tree every chance you got? I see the hickeys!”

You allowed yourself a second to cuss out Namjoon in your mind, trying your best not to let your face drop too dramatically.

“Meyong,” you hissed, mortified, your face burning as you felt Namjoon laugh besides you, acutely aware of his hand that found its way to your hip, pulling you into his side.

“What?” she said innocently, though her grin only widened. “I’m just saying, if I’d been living with Jin before we got together...”

“Okay!” Jin interjected, raising his hands like a referee calling for a timeout. “Let’s not traumatize our friends tonight.”

“Oh baby, we can tell them about the sex book!”

You felt your entire body flush, unable to hide the growing heat in your cheeks. “Meyong, stop!” you managed to stammer, looking desperately around the room for a distraction, but it was clear that nothing could save you now. Namjoon, however, only chuckled softly, his hand resting casually on your hip as if he were fully aware of the storm he had just inadvertently stirred up.

Meyong's grin grew impossibly wider as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What? It's not like we're all virgins here. We know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Please, for the love of all things holy,” you muttered, half laughing, half mortified.

Jin, clearly amused but still calm, gave you a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to listen to her. She’s been drinking, and her filter is long gone by now.”

Namjoon’s chuckle rumbled beside you, and he gave your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said in a low, teasing voice, “She’s just excited to be part of the gossip.”

“Yeah, thanks for the water, it was nice seeing you guys,” It was almost as if Jin could sense the awkwardness clinging to you, and he lovingly tried to maneuver his girlfriend towards a seat, but she twisted in his arms,

“Babe, but the book!”

Jin shook his head with a bemused smile, clearly used to this side of Meyong, taking her hands and wrapping them around his neck as they walked. “We’ll talk about the book later,” he said calmly, gently pulling her along to the couch before she could launch into any more embarrassing details about their private life.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. Glancing over at Namjoon, you half expected him to wear that casual smile of his, but instead, you were met with an almost sombre look, as if that conversation took the same toll on him.

“About that strong drink,” his eyes avoided yours, and before you could respond, he reached for a bottle of whiskey on the counter, his hand pausing midair as if he was weighing the situation. He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh before grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a generous amount into a glass.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him carefully. There was something in his movements, a shift you hadn’t expected, and it made you wonder if the playful atmosphere had affected him more than he let on.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing as you stood beside him. Your fingers grazed the edge of his glass as you instinctively reached out to steady it.

Namjoon gave a fleeting smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a long gulp from his glass, his gaze briefly shifting away. “Yeah,” he replied, though the word lacked conviction, like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

Your hand found his, your thumb tracing over his knuckles gently. His words hung in the air, and something in the way he said them made your chest tighten, an uncomfortable feeling settling between you two.

He finally met your gaze, and in that moment, it was as if everything else around you disappeared. The music, the laughter, the chatter—none of it mattered. It was just the two of you standing there, caught in the quiet space between words. He parted his lips, like he was on the verge of saying something, but then he faltered, swallowing hard instead and finishing his drink in one long, steady pull.

The silence stretched between you both, heavy and thick, but neither of you moved. You could feel the weight of his emotions, even though he hadn’t said a word. It was in the way he held himself, the way his fingers tightened around his glass before he set it down on the counter with a quiet clink.

“I-” Namjoon began, but then he stopped, shaking his head slightly, as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “I think I need some air.”

You nodded, understanding more than he could probably know. “Okay,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand one more time before you let go.

Namjoon gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his shoulders lifting in a resigned breath before he stepped past you and toward the door leading out to the balcony. You watched him for a moment, chewing your lip as a million different thoughts unleashed in your mind. Maybe this was it—the moment that he realized everything had been a mistake. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of the consequences so far. But perhaps now he regretted ever asking you to come along, regretted just how big the lie you spun has gotten, how it was now seeping back into your day-to-day life back home.

You lingered for a while, lost in the muddle of your thoughts, trying to steady the whirlwind in your chest. Minutes passed, but nothing seemed to quiet your restless mind. Pouring yourself a glass of wine offered only a fleeting sense of calm—kike standing in the eye of a hurricane while the chaos swirled just out of grasp.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, you grabbed a water bottle—a little gesture that somehow cemented your resolve. You reminded yourself that this was simply what a good friend would do, and with that thought, you headed towards the balcony.

As you reached the door, you hesitated for just a second, unsure if you should interrupt the space he had taken for himself. But the thought of leaving him alone, unsure, and potentially unravelling further without you there, spurred you forward.

You stepped outside quietly, the cold air hitting your face and clearing your mind.

 Namjoon was leaning against the railing, eyes staring out at the city lights, distant and lost in thought. His posture was tense, his body language closed off, like he was carrying the weight of something heavy.

Taking a slow breath, you walked up beside him, offering the water bottle as a simple gesture. “Thought you might need this,” you said gently, your voice soft against the backdrop of the night.

Namjoon glanced at you, a brief flicker of something in his eyes before he looked back out at the view. His hand hovered over the bottle, but he didn’t take it immediately. The silence between you two felt thick, but you weren’t in a rush for him to fill it with words.

The faint blush across his cheeks was still evident even in the cold air, and being this close, you could catch the scent of spiced wine and whiskey on his breath. Maybe that was why you didn’t question it—his intentions—when he leaned in ever so slightly, caging you against the railing of the balcony. His eyes searched yours, his lips tantalizingly close, the space between you evaporating as his breath brushed against your skin.

Your fingers gripped the cold metal of the railing, grounding yourself as the city lights blurred behind him, their brightness eclipsed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He said softly, his voice low and almost reverent, as if even voicing the thought would break the spell.

You let out a breathy laugh, a huff of exasperation you couldn’t quite contain. “Namjoon,” you said, barely above a whisper. “There’s no one around.”

The words should have been a reason to stop, to call this what it was: a charade, a performance. But instead, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t name.

“I know,” he murmured. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours in the chilled air, reminding you just how intoxicated you both were.

 For a heartbeat, he froze, as though waiting for you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, as though he was waiting for you to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him, he pressed harder, more insistent. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was the shattering of every barrier you’d built, the collapse of all your carefully laid plans to keep this friendship intact, to keep it fake.

Your hands found his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater as his moved to cup your face, tilting you closer like you were something precious. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine as he deepened the kiss, his resolve crumbling as fast as yours.

He left you breathless, every nerve in your body alight, your chest rising and falling in sync with his. The warmth of his forehead against yours grounded you for a moment, as if the world had tilted on its axis, the alcohol in your blood suddenly going to your head, and this was the only thing holding you steady.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath shaky when he pulled back. You stood there, still reeling from the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest as his breath mingled with yours. The warmth of his forehead against yours felt like the only anchor in a sea of confusion. You weren’t sure if you were both still caught up in the intoxication of the night, the wine and whiskey blurring your sense of reality, or if there was something deeper at play.

But then he spoke, voice raw, hoarse, like the word scraped out of his throat, and cut through the haze.

“Fuck.”

It was the kind of word that felt like a confession, like a moment of clarity in the middle of chaos. And as much as you wanted to believe it was just a slip, a fleeting moment brought on by alcohol and the weight of your shared history, something deep inside you couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

You pulled back slightly, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, searching yours as if looking for something—anything—that would make this make sense. But nothing did. Not the kiss, not his reaction, and certainly not the way your heart refused to calm down.

This had been a mistake, hadn’t it?

A drunken mistake. A slip. And now, standing in the aftermath, you couldn't tell whether you were relieved or devastated.

His lips parted like he was going to say something, but then the words fell short. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog that had settled over him.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Namjoon muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

You swallowed hard, your hands still gripping his sweater as you tried to make sense of it all. “Neither did I.”

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, both of you searching for an explanation, but finding absolutely none.

[gayofthefae]

Extrapolating the full Mike and Nancy scene from that one screenshot: cinematography analysis

Just posted this then realized I have not lived up to it so let's go. We have one and only one to my memory actual camera shot of a potential Byler scene as opposed to a leak (though I could try to decipher from camera position itself for pics from afar).

And I haven't done my job to its fullest. So here we go.

This shot is MIKE'S POV. It is a dirty OTS. I have established that when he turns he looks a bit sad. He is aware of her eyes on him. She looks sad for him, obviously, so we can gather that he is feeling sad about something but trying to hide it from her. In this shot, he is hyper-aware of her being able to see him, which explains him turning away and supports that it is to hide his face and not just for whatever task he is performing off screen.

It is also an OTS shot, but a lingering and silent one. We know that something provoked this is her so it is clearly not the beginning of the scene. New information is gained at the end and withheld or coded to start and she has clearly just learned or realized something. The OTS is pertinent, though, because a shot for non-casual dialogue. Less intimate dialogue is often shot wider - think Steve and Robin in 4x08 talking about Nancy before it shifts to Robin's fears of dying, think Mike and Will between talking about Mike and El's fight and talking about the party's heroism.

There is also something called a "reverse shot" which refers to doing the same shot you just did on person A on their scene partner when you cut to them. Because of how it lingers on her here, I would assume the scene itself is in her POV and it being a dirty OTS shot may speak to Mike's awareness but not his perspective in the overall scene and is more likely just a reverse shot of her previous dirty OTS. I would also assume that based on this visibly being a point of gained knowledge - the value having changed in the scene (this means if you start feeling/knowing one way it's gotta end up something different or you should cut the scene) - this is the end of the scene, this scene for being for the purpose of gained knowledge setting UP a future scene with the purpose of a conversation on it, but those are two separate scenes. If she immediate said what she noticed, there would be no need to focus on her while he's looking away here any more than Will needs to silently pine for Mike in the van scene like he did in the junkyard - a shot you'll notice IS absent in that scene as I just noted because the same information is provided in other ways. THIS seems to be the sole source of the information here. So it is likely the end of the scene.

From that, we can gather that they were already in OTS's and not wide shots, which are the shots most used for one on one dialogue that is meaningful to the characters. They are having a dialogue that is already intimate or important to them, unlikely a simple strategy brainstorm. I didn't feel the need to mention but will anyway as this reminded me: this seems to be only a dialogue with no other participants or witnesses present. Back to the dialogue, though, this actually is different than what I previously thought because looking down makes it look like he's working on something, which would bring a more casual tone to their conversation. But he could have also just now resumed that activity, having stopped to talk seriously. I also might be simply wrong and he's just looking down, not at anything specific.

We also know, though, from my earlier point of Nancy not yet acting on this information that, though Mike is aware of being witnessed, there is no confirmation that he knows she knows etc. The information she gained is unspoken. For example, he didn't slip up and confess his feelings for Will. That would be undeniable. Here, he is able to at least pretend she doesn't know and turn away, continuing with something else, rather than trying to correct the situation in any way. Most importantly in defining this: whatever Nancy just learned - to Mike's awareness (whether he noticed her realization or not), he is still safe. Notable by the fact that his reaction is avoidance, not desperation. At best he is oblivious, at worst he is anxious, but he is not desperate. This is not as high stakes to him as we have seen before when it comes to personal information.

All this information helps us start to put together a scene:

In a scene in Nancy's POV, Mike and Nancy are alone together. They have a serious conversation. In it, Nancy learns something about Mike, but the information is unspoken. She looks at Mike thoughtfully. He seems to be aware she is looking at him. The scene ends without further action on the topic.

[sheeezu]

Hi, I'm pretty new to shifting. I have had that "tugging" feeling in my brain a couple of times where everything around me blurred but never actually shifted. Do you have any tips about what I should do doing these times? Like close my eyes, think of a certain things, etc.

