Love, Lust & Litigation | Interlude - NYE (Namjoon POV)

So soft and sweet!

[00:37]

“You’re falling asleep on me, aren’t you?”

You grin sleepily. You can tell Namjoon is trying to scold you for falling asleep during your nighttime ritual, where he reads a book of his choosing to you, but his voice is so light and gentle that it’s completely ineffective. So you just nod from where your head rests on his chest, eliciting a low chuckle you can feel against your ear.

Namjoon eases out from under you, settling your head down on your pillows as he looks at you. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he traces your jawline with warm fingertips, feeling the tiredness start to overtake you in earnest.

You feel Namjoon draw nearer to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His stubble tickles your skin, and you shudder a bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He trails errant kisses all over your face — first your temple, then the tip of your nose, then your other cheek, then the opposite jawline, then your forehead, and so on — slowly, deliberately, and almost reverently. This genre of kisses is rare in your relationship with Namjoon, whose mind is usually running too fast to pace himself like this, which makes it all the more special. When he starts on your neck and makes his way across your collarbone, you hum contentedly, drawing out another of his deep chuckles.

Namjoon pulls away, and you open your eyes to see him staring, starry-eyed in the dim light from the bedside lamp on your nightstand. His smile is soft and warm and tender. Are you imagining it, or are those tears filling up on his bottom eyelids?

“Are you okay?” you ask him, bringing a hand up to cup his dimpled cheek.

“I’m perfect,” he responds, catching your wrist in his hands and kissing the cluster of veins near the base of your palm. “I love you, that’s all.”

You sigh, letting yourself relax, letting your eyes close. You pull him close to you and say, “I love you too,” before you succumb to your sleepiness.

Starting to reblog my most favorite fics.

Music to my ears - kinktober - day 15

Reluctant sub!Namjoon X reader

Blowjob, unprotected sex, despite the reluctance complete consent!

Joon had spent the entire day trying to get his new song right by the time he called you in for reinforcement. Others may have given up on it but not Namjoon. The lyrics to this one had flowed out of him, unfortunately the melody wasn’t coming so willingly. The backing track was missing something that would provide the depth it needed to make it on his next mixtape. You immediately knew what would fit; convincing your boyfriend to go along with it would definitely be a challenge though. Unsure as to whether he’d agree with your plan, you try anyway. You lean in close, lips brushing his earlobe.

“You know I think it would provide some real depth if you mixed some moaning into the background” his eyebrows creased in confusion as he tried to catch your drift. Instead of explaining yourself further, you opted for a demonstration. You take an unimportant wire from the sound desk and tie it around his wrist, pulling it behind the chair and reaching to secure his other arm. Namjoon’s eyes go wide.

“Y/N I’m not sure this is the best idea…” He reasons wiggling at the restraints. The idol has problems losing control at the best of times. The thought of not only letting you take control but also record him while it happened left him apprehensive at best. You lean around from the back of his chair pressing your lips firmly onto his.

“If you don’t like it baby, we can always delete the recording… it’s not going to hurt you to relax just a little.” He sighs and you see his resolve weaken. You take this as submission and move to kneel in front of him. He does his best to relax back into the chair and you turn to press record. Despite the initial reluctance, he is already at half-mast when you release him from his sweats. You run your hands teasingly back and forth along his thighs (More for your benefit than his honestly). The closer you got to his crotch the more Namjoon squirmed. As much as he liked to protest being in submissive positions, he loved it once he was there.

His face scrunched up in anticipation. It almost made you not want to touch him, he just looked so cute, but you knew he’d be much cuter with long breathy moans falling from his lips. You cease your teasing and wrap your mouth around his now throbbing red tip. Little whimpers fall from his lips as you lick along his weeping slit. Joon wriggles against his restraints, wanting nothing more than to shove your head down his cock. You giggle at the attempt and the vibrations only bring him more torment. You give his head a large portion of your attention before moving your hand to play with his balls. The new stimulation brings a new wave of lusty groans from somewhere deep within your boyfriend. You can’t help the smile that plays on your lips after getting exactly what you wanted.

Despite the success, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop your cruelty, electing to trace a particularly thick vein with your tongue. The action made him convulse in his chair, for a moment you thought he was going to come from just that. His eyes were still squeezed shut but the focus was obvious on his face. He was trying so hard not to cum too early. You pull away completely and he whines at the lack of contact.

“Don’t open your eyes” you warn before slipping out of your own underwear. Carefully, you lower yourself into his lap and he practically cries from the new sensation. You secure your arms around his neck for leverage and start to bounce slowly, dragging out each movement. “Show me how I make you feel baby, moan for me” you whisper into his ear. He lets out a low growl in response, thrusting up into you. You move yourself just out of his reach and warn him against trying again. “I’m in control now Joonie, be a good boy”

You return to your previous ministrations, this time faster and harder. His groans get louder and louder until you are sure they will sound overbearing on the recording.

“Cum for me Joonie” you nip at his neck, and he comes undone releasing inside you. Once he is finished you climb off his lap and undo the makeshift restraint. Immediately his hand is reaching for your vagina, pushing the dripping cum back inside.

“This stays inside until we get home… or you are in big trouble Y/N” he growls, you nod cross your legs and sit back on his lap. He stops the recording and plays it back. It’s almost as hot to listen to the second time around. After scrolling through he finds the perfect section to add to the song.

Kinktober

Masterlist

Taglist

@adventuresinwonderlust @thedarkwinterrose

This couple makes my heartache so good!

Love: a series

Your ex-husband's an asshole but you can't seem to move on.

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Asshole Namjoon, smut, angst

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Love

Talk it out

Vanilla Guys

Favour

Five fuck Friday

My girl

Wedding rings and everything - a drabble

©hamsterclaw 2023

Just reblogging for my future enjoyment 😁

Gemini Masterlist

Gemini Part 1 Part 2 (Jimin)

You and your twin brother Yoongi are heirs to the Min empire, richer than Croesus. Yoongi's set to take over the company, but you're not sure where your niche is. And then you meet Jimin.

Knight (Yoongi)

Yoongi prides himself on being a professional in the boardroom. You seem to be determined to crack his facade.

Lush (Jungkook)

Jungkook's built his empire from nothing, and he's damn well going to sit back and enjoy the spoils.

Charming (Seokjin)

You and Seokjin are in an arrangement of convenience, one that will enable each of you to claim your inheritance in a year. You've got an iron-clad contract, one that takes into account all eventualities, including romance. What could go wrong?

This story is so warm and comforting! Best enjoyed on the couch, under a fluffy blanket and a glass of wine 😁

The holiday pretense -2-

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, idiots in love, 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, they are absolute idiots. like, there is no way about it. pure idiots. anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 2-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: We’re already in December. Damn… Enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 1: here

Namjoon peered down at your sleeping form, his tired eyes tracing the soft, quirky murmurs that drifted from your lips as you burrowed deeper into his chest. What started as a faint whimper blossomed into a quiet, endearing snore, drawing a gentle smile from him.

He hadn’t planned to wake this early, but sleep had eluded him for the fast few hours. These quiet pre-dawn moments usually brought him peace—a hushed pause before the day took over. Today, however, his mind was restless, skimming over scattered thoughts until it inevitably circled back to you.

