#if anyone's interested in interacting with her hmu!

[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. part 3: reading, part 4: 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.

[remingtan-wins]

I’m drunk making a Healthy! Magnus archives AU, so if anyone wants to see that… I would really like to share. It’s super funny because it’s basically all the same things that happen in the normal timeline but everyone is trying their hardest to communicate. But like also their personalities are almost exactly the same. The REASON it’s different is because Martin is SLIGHTLY more confident in himself and Tim is SLIGHTLY more annoying and Sasha is SLIGHTLY more self preserving, like just enough to where they are all still essentially the same characters but like an iiiitttyyyt bit different. And Elias is also way more involved in the most standoffish way possible. BUT I FORGOT YO METION it’s also a time travel au, so right after the prentiss attack they all get together (Sasha didn’t die, Rosie did, and when Elias is more active so is she, and Elias knows what tf she is and just send her in all sorts of side quests where she interacts with Jon. (I’ve always thought Rosie was such an untapped character fr so)) ANYWAYS after the prentis attack they get together and talk about everything and instead of being suspicious of the crew he and the staff decide to stay away from Elias, but keep Rosie in contact so they still have a little knight as to what goes on in Elias’s world. Jon still feels the need to keep his workers safe though and TGATS what would lead to the tunnel fiascos. BUT since this is a time travel au as well (and I should explain that when the archivist died in the main timeline he and his Martin split off into a bunch of different entities in different universes, two for each one. But in this one since Elias is so active so is Peter Lukas and Martin gets stuck in Peter’s lonely for a bit before releasing himself and joking bavk up with Jon.) and the whole thing basically revolves around the Alt!Crew talking to main!jon and being like “ok so your world is fucked up, what do we do to change ours?” And m!jon is like “fuck if I know I just wanna find Martin!”. I’ve had about two and a half cord lights so I’m essentially hood but like I can’t particularly read anything but if that sounds interesting then hmu for the drawings (ts abt to flop big time, one - two likes type beat)

[mrsdickey]

intro post or something

❌ as a 20 year old, i do not want to interact with anyone under the age of 18. if you're a minor, please don't interact with me. i occasionally allude to and occasionally post (mostly soft) nsfw, and i feel that would be incredibly fucking weird and gross to expose a minor to that stuff. thanks for understanding !! i might also use offensive language, so please dni if it offends u. thanks!! 🤙 ❌

HI im pencerism,,, but you can refer to me as spencer!! i am 20 years old, my pronouns are he/him/she/her and i am bisexual

my art trades are open or uh something yeah

i dont do commissions nor requests and if you request me for something involving anything sexual or fetishy, i will block you. i dont fuck with people who involve others in their fetishes. keep that shit to yourself, thanks.

anyways im INCREDIBLY fucking shy, i dont really interact with people that much,,sorry if i dont interact with yall— it's nothing personal

i try to be the nicest i can but sometimes i can be a fucking bitch, sorry 😭🤞

((im kind of newish to actually posting here regularly, im not very experienced with how this shit works))

i love bill dickey so naturally i ship myself with him uhh,,

im kind of nonsharing. if you want to interact with me, you can. but please dont shove it in my face (haha). i personally dont really feel comfortable with seeing other bill ships. thanks.

hes so ugly but hes also so hot i want to punch him. and then kiss him jgjdjd

im a yumeshipper and my main ship is called geekgoth shipping (very creative i know) and my f/o is epilogue bill dickey

heres my geekgoth yumeship intro i got lazy sorry

anyways my main interest/hyper fixations are the eltingville club, evangelion (my favorite thing in the entire series is probably the end of evangelion holy shit peak cinema) and the legend of zelda (specifically totk and botw)

im genuinely so fucking obsessed with evangelion, the evangelion brainrot is in full swing lmao. i just dont post about it often, as i dont really see myself drawing it all that much. its just kinda in the background of my profiles loll 😭 every so often i might post something relating to it, but yeah if you fuck with evangelion and the eltingville club PLEASE fucking hmu

i also have chronic pokemon brainrot lmfao

i do have other interests but i dont really post about most of them im very devoted to posting about my husband bill

↓

digimon

jojo's bizarre adventure

devilman

attack on titan

hunter x hunter

danganronpa

final fantasy 7

smiling friends

gravity falls

i like making art.......my style is ambiguous, i can have slightly changing art styles lmfao,, i dont really know if i have a "main" art style?? heres some recent art or something

this is my cunt whore twat bitch eltingville persona spencer

and this is max, her ugly fucking greasy ass son with bill

DNI LIST:

- people who need trigger warnings. i do not put trigger warnings on my posts. i will not be censoring anything i say either. i wont put warnings on my posts unless they depicting/mentioning something in graphic detail.