I am very bad at visualization, so I was wondering if you have any tips for that?

And also I was wondering if a script is necessary to shift? Are there any more important parts in a script?

Thank you so much, even though I have never shifted I already want to permashift once I learn.

When you start feeling symptoms, which are too strong to be premature, than it means that your 3D (physicality) is shifting, as you have already shifted in your 4D (thoughts).

The first step is to remain calm, detach yourself from the shifting process, like affirming. Its best to not get excited, but if you're feeling excitement which you can let go of, make it so your DR self is feeling excited for any reason, so you're channeling your emotional energy towards your DR as well. Its important to act like your DR self from that point onwards.

My first method doesn't involve visualising, read my pinned post.

A physical script is not important, but a general idea of what you want is important. People who are experienced in shifting (doesn't matter if they shifted or not) stop physical shifting after they've created at least one script.

This is important because you could have general multiversal laws (it really is lawless out there) safety rules and regulations established first, so you can save yourself in trouble later on.

If you don't feel like it, sit down, brainstorm everything you need and will need in your DR, the script will be stored in your subconscious, regardless.

But anyways, your subconscious knows what you want, but it's best to decide consciously so that your human brain doesn't interfere during it.

Important parts of a script:

On top of your script, write a safe word. It's could be a phrase as well, and it's better to keep a single one for all DRs. You should script that no matter what happens, you'll never forget it, this safeword will instantly shift you back to this CR, or another "safe" reality which you've decided, this could be a waiting room.

Safety rules; general stuff like not getting hurt, others which ensure you're a master shifter and manifestor, so nothing unpredictable can happen to you. Also script a LIFA app, which is like a setting app for the multiverse.

Script that everything around you perceive you as a normal human being (or whatever species you are) so that even astral beings aren't able to figure you're a shifter.

Other details regarding your DR, this doesn't have to be detailed, it's perfectly fine to leave out information, because your subconscious will fill in perfectly for you, just provide a framework.

"Whatever I have not scripted works out perfectly and exactly how I want it to."

Sorry, I'm a bit short on time, but you'll find other great posts explaining everything.

Hope this helped.

[silverwhittlingknife]

OKAY SO i have been rereading dustorange's wonderful post here about Dick in an UtRH-esque scenario where he dies & then comes back to life

AND I HAVE INCOHERENT BRAINSTORMING THOUGHTS:

so first, i think Robin!Dick would be just as hurt by the discovery that Bruce has a new Robin, and brood about it - but i think the shame of having died would stop him from confronting Bruce about it the way Nightwing!Dick does in canon.

and I do NOT think that he would expect Bruce to kill anyone for him (or even be upset that he doesn't? I just don't think this would be a consideration for Dick. he's gonna be fixated on "I failed." so he'll be upset about being replaced but not about the lack of revenge. and if Bruce did take revenge, i think he'd actually feel angry and betrayed about that because it'd feel like the choice was taken away from him, a la how upset he gets when he thinks Bruce has arranged to have Zucco killed - even if he intellectually knows that Bruce wasn't deliberately undermining himbecause he didn't know Dick was gonna come back to life.)

anyway so what WOULD he do??

what comes to mind is something along the lines of "Dick obsessively keeps an eye on Batman & Robin even while telling himself that he's not"

and then - say - if it's Robin!Tim (i feel like this has to be Tim because in the world where Dick dies there is no way that Bruce is voluntarily picking a new Robin), then maybe the moment when Dick steps in is when Bruce is in danger & he's furious / critical of Tim for not protecting Bruce well enough

and i feel like that's how he'd channel the hurt feelings - it'd all be deflected under shame and obligation, and then translated into the anger of "you replaced me & yet you're failing to do the job that you're supposed to do" (which is actually about projection/self-hatred because Dick would actually be mad at himself for having died & not doing that job anymore)

and Dick wouldn't want to see Bruce at all because of the shame over dying & subconscious fear that Bruce doesn't want him back, plus every little thing that Tim does differently would drive him NUTS because it implies that maybe the way Dick did things wasn't good enough for Bruce

i'm actually kind of fascinated by this now. because i am me and i have (1) obsession i am mostly invested in the dick & tim side of it sdfsdfds

so i'm picturing Tim very stung by whatever critical things Dick said to him & tracking this mysterious vigilante down, and then Dick doesn't want to spend ANY time with him BUT he's also subconsciously desperate for news of Bruce!!! so then something something Dick starts sorta training him a la Tim's various contacts with edgy non-batman-aligned vigilantes, and Tim's very defensive about how he IS a good robin so THERE but of course he's also defensive because he's secretly worried he's not good enough.

normally i would have tim Recognize dick since recognizing dick is tim's most basic skill HOWEVER i think it would be much more fun if tim doesn't recognize him so he can give dick a speech about legacy & the first robin: "i do x and such because that's how the first robin did it so it is Objectively Correct." which Dick will find incredibly infuriating but will be unable to counter since he cannot counter with 'the 1st robin was ME'

…hmmm i do think Dick ought to be angry about SOMETHING about batman's methods/attitude just because that's more dynamic? I feel like in order to make the adaptation work, there ought to be SOME kind of argument with Bruce right before he dies that he can still be mad about, a la the garzonas fight for Jason and Bruce. unsure what though?

okay let's see: I feel like Dick's main arguments with Bruce aren't about vigilante issues per se so much as they're about working in a team - so e.g.

1) Bruce being controlling/demanding, and 2) Bruce being secretive and doing stuff behind Dick's back, and 3) Bruce not allowing Dick enough autonomy, 4) just generally a perceived lack of trust.

SO maybe whatever The Frustrating Thing that bruce was doing when dick died is a thing he's STILL doing with this new robin, and dick is getting frustrated all over again sorta on tim's behalf but mostly on his own behalf because he never got to resolve this with bruce

but anyway that way when Bruce finally spots disguised!Dick, then they can have the fight again before Bruce realizes who he is <3

[starlightkyeom]

once upon a summer | bsk

summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for vacation and you’re married to this town. 

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst rating: sfw but minors still don't belong here word count: 8.6k tags/warnings: none really, some swearing, mentions of food, there's a tiny bit of angst

a/n: thank you so much to @beomcoups and @mingsolo for hosting the Now That's 90s collab! be sure to check out the other amazing fics 💕 also thank you to @wonwussy @cheolism @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions for helping me brainstorm when i got stuck writing seungkwan.

It’s the same every year, without fail. The weather starts to get warmer, summer is around the corner, and your sleepy little beach town transforms. No longer sleepy, now bustling with life and tourists. Although you groan at how busy the roads get or how difficult it is to run errands or even how hard it is to find a place to go out to eat, you’re also thankful. The influx of tourists guarantees that your family will be able to make ends meet for another year. Sure, there are people that visit during the off months. When it’s too cold to go into the water or even to sit outside and enjoy a meal, at least to most of the people who visit. When you have to wear pants and a jacket to walk along the sands of the beach, careful not to get any part of you wet. But, the bulk of tourists visit between late May and mid September, like clockwork.

You’re just as married to this little town as your parents are. Chipping in at their restaurant when you can, but mostly running a beach rental company with your brother. It lets you be outside a lot more, running boat tours to look at dolphins or explore the tiny little islands off the coast. Or renting out jet skis for people to run around on. Sometimes, when you can’t pawn it off on someone else, you also lead the kayak tours through the shallows between the outcroppings of seagrass. It’s not that you mind those tours or even the workout of kayaking. No, it’s just that people have a tendency to overestimate their abilities and either end up whining or toppling their kayaks over. You’re keen to avoid that whenever possible. When the ocean is calm enough, you’ll also let people rent boats to go out wakeboarding. Those are some of your favorites, when you get to drive because none of the tourists has a boat license. Or, more realistically, nobody wants to deal with it when they’re on vacation. And there’s nothing stopping you from turning the boat a little too hard if someone is acting like an asshole. All you do is say you’re avoiding a wave or staying out of the path of another boat. You’re the local here, born and raised. How can they argue with that?

On the days when it’s a little slower at the shop, or the ocean is a little too wavy for some of the activities, you’ll drop in at your parents’ restaurant. You’re not often on the schedule, but there’s always plenty to help out with. Whether it’s filling in for someone that called out last minute or hopping behind the bar or just running food to tables. Your parents’ restaurant is one of the most popular in town. People wait for hours to eat there just because they don’t want to be the only ones left out. Of course, you also think the food’s amazing, though you’re a little biased. 

Today is one of those perfectly calm days out on the water, so you know you won’t be able to swing by the restaurant. Not that the waves ever get that big here. It’s definitely not enough to surf outside of an incoming storm. But, you try to be careful with renting the equipment out all the same. Most of the boats are refurbished anyway, since new ones are so expensive. 

“What’s on your schedule today?” your brother, Jamie, asks. 

“Nothing so far. I’m just getting caught up on paperwork and renting out boogie boards and shit,” you answer. “Not that there’s any waves to use them on.”

“No duh,” he answers. “Think the kids just use it to float on.”

“Whatever floats their boat,” you shrug.

“Feel like running a private tour out to the islands for the day?” he asks.

You fix him with a look, assessing him. It feels like a setup because you love taking private tours. They usually bring a bunch of food and drinks and just kind of do their own thing on whatever island you take them to. Which leaves you free to read or just enjoy the sun. Sometimes, you’ll even fish or snorkel. It’s just, well, your brother loves those tours too because they’re easy. Something about his tone makes you suspicious. 

“Why aren’t you doing it?” you finally ask.

“Got a kayak tour in an hour and they’ll be here any minute,” Jamie says. “And you hate the kayaks.”

“Gotta page Mike to make sure he’s back before you head out,” you say. 

If you’re about to take a boat out and your brother has a kayak group in an hour, then someone is going to need to actually man the store. Since you set the schedule yourself, you know that Mike should be back in half an hour, tops. But, like all of you, he’s prone to tacking on a few extra minutes when the group is cool and he doesn’t have something scheduled back to back. 

“Chillax, I already did that and Joshua is coming in a little earlier so he’ll be here before I take the kayaks out,” Jamie says.

“Joshua tries to get pretty girls to listen to him play guitar and you want him alone in the shop?” you wonder with a snort.

“That was one time,” Jamie defends, ever the loyal friend.

There’s a retort on the tip of your tongue about how he’s only been caught doing that one time when you notice a group of guys approaching. You immediately know why your brother passed the group off onto you. At least, if these are the dudes that booked the private boat tour. Shoobies. The worst kind of tourists because they don’t think they’re tourists. Because they only live a few hours’ drive away so really, it’s like they live here too. Because they have a house out here and no it’s not just a vacation house, this is home. This particular group saunters up looking like they just stepped out of some boating catalog. Before your brother can elbow you, you plaster on your best fake smile, the one reserved for times like this. 

The guy in front seems to be the one taking charge. His bright button up shirt matches his shorts, like he probably got them in a set, and his slightly curly hair looks a little too styled for the beach. The sunglasses look expensive, too, which you never recommend for a boat trip, but it’s his money. Honestly, his whole outfit probably runs close to what you’re charging to take them out for the rest of the day. So, that’s his choice.

“Sup, we’re looking for Jamie,” another one says. He’s tall and classically handsome, like that kind of guy you see in a magazine. Someone that just knows he’s attractive. He’s even got his shirt open showing off his stomach and a lot of tan skin. You hate him immediately. And not in the way of like oh, he’s actually kind of sweet. No, he reminds you of an ex. 

“That’s me,” your brother answers. 

“I’m Mingyu, I called about the day trip,” he says.