You looked like a dream. The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, bathing you in a warm, golden glow even as you nestled deeper into his body. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the delicate lines of your face. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of your lips—the same lips he’d kissed just hours before…

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize how intently he was staring, until your eyes suddenly fluttered open. Instinct kicked in, startled, you both reacted at the same time, and you jumped up just as he tried to lean back. The both of you groaning in unison as you cradle your forehead, which had slammed painfully against his chin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you cry, urgency quickly replacing the sleepiness in your voice.

“You were snoring. I’m sorry,” Namjoon defended, rubbing the spot where you collided.

“I don’t snore!” you glare up at him, eyes finally focusing enough to see the blood gushing from his nose. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You leaned over him to grab a napkin from the bedside table. But still half asleep, the hand you’d placed between his legs couldn’t support your weight, and you crashed right onto his belly, eliciting a loud “oof” as he fell back on his pillow.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your face smushed against him as you struggle to grab a napkin. In your frantic attempt, you knocked the tissue box off the table, sending tissues whirling to the ground.

“Just- ow!” He winced when you pressed the napkin to his nose, confusion evident on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected blood or to be in such a vulnerable position so early in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the third time, slightly loosening your grip on his face.

“Stop apologizing,” he mumbled “It’s my fault too.” Namjoon took the tissue from your hands and pressed it harder against his nose trying to suppress the stinging sensation.

You lingered there for a moment, captivated by the tissue grazing his lips, until the warmth of his skin under your cheek snapped you out of it. His shirt had ridden up in the altercation, baring a sliver of his toned stomach, now conveniently pressed against your face.

As if sensing your awareness, Namjoon furrowed his brows and gave you a quizzical look, prompting you to sit upright, the blanket trailing behind you like a cape.

“Yes, it is! What’s wrong with you?” You scolded. “Do you always stare at people when you sleep next to them?”

“I wasn’t staring!” Namjoon’s head shot up; his voice defensive but laced with amusement. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” you shot back, despite having no evidence to support your claim. You struggled to untangle yourself from the blanket, nearly tripping in your haste to escape. The bathroom door closed with an accidental slam behind you, leaving you momentarily alone with your spiralling thoughts.

Leaning over the sink, you splashed cold water on your face, the chill biting at your skin and grounding you—if only for a moment. Yet your heart refused to cooperate, its erratic rhythm spiking again when you heard the faint shuffling from the bedroom, followed by a soft, frustrated “Damn it.”

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, meeting your own wide-eyed, dishevelled stare. Tangled hair perfectly framing your flushed cheeks, the hoodie you’d borrowed from Namjoon sitting askew on your shoulders and remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to your face.

Charming. Just the image you wanted to project.

Then, your gaze drifted to the mint toothpaste sitting on the counter, and a fresh wave of emotions washed over you. It hit you all at once—His lips pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the look he’d given you after.

 The way he looked at you…like he was searching for something. Or maybe you were imagining it. God, you hoped you were imagining it.

You gripped the edge of the sink, leaning into it as embarrassment burned its way down your spine.

But deep beneath the flurry of second-guessing and distress, you manage to find a crumb of courage while quietly going through the motions.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself upright and finished the small, familiar task of brushing your teeth. As you twisted the faucet shut, you stole one last glance at your reflection, your eyes searching for reassurance.

With resolve that felt both flimsy and monumental, you stepped back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

Namjoon was still lying on the bed, a new tissue pressed against his nose. He looked up as you enter, and an unexpected flicker of self-consciousness crept in, making you hyper-aware of every step you took.

 “Are you okay?” You asked, attempting a softer tone.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the napkin to inspect the bright red spot there. “Just a bit of a love tap, you know?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you shoot back, but the words only made him laugh softly, easing some of the tension in your chest.

You grab a clean tissue and lean in closer to inspect the damage. "I'm really sorry," you say, perching on the edge of the bed. You take the napkin from his hands with little resistance and replace it with your own. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," he replies, his voice soft. "But next time, maybe warm me about the snoring.”

"I don’t snore!" you exclaimed, the defensiveness in your tone spiking and earning another heartfelt laugh from him.

“Okay, fine. You don’t,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But just as you were about to relax, he added under his breath, “Next time, I’ll record you.”

You narrowed your eyes and considered actually pinching his nose.

“You’re impossible.”

Namjoon only grinned, dimples deepening, as you carefully pulled the tissue away to dab the remains of the nosebleed. The softness of your touch seemed to quiet him; his teasing replaced by something warmer. There was a tenderness in the way you focused on his injury, small lines of worry forming on your forehead. He wanted to laugh, seeing as you dealt with more dramatic injuries in the past, yet he didn’t want to disturb you as you carefully touched his cheek with your free hand. The warmth of your palm contrasting sharply with the chill of the morning air.

As if you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, you look up, meeting his eyes.

“You’re blushing again.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, your cheeks heating further as you refocused on his nose, cleaning the surrounding area as if he were made of porcelain. You kept your attention on the injury, desperate to ignore the proximity—and the gentle warmth of his breath against your skin and the inexplicable tightness in your chest.

“There,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the stillness as you placed the tissue aside. “All better.” To diffuse the tension, you gave his cheek a light pinch before standing up to tidy the room.

Turning your back to him, you busied yourself with cleaning, scooping up the crumpled tissues littering the bedside table. But Namjoon’s eyes never left you. He watched the way you moved, the way your hair caught the light, and the way you scrunched your nose in irritation when you realized how much of a mess you’d made earlier.

When you bent down to retrieve a stray napkin from under the bed, you caught him staring again. This time, a soft laugh escaped him when he realized he’d been caught red-handed.

Before he could say anything, you grabbed the discarded blanket and tossed it at him.

 “So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked quickly, moving toward your suitcase and fumbling with the zipper, your voice a little too casual.

“I’m taking you to a bakery,” his voice was muffled as he poked his head out from under the covers. “And my dad asked us to pick up a Christmas tree.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a Christmas tree. Even though the holiday spirit felt far away in this moment, a surge of excitement stirred in your chest. “A Christmas tree?” You echoed, trying to mask the intrigue in your voice with an air of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “I thought we could decorate it together tonight.”

“You hate decorating the tree.”

“True,” he chuckled, “but I’d rather suffer through it with you than alone. Besides, my parents have some ornaments that I think you’ll like.”

You paused, makeup bag in hand, feeling his words settle over you. In the two years you’d lived together, Namjoon had never once shown a shred of enthusiasm when it came to decorating the apartment. He was more the type to lounge on the couch with a book or a video game while you tangled yourself in string lights and sparkling baubles, only for him to chime in at the end with a “You missed a spot”. Still, he always helped place the star on top —mostly because you couldn’t reach it, and he was taller.

“You’re volunteering for your own torture?” You glanced over your shoulder, eyebrow raised, just as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms high above his head.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning back, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal the muscles flexing underneath. The morning sunlight steamed through the window, contouring his skin with an irresistible golden hue.

Quickly you turned back to your makeup bag, rummaging unnecessarily for a lipstick as warmth crept up your neck and onto your cheeks

“My mom will force us either way.” He declared, the faint defeat in his tone punctuated by a dramatic sigh ash he strolled towards the bathroom.

You let out a small laugh at his resignation, but it got caught in your throat when he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing in onto the bed.