- proship and all variants. self explanatory.

- minors. stated above, im 20 and i dont feel comfortable interacting with people under 18.

- doubles (idc if u ship bill with other characters but please dont involve me in any of it lmfao. it makes me personally feel uncomfortable and i dont want to see it. thanks)

- bigots

- problematic mdfs,

- anything political,,,i dont wanna talk about any of that shit on my blog. all im going to say is that im a left wing socialist and if that pisses u off please dont interact with me!

here is my discorduh add me please i need someone to yap about eltingville to (@mrs.dickey) (doubles and minors please don't add me lol)

im the type of person to update this post to be completely differently in the next like 3 months lmfao

thank you for listening to me yap about my crippling obsession with bill dickey 🙏

i was high asf while writing this sorry if it sounds dumb asf LMAO

[glacial-waltzes]

Kaeya, cavalry captain of Mondstadt! A pleasure to meet you all~ 23, he/him.

This picture isn't fully accurate now, but Borealis is still with me! Along with his other friends who keep tailing us around, haha.

Kaeya’s pokemon

Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lynette. 21 and she/her only.

Kaeya has let me borrow his... odd mechanism when I please. If you are interested in magic, or my brothers… this is the wrong time and place for that. But if you wish to speak with me... just get to the point.

Lynette’s pokemon

If any of you see my good friend Aether, or our other companions, Alhaitham or Furina, please do let us know. We’re a bit worried for them.

//Universe shared with - @diamond-lost-in-time - @fallenboughtkeeper (on the genshin side) - @blueberry-gills - non emo au of @arven-x-drayster-4ever (both on the pokemon side)

please go through ‘read more’ before interacting!

Heyaaa!! It’s @saywha413, mod of @arven-x-drayster-4ever, @ask-sarah-and-co, and all the other blogs in that universe!

I love Kaeya genshin sm and I thought a faller blog would be silly…

since this is a separate universe from my main one, I’d be alright with him being in like other universes if that makes sense? but uh. hmu if you want to do like a rp thread or join universes or smth.

Note relating to the actual genshin part. The only other faller chars planned (as of rn) are the ones he listed. Most other chars will be back on Teyvat- so in @/fallernboughtkeeper’s side.

finally. There will be kaether (kaeya/aether) bc I am crazy abt them. Aether is 20 (under legal drinking age of 21). I am also highly considering furina/lynette and kaeya/aether/alhaitham but we’ll see lmao

Pelipper mail/malice/mystery gifts: ✔️ Musharna mail/malice: ✔️ Union circle: ✔️ In character hate: ✔️ Magic anons: depends on the anon

Anyone can interact, given that we keep it within a social media context.

also full icon bc im super proud of how it turned out

Tag guide:

I didn't know you were such a slacker. Anything by Kaeya Hey; fancy joining me at the tavern for a bit? Asks We're not frozen in place; after all. Reblogs Haha; just don't feel intimidated by what I can do. Plot related stuff Hehe; seems all the other knights already have their hands full. Anything long lol

There is nothing new under the sun... Is that really true? Anything by Lynette + text color

ask games ooc posts ooc reblogs

dividers: x og icon (mines a redraw): x header: x background of lugia image: x

[earthydoll]

FANDOM MASTERLIST – ♪

Hello everyone! Dolly here. This is my list of fandoms and ships for roleplay! Please feel free to read this and hmu if anything interests you!

rp rules !! please read

KEY ; Bold — Wanted muse (if none, i can play as either)

x — Romantic pairings

& — Platonic pairings

warning!! a shitton of ships, crackships and maybe problematic pairings

I. EPIC : THE MUSICAL — 🐚

Odysseus x Penelope

Odysseus x Poseidon

Odysseus x Polites

Eurylochus x Ctimede

Odysseus x Hermes

Eurylochus x Hermes

Penelope & Telemachus

Eurylochus x Zeus

Odysseus & Telemachus

Odysseus & Ctimede

Telemachus x Antinous

Antinous x Calypso

Calypso x Poseidon

Circe x Odysseus

Circe x Calypso

Circe x Penelope

Penelope x Polites

Odysseus x Polites x Penelope (can double up if needed)

Odysseus x Poseidon x Zeus

Athena x Aphrodite

Aphrodite x Ares

Circe x Hermes

Aphrodite x Hermes

Athena &/x Odysseus

Athena &/x Penelope

Athena &/x Penelope &/x Odysseus (Can double up as either)

Athena x Literally anyone

Athena & Telemachus

Apollo x Hermes

and more... feel free to ask

II. HAMILTON — 🐚

Hamilton x Laurens

Hamilton x Jefferson

Hamilton x Eliza

Eliza x Jefferson

Hamilton x Laurens x Eliza (Can double up)

Maria x Hamilton

Eliza & Angelica

Angelica & Peggy

Peggy & Eliza

Burr x Angelica

Burr x Theodosia Sr.