“Lucky timing, we just had a group cancel before you called,” Jamie says. “And my sister here has an opening to take you out.”

The surprise is clear on the guy’s face as you introduce yourself and give your name. Like you can’t possibly be the one that’s going to drive the boat. Like a girl couldn’t possibly handle it. You’ve heard it all before, so you’re just bracing yourself. But, before he can say anything, the guy that seemed to be taking charge earlier speaks up.

“Thanks for taking us out,” he says. 

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Mingyu asks, clearly unable to fully resist. For the first time, you glance around to do a headcount. Seven. Your brother is sending you out with seven guys all by yourself.

“The boat or the party?” you ask. 

“Either,” he answers like he’s actually doing something. 

“I got my boating certification when I was 14,” you answer.

“And she started driving boats a few years before that,” Jamie adds.

“Someone had to drive for you to wakeboard,” you say easily to your brother.

Your brother smiles before looking back at the group. “She’s also got a really mean right hook and she’s not afraid to use it, so don’t be skeezy.” 

It’s clear that several guys in the group are eyeing you appraisingly, wondering if you really could knock them out (spoiler: you absolutely could) or if you would even consider it (spoiler again: yes, you would). Nobody else seems to have something to say, so your brother carries on with payment and going over the rules. In the meantime, you double check that your bag has everything you need (pager, emergency kit, shoes, water, snacks, the lunch you packed, etc.) and grab your shirt. You’re in the process of tying it off when you catch one of them, the one that thanked you, watching you. 

A few minutes later, when you’re walking over to the dock, it’s him that falls into step beside you. Casual. Not even saying anything. At least, not for a minute.

“I’m Seungkwan,” he finally says. 

You greet him again, even though he already knows your name, and figure that might be it. It is, for a bit, at least, while you get everyone on the boat and situated. Tell them that they should probably save whatever food and drink they brought for once you stop because you’re going to drive a bit faster. They paid a little extra to go to a further island and since it’s a little later than you’d normally leave for that island, you try to even it out. Not that they’ve shown they deserve it, but there’s no harm in case they have deep pockets. Which you assume they do, based on their clothing and general attitudes. 

Where you had your brother helping you out pushing off from the dock, you’re on your own on the other side. It’s fine, you do it on your own all the time, there are just a lot of eyes on you. Some of those eyes seem to be waiting for you to mess something up, too, but you’re not going to give them the satisfaction. You brush it off when one, you forgot his name already, offers to help and says that he helps on his dad’s boat all the time. You can tie a knot, though. 

Once you’re tied off, you point out all the amenities on this little island, which aren’t much. There’s a little place to eat that also has a small bar, chairs to lounge on and umbrellas set up. There are also some picnic tables set a little back from the beach. You let them know that you’ll either be on the boat or sitting inside the little food shack if they need you. And you’ll be ready to head back whenever they are. Mingyu and most of the group take off immediately. Seungkwan lingers behind. 

“Are you coming?” he asks.

“Coming where?” you ask back.

“To the beach with us,” he clarifies. 

You blink in confusion. “No, I don’t usually hang around.”

“What do you do?” he wonders. 

“Read, get a tan, go talk to the couple that runs that little food shack,” you say with a shrug.

“Do you know everyone here?” Seungkwan presses.

You sigh softly and turn to face him fully. “Mostly. At least all the ones that work in tourism. It’s a small town.”

“Seems busy now,” he notices, looking around.

“It’s summer. Most of the people here now don’t actually live here,” you inform him. 

“What’s it like here in winter?” Seungkwan asks.

You regard him for a moment. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you,” he says and, almost like he can’t help it, rolls his eyes. “Most people know how to make conversation.” 

“But why? Like what do you want?” you press.

“Just to get to know you better, geez, what’s with the third degree? You’re cute, there’s nothing wrong with talking to me,” he says.

“As if,” you scoff. “I don’t date shoobies.” 

His face is adorably confused and you mentally chide yourself for even thinking something about him is cute. “What’s a shoobie?” 

“Exactly,” you say like that answers everything.

He opens his mouth, but closes it when your eyes dart to this side. Neither of you noticed another of his friends approaching. You think it’s the one that offered to help tie off the boat. “We wondered where you got off to.”

“Sup, Chan? We were just talking,” Seungkwan says to his friend.

“Mhmm,” the friend, Chan, apparently, responds. “Well, Mingyu wants to know if you have the wallets in your bag. He wants to get something to drink.”

“Oh, right, yeah. I’ve got them,” Seungkwan says. 

You spend most of the day sitting at the bar of the food shack, despite saying you might read. Well, you alternate between sitting there and chatting with Vernon or helping him out behind the bar. His parents run all the services on this tiny island and you grew up together. Right down the street from each other, actually. He’s been one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember. And one thing you remember is the two of you have always helped out at the other’s family businesses. It’s just part of growing up in this tiny town. Everyone knows each other and takes a lot of pride in helping. Plus, you’ll never say this to Vernon, but you’re probably better behind the bar than he is. You’re surprised his parents have him here at all, but still welcome the distraction.

Your boat guests, as you’re calling them, know you’re here too. Mingyu made a slightly inappropriate comment the first time he strolled up to buy a drink and Seungkwan apologized for him profusely. Seungkwan seems like someone who actually cares about those around him, actively tries to make sure everyone is okay. It’s sweet, in a weird way, but still doesn’t change what you told him. The no shoobie rule is strict. As you’re considering telling the guys it’s time to call it a day, Chan wanders into the bar and says just that. There’s no rush, he insists, but they’re ready to head back whenever you are. 

“Need a lift back to the mainland?” you ask Vernon just after Chan walks back to his group.

“No, I gotta help the ‘rents clean up here,” Vernon answers as his mother pops her head around the corner.

“Actually, you should head back,” she says to her son before turning to you. “As long as it’s not too much trouble?” 

“No, there’s plenty of space on the boat,” you insist.

“Good, then you can go home and let the dog out,” she says.

“Okay,” Vernon says with a shrug. “I’ll just grab my stuff and meet you out on the dock.” 

You give him a nod and head off to the boat. The guys are coming off the beach and fall into step just behind you on the way to the boat. It’s clear most of them have been drinking, yet they’re not as rowdy as you’re expecting. They’re still helpful with getting stuff loaded onto the boat and only two of them make comments that make you cringe. 

“Do you own shoes?” one of them asks, gesturing towards your feet. The guy in question is especially slender, not skinny but lean. His dark hair is a little longer than you’re used to, currently tucked  behind his ears.

“Yeah?” you say, except it comes out more like a question. 

“You haven’t had any on since we first met you this morning,” he presses on. 

“Minghao,” Seungkwan hisses.

“I’m more comfortable around the boat without them. It’s easier to not slip. I keep a pair in my bag, though,” you answer, unsure why you’re even bothering.

“Should we all take off our shoes, then?” Mingyu asks.

“Might help you not fall this time,” another one jokes.

“Oh, snap!” Chan, at least you think it’s Chan, calls out.

“I didn’t fall, Jeonghan, I just stumbled,” Mingyu defends.

“Let’s all keep our shoes on and just watch our step,” you instruct. 

Vernon appears during all the craziness from your…well, you can’t really call paying customers idiots. But, there’s also nothing stopping you from calling them that in your head. 

“You’re the guy from the bar right?” Seungkwan asks and Vernon startles a little before nodding.

“Yeah, my parents run the food shack and the bar and that little gift shop,” he answers.

“I offered to give him a ride back to the mainland so he could get back faster,” you fill in. “As long as you guys don’t mind.”

The guys all shrug. Seungkwan is the only one to speak up. “Good with us. Do you know each other well, then?” 

“She’s my best friend,” Vernon answers without hesitation. 

If Seungkwan has something to say to that, and it seems like he might, he keeps it to himself. Actually doesn’t say anything to you for the rest of the ride back to the mainland and doesn’t appear to say much to his friends either. You don’t even mean to notice, mostly engrossed in your conversation with Vernon as he stays with you by the steering wheel. The group, as a whole, seems like they’ve had a good day, all smiles and very few hints of developing sunburns. 

You realize when you get them all off the boat and back onto land that they definitely had a good time. Mingyu tips you way more than he needs to and way on top of what you would normally expect even from a group like theirs. 

“What’s your schedule like the rest of the week?” Mingyu asks. 

“My personal schedule or the company’s schedule?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not like that, we just liked having you driving the boat and we want to come back,” Mingyu says and you can’t deny it’d be nice to have the guaranteed money.

“Oh, let me go check the books if you’ve got a minute,” you say. 

Mingyu just nods and follows you along to the shop. “I’m only in a few hours tomorrow morning, so I definitely can’t do that. Monday isn’t too busy and I don’t have anything I can’t move. Tuesday during the day, since it’s slow, I usually work over at my parents’ restaurant. The rest of the week is filling up, but nothing I couldn’t move if you wanted to have me with you. Otherwise, I can have someone else take you out.” 

“No, no, you were really great and we want to keep going with you,” Mingyu quickly says. “How about, for now, we book for Monday? And Wednesday. Full day trips.” 

“Where do you wanna go?” you ask.

“Uh, where do you recommend?” 

That’s how this whole thing with this ridiculous group starts. You ask Mingyu what kinds of things they want to do, list each of the reachable islands, list off the routes you can take without stopping at a specific island, list all the boat related activities. He ends up booking a third day with you, too, because there’s just so much that they want to do and want to see. You’re thankful for guaranteed money with people you’ve at least already met. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t and all that. 

You’re a little later leaving your parents' restaurant than you meant to be on Sunday evening. One of the other servers really needed to get cut first, though, so you let them go. Often, you were first to cut out, since you had your own full time job to contend with. But, knowing your schedule for the next day was going to be easy, you didn’t mind. 

What you’re not prepared for, though, is one of the guys from the boat group sitting outside. Seungkwan.

He stands up from the bench he’s sitting on and walks over to you. “Busy schedule for you.” 

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“We were walking by and I thought I noticed you. Mingyu said you mentioned working at your parents’ restaurant tonight,” Seungkwan says.

“So, you what? Waited for me? Kinda weird,” you observe.

“As if,” Seungkwan scoffs. 

“You’re here, though,” you comment.

“I just figured you might need someone to walk you home since it’s dark,” Seungkwan says.

“Kinda weird since I barely know you,” you comment. “Why do you want to hang out with me so bad?”

“Not really sure right now,” he says. 

You regard him for a moment and he shifts under your gaze. Without another word, you turn and walk a few steps, before looking over your shoulder. “I’m not going home. You’re welcome to walk with me, though.” 

Seungkwan looks confused but hastens to fall into step with you anyway. It’s like he can’t really help but keep a running commentary up while you’re walking. There are so many thoughts that it’s hard to keep up, or even get a word in. It’s entertaining, all the same. 

He pulls up short when you get to your destination and he realizes that it’s a houseparty. People and music spill out onto the lawn in a part of town that’s reserved for things like this.

“Aren’t you taking us out in the morning?” he asks.

“Mingyu didn’t want to meet until 10 because anything else was too early and it’s not that late yet,” you shrug. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.” 

“But, I can? If I do want?” he asks and you chuckle. 

“Thought you wanted to get to know me,” you whisper into his ear. With that, you smile and walk into the house. It takes him a few seconds before he hurries after you.

Parties run a little differently here, in a town that depends so heavily on tourism. Sure, plenty of people will party until sunrise, anyway. Running off being young (mixed with a lot of coffee). You’ve done plenty of it yourself, too. But, the parties all start a little earlier for people like you that can’t always afford to go until the dawn of a new day, especially when you have to spend all of the next day on the water. 