Your gaze betrayed you for half a second, flickering toward him before you could stop yourself. The lean lines of his back, the soft stretch of his shoulders, the way his skin gleamed faintly in the light—everything you weren’t supposed to notice left an imprint far too vivid in your mind.

Heart pounding, you forced your eyes back to your bag, gripping it as though it were a lifeline. But it was too late. You were certain he’d seen your reaction.

“See something you like?” His teasing voice reached you just as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Your face flamed, and you whipped around, glaring at the now-closed door. “You’re impossible!” You called out, loud enough for him to hear over the sound of the running water.

~~~~

The aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted you as you stepped out of the room, mingling with the faint hum of life coming from the kitchen. The soft click of the bathroom door shutting behind Namjoon grounded you, though your thoughts still spun wildly. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure, but the sound of running shower only stirred your imagination further—steam rising, droplets tracing the contours of his bare skin. Heat crept up your neck, and you shook your head sharply, chastising yourself. Get it together.

In a desperate attempt to regain control after the completely unfair sight of your sun-kissed, shirtless friend, you decided a little distance might actually do you some good. Grabbing the first cozy sweater and pair of jeans within reach, you tugged them on and practically bolted out of the room.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself firmly, though the mantra did little to steady the pounding heart in your chest.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Kim and Minhi were seated at the dining table, morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. The golden light bathed the cozy space, catching on the delicate wisps of steam curling up from their teacups.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mrs. Kim greeted warmly, lifting her head to meet your gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

You smiled, pushing away any lingering thoughts from earlier, and took a seat at the table. “Yes, thank you,” you replied, carefully avoiding any mention of what had just transpired.

“Is Namjoon taking you out?” Minhi asked, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity over her teacup. You could almost swear there was a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

You confirmed with a shy nod, but a new wave of heat crept up your spine, igniting your ears as if someone had turned up the thermostat.

Mrs Kim’s face broke into a broad grin. “Do you want me to whip you up something to eat first? Coffee or tea?” she asked, already rising from her chair.

“No, no,” you quickly interjected, waving your hands “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Namjoon’s just getting ready.”

Naked in all his glory in the shower…

You forced your mind back to the present as Mrs. Kim’s kind gaze lingered on you. Smoothing down your sweater, you took a steadying breath, doing your best to appear collected. You really had to pull yourself together.

“Is he taking you to Ajumeoni’s bakery?” Mrs. Kim asked, settling back in her chair with a huff. “At this rate, he’s paying for her grandkids to go to college.”

“C’mon Mom,” Minhi piped in. “The strawberry tarts are just-” She closed her eyes and inhaled dramatically, as if savouring the scent of sweet pastries. “They’re heavenly, I swear.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Mrs. Kim merely waved her off.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, her own smile softening the mock exasperation in her voice “Just be home in time for dinner.”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded dutifully, resolute in your mission to be the perfect pretend-girlfriend today —a supportive friend, and nothing more.

“Jackson’s picking them up after work, mom, don’t worry.” Minhi said, her laughter cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“He is?” you asked, blinking in surprise but taken in by her contagious laughter.

“Did you think you’d carry the tree in the metro?” Minhi giggled, her gaze flicking to the hallway as hurried footsteps echoed from upstairs.

Moments later, Namjoon appeared, his dimpled smile lighting up the room.

“Good morning!” he called out, running a hand through his freshly styled hair, the effortless charm in his voice matching his appearance. The brown sweater he’d chosen hugged his tall frame perfectly, drawing your attention to the way it accentuated the broad lines of his chest. The golden necklace at his collarbone caught the soft morning light as he bent down to plant a sweet kiss on his mother’s cheek.

Then, his eyes found yours, playful and warm before winking your way. “Are you ready?”

You fought to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks, admiring him for a fraction too long. The vivid memory of his shirtless body flashed in your mind, and for a moment, words seemed to escape you.

“Hey, yeah, I’m all set,” you finally managed.

Namjoon’s smile just widened, a teasing softness in his eyes as he stepped closer. The scent of his cologne, fresh and warm, mingled with the aroma of tea as he leaned down toward you.

“You look really good.”  He said, his voice low and sincere.

All your mental preparations evaporated.

You glanced down at your grey sweater and jeans, disbelief flickering in your mind. Were you two looking at the same thing?

“Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” You replied, attempting a casual tone, despite yourself, but you’re certain your tomato red face gave you away.

Minhi and Mrs. Kim were shamelessly observing, their amusement barely concealed. Minhi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, while Mrs. Kim hid her laugh behind her teacup.

“Are you two going to stare at each other all day, or are you leaving?” Minhi nudged, leaning back in her chair with a knowing grin.

Namjoon chuckled, breaking the moment as he pulled back slightly. “We’re going, we’re going,” he assured, offering his hand to help you up.

As you stood, his palm rested briefly on the small of your back, sending a warmth through you that lingered. He shot his mother a cheeky smile as he led you toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,” he added with mock innocence, ushering you down the hall, and earning himself a pinch to the side form you.

~~~

The morning light was bright, yet it did little to chase away the frost in the air. All bundled up in your puffy winter coat, you walked through the bustling neighbourhood streets, the wind nipping at your cheeks as sunlight glinted off fresh snow. Beside you, Namjoon strolled at an easy pace, his tall frame hunched slightly against the cold.

 The shop windows glittered with seasonal displays- strings of lights, shimmering ornaments and snowy landscapes. Every so often, Namjoon would break the silence with a light-hearted comment or snippets from his childhood- stories that warmed you despite the cold.

“Look at that,” he nodded towards a window filled with beautifully wrapped presents underneath a grand Christmas tree. “I used to think those were real. I’d stare at them for hours, hoping someone would let me take a peek inside.”

You giggle, picturing a younger Namjoon, starry-eyed and full of wonder. “Did you ever get to sneak a peek?”

He shook his head, the soft pink on his cheeks deepening in the cold. “No way! My mom had a sixth sense for that kind of stuff. She always caught me.” His warm laugh carried over the frosty air, lifting your spirits even as the chill settled in your bones. Without thinking, his hand found, fingers curling gently around yours as he led you down the street.

A little later, he stopped again, his gaze stolen by a snug bookstore with a charming display in the window. The small shop exuded warmth, its large front window showcasing a centrepiece of fake snow, big red bows and a collection of carefully arranged books. His eyes lit up as they landed on a particular title propped up prominently in the centre.

 “Would you mind if we go in?” he asked, nodding towards the book, excitement brightening his face.

You followed his faze, your heart sinking and cheeks flooding with heat the moment you recognized the book. Panic sets in as your mind scrambles for an excuse. It was a book from a Korean author who had recently burst onto the literary scene, earning praise for their intricate storytelling and philosophical metaphors. Naturally, Namjoon had fallen in love with their work, dissecting every layer of meaning in conversations that you secretly loved, but teased him mercilessly for.

You had heard so much about the author, that when you saw the newest release weeks ago, you knew it was the perfect gift for him.

“No!” you blurted out quickly, voice sharp enough to startle him.

“What?” He turned to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because…” you hesitated, heat still rising to your cheeks as you struggled to find a good enough reason. But after a few seconds, you sighed in defeat and crossed your arms. “Because I already got it for you. You can’t buy it.”

His expression softened, a big grin spreading across his face as he stepped closer to you. “You got it for me?”