Burr x Maria

Maria x Lafayette

Maria x Angelica

Angelica x Theodosia Sr.

Eliza x Martha L. (Laurens' wife)

Martha L x Laurens

Kinloch x Laurens

Laurens x Lafayette

Rachel (Hamilton's mom) x Washington

James Jr(Hamilton's Brother) & Hamilton

James Jr x Mary (his wife)

any historical wife x husband

Phillip x Frances Laurens

Phillip x Theo Jr

Theo Jr x Frances L.

Phillip x Theo Jr. x Frances L. (Can double up)

Eliza & Any of her kids

Hamilton & Angie Hamilton (his daughter)

Angie H. & Phillip

Angie H. x Eacker

Angie H. x Frances L.

Angie H. x Theo Jr.

and more.. feel free to ask

III. GOOD OMENS — 🐚

Crowley x Aziraphale

Muriel & Crowley

Muriel & Aziraphale

Beelzebub x Gabriel

Shax x Furfur

Maggie x Nina

Maggie x (Fem!presenting) Aziraphale

Maggie x Mostly anyone

and more... feel free to ask

IV. DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES — 🐚

*: I'm still on season 6. Please don't spoil me

Bree &/x Gabby

Bree &/x Susan

Susan x Mike

Edie x Susan

Edie x Mike

Tom x Lynette

Lynette x Bree

Gabby x Carlos

Gabby x John

Lynette & Any of her kids

Bree x Anyone

and more... feel free to ask

W.I.P

I'll edit whenever i feel like it lol.

dm me or interact if interested

—xoxo, Dolly

[darkrpfinders]

🩰— Hello everyone! I'm Dolly(19f) looking for +18 roleplay partners. I am not replacing anyone, just looking for some buddies to keep me entretained during the holidays lol.

A bit about me, i LOVE to gush and yap about our ocs, give me complex dynamics, multiple characters, send me tiktoks or pins that made you think about our story! i love worldbuilding and all that jazz!! so if you're like me, please hmu!!

i am looking for FANDOMLESS, Oc x Oc interactions! Here's my list of wanted plots:

1. The war between heaven and hell is finally over, and heaven won, most demons were murdered except a small portion that were given to the gods as slaves, Muse a is one of those demons, and they got gifted to Muse b, a god, muse b can be cruel or a kind owner, muse a can hate or love them, only time will tell... (I prefer to play as muse A/the demon, but i'm willing to play the other role(muse B/the god) if needed. Open for MxM, MxF(me), and FxF!)

2. Muse a is a scientist that has just made a remarkable discovery; Sirens! They found one, muse b, on the shore- hurt by a shark or some other depredator. Muse a is quick to take them to their lab, trying to nurse them back to health and, maybe, experiment a little with this brand new species. (I can play as either muse. Open for MxM and MxF(me))

3. (HISTORICAL PLOT FOR: EITHER ANCIENT GREECE OR THE VICTORIAN ERA(yes those are my fav eras, no i will not elaborate/j)) Muse a can be a princess, queen, or a very important lady, she got married off to an abusive man. With no way of getting out, she decides to plan his murder. Best way to do so? Try to seduce her loyal guard/maid, muse b, to get them to do her dirty job for her. (I will be playing as muse A/the queen. Open for FxF and MxF(me))

4. (DEAD DOVE/🕊️ WARNING) Muse a is a mafia leader(or a very influential person) and they have been grieving the loss of a loved one for quite some time now, growing more and more depressed as the time goes on. They think of ending their life and join their loved one... Until. They see muse b, they can a waiter or something like that,and, they look so much like muse a's loved one, that muse a now has the necessity to take muse b, to hide them from the rest of the world and protect them like they were their lost loved one(maybe going as far as treating muse b like they're that person, and they never left). So, using their influences, they kidnap muse B. what happens next? (I lean more towards playing muse B/the victim, BUT! i MAY be willing to play muse A/the kidnapper ONLY in mxf(me) pairings(i love playing twisted, crazy women<3). Besides that, open to mxm, fxf and mxf (me as either))

*SCI-FI TWIST: muse a in this is a scientist, and instead of kidnapping muse b, they create them- as a robot, android or even an ia. Same preferences on who i play as above.

Drawn and realistic fcs are welcome! Please be able to communicate properly and contribute to the plot, this is my only rule!

I have more, but this is what i'm interested in doing the most atm! Please dm me, interact with this post or add me on discord (@earthydoll !!) if interested, and i'll reach out asap!

.

[roleplayfinder]

🩰— Hello everyone! I'm Dolly(19f) looking for +18 roleplay partners. I am not replacing anyone, just looking for some buddies to keep me entretained during the holidays lol.