While you’re careful to mix your own drinks from the bottles laid out, Seungkwan doesn’t seem to have the same worries. You introduce him to Joshua, who also works with you, and he doesn’t even hesitate to fall into step. So much for wanting to get to know you. Maybe he did just want to know where the good parties were. Joshua even lets him use the house phone to invite some of his other friends. 

Those friends do show up and somehow both stick out and blend right in. They’re new faces, brave enough to come to a party where they don’t really know anyone. And they’re undeniably attractive. All of them. It’s a bit annoying, really. As you watch from your position on the couch with Vernon, a group of girls that you’ve known for years, and never really liked, starts to fall all over Seungkwan and his friends. Rosie, the ring leader, looks over at you with a smug smile and returns her attention to Seungkwan. It’s the same as any other time. Her eyes get big, she leans in close to him, touches his arm. The shoobies always seem to fall for it. 

You’re on your feet and joining the group a minute later.

“Ah, there she is,” Rosie coos. Seungkwan clears his throat and takes a step away from her. Rosie, always using the same tricks, just steps closer and links her arm through his. 

“Oh we loved her,” Mingyu, the tall friend, states. He’s a little tipsy, mostly friendly. 

“Yes, everyone seems to,” Rosie says, all false cheer. “Seems a little…dangerous to me. Letting someone so young take you out on the boat.” 

“Only when you don’t know your way around a boat despite living next to the water your entire life,” you cut across. “Then, it’s best to keep both feet on land and do something safer, like working at an ice cream shop.” 

“I didn’t get any complaints when some of them stopped by earlier. Shame I didn’t get to meet Seungkwan, though,” she says and bats her eyelashes. 

You roll your eyes and hold your hand out to Seungkwan. “There’s someone I wanted you to meet, come on.”

“He’s fine here,” she says. You snort.

“Yeah, I can make my own choices, actually,” he says and extricates himself to take your hand. 

“We’ll just be here,” she calls at your retreating backs. 

“Thanks,” he says as soon as you’re out of earshot.

“No problem,” you answer. 

“Did you really want to introduce me to someone?” he asks as you wind through the kitchen.

“No,” you answer and pluck a couple beers out of a cooler. 

“Just wanted to get me alone?” he presses and you fix him with a look.

You don’t say anything else, just trust that he’s going to follow you outside, which he does. You plop down onto a bench by the fire and hold out a beer as he sits next to you.

“It was just a little busy in there,” you finally answer. 

“You don’t like the people?” he asks. 

To buy yourself a minute, you open the beer and take a sip. “I don’t mind crowds or whatever. I’ve just known all these people my entire life and some of them are annoying. It’s like we’re in some kind of competition that nobody ever told me about.” 

“Like Rosie?” Seungkwan presses. Your lips press into a thin line and you look away as you take a sip. “I caught the diss.” 

“Yeah, I usually dip when she’s around,” you admit. 

“She doesn’t like you either?” Seungkwan asks.

“None of those girls do,” you laugh. Seungkwan looks like he’s expecting more. “When we were in high school, a bunch of us went out on the boats one weekend. I didn’t realize one of their boyfriends was trying to pick me up until he went in for the kiss. I obviously brushed him off, but…”

“Damage was done?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Like I’d ever kiss him anyway, as if.” 

“And that’s all? They’re not trippin’ over your success with your business?” Seungkwan asks, a mischievous glint in his eye over the question. 

You chuckle. “I do okay for myself.” 

“Okay? Joshua told me how well you pay him and also that he was shocked you managed to move around enough things to fit us in the way you did,” Seungkwan said.

“What do you want me to say? I could leave here. I could franchise and get out of this town, but I’m married to this life here,” you admit. “Plus, how could I ever get over missing out on meeting the people I charter?” 

“It’s okay, you can admit you like me,” Seungkwan says.

“You’re very confident, has anyone ever told you that?” you wonder.

“All the time,” he answers.

“Cheers,” you say and he bumps his beer into yours. 

That one party seems to be a bit of a turning point for you with Seungkwan and his friends. They’re all funny, if slightly hungover, the next day on the boat. Always make sure to include you in what they’re doing. It starts to feel more like friends than customers on that second boat trip. Against your better judgment, you also agree to see them outside of boating trips too. 

Through that, you get to know each of them. It’s actually kind of nice, in a somewhat chaotic way. It’s a little overwhelming at first. Not that you mind being around new people. You usually thrive in groups of people. It’s what makes you so good at your job. It’s also really sweet to see how much they love each other, especially the way they love Seungkwan. Any one of them would do anything for him and it’s melting your usually guarded heart. 

He hasn’t asked you out again since the party, at least not explicitly. But, he’s shown you in a million ways that he’s there. He’s brought you drinks and waited for you after another shift at the restaurant. He listens to what you say and the things you’re interested in. Like how there’s this beautiful art gallery almost an hour away that you’ve never been, but are dying to see. He’s touchy once he realizes that you’re okay with it. A hand on your arm, brushing along your hip, grazing your lower back. 

It’s only been a week since the first time you met them and this unexpected group already feels like a safe space for you. That’s why you’d agreed to a late dinner with them after a long day. Turns out, dinner was more like small plates cooked by Mingyu in the house they were staying in. 

“Why won’t you let Seungkwan take you to dinner?” Chan asks.

“I don’t date shoobies,” you repeat. 

Chan gives you a confused look. “That’s what Kwan keeps saying, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t think he does either.” 

“It’s a term for the tourists. Particularly the ones that come down in the summer from the nearby cities and think having a vacation house here means they actually live here,” you explain. You’re not sure why. There’s just something a little endearing about Chan. Kind of like a sibling. 

“It’s just dinner,” Chan says with a shrug and takes another sip. 

“Fine,” you relent.

“What?” Chan asks, nearly spitting his drink out. “Kwan!”

“Wait…” you start and then marvel at how quickly Seungkwan appears. 

“She said she’d get dinner with you,” Chan says as he walks away.

“You agreed to go out with me through Chan?” Seungkwan questions.

“Okay, it’s not like all that,” you start.

“You do like me,” Seungkwan announces, triumphant. 

“We’re not going out here. If I’m gonna go on a date with a shooby, it’s got to at least be in a different town,” you sigh.

“I can work with that,” Seungkwan agrees. 

It’s nice to be able to sleep in a little and trust that everything is okay both with the shop and the tours. You’re just about to head out to work when your phone rings. You consider letting the answering machine get it before rushing into the kitchen. You think you probably just manage to pick it up off of the receiver before the last ring. 

“Hello?” you answer.

“Oh good, I caught you,” Seungkwan says on the other end.

“Yeah, I was just headed out to work,” you say.

“Actually, about that. I know we said dinner, but I have a surprise for you today. It’s too good to pass up,” he says.

“Seungkwan, I have work,” you tell him.

“I spoke to your brother, actually. A couple of my friends agreed to help out at the shop and your brother has someone covering for you. So you’re free,” he shares.

“You can’t just unplan my day,” you say, but you know he can hear the smile. 

“You deserve a break. Just say yes,” Seungkwan says.

You consider it for a second, switch the phone from one ear to another to think. There’s only one answer, really. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, okay. What should I wear?” you ask.

“Just something comfortable. We’ll be inside, so you don’t have to worry about the heat,” he says. 

“I have to change because I was ready for work. Give me like ten minutes?” you ask. 

“I’ll come pick you up,” he says. 

It’s hard to get dressed for a date when you don’t know what you’re doing, but you try to just put the first thing on that you can find. That’s part of why you gave yourself such a short window to get ready. It forces you to focus without overthinking anything. Your mind is going into a little bit of overdrive wondering if going out with this man is actually a good idea. Not because you're worried something is going to happen. Weirdly, you actually feel very safe with him. It’s more because you do feel safe and comfortable and completely at ease. That’s not something that happens very often for you. It’s nerve wracking that it’s happening with someone only here for a getaway. 

Thankfully, a knock on your front door interrupts your impending spiral and you hurry to answer it. Seungkwan stands on the other side in a nice pair of slacks and carefully tucked in shirt. As his eyes traveled over your own outfit, you worried that you were underdressed. Then, he smiled, told you that you looked beautiful, and handed you a bouquet of vibrant flowers. You invited him into your apartment just long enough to find a vase and fill it with water. 

When Seungkwan leads you outside to the black town car, you pause for a second. This already feels fancier than any date of your life and it hasn’t even really started. Sensing your slight hesitation, he gives your hand a squeeze and holds the door open for you to slide in. 

As soon as he’s in as well, you’re immediately thankful for him. It’s not like you to be nervous on a date. Not that you actually go on dates often, but it’s just being around people. And that part is easy. Has to be for your line of work. Dates are usually easy too, which makes you wonder why this date is so hard. Thankfully, Seungkwan carries the conversation for both of you. Or, at the very least, he keeps up a steady stream of questions and stories about himself. All you have to do is follow his lead. 

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “Okay, where are you taking me?” 

“You do understand wanting to surprise someone, right?” Seungkwan asks. 

“We’ve just been in the car for awhile,” you start.

“Sick of me already?” Seungkwan jokes.

“And we’re not heading towards anything that I recognize for somewhere to eat or anything else date-like,” you say.

“You did tell me that you weren’t going on a date with me in your town,” he says.

“I did,” you agree.

“And we’re not going on a meal date,” he says, still maintaining the mystery.

“You’re so exhausting,” you complain. 

“You’re the one who agreed to go on a date with me,” he points out. 

“I did,” you concede.

“You must really like me,” he presses.

“As if,” you scoff in response.

The truth is that you’re not sure how you really feel about Seungkwan. You want to keep him at a safe distance. There are a lot of reasons that you have the rule that you don’t date tourists that come down to the beach during the summer. Part of it is that you don’t find any of them all that interesting. There’s often a sense of superiority over the people that are working for the summer. Or they just don’t see it as anything serious. Everyone loves to think of the fun, no strings attached summer flings.

Which brings you to the second, and real reason. No strings attached is fine. But it ignores that you’re real people, too, with real feelings that could get really hurt. It might just be fun for the person who breezes in and breezes back out on vacation. This town is your whole life. This is your livelihood. The last thing you need is to fall in love with some rich guy from the city that’s going to be leaving before you realize it. You don’t want to risk getting your heart broken. It doesn’t exactly explain why you’re breaking all your rules with Seungkwan, though. 

When the car pulls to a stop and you look around, your breath catches. As kind as Seungkwan is, you still can’t believe that he brought you here. Once, in a passing conversation, you mentioned an art gallery that you’d been dying to go to. It’s just that life got in the way or it felt too far away or nobody really wanted to go with you. It seems impossible that he would have been listening closely enough to remember you mentioning it. 

“Seungkwan,” you whisper out.

“I thought what better time than now to check off some things you want to do,” he says, trying to gauge your face. “Is that…did I do okay?”

“It’s so thoughtful, thank you,” you say earnestly.

“Let’s go, then,” he says and helps you out of the car.

The whole experience is a little surreal. Someone is waiting at the door and lets you in. Seungkwan doesn’t even stop to pay an entry fee, if there is one, before leading you off to the first installation. Just as you want to ask about it, you catch sight of the piece that he’s leading you to and get completely lost. Yes, this really is the perfect date. 

Seungkwan is also the perfect person to have with you. For all the times he can’t seem to stop talking, he’s surprisingly soft spoken during your time at the gallery. He keeps in constant contact with you: a hand on the back, carefully grabbing your hand to lead you to a new area, an arm around your waist with his thumb tracing patterns into your hip. His body pressed into yours is both immediately comforting and entirely terrifying. How has this man waltzed into your life and pulled all of your normal walls down? 