“Yes,” you muttered, averting your eyes as your blush deepened. “So, you can’t ruin the surprise. Keep walking, Kim Namjoon.”

He chuckled, his dimples making a brief but devastating appearance as he gave your arm a playful squeeze, holding you in place. “Alright, I’ll let it go. But…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Did you see the decorations?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in the topic and followed his gaze. He was nodding toward the shop entrance, just a little further away, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and festive greenery. Your eyes drifted upward, landing on the small spring of mistletoe dangling above the doorway. Its pale berries glinting like snow in the soft light.

His hands burrowed deeper into the pockets of his coat as he tilted his head toward it, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Better be careful with that,” he teased, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the delicate plant sway slightly in the winter breeze. “It’s bad luck not to kiss under it,” Namjoon clarified, watching you with a hint of challenge in his expression.

“Since when are you so superstitious?” you asked, a laugh escaping you as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I’m not,” he admitted with a shrug, though the sheepish grin that tugged at his lips made his intentions clear. “I just like covering all my bases.”

Before you could answer, Namjoon leaned closer, his breath a soft warmth against your skin. His lips brushed your chilled cheek in a quick, fleeting kiss—a touch so warm and unexpected it made the cold air around you feel sharper by comparison.

You stood frozen for a moment, your cheek tingling where his lips had been.

Namjoon pulled back, his grin deepening, dimples carving into his cheeks. “There,” he said lightly, straightening his coat as if nothing had happened. “No bad luck now.”

 Normally, you’d brush off his antics as harmless teasing meant to get a rise out of you. But this time, it managed to frits your brain. You stare at him, a mixture of indignation and disbelief sparking in your chest. “Kim Namjoon, you-”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, already stepping back towards the bakery door he’d been guiding you all along. “Don’t blame me, blame the mistletoe,” he quipped, holding the door open for you, the bell above it chiming softly.

Your cheeks still burned as you stepped past him, shooting him a glare that lacked any real heat.

Inside the bakery, the scent of sweet cinnamon and vanilla wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The bell above the door chimed softly again as Namjoon followed, the sound blending seamlessly with the cozy hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain mugs.

The interior was just as inviting as the aroma —a rustic charm, with walls lined with wooden beams and subtle golden accents. Twinkling fairy lights cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the rows of pastries displayed behind a pristine glass countertop.

Puffed-up croissants sat beside glistening hotteok, their caramelized centres looking absolutely delicious. Spiralled kkwabagi dusted with sugar and candied sweet potatoes. And then there were the cakes — delicate, crowned with fresh berries and swirls of vanilla cream, their perfect edges almost too beautiful to disturb.

Namjoon walked over to the counter, his tall frame leaning slightly as he studied the pastries with an almost childlike delight. The faint flush on his cheeks from the cold only added to his charm, softening his sharp featured and making him just the more endearing.

You couldn’t help but watch him, captivated the way his eyes shone with delight. There was something so disarming about his enthusiasm, so pure in its simplicity, that it made the flutter in your chest impossible to ignore.

“Will you let me order for you?” He asked, suddenly interrupting your thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” you smile, the slight flutter in your stomach making you laugh softly. As he turned to the counter, his brows furrowed in exaggerated concentration, you couldn’t help but admire him anew.  Namjoon has always been thoughtful, but this moment felt particularly tender, as though he was putting in the extra effort to make it memorable.

The bakery was alive with the bustle of other patrons, their laughter interlaced with the clinking of kitchen utensils in the back. A barista was busy steaming milk for lattes, while the warmth of the oven diffused toward you, chasing away any lasting chill from outside.

Namjoon finally ordered a selection of absolutely mouth-watering cream filled croffles and piping hot coffee. The lovely old lady at the serving counter lit up when she recognised him, leaning over to pinch his cheeks playfully. She gushed about how tall he had grown and how handsome he was, even calling her husband from the back to see Namjoon after all these years. You giggle softly, enjoying the lively exchange as Namjoon laughed, clearly relishing in the attention while trying to dodge her affectionate teasing. In the end, he walked away with an extra serving of milk bread as a ‘parting gift’ which he gratefully accepted, beaming as he thanked her.

The table Namjoon chose was tucked in a quiet corner, its window overlooking the bustling streets outside. The festive neighbourhood, framed by twinkling lights and snowy sidewalks, looked like a scene pulled straight from a snow globe. And as you settled into your seat, snowflakes began to drift gently from the sky, only adding to the hallmark-movie charm that seemed to influence the day.

“Here you go,” Namjoon settled the croffle in front of you. It was golden brown, with a crispy exterior that cradled the rich cream filling inside, adorned carefully with gingerbread crumbs — arguably, it was a masterpiece on a plate. He didn’t sit down yet, instead turning to fetch the coffee from the café counter

“Kim Namjoon?” a voice called out, and you looked to see a beautiful girl with big doe eyes shining once she looked at him, her pouted lips curving into a charming smile “I’m Min Iseul, do you remember me?”

Namjoon seemed shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, his smile widening as he replied, "Oh my god, yes, hi! How have you been?"

“You know,” she smiled “life in a small town tends to be quiet. But what about you-?”

You watched from the corner of the table, feeling a tightness in your chest as Iseul place a hand on Namjoon’s arm. A frown formed involuntarily on your face as a pit began to settle in your stomach. Their conversation continued, the sound of their voices becoming a distant murmur as you forced your gaze downward, glaring at the croffle on your plate.

It felt horrible to realize that the sudden pang was indeed jealousy —raw and undeniable, it seemed it had taken root in your heart without your consent.

What was happening to you? You had always viewed Namjoon as a friend. You had watched him flirt with countless girls without a second though, yet now, here you were, on the verge of snapping at the mere sight of a pretty girl touching his arm. And of course she was perfect for him. She looked up at him as if he single-handedly hung up the stars, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and that perfect body that made even the bakery apron look like high fashion.

It wasn’t just about Iseul, though. It was about something deeper, something you couldn’t quite explain. It was about not wanting to be replaced and a fear that quietly whispered to you that perhaps, you already had been.

As they continued their chat, the world outside quietly transformed. The snow began to blanket the streets in a delicate layer, framing the moment like a quaint, picturesque postcard. Inside, however, it felt like a different story. You picked at the croffle, the rich cream suddenly feeling too sweet compared to the bitter twist in your mood.

Finally, Namjoon returned, coffee in hands, a bright smile still lighting his face. “Sorry about that! Iseul and I used to be in the same classes at school,” he said, then paused when he noticed your expression. His brows furrowing in concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, taking your hand in his.

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of the moment. “Yeah, just… it’s nothing.” You lied, tasting the bitterness on your tongue. God, you hated lying.

He studied you for a moment longer, and for a brief second, you swore you saw something shift in his eyes.

“Alright,” he said slowly, a hint of uncertainty lingering. “Well, let’s dig in! You have to try the milk bread. I promise it’s worth it!”

As you took a bite, followed by a big gulp of coffee, you resolved to push away your insecurity, even if only for today. After all, the reality of your friendship was simple: while you may never make his heart flutter like Iseul seemingly did, you could certainly raise his blood pressure.

Namjoon started a new conversation about the last book he read, and you fell into the familiar flow of dialogue as the snowy scene outside continued to unfold. But every now and then, your gaze would drift to the window, catching a glimpse of the town dressed in white. You found yourself wondering if it was possible to be both happy for him, and fearful of losing him, all while managing to still be his friend amidst the chaos of unbidden feelings.