A bit about me, i LOVE to gush and yap about our ocs, give me complex dynamics, multiple characters, send me tiktoks or pins that made you think about our story! i love worldbuilding and all that jazz!! so if you're like me, please hmu!!

i am looking for FANDOMLESS, Oc x Oc interactions! Here's my list of wanted plots:

1. The war between heaven and hell is finally over, and heaven won, most demons were murdered except a small portion that were given to the gods as slaves, Muse a is one of those demons, and they got gifted to Muse b, a god, muse b can be cruel or a kind owner, muse a can hate or love them, only time will tell... (I prefer to play as muse A/the demon, but i'm willing to play the other role(muse B/the god) if needed. Open for MxM, MxF(me), and FxF!)

2. Muse a is a scientist that has just made a remarkable discovery; Sirens! They found one, muse b, on the shore- hurt by a shark or some other depredator. Muse a is quick to take them to their lab, trying to nurse them back to health and, maybe, experiment a little with this brand new species. (I can play as either muse. Open for MxM and MxF(me))

3. (HISTORICAL PLOT FOR: EITHER ANCIENT GREECE OR THE VICTORIAN ERA(yes those are my fav eras, no i will not elaborate/j)) Muse a can be a princess, queen, or a very important lady, she got married off to an abusive man. With no way of getting out, she decides to plan his murder. Best way to do so? Try to seduce her loyal guard/maid, muse b, to get them to do her dirty job for her. (I will be playing as muse A/the queen. Open for FxF and MxF(me))

4. (DEAD DOVE/🕊️ WARNING) Muse a is a mafia leader(or a very influential person) and they have been grieving the loss of a loved one for quite some time now, growing more and more depressed as the time goes on. They think of ending their life and join their loved one... Until. They see muse b, they can a waiter or something like that,and, they look so much like muse a's loved one, that muse a now has the necessity to take muse b, to hide them from the rest of the world and protect them like they were their lost loved one(maybe going as far as treating muse b like they're that person, and they never left). So, using their influences, they kidnap muse B. what happens next? (I lean more towards playing muse B/the victim, BUT! i MAY be willing to play muse A/the kidnapper ONLY in mxf(me) pairings(i love playing twisted, crazy women<3). Besides that, open to mxm, fxf and mxf (me as either))

*SCI-FI TWIST: muse a in this is a scientist, and instead of kidnapping muse b, they create them- as a robot, android or even an ia. Same preferences on who i play as above.

Drawn and realistic fcs are welcome! Please be able to communicate properly and contribute to the plot, this is my only rule!

I have more, but this is what i'm interested in doing the most atm! Please dm me, interact with this post or add me on discord (@earthydoll !!) if interested, and i'll reach out asap!

@earthydoll

[heartsbreaking]

WANTED CONNECTIONS ( mutuals only )

if you write one of the muses and are interested in interacting or plotting feel free to send some memes or hmu in the ims/on disco

these are 99% platonic, if you want shippy dynamic i have ideas on my muse's info pages

KÀRA HRAFN : i would love interactions with loki, thor, maybe sif or even odin. also i would love to write with wanda or strange, or legit any magic user in the mcu. would love some threads with the young avengers too (especially cassie, kate and wiccan)

ALEKS VASILYEV : would love to write aleks against either of her brothers anatoly & vladimir. would also love to write against any of the defenders and street level heroes in the mcu

MARINA REYES : robbie reyes. give marina her older brother. also any agents of shield muses

CLARY STARK : gimme tony, gimme pepper, gimme peter, mj, ned, flash, gwen, harley, riri, give clary friends.

KITTY CARVER : jason carver, give me sibling things and angst, also give me more interactions with adult muses in hawkins

MADELYN & VIVIAN KELLMAN : someone write gerri for the girls pls i'm begging.

VIVIAN KELLMAN : gimme friends from college, influencer girlies, gimme chaotic ships for her

OPHELIA WAMBSGANS : i would LOVE to have a tom or shiv to write with but i'm incredibly hesitant to approach someone first. i'd also love a kendall, connor or willa.

RAFAELLA FLORES & SOFIA LENNOX : gimme more members of the richmond wfc and plots with other ted lasso muses, i'd also love some interactions with people's other athlete muses

EMILY CRIMM : gimme emily interacting with the richmond team and staff, gimme her dad, give emily friends

ALEJANDRA ROJAS : would love some threads with her getting to know the richmond team/staff, and generally making friends with her older brother's friends. (would pay in cute instagram reels for a dani too)

ALICE LAHEY : more teen wolf muses come interact with her i miss this fandom

BEATRICE DE MARTEL : more interactions with legacies muses (generally begging for this love her or hate her for being a weird lil girly she needs friends and enemies), gimme mikaelson muses too! would love a klaus but i will accept anyone. also if anyone writes aurora and doesn't ship her with her fucking brother come write with me.