You were worried that you might feel out of your element going to a gallery with someone like Seungkwan. He’s clearly got money and loves art. As much as you also love it, you don’t exactly know very much. Instead, Seungkwan remains by your side and shares his insights about the different pieces while asking for your thoughts, too. Nothing about it feels like you’re out of place. In fact, you feel like you’re exactly where you belong. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask suddenly.

“Anything,” he answers.

“Why’s it so quiet in here? I know it’s during the day, but…” you start while looking around. 

“Oh, I rented it out for the day,” he says casually.

“You…what?” you ask with wide eyes.

“I just thought it might be nice to explore it in peace without anyone else around,” he shrugs off.

“That’s really sweet,” you say with a squeeze of his hand in yours. “I hope you know that you don’t have to do all that to impress me, though.” 

Seungkwan looks away, maybe a little shy for the first time since you met him. Not that it’s been that long. “I do want to impress you.” 

“Why?” you ask.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before and I want to show you that maybe I’m not like anyone you’ve met before either,” he answers. It’s so honest. More honest than you’re used to. 

“You’re definitely not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you admit.

“In a good way?” he wonders.

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, matching his level of too-honest. 

Seungkwan, usually quick with a smart remark, doesn’t have anything to say to that. He only runs his thumb over the knuckles of your hand in his. You’re starting to appreciate that about him. That he doesn’t always say something even when you know he’s got some of the quickest wit in the world. 

When you leave the museum, he takes you to the greasiest hole-in-the wall of a dinner that you’ve ever seen. The kind of place that you can’t really imagine someone like him visiting. Someone that has a car phone and designer everything. The kind with more money than you can even conceive of having yourself. But, he slides into the booth with the cracked leather and opens up the discolored menu to see what the place has. 

There’s something really endearing about it. Especially considering how worried you were about fitting in at the art museum and then some fancy restaurant afterwards. Instead, he’s showing you all the little ways that he can fit into your world. Or that he can adjust his world to fit you. All the many ways that he listens when you say something about wanting to go to the museum or not really seeing the point of those super fancy places. Which, honestly, isn’t even totally true. 

Your heart is so full watching Seungkwan make the waitress laugh at his jokes. You feel impossibly light at the ease of the conversation between you. It’s even easy to swat away at his hand when he tries to steal food off of your plate. It should be a little scary, the way this man is breaking down every wall that you spent so long putting up with a practiced ease. It’s not, though, and you don’t really want to dwell on why that is.

Nothing really changes, at least not officially. But, in reality, everything is different. Seungkwan fits into your daily routine with the same ease that he’s shown in everything else. He’s there with coffee before you start work, there at the end of the day to talk about dinner plans or walk you over to the restaurant your parents own. Sometimes, he’s there during the work day, with or without his friends. It’s only been a little over a week and he already feels like an inextricable part of your routine. 

Your brother only teases you a little bit. Mostly, he claims, because he’s afraid that Mingyu could take him (spoiler: he absolutely could not). Really, he’s just happy to see you happy and taking chances that you wouldn’t normally take. Happy to see you enjoying life instead of just living to work. He doesn’t talk about the looming issue and you don’t bother bringing it up either.

At least until you can’t really avoid it anymore. 

You and Seungkwan are sitting on a swinging bench at the park. With your legs tucked up underneath you, it’s easier to curl up to him. As is normal for him, he finds all the little ways that he can to be in contact with your body. Even though physical affection has never been your favorite, he’s so casual about it that it feels easy. Everything feels easy. 

“So, I have to leave tomorrow,” he says.

And suddenly, your whole world flips. Which is crazy, right? You still barely know him. Haven’t really been out on much that counts as a date. And you knew that this all had a time limit because he’s a tourist. A shooby. Someone that only comes down during the summer or on weekends. This isn’t home to him like it is to you. It doesn’t make any sense that it would feel as awful as you’re feeling now. He’s just someone you met through work and have gotten to know. It is not the end of the world.

“Oh, right,” you say, pulling away to put space between the two of you.

“Are you upset?” he asks. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” you ask in return.

“You seem upset,” he presses.

You scoff. “As if.” 

“Well, I actually wanted to talk about what we were going to do since I have to head back to the city,” he says.

“What we’re going to do?” you repeat as a question.

“Yeah, like about us,” Seungkwan says. You aren’t looking at him so you don’t see the confusion on his face. You don’t really hear it, either. Not over the pounding in your head. “I was thinking I could come down sometimes on the weekend and figure out how to get you up to the city when you have time off during the week and…”

“What are you doing, Seungkwan?” you snap, finally looking at him.

If he registers the hurt in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it. He only reiterates what he’s already said. “I’m trying to talk about us, like I said.”

“There is no us here,” you snap. “It always had an expiration date, right? You were always going to leave.” 

“Well, yeah, I do have to leave. But, I don’t want this to…” he starts.

“To what? To end? Why bother starting it in the first place?” you ask with far more bite than you intended. 

“Because I like you,” he says like it’s obvious.

“Do you? Or do you just like that I’m fun for vacation?” you ask. 

“This has never been about just having fun on vacation,” he says, still trying to keep his voice even. You can hear the irritation creeping in, though. Good. Maybe that’ll be easier.

“Sure it wasn’t,” you snark.

“Listen, if it was just about fun on vacation, I wouldn’t have picked you,” he finally snaps. 

“Nice, Seungkwan,” you say, even though you know you pushed him. 

“Don’t turn this around. You know it’s not about it being some vacation fling. Vacation flings are supposed to be…” he starts and then snaps his mouth shut.

“What? Easy? So I’m not a fling because I didn’t sleep with you?” you ask.

“You’re twisting my words, that’s not what I meant,” he pleads with you.

It’s too much, though. This is exactly why you never go on dates with people like him. This town is just an escape to them. Something to get them out of the dreary routine of everyday life. And it’s everything to you. The only thing you’ve ever known and the one place you’re not sure you could ever give up. So, yeah, you knew better than to get involved with him. Knew and did it anyway. There’s nobody else to blame.

Without another word, you’re on your feet and walking off. Ignoring Seungkwan’s calls after you. It’s over and that’s a good thing. It’ll allow you to refocus on the things that matter like your family and making enough money to last through the quiet season. There’s no point in listening to anything else that Seungkwan has to say when you’ve heard it all before. 

This always had an expiration date, you remind yourself. At least you got to walk away on your own terms.

It seems that Seungkwan doesn’t understand that it has an expiration date. He tries to stop by the shop before he and his friends head back home. Your brother is quick to intercept him and suggests he’s better off just leaving. For all the annoying things your brother does, at least he doesn’t bother you. Just lets you keep busy and take over any of the tours when you don’t have something else to do. Even lets you reorganize the entire store without a word. You’re thankful for him.

That’s not the last you hear of him, though. You come home to messages on your answering machine asking you to call him back with a number. There’s no point in taking down the number, or even finishing the messages, so you delete them. It even makes you hesitate to answer the phone, preferring to let the machine get it. When you’re not sure if it could be him, you’re not in a rush to pick up. 

That’s when he starts reaching out to your friends like Vernon. Thankfully, he’s naturally aloof and doesn’t actually know much of what’s going on. There’s not much he can tell Seungkwan. Not much help he can provide. Although, he wouldn’t help anyone that you didn’t want him to, so he mostly just stays out of it. 

It isn’t until the first weekend since he left that you realize he’s still got tricks up his sleeves. You actually have a minute to wonder why he didn’t call the night before. Actually wonder if maybe you’re being too hard on him. And then he’s there, waiting for you by your shop. When you try to ignore him and breeze through the door, your brother blocks your way. 

“Just…give him a chance to talk. You might be surprised what he has to say,” Jamie says. 

Your brother is a lot of things. He’s annoying in the way all siblings can be. But, he’s never stuck his nose into your business without good reason. And he’s definitely never gotten involved in your dating life. It’s enough of a pause to make you consider giving Seungkwan a chance to say whatever he drove all this way to tell you. 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask when you sit down next to him. 

“It’s the only way I could think of to make sure I could talk to you,” he says. 

“I didn’t want to talk,” you say, a little petulant. 

“Then you can just listen,” he says. That catches you a bit off guard with how firm he is. “I didn’t come down here looking for anything. I just came away for a trip with my boys. Then we met you and you’re all I could think about. You’re complicated and guarded, but you’re also kind, smart, funny, thoughtful, strong, and the only person in my life I haven’t been able to figure out in one or two conversations. I wasn’t planning on developing feelings for you. I can’t help that I did. And it certainly has nothing to do with it being vacation. You’re not some vacation fling to me.” 

That whole speech brings you up very short. This isn’t what you were expecting and you feel a little guilty. You’re not used to someone putting in this much effort when there are so many obstacles. It’s not how this normally goes. Sure, someone comes down for a weekend or a vacation and they want to chase you while they’re here. Then, the vacation ends and they want to just go back to their normal life with a story about the person from vacation. They didn’t want the complication of distance and schedules before anything had even really happened.

“There’s got to be other people that don’t live so far away,” you say. 

“I can’t think of anyone but you,” he says confidently. Easily.

“But, why me?” you ask.

“For all the reasons I said,” he says. 

“You live far away,” you protest weakly.

Seungkwan takes your hands in his and looks calmly into your eyes. “Just answer one thing for me. Do you feel something for me as well? Or am I reading this whole thing wrong?” 

“I do, but…” you start.

“No buts. Don’t worry about the distance or any of that. We’ll figure all of that out,” he says.

“By me moving?”  you wonder.

He looks surprised. “No, of course not. We’ll just find times where we can. It’s like I said. I’ll come down for a weekend or you can come visit me. I’ll pay to send a town car to pick  you up if I have to.”

“You really want to make this move without changing…” you start but can’t finish.

“I want you exactly how you are. Like I said, we’ll figure out a way,” he says. “Are you in? Ready to take the jump?”

“As long as you catch me,” you say through the butterflies in your stomach.

“Every time,” he agrees.

i struggled with this and seungkwan was difficult, but i hope you like it all the same 💕

[yeahspider]

BRAINSTORM 🫀

Ve’s note . bang chan drabble . he’s rich hot and mysterious . stripper x ceo (?) au . gn reader (i tried) . alcohol mention . mdni but no actual smut (pt . 2 maybe ? 🫣 if requested ) kinda proofread . enjoy this little thought . <3

part 2

“y/n need you in the private suite asap” your boss said as you fixed your makeup in the mirror . mascara wand hard at work as you put the finishing touches on your look . it was your last dance of the night and you were ready to be off already .

“this client isn’t like our regulars . he’s well known and well paid . you do a good job and you’ll be set for the rest of the year .” your boss informed as he gave you a final check over . he offered you a shot for confidence . not that you needed it . you were a professional at this point . you’ve been dancing on and off for two years . you know all the ins and outs , the do’s and dont’s. rich guys and big clients don’t make you shake like a leaf anymore . but you take the shot anyway to please him . a little liquor never hurt .

you made your way over to the suite , nodding at the bouncer as you entered . the lights were off on the main floor so you couldn’t see the client . not that it mattered . knowing what he looked like wouldn’t affect your performance . he was just a client like everyone else . someone who pays women like you to dance and twirl on a pole .

stepping up on the stage you grabbed on to the pole and waited for the music to queue so your performance could start . once the song came on you went into that action . not having a set routine in mind you just did whatever felt right . the liquid fire in your veins adding a fluidity to your movement . you’ve never felt more powerful , more hypnotizing .

as the bridge to the song came on you stopped off the stage and made your way to where the client is supposed to be . never stumbling in the dark you reach out and out your hands on the arm of the chair . usually you tried to avoid eye contact with the clients , just for your person comfort but with the energy this man was emitting off you just had to look . as you raised your head to make eye contact with him you held back a gasp at his face . this was by far the most handsome man you’ve ever seen . catching you off guard you forgot you were supposed to be dancing still . the man in question raised a brow at you as a smile graced his lips , leaving you breathless .