“Do you remember Hoseok?”

You answered Namjoon’s question with a nod, seeing as he pulled you too abruptly from your thoughts. “He’s the pretty one that stayed over for spring break?”

Namjoon laughed, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable light that made your heart skip a beat —even as you fought against it. Usually, his laughter would unravel the tight knots in your chest, but now, it seemed to tighten them further.

You remembered the visit well — Hoseok rolled up all the carpets in your living room, turning it into an impromptu dancing studio. He was kind, like all of Namjoon’s friends, but he also ate all your snacks and took great pleasure in flirting with you every time you ran into each other, much to Namjoon’s discomfort.

“Yeah, you two broke my laptop,” you started, but he cut you off.

“And I got it fixed!” he countered, defending his clumsy actions, which only made you laugh.

Namjoon chuckled, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “He invited us over for a Christmas party tomorrow. It’s a little get together, if you want to go,”

“Definitely,” you replied, though your enthusiasm felt forced. The prospect of a party sent a thrill through you, but underlying that was a twinge of uncertainty. Would Iseul be there? Would it be just another night of watching Namjoon flirt with someone else knowing you’re just playing the part of girlfriend?

As you took another bite of the croffle, its sweetness still felt bitter, much like the turmoil in your heart. You wanted to be happy for Namjoon, wanting to fulfil the role you signed up for, but now, beneath your smile, there was a complicated mess of fear and longing. More than ever, you felt like all your walls might come crumbling down.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon’s voice cut through your thoughts again, concern lingering beneath his words “You seem distant.”

 You force a smile, but the ache in your chest screamed at you to be honest, to share your doubts instead of masking it under a façade of indifference.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” another lie. How could you possibly explain the heaviness that sat at the bottom of your stomach, the envy bubbling silently inside of you, the tightness in your throat that made it hard to breath?

Namjoon leaned back, his warm gaze unwavering, clearly unconvinced. But for the rest of the meal, he didn’t press further. You both continued to eat in comfortable silence, even as the air thickened with unspoken words.

The snowfall outside intensified, painting the windows with a blur of white by the time you were done, and you feared, once again, that the outfit you had chosen was ill-fitted for the icy weather.

Namjoon picked up a box of strawberry tarts for Minhi on the way out, and as he opened the door for you, you saw Iseul waving at him—a darling wave that ignited a firestorm of nerves deep within you.

In that moment, logic fled your mind. Without thinking, you grabbed Namjoon’s coat collar and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion flickering across his face. The warmth of his body felt so close, yet the distance between you —created by your impulsive actions — seemed insurmountable.

You can’t believe what you were doing!

Namjoon was frozen for one second, but then he melted into the kiss. His free hand gently cupping your face, as if he were afraid, you’d run if he moved too quickly.

Namjoon’s lips were soft against yours, his warmth seeping through the layers of your clothes and spreading through you like a slow burn. The world outside seemed to blur even more, the cold, the noise of the streets, the snow rushing into the bakery, it all faded into an unimportant backdrop. All that mattered was the feeling of his lips against yours —gentle, hesitant, yet impossibly comforting.

For a moment, you almost didn’t regret it.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the kiss ended. Namjoon pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as if seeking reassurance. His gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for something.

You felt the rush of heat flood your face as reality hit like a ton of bricks. What did you just do? The panic set in, an overwhelming wave crashing against your chest. You tried to swallow it down, but the vulnerability felt raw, exposed.

“I-I’m,” you stammered, stepping back slightly, your hands trembling as you pushed them into your coat pockets. “Mistletoe!”

Namjoon blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. His hand remained where it was for a moment, as if unsure whether to pull away or reach for you again. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was grounding, but the panic in your chest made it difficult to breath. You could hardly believe what you’d just done, but somehow, you still managed to squeeze out the most absurd explanation you could think of.

“Mistletoe,” you repeated, almost too quickly, the word falling past your lips like the snowflakes around you, each syllable hanging in the frigid air like a whispered secret.

His hand dropped to his side, the warmth from his touch slipping away as a flicker of something—concern, confusion, or maybe disappointment—crossed his face. It was hard to pinpoint, but whatever it was, it left an uncomfortable weight settling in your stomach.

He blinked, as if trying to make sense of the situation, then glanced at the mistletoe above the door. His expression shifted again, more uncertain now, and for a brief moment, there was a palpable silence between you, the world around you swirling in a soft flurry, but it felt like everything had stopped.

“Mistletoe?” he repeated, almost tentative. His eyes didn’t meet yours immediately; instead, they lingered on the mistletoe, as if searching for an answer in the small plant.

You nodded, fighting to keep your voice steady, but your throat felt tight, like the words were getting stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth.

“Yeah,” he concluded, “I guess we could always put the blame on the mistletoe…” he said, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was still trying to grasp what had just happened.

You were about to argue further, to say something—anything—that would ease the tension building between you both, but just then, someone called out from inside the bakery.

“Hey! Make up your mind! Are you leaving or staying? You’re letting snow inside!” The voice was half-joking, but the discomfort in it made the moment all the more awkward.

Caught off guard, you and Namjoon exchanged a glance, and you both quickly moved toward the door, apologizing profusely to the patrons and the owners as you stepped outside.

“Sorry, sorry, we didn’t mean to make a mess,” Namjoon said, his words coming out rushed as he quickly pulled the door closed behind you, sealing off the chilly gust of wind that had followed you out.

You stood for a moment on the snowy sidewalk, the light of the bakery still visible through the frosted windows. The snowflakes seemed to have grown heavier, each flake falling in delicate patterns, as if trying to make the moment less heavy. But it didn’t. The air was cold, the street quiet, and despite the wintery beauty around you, your stomach twisted further and your heart beat erratically. Now it was just you and Namjoon in the silence of the day, both lost in thoughts you wouldn’t put into words.

Namjoon shifted slightly beside you, glancing down at the ground before speaking up. His voice hesitant, but there was an underlying softness to it that made your face heat despite the cold.

“So…” he began, trailing off as if searching for the right words. “No tongue this time?”

You blinked at him, your heart skipping over a few beats. The cold seemed to freeze in your lungs as you tried to process what he had just said. For a second, you were sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. You turned your head slightly, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not, but his expression was unreadable.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice coming out in a small, nervous laugh. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to lighten the mood or if he was just poking fun at you.

“I mean,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck, “if we’re going to blame it all on the mistletoe…” He trailed off, his tone playful but laced with a hint of something deeper, a flicker of curiosity behind his words.

That’s when you caught it. That familiar teasing glint in his eyes, the expression he had whenever he managed to make you fluster, and you huffed out in indignation, your breath transforming into a small cloud.

You crossed your arms, trying to gather your composure as you glared at him. The cold air biting at your skin, but the warmth of your embarrassment was far more overwhelming.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you shot back, your voice teasing but with a hint of defensiveness, as if you were trying to cover up how much his words had affected you. You couldn’t help it. The playful look in his eyes had a way of making your pulse pick up, and it didn’t help that every word he said seemed to sink deeper into the awkwardness of the situation.