CECELIA DE MARTEL : same thing as above, someone find me an aurora to write with that doesn't ship her with her brother so that cece can have her older sister. also same goes above for mikaelsons. i would also love to throw cecelia at more witches

CARRIE DAVIS : gimme more interactions with the yellowjackets thanks

KAT HARRISON : literally any twd muses carl, enid, daryl, rick, alden

CARLY SIMPSON : someone write gwen (carly's co-pilot), give her more interactions with top gun muses in general

DANA CORTELL : give her more interactions with top gun muses,

JACK HARDING : if anyone writes bill, find me. also any twisters muses i would love to put jack in more situations

SABRINA TYLER : gimme brina interacting with the 118 and becoming friends with them through buck, also i will find a way for her to interact with the 126, i'm not sure how but i will

ALYSIA DIAZ : generally would love to see alysia interacting with the 118 & 126, would love a main eddie. would also love interactions with people's musician ocs

SOPHIA DIAZ : would love a main eddie, would love threads with the 118 and also threads with other people's like legal/crime based muses.

STEVIE BURTON : more threads with the 118 :)

LUCIANA SCARCELLA : give me vampire interactions, i would love to build up luciana's history with other vampires (both friendly and unfriendly dyns)

YASMIN KARA-HANANI : i would love to throw yasmin at y'all's muses who are more business and crime based. come love my nepo baby finance girlie

CALYPSO : would love some interactions with other pjo muses, the gods ect

GABRIELLE GAO : gimme bullet train characters, gimme people who know here as an heiress and not an assassin

[scattcrbrain]

hello, hi -- i'm out here shamelessly begging for plots again. 🫣i do have some older muses i'd like to use for some of these but otherwise i'm down to create new characters for specific plots. i'll put some of my most wanted under the cut and if anyone 21+ is interested, just hmu on im or interact with this post and i'll come to you. also my go-to platform to write on is discord as of late, but i've been missing sideblogs so if anyone is still into that just let me know ig!

bold = my preferred roles

babysitter x employer (inspiration)

survivor x rescuer (inspiration, and where my character maite originally stems from, i'm ready to explore my traumatized girly again. i'm open to other ideas for a character to play opposite her within context. all kinds of tw for this storyline.)

small-time crook x enforcer (inspiration)

dad's best friend (inspiration, inspiration)

runaway x farmer or other (utp) who takes them in, gives them a roof and work to pay their way

stepdaughter x stepdad

innocent x experienced

mentor x protégé

professor x college student

patient x therapist

characters with super powers, escaped lab kids, vigilantes, anything else we can think of for enhanced humans

old lovers reunite

slow burns

forbidden love

legal age gaps

affairs

opposites attract

size differences

post-apocalypse, zombies, 'end of the world as we know it' scenarios

fantasy, supernatural creatures, werewolves, witches and sirens mainly

[prpfz]

🩰— Hello everyone! I'm Dolly(19f) looking for +18 roleplay partners. I am not replacing anyone, just looking for some buddies to keep me entretained during the holidays lol.

A bit about me, i LOVE to gush and yap about our ocs, give me complex dynamics, multiple characters, send me tiktoks or pins that made you think about our story! i love worldbuilding and all that jazz!! so if you're like me, please hmu!!

i am looking for FANDOMLESS, Oc x Oc interactions! Here's my list of wanted plots:

1. The war between heaven and hell is finally over, and heaven won, most demons were murdered except a small portion that were given to the gods as slaves, Muse a is one of those demons, and they got gifted to Muse b, a god, muse b can be cruel or a kind owner, muse a can hate or love them, only time will tell... (I prefer to play as muse A/the demon, but i'm willing to play the other role(muse B/the god) if needed. Open for MxM, MxF(me), and FxF!)

2. Muse a is a scientist that has just made a remarkable discovery; Sirens! They found one, muse b, on the shore- hurt by a shark or some other depredator. Muse a is quick to take them to their lab, trying to nurse them back to health and, maybe, experiment a little with this brand new species. (I can play as either muse. Open for MxM and MxF(me))

3. (HISTORICAL PLOT FOR: EITHER ANCIENT GREECE OR THE VICTORIAN ERA(yes those are my fav eras, no i will not elaborate/j)) Muse a can be a princess, queen, or a very important lady, she got married off to an abusive man. With no way of getting out, she decides to plan his murder. Best way to do so? Try to seduce her loyal guard/maid, muse b, to get them to do her dirty job for her. (I will be playing as muse A/the queen. Open for FxF and MxF(me))