“don’t you have a routine to finish ?” he question . knocking you out of your stupor . recovering as quickly as you could you picked up where you left off . winding your body around his in time to the music . you hear him take in a breath as you made your way onto his lap . his hand naturally coming up to place a grip on your waist .

“uh uh no touching allowed mr ? ….” you wanted - no needed to know who this man was . you took his hands and placed them back on the chair as you continued your dance . watching the smile grow bigger on his face as you did so .

“chris . you can call me chris .” he said as he obeyed your rules . handsome rich and respectful . he gained a point in your book for that . you liked a man that could listen .

“well chris sit back and enjoy the show . let me take care of you .” you whispered in his ear as ground softly in his lap . earning a moan out of him . you let your hands travel to his chest . when he didn’t make a move to stop him you let your hands roam . feeling up his defined abdomen as you doubt off the urge to smash your lips on to his . that would be unprofessional of you . you watched his face , liking the reactions he was giving you , how vulnerable he looked under you was a power trip that you didn’t want to end . your hands moved up to his neck which you gave a gentle squeeze . earning a delicious groan from the man .

as the song ended you placed a single kiss to the mole right under his ear and slid off his lap . before you could completely unlatch yourself he grabber your wrist .

“wait don’t go just yet . stay longer i’ll pay . i need you .” he said . desperation leaking from his tone . he looked so worked up from one little dance . you had him completely under your spell and you loved it . you were definitely in for a long night .

[fictionstudent]

How to read like a writer

If you’ve ever followed any Writergram accounts on Instagram or Twitter, I guess you’d have heard this advice—read like a writer.

People can’t stop glazing about how it’s one of the best pieces of advice any beginning writer could get, how it’s one of the most important skills to study prose and create your own, and all that. But, as you could’ve guessed, there’s a lot of unpacking to be done here.

What does it even mean to read like a writer? How’s it different from reading like a reader, or just for fun? And, how the frick do you even read like a writer?

I had to rant about something, and that’s the topic I’ve chosen today. So, here’s my two-cents on it.

***

#01 - The Basics

So, what does it mean to read like a writer?

I believe that reading like a writer is a form of reading prose where you’re conscious of the artistic decisions the author makes throughout the piece. For example, if there’s a high-stakes action scene, probably a fight scene or something, and you notice that the average length of sentences has suddenly become shorter and punchier.

Firstly, you need to understand that there’s a lot of such artistic decisions that writers take while writing a piece. And, every writer does that. These decisions are primarily related to writing-style, but are also focused on the story-structure, character-development, themes, and more.

For clarity, let’s divide them into two types of decisions—micro-level decisions and macro-level decisions. Micro-level decisions would include the writing-style, scene-descriptions, and all that stuff. Primarily, stuff that you can notice on the very page itself. It’d relate to the sentences instead of the plot. Refer to the example above again—that’s a form of micro-level decision.

Macro-level decision would be an artistic decision where you need to complete the whole, or a big chunk, of the piece to point them out. Such macro-level decisions would relate to the plot instead of individual sentences. For example, the decisions they’ve made regarding the plot, characters, and the underlying themes of the prose.

I tried my best to make the distinction as clear as possible. I hope you guys understand them clearly.

Anyway, each type of artistic decision would need to be checked in a different manner, y’know. To analyze macro-level artistic decisions, you’d need to probably finish the whole novel and do some research and brainstorming related to the themes of the story and the way the author discussed those said themes in their work.

It takes some time to get into the head-space to analyze the story and its themes. And, you might need to recap the story in some form or the other, y’know. At least, I need a little recap. Because generally, it takes me months to complete a novel or TV series. Or manga series. Or anime. Or anything else I need to analyze.

… And that’s because I start a lot of stuff before I finish the previous ones. Not gonna lie, I’m reading around four-five novels at the moment, a couple of which are web-novels on RR, along with three manga series. Please don't ask me why I do that, I hate it myself.

Anyway, now onto the second type: the micro-level artistic decisions. This is where you need to be really conscious while reading the work. In fact, I believe that these forms of decisions are what people generally mean when they talk about reading like a writer.

Micro-level artistic decisions, like I said earlier, include sentence-structures and writing-style of the author. And yeah, it’s really easy to slip out.

I’d like to refer to my favorite lit-fic The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, as an example. Reading the work, you’d see that the style feels… barren. The scene-descriptions are a pain to read; the vocabulary is just too hard. But, vocabulary becomes a lot easier during dialogues. That’s because the scenes are a pain to see, while the characters are losing their power to communicate effectively. I talk about it in detail in a previous blog:

But, man, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe that’s why McCarthy wrote the descriptions in this way—to symbolize the mental stress that the characters go through as they experience this world, this form of reality that they were not meant to be in.

And maybe the novel is so lacking in narrations because the characters’ minds have gone numb. They’re forgetting language. With almost zero human interaction most of the time, they are forgetting how to think and interact in words. You lose the skills you don’t really use anymore, y’know. And these guys are so obviously depressed, so they don’t think about the world. They are used to the sad reality they live in. No point in complaining how bad the food is if that’s all you’re gonna eat all your life.

So, a scarcity of narrations tell you a lot about the story and its characters. It reflects something, it symbolizes something.

Also, if you read about Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, you’d observe how the author’s writing-style is often bland and indifferent. That says something about the characters and the plot too—it keeps the readers detached from the story, forcing them to adopt a third-person POV where they can constantly judge the plot and the characters.

Understanding the micro-level artistic decisions also include understanding the different nuances in different authors’ style. For example, sometimes you’d see that authors write scene-transitions like this,

We talked it through, and decided that it’d be the best to continue the conversation once we’re in the safe vicinity of this house. School was dangerous for such serious conversations—what if somebody hears us out and report us to the police?

So, we shut up as we boarded the bus, and twenty minutes later, we were pulling through his house’s driveway. We both stepped outside and…

Personally, I’m not a big fan of such transitions. I’d rather use three asterisks instead, like I do with my blogs here.

***

When to read like a writer and when not?

Yeah, that can be a mess. You don't need to have the writer's eye open every single time you’re reading something.

Personally, I use a trick. I only read like a writer when I feel that the piece is really different from the type of prose I generally consume, y’know. For example, I’m reading Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. The blurb says that the novel is narrated by Death, which is something quite interesting. Apparently, Death appears in the story as a character, acting as a third-person narrator.

However, the story is not third-person omniscient POV. Quite the opposite, actually, for we see the narration alternating between the thoughts of the protagonist and the all-knowing omniscient narrator Death, which makes the writing-style of the novel quite interesting.

So I read the book as a writer—all the way, I’m figuring out how the author masterfully blended both third-person limited and third-person omniscient narrative styles and used the best of both worlds to fully utilize both of them and paint such an amazing writing-style. I don't think I could ever pull that off, to be brutally honest. It’s just awesome what Zusak has pulled off in the prose.

Anyway, I derailed too much. The main point I was tryna make is that The Book Thief is different from what I usually consume—third-person limited POV web-novels. So, I do have to read like a writer. I probably won’t be reading like a writer if I was reading yet another RR web-novel or fantasy light-novel, y’know.

Another factor you might want to consider is if you like the prose or not. If you believe that you really love the novel and want to write something like it, you better study it a little. After all, you’d be writing what’s interesting to you.

A third factor: classics. If the prose is a classic, you might learn something from it. I mean, there must be some reason it’s stood the test of time, y’know, and people are still reading it. Yeah, sometimes, the style just seems outdated, and you likely won't be adapting it. But there are some gems in it too. The Great Gatsby is a really good novel to learn first-person POV.

… And that reminds me, I still haven’t finished The Great Gatsby either. Even though I’ve been reading it for more than a year.

***

#03 - Conclusion

All of this might feel a little overwhelming for you guys. I can understand that.

I mean, that’s just too much information to think about, y’know. And you might not be able to catch up on most of them. Heck, you might not be able to understand any nuances between different authors’ styles at all!

But, just don't give up, pal. It’s kinda tough out here, yeah, but that’s alright. Keep reading, keep practicing it out. You’d get there.

Keep reading and keep writing. That’s all it takes to become a great writer. But, doing both your reading and writing mindfully is what matters the most.

Subscribe to the FictionStudent newsletter to get latest blogs like this straight into your inbox. Also check out the website, as well as my Instagram and Twitter—where I might start posting soon. To be honest, I still don't know how to use social media as a writer, but I’d be trying.

Meet you in the next blog. Till then, bye-byeee!

[artificialcaretaker]

If we’re all collectively brainstorming what a Sonic 4 Stone would be like, I thought I might just drop in what I’m thinkin cause I’ve been THINKIN.

So like, I did that whole “F1X TH1S” panel redraw thing as just a fun lil reference but I’m thinkin like. I do think there’s some potential in him not necessarily being an antagonist but rather pulling up to wherever Sonic and Co. are and just very aggressively being like “I’m going to find where the Doctor is. You are going to help me. You don’t have a choice in this, let’s go.” Idk maybe he’s throwin Metal Sonics at ‘em to grab their attention maybe one catches them off guard and brings them directly to him idk!!

Anyways their immediate reaction is like “Dude we saw him Super Explode on live television what do you mean ‘find him’ how would that be possible :O” and he’s like “WE’RE GOING TO FIGURE IT OUT.” And at a certain point Sonic is probably like “Wait guys, Shadow was there too!! Maybe if we help then we can save our new friend :D” and Stone is like ok. Ok I guess whatever makes you work I dunno.

I definitely think he’d have to go through a lot of emotional development throughout the whole ordeal cuz like. He’s been with Robotnik for who the hell knows how long and now he’s gone and he refuses to believe there’s a way he won’t come back because he can’t really imagine a life without him. Y’know, classic stuff. And like he’d prolly have to do some self reflection on his motivations and stuff cuz he’s theoretically had the same motivations as Robotnik the whole time but ALSO his motivation is kinda just staying with him?? So like, I dunno, he has to do some self reflection on HIS wants in particular. Cuz as much as he doesn’t want to admit it there’s a very real possibility that he’s not coming back no matter what he tries to do. And THEN what?? THEN what’s his life gonna look like??