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin on his face only growing wider “No, no! I’m not saying it’s your fault,” he said quickly, trying to reassure you, though the amusement in his voice didn’t quite match his words. “Just—y’know, I thought we were sticking with the mistletoe excuse. But, uh, it’s all on you now. You started it.”

“Me? I—” You opened your mouth, searching for a retort, but your brain was still scrambling to catch up with everything. Nothing coherent came to mind, and his look wasn’t helping in the slightest. “You kissed me first!” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon arched an eyebrow, his smile turning smug. “Yeah, on the cheek,” he countered, giving a little shrug as if that settled the matter entirely. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for your response, but when none came, the smugness in his expression only grew. For a moment, you considered whether it was worth the effort to argue with him. But then, his look softened, just enough for you to notice the shift in his expression —something that made your heart pick up again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The absurdity of the situation—the way it had spiralled from a jealous outburst into whatever this was—left you feeling strangely vulnerable. His presence, so close beside you in the cold, seemed to magnify everything.

“Fine.” You finally muttered, crossing your arms tighter and shifting your weight from one foot to the other, almost chasing the cold away.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened; the teasing look in his eyes returning full force. “Fine?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “Is that you admitting defeat, or are you too cold to keep arguing?”

He collected your hand in his free one, leading you down the street towards the Christmas market.

You gave him a fleeting glare, narrowing your eyes. “Neither,” you shot back, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed the confidence you were trying to project. “I just don’t see the point in arguing with someone who twists everything to suit their narrative.”

Namjoon’s heartfelt laughter made any of the lingering tension dissipate, his expression taking on a look of sheer mock offence. “Twisting everything? Me?” He shook his head, his expression turning playfully solemn. “I’m just stating facts here. You’re the one who escalated things. I was perfectly content with a friendly mistletoe kiss. No drama. No tongue.”

Your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped at his audacity. “I did not escalate—oh my god, would you stop saying that?” you hissed, your voice low but filled with exasperation.

“Hey, you won’t see me complaining,” he replied smoothly, his voice softening just enough to send your thoughts spiralling. “But I never pegged you for the jealous type.”

“Gah! You’re insufferable!”

Namjoon’s grin grew as he watched you fume, his fingers tightening around your hand, as he led you down the snowy streets with easy confidence. The twinkling lights of the stalls cast a soft glow over the scene, the cold air whipped around you, but somehow, the heat between you kept the chill at bay, even if your cheeks were flushed from both the cold and the heated banter.

“Jealous? Who’s jealous?” you scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the way your beet-red face betrayed you. “I’m not jealous. I’m just…” you trailed off, realising you had absolutely no excuse lined up. The last part came out quieter than you meant, your voice showing more vulnerability than you were comfortable with, and you quickly buried your face in your scarf.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his smile not quite fading, but the glimmer of something more thoughtful flickering in his eyes. He slowed his pace, just enough to match yours, the quiet hum of the market and the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet filling the space between you.

"You’re just... what?" he prompted gently, his voice laced with curiosity and that familiar edge.

“Just acting like a good fake girlfriend would.” You concluded, trying to keep your tone casual, but you felt your stomach churn slightly as you lied, like you were trying to brush off something that had begun to feel a lot more real than you expected.

Namjoon’s expression shifted — just a little. His face softened as he thought it over, then he gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, his voice light as he responded, “Ah, I see. Well, I’ll admit, you’re pretty good at it.”

His tone made your heart settle a bit, but you couldn't shake the underlying tension that had suddenly crept in. You hadn’t meant to sound so serious, and yet there was something in his eyes now that made you second-guess everything. He gave a small chuckle, the kind that felt like distance—just enough to make you realize he wasn’t leaning in any closer, but not pulling away either.

He let go of your hand for a moment, running it through his hair, then casually reached for it again, as if nothing had changed.

“Well, as long as I’m the good fake boyfriend, we’re golden.”

You nodded, still completely flustered, but grateful for the shift back to something a little more familiar. He wasn’t pressing anymore. He wasn’t trying to read your true intentions. He was just… being Namjoon, your friend, your roommate, the guy who could make you laugh and leave you absolutely wrecked emotionally.

The rest of the walk was quieter, but not in an uncomfortable type of way. He kept walking besides you, hands stuffed in his pockets, occasionally throwing out a random comment or nudging you along with him as you made your way through the busy market and to the small Christmas tree lodge.

You two picked a tree without much debate. The scent of pine and oranges filled the air as you threaded through the festive area, the twinkling lights surrounding you. Namjoon’s presence besides you was oddly comforting—like an anchor in the whirlwind of noise and flashing lights. As you both made your way to the tree lot, he casually pointed out the skinniest, most scrawny-looking trees, joking about how much he’d like to buy one just to see his mother’s reaction.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his commentary, the tension from earlier completely forgotten. The awkwardness in the air had faded, at least for the moment, and you were thankful for it, seeing as you didn’t need more things to overthink tonight.

After a bit of back-and-forth, you both finally settled on a tree—a little taller than you both had anticipated, but perfectly symmetrical, with just the right amount of fullness.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You two stopped to grab lunch at a modest-looking food stall, the inviting scent of fishcakes winning Namjoon over. You both enjoyed the warmth of the food as the wind continued to bite at your cheeks, the steam rising from your cups offering the briefest respite from the cold.

You tried mulled wine for the first time—warmed, spiced, with a tangy sweetness, but most importantly, warm—and to your surprise, you liked it.

The two of you wandered a bit more, chatting idly and laughing at each other’s jokes, not caring much for the crowds around you.

And before you knew it, Jackson had pulled up in his car to take you both home. The drive was quick and quiet, with the warm glow from the streetlights casting soft shadows across the interior of the car. Namjoon leaned back against his seat, looking content, while you sat in the front, trying not to overthink everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Namjoon teasing you about ogling his naked chest felt like it happened an eternity ago.

And now, here you were, getting ready for bed again.

The tree got decorated under Minhi’s careful supervision, looking more like a Pinterest masterpiece than a simple holiday decoration when she was done with it, and Namjoon, to his credit, managed to break only one bauble during the whole process.

The evening wound down quietly after the tree was finished. Minhi insisted on taking a dozen photos of her work, including some with the whole group in front of the tree. Jackson wrapped an arm around her shoulder, grinning like he’d won the lottery, while Minhi tried (and failed) to strike a serious pose before dissolving into laughter in his arms.

You stood off to the side, trying to figure out what to do with your hands, but Namjoon made the decision for you. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The flash went off, capturing the moment forever, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond the warmth of his body and the quiet weight of his laughter in your ear. It felt so unguarded, so easy, that for a fleeting moment, you could almost forget it was just pretend.

Later, Minhi pulled a mistletoe plant from her bag with an exaggerated flourish, announcing it was tradition. She delighted in the awkward reaction it drew from both you and Namjoon, who immediately avoided eye contact with each other, mumbling something about “respecting personal space.” But Minhi didn’t press too hard, instead planting a sweet kiss on Jackson’s cheek that had him grinning like a fool in love.

After that, their parents got home, dinner was served, and you finally got your turn taking care of the dishes.

You quietly tiptoed your way to the bed, shivering slightly once you felt the coldness of the room, but careful not to make a sound. Your nighttime routine had taken longer than usual, and you were doing your best to avoid waking Namjoon, who fell asleep while waiting for you. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the little reading lamp he left on for you, casting a soft shadow across the space.