4. (DEAD DOVE/🕊️ WARNING) Muse a is a mafia leader(or a very influential person) and they have been grieving the loss of a loved one for quite some time now, growing more and more depressed as the time goes on. They think of ending their life and join their loved one... Until. They see muse b, they can a waiter or something like that,and, they look so much like muse a's loved one, that muse a now has the necessity to take muse b, to hide them from the rest of the world and protect them like they were their lost loved one(maybe going as far as treating muse b like they're that person, and they never left). So, using their influences, they kidnap muse B. what happens next? (I lean more towards playing muse B/the victim, BUT! i MAY be willing to play muse A/the kidnapper ONLY in mxf(me) pairings(i love playing twisted, crazy women<3). Besides that, open to mxm, fxf and mxf (me as either))

*SCI-FI TWIST: muse a in this is a scientist, and instead of kidnapping muse b, they create them- as a robot, android or even an ia. Same preferences on who i play as above.

Drawn and realistic fcs are welcome! Please be able to communicate properly and contribute to the plot, this is my only rule!

I have more, but this is what i'm interested in doing the most atm! Please dm me, interact with this post or add me on discord (@earthydoll !!) if interested, and i'll reach out asap!

Leave a like, and the asker will get back to you!

And/Or

Discord: earthydoll

[dangerous-fellows-enjoyer]

HELLO DANGEROUS FELLOWS FANDOM IM CALLING YOU GUYS!!

Okay so I'm DYING for an MC/DFmen, call me a little selfish, but I really do wanna be MC who's naive to the men fighting over her hand. It'd be cute to see all of them sneakily try to win her over only to have another one of the guys GLARING them down- Or even if Lawrence lost his cool and told one of them to back off.

I'm down for anything! Please be 16+ as I don't wanna catch a case 😭 I used to be young guys, it sucks, but then you realize you could get in deep trouble so yeah no. I'm sorry!!

Interact with this post if you're interested!

-also if anyone wants to muse Harry for a group server I have, hmu, I'm DYING trying to find a Harry-

[denouementrpg]

syala has requested some genshin impact characters to keep our current cast ( wriothesley, aether, aventurine, venti, wanderer, yun jin and zhongli ) company! any and all genshin impact characters would be welcomed, though sy specifies neuvillette, sigewinne, clorinde, and navia as specific people she'd like to see in relation to wrio!

CHAT WITH US ON DISCORD or CHECK OUT OUR LORE & APPLICATION PROCESS ON OUR FORUM!

you can also read syala's wanted ad in full under the cut!

Wanted for Wriothesley:

Neuvillette: The Iudex is such an obvious choice. Unspoken trust between them, high respect for one another, you get why I'd crave Neuvi. Plus I feel like Wrio would have a blast helping Neuvillette adjust to Denny.

Sigewinne: Another obvious choice. The little half-Melusine nurse of the Fortress of Meropide has such fun banter with Wriothesley, and she's got a hidden sus side that I'd love to see someone bring out. (I understand if anyone interested would rather wait until her banner is out however for more information.)

Clorinde: Their bond reminds me of Fran and Balthier from Final Fantasy XII and no, I won't elaborate. These two have a lot of mutual trust and understanding, enough that all Wrio had to do was one small gesture for her to immediately understand what he wanted in a crisis. That kind of instinctive understanding is important to Wrio, and he'd in turn be happy to help her find her feet here.

Navia: They've not interacted hugely in canon, but they definitely get along, even if she found Wrio keeping quiet regarding information on her father rather frustrating in canon. Still, I bet she'd have fun in Denny, especially as Wrio can take her to his new job at RoyalTea.

Hmu in server or dms if you want to talk to me about it!

[findyourrp]

🫧Hi🫧 I’m a mid-20s (she/her) role-player looking for 18+ rp partners (Minors DNI please, I’m an adult). I’m looking for a rp partner that doubles up💖 I am ESL but I like to write a lot and I'd love someone who can kinda match that🥹🫶

I also want a rp partner that communicates with me OORP and that is willing to have our OCs interact as well to add more to the story💕

LGBTQIA+ all welcome❣️ Also love triangles HMU😉

Fandoms

The Vampire Diaries

Characters I'm looking for:

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kai Parker

Rebekah Mikaelson

Enzo St. John

Characters I can play:

Anyone💕

Fate the Winx Saga

Characters I'm looking for:

Sam Harvey

Flora

Characters I can play:

Anyone💕

Fandomless (ocxoc)

Superhero plotline, kinda the vibe of DC or MCU

Vampire/supernatural plotline

Disney princess plotline, as in characters based on the disney characters (like in OUAT)

Like this if you're interested❣️

(+emoji because I've read the rules🩵)

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[earthydoll]

🩰— Hello everyone! I'm Dolly(19f) looking for +18 roleplay partners. I am not replacing anyone, just looking for some buddies to keep me entretained during the holidays lol.