I imagine him being like. Very mean to Sonic and his lil posey like I don’t think he necessarily DISLIKES them but it’s like “GRAHHHHHH these darn KIDS are SMILING and having FUN and I’m so SERIOUS everyone stop hitting the griddy and LOCK IN RAHHHHHH 🤬🤬🤬” and they’re all like “Hey man chill out we’ve just gotta believe in ourselves :D” and he’s genuinely about to start throwing things. But also maybe they’re a part of the character development they’re probably like “Hey it’s so great that you really like this guy that’s so nice :D” and then it shifts to “Hey so it’s nice that you really like this guy but why do you always listen to what he wants what about what you want :O” and at some point they’re probably like “Hey so I’m sorry to tell you this but we think he might actually just be dead so y’know if you wanna go over any coping strategies :D” and Stone actually starts throwing things. Mfs be 40 and they opps 14 idk 😔😔😔

Idk HOW they figure out how to get Robotnik and Shadow back but come tf on they’re coming back we’re not stupid guys. And Sonic and gang are all like “YAYYYYYY we did it with the power of friendship and hope everything is back to normal :D” and Stone would go up to Robotnik and THEY FUCKIN KISS C’MON GUYS LET’S MAKE THIS ONE COUNT then he’s like “Ok Doctor so I know we just dragged you out of the solar system and all that but I think we need to have a serious discussion on boundaries and what we both want out of this relationship” and then Team Sonic are all like “YAYYYYYY he’s finally ready to have the tough conversations he needed to have :D” and then I dunno they try to initiate the Classic “C’mon, even YOU” Kids Movie Ending Hug but then Stone and Robotnik simultaneously start staring at them completely blank faced and go “We’re still trying to Super Kill you guys btw” and Sonic probably goes “*Gulp* guess we really ARE back to normal <:D” and we all do a collective GET OUT 🤬🤬🤬 at the screen.

Sound good guys?? Haha yea it sounds so good I’m so clever :]

[primoppang]

hi. hi. here to request. a little seungmin fluff where we are kind of lonely and sad and he reminds us that he’s always there : )

HI HONEY TY FOR BEING MY FIRST EVER REQUEST <3333 ily and seungie so I got u bby ◡̈ mwah ur the best ( ˘ ³˘)♡

warning: swearing is inevitable with me sorry ¯\_(˶′◡‵˶)_/¯, fluff, like gross amounts of it, seungmin says "this is so gay but..." because he cringes at showing affection but refuses to let you forget how he feels about you fr, he's a tsundere ok? ok. he licks your face(?) , one (1) kiss, he joking threatens to fight you, and mentions of self doubt and anxiety, angst if you blink but I think it's mostly fluffy... anyways! lmk if I missed anything!!!

WC: a little under 500 :D

AN: this is the first drabble I've ever done in bullet point format so just pls lmk how it goes??? Im super nervous I hope it's at least an easy read :(

so the first time he realizes that you're feeling lonely he slaps himself internally because how DARE he make you feel that way, but he's not home rn and can't show you physically so he comes up with a Plan™️

you're literally the light of his life

so he just >:(

but not at u

he just wants to make you feel happy and loved and safe

so he starts brainstorming

but he's naturally a menace

so when you're texting with him while he's working and you're being kinda short

because yk

u just feel :(

he just sighs and texts back

"look, please don't feel sad. I know this is pretty fucking gay but I love you."

which makes u giggle

because that's YOUR seungie that YOU know and love so much

<3

BUT whenever he's able to be physically with you and he can just feel your self doubt and anxiety creeping in and trying to swallow you, he once again uses his braincell.

so he just grabs ur hand

and leads u out of ur bed and to the living room

sits u down

and starts running around ur shared apartment grabbing every blanket and pillow that exists within the space

and I mean

E V E R Y. S I N G L E. O N E.

puppy zoomies moment hehe

and don't even think about trying to question him

he'll just say "shut up and wait while I set up a big ass fort for us to cuddle in, ok?? I love you but I wanna make u SEE THAT."

which u smile at

because him telling u to shut up

but then explaining why

and then also watching him move furniture and start building the fort, you tear up with happy tears

because???

:(

he's the sweetest and u love him so much

but when he hears u sniffle

he turns on Extra Puppy Mode™️

pops out from under some blankets and tackles you into the couch and holds your face

wiping ur tears

maybe even licked one because he's a freak and wanted to get a reaction

which u just squealed at bc wtf sir

but then he realizes

oh ur crying because ur so touched by this whole thing that he's doing

!!!

"... you dummy. stop crying... we gotta get snacks and stuff for our super awesome fort yk??? and you won't be able to see if you're cryi—"

you cut him off by giving him a little kiss on his pouty lips

as a silent thank you :(

which he realizes that oops maybe he got too serious and overwhelming

but you reassured him that you're just so glad to have him as your partner and best friend in one :(

"please just remember that I do love you, and I'm always here even if that brain of yours tells you otherwise, ok? or I'll have to fight you... affectionately."

and then he proceeds to smother you in kisses and cuddles :(

[withered--s0uls]

Oh look it's another GD crossover

Ghost Drone AU - @electrozeistyking

You already saw all this art but shhh HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

This originally started out with me just wanting to draw Beanie interacting with the Intertwined Codes Kids but then I added some extra stuff lol.

If you're a reader of Intertwined Codes, this kinda sorta spoils future stuff bc only the twins have been mentioned in the Draft/Teaser fic but oh well. You have been warned.

IC!Uzi wouldn't like actually meet GD!N bc they'd kinda decide that "hey, let's not have the widowed man see an alternate version of his wife that actually got live." simply out of respect kinda?? So she would stick around at home with the kids whilst IC!N goes out to look for Beanies Dad after their kids drag her to them lmao.

So yeah she doesn't necessarily know the extent of the mans depression, the kids just mentioned there only being a dad so she just specifically asks about GD!N in this doodle

IC!N would quickly pick up on GD!N not being completely okay, even without being told any details. So he probably would end up sitting him down to talk on their way back to the IC!Doorman families place, wanting to help if he can in any way. (He runs a Daycare and tries to also be a support to any parent that needs it, so I feel he out of habit would lean into trying to do that with GD!N)

More/The kids under the Cut otherwise the post looks so long rip

I will go over each of these one by one (can'tdo close ups bc 10 image limit, I'll reblog this in a second with the close ups.)

Left are the Code-Related Nuzi kids, right are the adopted ones.

Code related kids

Zagi:

Not much to say, I'm still working out their personality - they're maybe 2-3 years older than Beanie, so they aren't too far apart in age. :)

Orita:

She's the sibling who started the trend of putting stickers on her siblings, so she DEFINITELY would do the same with Beanie.

She also probably originally was going to show her how to build a weapon, but her parents promptly stopped that lmao .

She would think it's really cool that Beanie has a custom core icon & in general is completely customized from the start! She herself was originally put into a regular worker body (just with the tail and headband being custom made by her mom), she had to build the DD forearms herself. She also has a sticker of the DD icon on her core, covering the WD icon :3

Rexim:

At this point he has enough siblings to be past the "ew a little kid" phase, so luckily Beanie gets spared that. His main camera is damaged, he only really uses his headband optics to look around, so he would kinda just look as if he's staring past her a lot. But bc of the obvious cracks in his visor I feel she would pick up on the fact he's not actually ignoring her.

Also he definitely would just play music to her, because IC!Uzi kinda always has music on whilst working in her workspace he kinda picked up some of her taste in music (Hence he's playing the same song that Uzi is shown to have been listening to in Ep7)

Raven:

First up THANK YOU Zeisty for helping me brainstorm silly stuff for them. They're a little ball of chaos now and I love them.

Anyways.

They would join Orita in bedazzling Beanie, and then they'd start talking about bird facts and also try to get Beanie to talk about her interests.

(Their height difference isnt 100% accurate bc halfway through drawing this I changed the IC timeline, making Raven about the same age as Zagi instead of them being a teen, so I kinda had to manually try and semi-fit their heights lol)

Adopted Kids

Ray:

Nothing to say. He's a baby. Tho whilst I was outlining this one I had to giggle because of how big he is in Beanies hands. She's so tiny 😭💕 /affectionate

Annika:

Oh boy. Ann.

Annika is the eldest kid & was adopted a while before Zagi was coded / whilst the parents were organizing the code copies for Zagi

She does NOT know how to talk to other kids. Never did. It made her stick out at the orphanage wing because she just avoided everyone. And it is very chaotic when Olivia and Ray first show up, because Ann's only idea of talking to other Drones is "well you got to be relatable" so she brings up the siblings dead parents bc like, her code parents are dead too. Both pairs dying to DDs. So yeah she probably would be the first, if not only one, in the whole household to just bring up GD!Uzi. She would do it like it's nothing either.

IC!Uzi would promptly get her to stop and sit her down having a conversation about "what did N and I say about trying to connect on that topic?"

Like IC!Uzi would actually feel really bad about it despite Beanie not knowing her mom. Bc she herself obviously didn't remember IC!Nori growing up but still didn't like the topic.

Olivia:

Olivia, as I said, was greeted with the topic of dead parents by Annika as well. So she probably would kinda interfere when IC!Uzi goes to sit Ann down to talk.

She would feel the need to apologize for the older girls behavior (which Ann would apologize for herself later too ofc) and would try to get Beanie to go play something together whilst IC!Uzi sorts that whole situation out.

She's also the closest to Beanies age probably, just was forced to mature bc of what happened to her parents, despite being taken in by Nuzi shortly after. She still obviously acts like a kid tho when comfortable, so I feel she would kinda ease up around Beanie and actually act more like a 4-5 year old around her.

Bonus? Bonus!

Needless to say Beanie would return home covered in stickers & hairpins (Orita & Raven have more than enough of those, they'd just let Beanie keep some)

RIP GD!N having to get her out of those stickers once they're back home

Also, for the "*humming*" variation of the picture I blame @k1k0oftheworld. Kiko was in vc with me when I was talking about how Beanie would be covered in stickers when she gets home, and saw the doodles as well.

He proposed the following scenario after seeing Rexim show Beanie IC!Uzis playlist:

Beanie humming dead batteries song & GD!N having a breakdown bc it reminds him of GD!Uzi

I do not take accountability for this, I was going to spare the poor widowed man.

(I scrapped the idea of him not knowing ab the IC!Doorman family and him getting a mini heart attack when Beanie goes "I met Mom today" in favor of him and IC!N meeting & talking - I WANTED TO SPARE HIS POOR HEART)

@k1k0oftheworld you owe him money for a therapy session now /silly

Anyways that's it, I'll put the close ups in the reblog like I said 👍

[melishade]

Attack on Prime: Eren's Trials

Main Story

....DAMN IT I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL! FUCK SHIT BITCH MOTHER-!

Deep breath. Okayyyyyyy.

So this is not official. This is going to be a demo. I want to see how well this tracks on Tumblr. If it tracks well on Tumblr, I might be willing to continue writing it in full. If not, I'm just gonna write a summary of it with a few little snippets. The only reason I'm even thinking about doing this is because @justawannabearchaeologist and I have been brainstorming ideas and it's just been spiraling out of control!

So if you guys really want this to continue: please actually let me know what you think because it will gauge how this proceeds!

Okay?! Okay.

Also spoilers.

Summary: It is the end of Eren Jaeger's story. The boy who sought freedom had failed to complete the Rumbling. His friends opposed him, his family disowned him, and Optimus had killed him. He expected to be suffering in hell for all eternity, or just stop existing. But divine intervention has offered him a chance at reincarnation, if he can pass thirteen trials from the Primes that proceeded Optimus Prime. Succeed, he will be granted a new life. Fail, and he will disappear forever.

If Eren wishes to survive, to win, then he must fight.

Eren felt his eyes twitching when he realized that he was able to think again. He slowly opened his eyes to a rather strange sight. He could tell that it was nighttime, what with all the stars, however, he also saw clouds of colorful gas slowly floating along. Eren groaned, forcing himself to sit up and study his surroundings further. He found himself surrounded by a purple fog with no end in sight. The floor beneath him felt smooth and he looked down to see his reflection in the water. His hair was still the same length from when he was dragged back from Marley and when he was in the Paths. He wore those dark pants and hoodie along with his green shirt, but his eyes were still blue as the color of energon.

"Where am I?" Eren mumbled to himself. He felt something in the grip of his right hand and looked over to see...