Slipping under the covers, you turned off the light and shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot. But before you could settle, Namjoon stirred, and with almost no time to react, he turned around and wrapped an arm around you.

Your breath caught as he pulled you close, his chest warm against your back, his movements unhurried and natural, as if this was something he did all the time. You felt him bury his head into your hair, his voice low and groggy as he murmured, “It’s cold. Don’t stay so far away.”

The weight of his arm was grounding, but your heart was anything but steady. You lay there stiffly for a moment, your mind racing again. But his breathing slowed, steady and even, and the warmth of his presence started to seep into your bones, melting the tension little by little.

You didn’t move or speak, afraid to break whatever spell had been cast over the moment. Instead, you let yourself slowly relax into his chest, his arm tightening slightly as if he could sense your shift.

The cold, the overthinking, the lingering awkwardness—it all faded, replaced by the quiet sound of his breath and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

You were absolutely hopeless.

Omg, this fic is on a whole other level! The angst! And for the first time I really, really relate to y/n! I hated her at times but mostly I truly understand how she feels!

A Fine Line [Masterlist]

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader (ft. Hoseok)

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au, smut, some angst

Total word count: 67.5k (92k including epilogues and bonuses)

Summary: It's time to rebuild your life. You've got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: consumption of alcohol, protected sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. and m. receiving, inc. throat fucking), masturbation (f. and mention of m.), spanking, biting, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, some seriously Big Dicks.

Enormous thanks to M, 💗@here2bbtstrash💗, for beta-ing this series for me.

Chapter One - Desperate Times

Chapter Two - A Distraction

Chapter Three - It's Not Complicated

Chapter Four - A Warning

Chapter Five - Fun and Games

Chapter Six - Fury and the First Time

Chapter Seven - Lacunae

Chapter Eight - Confessions

Chapter Nine - Watershed

Chapter Ten - Grasping the Nettle

Chapter Eleven - Luxury

Epilogue One - Hope

Epilogue Two - 'Tis the Season

Epilogue Three - Final Order

Epilogue Four - Yes

Bonus Chapter - Fear and the First Date

Bonus Chapter - Check

The Lease Chapter One: The Meeting

(A/N: Super excited to put this out! The first chapter is mainly just a set up of what's to come but I hope you guys like it!! I'm so excited to see what you guys think!)

Read Preview Here.

masterlist.

It was one of those rare days of utter perfection.

Crisp, wintery air holding you suspended in the world with the promise of spring warming the earth beneath you. The sun was out for the first time all week, shining brightly in the sky without a cloud in sight. It was the kind of day you'd ideally spend alone, in a park or hiking or journalling by the river. Things were better when you got to spend time outside, it lifted a weight off your shoulders and reminded you that the world was much bigger than whatever problems you had.

Everyone had gotten used to it at this point, knowing that on a day like today- a bright and shiny one, that there was no use making plans because you'd be busy spending time in the world alone. It was the kind of thing you did all the time, turning your phone off for the day and just secluding yourself to reconnect with nature.

It was exactly what you were doing now, taking a walk in one of the few parks you hadn't visited yet. You didn't normally think too deeply on these days, but this time was different. You couldn't stop thinking about something that seemed to be an open wound in your brain, bleeding into other areas of your life.

See, you had a theory.

The ability to love genetic- it had to be. There was no other explanation for every relationship in your life to fail the same way every relationship in your family failed.

If couples in your family weren't divorced then they should've been. It had to be some sort of a curse or a genetic mutation in your DNA dictating that you weren't meant to stay in love with anyone for longer than a couple of years or so.

You longest relationship had made it to a year and a half, ending when your ex proposed. He thought he loved you- you believed that he thought that, but all you could see was yourself in five years, stuck in a loveless marriage just like your parents had found themselves in. You were too young for that level of commitment, too young but you could see the end so clearly.

No way- that wouldn't be you.

You didn't think about your ex often, like you just mentioned- you hadn't really been in love if you could already tell it would all go to shit. You didn't think about your ex often, but you thought about him now, staring at a couple in the park making out unabashedly.

You tilted your head, very openly staring at the obnoxious shiny watch on the man's wrist. Your ex liked that brand too, said it made him feel expensive. You got him a platinum one for his 23rd birthday, two days before he proposed. It really was expensive. When you turned him down he threw it at you, ripping your favorite sweater.

Looking down at your sleeve, you eyed the sewn up tear near your elbow. The tear was invisible to everyone else but you could see it, plain as day. You remember the time it took to sew it up and the number of times you pricked your finger. You could see the threads you had painstakingly mended the tear with, a slightly more matted finish then the rest of the beige colored material. No one else could see the tear, but you could.

Yeah, you definitely made the right decision in ending things.

Besides, things were different now. You had a whole new life, a new apartment with a view of the city, a new job at your best friends' coffee shop. You were selfish with your time but it was yours and yours alone. You liked it this way, for the first time you owned every part of your life in its entirety.

Whatever- this was supposed to be a leisurely walk in nature, secluded and detached. Secluded and detached, secluded and detached.

You turned on your heels, taking two steps before swiveling around and walking the other direction on instinct. Leisurely walks require little to no navigation, you have to go where your feet take you and right now, they wanted to go towards the pond you spotted out of the corner of your eye instead of away from it.

There were park benches all along the pond begging to be sat on, three choices laid out in front of you. One was covered in bird shit, instantly eliminating itself as an option. That left two- one with a woman who was talking too loudly, which annoyed you just enough to detour you from sitting there. The last bench was under a tree but miraculously clear of any bird poop with a man quietly sitting on one end of it, scribbling furiously into a notebook.

Furious scribbler it is.

You stared at the pond in front of you, watching as a random swan swam across your viewpoint gracefully, another following it closely. How the fuck did two swans even end up in the middle of a city park anyway- what kind of traumatic experience brought them here? They probably didn't even like each other, probably just decided to stick together like humans often did. It was trauma bonding- nothing else.

"You know people think swans mate for life, but they don't. Even swans get divorces- if they can't mate successfully or if one of them dies or whatever. Scientists actually did a study and one in six swans are actually illegitimate."

You turned your head slowly, looking anxiously at the man who you had chosen to sit next to. You figured he looked normal enough when you had approached the bench. You would've gone even farther to say that he was attractive- flawless skin, sharp eyes that softened slightly when you asked if you could sit beside him, but clearly he was a freak and you should've sat with Chatty Cathy.

Or had you just ranted about trauma bonding aloud? You frowned, feeling deeply confused and slightly dazed.

The man seemed completely unaware of how bizarre his rant had been regardless of your own internal conflict, eloquently explaining the sex life of a bird stared as he straight ahead with a disapproving look on his face. The swans flocked together, entangling their necks to make a cheesy little heart shape.

"What a letdown," You said flatly, looking back at the swans.

The man next to you clicked his tongue and a silence fell over the two of you. See, you thought, not even birds could stay together. Yet another piece of evidence that long term monogamy was a farce.

You thought about the swans far too often until saw the same man a week later, a rice ball in his hand and a frown on his face.

All in all, you were having a shit ass day. A customer yelled at you, you had dried up whole milk on your shoes, and you were pretty sure your dinner plans fell through for later that night.

"Hey, snap out of it."