A bit about me, i LOVE to gush and yap about our ocs, give me complex dynamics, multiple characters, send me tiktoks or pins that made you think about our story! i love worldbuilding and all that jazz!! so if you're like me, please hmu!!

i am looking for FANDOMLESS, Oc x Oc interactions! Here's my list of wanted plots:

1. The war between heaven and hell is finally over, and heaven won, most demons were murdered except a small portion that were given to the gods as slaves, Muse a is one of those demons, and they got gifted to Muse b, a god, muse b can be cruel or a kind owner, muse a can hate or love them, only time will tell... (I prefer to play as muse A/the demon, but i'm willing to play the other role(muse B/the god) if needed. Open for MxM, MxF(me), and FxF!)

2. Muse a is a scientist that has just made a remarkable discovery; Sirens! They found one, muse b, on the shore- hurt by a shark or some other depredator. Muse a is quick to take them to their lab, trying to nurse them back to health and, maybe, experiment a little with this brand new species. (I can play as either muse. Open for MxM and MxF(me))

3. (HISTORICAL PLOT FOR: EITHER ANCIENT GREECE OR THE VICTORIAN ERA(yes those are my fav eras, no i will not elaborate/j)) Muse a can be a princess, queen, or a very important lady, she got married off to an abusive man. With no way of getting out, she decides to plan his murder. Best way to do so? Try to seduce her loyal guard/maid, muse b, to get them to do her dirty job for her. (I will be playing as muse A/the queen. Open for FxF and MxF(me))

4. (DEAD DOVE/🕊️ WARNING) Muse a is a mafia leader(or a very influential person) and they have been grieving the loss of a loved one for quite some time now, growing more and more depressed as the time goes on. They think of ending their life and join their loved one... Until. They see muse b, they can a waiter or something like that,and, they look so much like muse a's loved one, that muse a now has the necessity to take muse b, to hide them from the rest of the world and protect them like they were their lost loved one(maybe going as far as treating muse b like they're that person, and they never left). So, using their influences, they kidnap muse B. what happens next? (I lean more towards playing muse B/the victim, BUT! i MAY be willing to play muse A/the kidnapper ONLY in mxf(me) pairings(i love playing twisted, crazy women<3). Besides that, open to mxm, fxf and mxf (me as either))

*SCI-FI TWIST: muse a in this is a scientist, and instead of kidnapping muse b, they create them- as a robot, android or even an ia. Same preferences on who i play as above.

I have more, but this is what i'm interested in doing the most atm! Please dm me, interact with this post or add me on discord (@earthydoll !!) if interested, and i'll reach out asap!

Drawn and realistic fcs are welcome! Please be able to communicate properly and contribute to the plot, this is my only rule!

[stop-pressing-e]

The Lost Swan - Epilogue

Prev chapter Prologue

/After three months of writing this, it's finally done. Originally, I wrote this for one single friend in mind, but I chose to share this story with others who would be interested.

I would like to say my thanks to those who left likes on the past chapters and have taken the time to read them. I have the google docs version in the middle of editing to be better if anyone wants that too. HMU on it and feel free to ask me about the story or about anything :D Once again, thank you for reading this story and may you have a lovely day.

-Midnight Hatter/

“Do you see our fair man, love?” 

“Negative.”

Florence, Italy. Such a beautiful city to visit and to admire the beautiful buildings and admire the famous works made by recognisable artists. A lovely city indeed but alas they were not here to sightsee or enjoy themselves. They are still on the job. Perched on one of the many rooftops where no one could see them as they minded their own business and pleasure, Dullahan and Krauser scanned for their target through a sea of people. Based on the new information given, he should be among the crowd after leaving the show.

Dullahan slowly inhaled and exhaled to avoid moving the rifle or else the light from the setting sun should reflect the scope and catch anyone’s attention. Krauser continued to search for him through his binoculars. That’s when he caught sight of a face seen from the photo not in the crowd of people but from the window.

“Dullahan, I have eyes on our target.” Krauser said. “Second floor. Open window.” The hitman adjusted her rifle to her new location, she smiled to see him too. “Perfect. It seems he’s still shaken after what our dear lad has done to send the message. I have a visual on the target when the time comes. On your command, Silverdax.”

Together they watched their target smoke a cigar while having a conversation with someone next to him. The other person was unimportant to them until they saw their target handing his friend a small folder. Krauser switched his binoculars for a camera to zoom in and take a few shots of the little interactions and of who could be their new target with the organisation’s permission and their client’s decision.

“Shall I take the shot now, Silverdax?”