Mikasa's scarf. He was holding Mikasa's scarf in his hand. He pulled it slightly, and the motion caused ripples to form in the reflective water. But the scarf didn't touch the water, nor did it get wet. What...what happened? Why did he have this? Why was he-?

Eren yelled and clutched his head as memories came flooding into his mind....He activated the Rumbling.

Eren! NO!

He attacked his comrades, along with Optimus' comrades.

Someone help me!

MURDERER!

Eren please stop!

MEGATRON!

He...he was killed by-! Eren covered his mouth and held his neck as he remembered the searing hot pain of the blade going through him, tearing him in half.

And...Armin and Mikasa....

You don’t get a say, Eren! Not anymore! You’re dead to me! I just can’t do this!

See you later, Eren.

Those words hurt more than the blade lodged into his body. Eren fell backwards onto the reflective floor, feeling the ripples form at his motions. That was it. He failed. He was officially dead, and everyone who knew of him, alive and dead, no doubt hated his guts. Eren raised his hand to see the red scarf dangling in front of him. He blinked, feeling tears starting to form in his eyes. All he had left now were memories, hateful memories, memories of bitterness, and this scarf. This scarf that once represented his connection to Mikasa was now severed. He would never be able to give it back to her. Not that she wanted it anymore. She would forget about him and move on with her life.

Eren's arm rested on the floor again. It was probably good for her anyway. He probably would have told her to forget about him at some point...but his last words to her were nothing more than that of a pathetic man. Armin made it clear her never wanted to see him again. He destroyed the connections he had with his very first friend. He destroyed the outside world they both wanted to see...did they both have the same vision of the outside world?

And then...there was Optimus...who told him that he considered him son and would always love him...he was certain Optimus hated him now. And now...this was his hell...

He didn't know how long he was waiting there, but the longer he did, the more nervous he felt....why....why the hell wasn't anything happening? He's heard different versions of hell when he was exposed to the outside world. Fire and brimstone, demons torturing you, darkness, anything? Why was he just forced to be here? Was this his own personal hell: to be idle for all eternity?! That can't be it! He needed to leave! He wanted out! There had to be way out before he lost his sanity and-!

"Eren Jaeger." Eren force at the sound of a voice, stopping his mind from spiraling further into madness. He bolted upright, and froze at the sight of...something standing before him. It...it was a metal being, a metal being that was the size of a human. The being was completely white with hints of blue that flowed through its armor. But those eyes, those eyes that mirrored his own, with that same shine of blue, it was energon. This being was a Cybertronian. But...That couldn't be right. Appearances alone, it should be a Cybertronian, and they were usually bigger. The size of titans. Why did this one look his size?

Even so, Eren couldn't help but feel unnerved at the way it looked at him. The expression was neutral, but its eyes showed contempt. "Who...who are you?"

"I am Prima: Primus' first creation, and the first Prime," he answered.

Eren's apprehension was replaced with contempt. Primus. Of course this had something to do with that god! The whole place looked like something that he would design! "You have to be fucking kidding me." Eren stood up. "Primus couldn't finish me off himself, so he decided to pawn me off to some dead Prime with a name that just screams ego?!"

"I'd advise that you watch your tone, boy," Prima warned.

"Or what?! Primus is too hypocritical to actually follow through on his-!" Eren felt something graze his skin and cut strands of his hair in an instant. Eren looked down towards his left cheek and gasped in horror at the sight of...it. The weapon that appeared in Prima's hand without Eren noticing...the weapon that Optimus used to end his life, the weapon that had just grazed his cheek and remained by his face, causing a sting of pain and drops of blood to appear: the Star Saber.

Eren's legs wobbled before he collapsed to the floor on his rear. The titan shifter breathed heavily, but froze in his panic when Prima raised the blade towards his chin.

"Primus might be a being of compassion," Prima began, "But we were forged to be weapons of war, with the sole purpose of slaying gods."

"That..." Eren gulped, "That's...Optimus-!"

"Optimus barely knows how to use this weapon," Prima declared, "Meanwhile, I have used this weapon for eons. I am much more efficient in using it than he is."

Prima lowered the blade, but Eren couldn't help but be nervous at the presence of it.

"To answer your question: Primus is busy," Prima explained, "He has no need to spend any more time on someone like you."

"He interfered with a place he didn't even belong in-!"

"Have you forgotten why Primus went there in the first place?" Prima shot back, "To save the Little One from an eternity of solitude and slavery? To end the power of the titans? He wanted to save your world. But you? You have enacted a genocidal plan, wiping out at least 50% of the population. You have killed one of the people you swore to protect, and worst of all: you have tried to kill Optimus Prime. All of that, was your choice."

Prima kneeled down to look Eren in the eye. "Know this, Eren Jaeger. We hate you. We despise you. And if it were up to the rest of us, we would shove your soul down to the pits of Unicron where you belong to be tortured for all eternity."

Prima straightened himself out. "But thanks to Primus' 'hypocrisy', he has granted you clemency, and you will be given a chance."

"A chance for what?" Eren asked.

"A chance at a new life," Prima answered, "However, we will be the ones to decide how you earn that chance."

"Who's we?" Eren asked.

Prima raised the Star Saber into the air before tapping it against the reflective floor. The floor rippled in response, and the fog started to move. It swirled around both Eren and Prima, forcing Eren to cover his eyes at the strong winds. Eren could feel the ground beginning to shake, but didn't dare open his eyes until the storm passed. When he felt the wind die down, Eren mustered up the courage to open his eyes and gawked at the sight that was behind Prima.

A jagged rock formation had risen up from the ground, almost looking like a mountain. On this mountain, stood nearly a dozen other metal beings he couldn't get the full details of. Their colors and shapes were different, but they all looked down at him from their vantage points with contempt. Two of them, looked furious at the sight of him, one of them looked like a beast, and the other had glowing red eyes similar to Megatron.

"The Thirteen Original Primes," Prima introduced them, "If you are to take up this task, you will be subjected to thirteen trials." Prima raised a finger. "One for each Prime in existence. If you succeed in your trial, you will be granted passage to the next one, all the way until you have completed all thirteen of them, granting you the ability to reincarnate into anything that you so desire. Fail in any trials we subject you to, and you will be forced to repeat the challenge over and over again until you pass."

Eren grimaced at the explanation. Thirteen trials? That felt like some twisted joke to mock the thirteen-year curse that all titan shifters faced. "And what if I say no?"

"Refuse to participate in the trials, or forfeit the trials before completion, and your soul will be barred from reincarnation and destroyed," Prima answered, "Do you accept the conditions laid before you?"

Eren couldn't help but think it over. He shouldn't have to think it over. Instead of suffering through hell for all of eternity, he was given the option to reincarnate into a better life, so long as he completed these trials. But...he knows for a fact that these Primes are not going to make it easy for him. They are no doubt going to put him through hell and make him suffer until he passed their tests.

Eren closed his eyes. If he wanted to live, if he wanted to survive and live another day, he had to win. And the only way to win was to fight.

Eren opened his eyes in determination and forced himself to stand before looking Prima in the optic. "I'll do it. I'll do the trials, and I will make sure to pass all of them."

Eren knew he was glaring at Prima with contempt, but Prima wasn't fazed at Eren's attempt at defiance towards him. Eren couldn't help but glance behind him to look at the reaction of the other Prime. Some of them glared at Eren for his blatant disrespect towards who was no doubt their leader. Some were apathetic to his attempt at looking strong. However, there were quite a few of them that...smirked...or grinned with delight. They were giddy at the fact that Eren accepted the trials.

"Very well." Prima turned away from him and walked towards his fellow Primes. "We will commence with the first trial: my trial. Let us see how fast you are able to complete it. Vector."

Eren saw a golden titan with a cape stand up and began to float, conjuring an abundance of energy in the palms of its hands. Eren then turned his attention to the rest of the Primes...and noticed something was off. Prima stated that there were thirteen trials for thirteen Primes, but...he only counted twelve. Where was the thirteenth Prime? Why-?

Eren snapped his head downward when he noticed a golden circle forming around him. Eren gasped when the reflective floor gave way to a dark abyss below. Eren felt his stomach drop and screamed as he fell through the portal into the darkness below. He tried to hold onto Mikasa's scarf as long as he could, but in his panic, he let the fabric go. Eren saw it fly away before the portal closed above him, leaving him in darkness.

(So this is the idea, and basically an expansion of this ask. But again, if this doesn't get a lot of traction, I'm not really going to waste my time writing out the rest of it in full. Because coming up with the mechanics of the trials will be a lot of work. So please let me know what you think because that will help me decide.

Also I was listening to this:

And this:

I felt like both were pretty fitting.

[linkito]

So about that hhau Before the Horrors brainstorming you were talking about 👀 can I convince you to share some thoughts? :3 How silly were they before they got dropped into the bads?

-🎀

oh my gosh sOOO It started with me coming up with some past relationship stuff for Scar! Because ange and I have agreed that Scar has relationship experience, while Grian, pointedly, does not. (because extra drama for the situation on Hermitcraft! Grian doesn’t know if his understanding of love is skewed and wrong!) (spoilers: it’s not)

I thought it would be funny if Scar once got a guy’s number and later on got a booty call but did not...realize it was a booty call. The guy messaged him “I’m lonely...come keep me company?<3” and Scar immediately thought oh no!! he must need comfort and homemade cookies!

He’s halfway out the door when Cub tells him to have fun on his hook-up and Scar scoffs like “It’s not like that, Cub, my god!” 

... it was indeed like that.

And listen. The guy is nice enough but he sort of just expected the hot guy he met on mcci to come over and kiss him senseless and now he’s...in his kitchen. baking. and it’s very endearing but!!! oh my god.

So he calls his friend on his comm, hushed in his room like “I can’t kick him out, he’s baking!” meanwhile she’s laughing and mocking him for somehow finding a problem in a cute guy making cookies for him like hello? huge win? She jokes to give him HER number, but ultimately tells her friend to just let him down easy.

Well, unfortunately for them... vex hearing. Scar overhears the whole thing and hoooo boy is he embarrassed now. When the guy comes out of his room, Scar is already packing up, saying something came up, sorry!

But he can’t help but throw in a “...you can give your friend my number” as he leaves just to have a mic drop moment pfffff-

ANYWAY what does this have to do with Grian and Scar being idiots???

Well back in Boatem, Scar gets an incREDIBLY similar message from Grian one night: I’m lonely. Come over?

And Scar is rushing to get his shoes on when he has to stop and think: oh god is this a booty call?

Surely not. No, no, Grian and him are just friends! But like...what if it is? What if he embarrasses himself again? 

Ultimately he decides it would be even MORE embarrassing to assume it is and be wrong than it would be to show up ready to comfort again.

So he heads over. And Grian answers the door in his pajamas: a short-sleeved button up (Grian normally wears long sleeves and oh my gosh the freckles are on his arms too) and most importantly: just the shortest little pajama shorts.

Scar about short-circuits. (pun intended)

Now here’s the thing. It wasn’t a booty call. And despite his flusterment, Scar still doesn’t assume it to be! He is a perfect gentleman! He eventually invites Grian over to his place (it’s bigger and cozier) so he can make cookies! And he gives Grian his overcoat as they walk over since it’s a little chilly.

And listen. The sight of Grian all dressed down like this? with Scar’s jacket on? with Jellie curled up in his lap? sitting in his kitchen while Scar bakes and rambles about nothing and everything?

Scar is down so bad. So darn smitten.

Also they absolutely fall asleep cuddled up together on Scar’s bed. But you know. 

Toooooootally just friends.