“Wait…” He held a finger up, though she couldn't see it with the lack of a left eye. “Ten seconds from now…” She silently counted down, her finger moving towards the trigger. “Now.”

Dullahan fired and together they saw their target fall backwards and the other man jumped back in horror by what he had witnessed up close. It was enough of that. Their job was done and they were packing up before their guards could try and identify the location of the shot. 

They made sure their clothes were clean and straightened up to avoid suspicious looks from the locals and tourists, so they walked back to their hotel hand in hand. Trish carrying the duffel bag holding their gears and Krauser carrying the briefcase containing her rifle.

“I hope we can stay in Italy a bit longer.” Trish hummed softly as she gazed at the row of shops that were closing up for the day and the people still out and enjoying their time. Her arm wrapped around his arm, squeezing his muscled limb gently, and resting her head against his shoulder. “His buddy looked like someone we will have to handle soon.” 

“Are you hoping there will be an event he’ll be attending and we’ll have to dress up for it?” There was no doubt Krauser could be right on his prediction. Her kind of targets are always attending luxurious events he would never go for, but the sight of her in a dress and all dressed up was enough to convince him to enjoy the moment while they’re on the job. He earned a chuckle from her. “After watching his buddy get killed right before his eyes? I doubt so, darling. But that would be nice. I would love to dance in a ballroom again.”

“If he stays at a nice hotel that has a ballroom, I’ll see to bribing the staff to allow us a private night for ourselves.”

“Oh monsieur, how romantic of you.” Trish angled her head to smile at her husband. “But alas, that will have to wait. I can settle for dancing in our living room when we return home eventually.” Krauser returned a small smirk to his wife. “Fine by me.”

By the time guards have made their way to the location the shot has happened, the duo were long gone from the area and no one has seen what happened or seen anyone looking suspicious. The guards left frustrated, the organisation satisfied by the result, and the client pleased.

For Trish Odile and Jack Krauser?

They were enjoying the rest of their hours starting with dinner in a quaint little restaurant that was still open with a nice bottle of wine. A peaceful stroll in Cascine Park to enjoy while they admired the number of statues throughout the park and made their way to the Arno River. They’ve made their way to the Central Market and bought some trinkets for their home to finalise their night in Florence. Nothing to disturb them. No one to interrupt their evening. Nothing to force them to look over their shoulders out of paranoia or suspicion. What a day to end their time after a job well done.

It was a perfect day for the perfectly imperfect couple.

THE END

[nona-gay-simus]

Romcoms with butches?! Heart eyes

Oh yes!

I am an nb femme myself (even tho I don't really use that label), but I'm very saddened and frustrated about the lack of butch rep in sapphic fiction. Fem4fem stuff just doesn't really... speak to me, especially since a lot of those characters are written without any meaningful interaction with their identities.

(That's actually a big problem I have with a lot of "no homophobia" SFF, where the authors seem to think that removing homophobia also means removing any queerness from the text. So much of our rep is "the queer guy for the straight eye" 🥲🥲 That's definitely something that drew me to TLT - there's no homophobia and transphobia but there's still so much Gender and Queerness baked into the world. It really made me feel seen.)

ETA: (since I always forget about this when I am not in writing circles. MC stands for main character, LI - love interest. All my projects are single pov so the LI doesn't usually have their own pov chapters.)

Anyways my current projects are as follows:

Fully finished book I'm currently querying literary agents with: THE LOVE CAMPAIGN basically "sapphic Red, White and Royal Blue"

It's about the President's Daughter who is a nerdy femme lesbian who goes to NYC to do her Master's and makes some trans friends including a butch/androgynous/transmasc bi genderqueer activist and they have a bit of a hate-to-love.

Book I'm currently writing (about 30% in):

JUST ROLL WITH IT: fake dating roller derby lesbians.

This one actually started as Griddlehark fanfic 😅😆 but it has a butch MC in college who saves the life of her nemesis (a very mean goth femme) in a fire and then the story blows up and everyone assumes they are girlfriends, so they have to pretend to date to help out her roller derby team. So we have hate to love AND fake dating AND sports romance.

Most recent wips (only working titles for these:)

Political romcom the sequel: it's a about this very bratty bisexual fem girl who has to help her father's presidential campaign after they have their separate scandals and she has to fake an engagement to a woman. The LI is a butch latinae lesbian in a PhD and the MC's ex. She agrees to be fake engaged for her own reasons, shenanigans happen.

And finally I also have a sapphic Snow White retelling about this butch girl who thinks she can wake up Snow White with the power of true love's kiss (she's a bit of a himbo ok 😂) but then she meets the Evil Queen and the two form an alliance and maybe fall in love ? 👀 There's a twist and necromancy and swords lesbians I'm going for Gideon kind of voice.

If anyone wants to read any of that, HMU!