You blinked, snapping your head towards the sound.

Suddenly, the world around you was engulfed in noise. The sound of milk frothing, the low hum of espresso shots being pulled. You could hear people laughing, coworkers chattering to each other. Working at a coffee shop was a hectic environment, zoning out in the middle of your shift should've won you a medal for maladaptive daydreaming. Instead, your best friend and boss was glaring at you with mock annoyance.

"I'm gonna fire you if you keep dissociating," She warned, gesturing towards the multiple people in line waiting to be attended to.

"I'm the only one here who knows how to run a business, you'd go to shit in an hour." You pointed out, rolling your eyes. "You didn't even know what a wholesaler was before you hired me."

"Well, I do now!" Binna snapped back, stomping her foot down petulantly.

You smiled at the next customer, a short man with a nervous look on his face, and took his order- medium cold brew with sugar free hazelnut syrup and a splash of 2%. You passed the order on before spinning on your heels to face Binna, "Oh yeah? What's the name of the guy who we get our coffee beans from?"

Binna stared at you blankly, tilting her head before laughing awkwardly, "Okay- fine. Maybe I'm not the best at stuff like that, that's why I need you to pay attention so I don't go bankrupt!"

You grumbled but focused on clearing the line, helping the baristas by picking up half of the orders and making them yourself while Binna called out completed orders. Things slowed a little after, giving you time to make yourself a chai latte.

"But seriously, why are you so spacey today?" Binna asked, knocking her hip against yours.

You shrugged, pouring oatmilk into your cup, "Just one of those days- Did you know swans don't actually mate for life?"

Binna rolled her eyes, leaning against the countertop, "Please don't tell me you're about to compare humans to swans right now."

"It's true!" You cried, throwing your hands up, "If swans don't do it, why should humans!"

She threw you a pointed look, shaking her head, "You need to get a boyfriend."

You willfully ignored her, going back to making yourself a drink. Managing the shop was somewhat of a random career switch for you from your old corporate job but when Binna called you, sobbing about how in over her head she was, you were happy to help. Sure, your mom didn't understand it and it was a lot more responsibility, but working with your best friend was fun and the endless supply of coffee wasn't so bad either.

Except for days like today.

It was like you had a storm cloud hanging over your head, striking you with a lightening bolt of disdain every now and then. It hadn't been until your shift ended that you realized it was another perfect day outside. Less perfect than last week, you spotted a cloud on the way over here. But still, too good of a day to be wasted on your bad mood.

Suddenly, none of it mattered- two steps into the park and suddenly the day was turning itself around.

"Still looking at that pond, huh?" You asked jokingly, approaching the man slowly.

"Wha- Oh," He said, a look of recognition crossing over his face, "Sorry, is this your usual bench or something? I can move."

"It's fine," You said quickly before he could move to get up. "It's a public park, we can share ownership of the bench."

He stretched his lips into a tight smile and nodded, going back to eating. Sweet smile, cute dimples. You snuck glances of him every now and then, taking note of his large stature that took up more than half of the bench. His skin was tanned and his hair cropped short, although you could barely see it with the way he had a beanie pulled over his head.

"You got any more bird facts?" You mused, pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them tightly.

You had no idea why you were making conversation with him, but after the day you had had, a little conversation wouldn't hurt. You liked the tone of his voice, mellow and low almost to the point of intelligibility, forcing you to put your undivided attention on him.

"No, just that they're pretty territorial. They've been known to attack people for getting too close," He smiled awkwardly.

"A slutty bird with trust issues," You said slowly, "Sounds like me."

The man laughed at that and you felt pride blooming in your chest. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but you started looking for him everywhere after that. Strange, how foreign a face could be one moment and then the next you were double taking every tall man on the west side of town in hopes that it was Bird Man.

Thankfully, you knew you'd see him at least once a week. It was the beginning of an unspoken tradition: every week, you'd share custody of the bench between the two largest oak trees at the park near your house facing the pond. You'd watch the birds and talk about stupid shit.

Sometimes you'd bring him coffee from work- an iced americano or an iced oatmilk latte with an added shot of espresso. Sometimes he'd bring you a rice ball, always tuna mayo and never salmon for some reason.

There were a lot of variables between the two of you, you were more different than alike, but one thing you agreed on wound up being the most important thing-

"So, you come here a lot." He said one day, handing you a rice ball wordlessly.

You snorted and nodded, taking it from him gratefully and willfully ignoring the way your fingertips grazed against his, "So do you."

"I come here to write- I'm a writer." He explained, a far too humble look on his face.

You raised your eyebrows and eyed his notebook and then his shoes. His notebook was old and the leather was cracking, held together by two jumbo sized rubber bands with a cheesy little pen with a tiny cactus on the end of it stuffed between the pages. His shoes were nice and looked too expensive for you to afford yourself.

Writers were usually broke if they were no good- but from the looks of his shoes and the worn down edges of his notebook made you curious- could you find his prose in a bookstore? What name would you look for him under? You really should ask for his name.

"Why are you always here?" He asked, cutting your train of thought off. You blinked blankly once before processing what he had said, smiling awkwardly.

"For the swans?" You joked, "I guess I just like nature, I dunno- I've just always been like this. I prefer being outside. It makes me feel...better, somehow."

"Less insane," He nodded, a look on his face saying he felt exactly the same way as you did.

You stared at him, astounded that someone could feel the exact same way as you. You tilted your head, wide eyes scanning the shy smile on his face. It was like someone lifted a veil over your eyes and suddenly there he was, the handsome stranger you had randomly befriended. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally taking the time to look at him, like really look at him- or if it was his mindset that suddenly made you all the more intrigued by him.

Ah, shit- you've got a crush.

"What did you say your name was again?" You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He grinned, leaning back against the bench with a satisfied smile, as if he knew exactly where you were going with this and why you were asking his name, "Namjoon. My name is Namjoon."

You smiled, a blush blooming on your cheeks. Namjoon. It paired nicely with your name, not that that mattered, "I'm glad we met, Namjoon."

taglist: @vanilla-sky01

The Angel’s Alpha

Characters

Y/n - reader/19/college student

Momo-best friend/20/college student

Namjoon- alpha/23

Youngjae-manager

Bts- alpha’s pack

Description:

A broke college student working at a coffee shop trying to save up to pay for your own college tuition, but what happens when you accidentally make the mistake of running into the alpha and destroying his fancy attire, putting yourself in so much debt? You learn to realize that your mistake ends up putting you in hell.

TW: smut, angst, vulgar/strong language,  mentions of SA

word count: 1.2K

( italics mean y/n thoughts ) 

MY FIRST FF HOPE YALL ENJOY :))))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Spring Day

The night before spring begins. Some say it’s an amazing season because flowers start to bloom and the weather starts becoming warm again. Children can start going outside, play around and have fun. Animals come out from hibernation just to go out and populate every spring. Midterm ends as well for most college students, which also means spring break.

But for me, spring is not so much amazing…

Spring for me means having my sexual aura rise, which is mostly referred to as haze now a days. I hated spring. If I ever got the chance to change the seasons with a push of a button, I would. Spring in my book also means having horny men all up in my face asking to fuck and then go on our merry ways. I hate men. Considering that I, a girl who’s never had their first kiss or even held hands with a boy, am like a trophy to most or actually all guys. Yeah I’ve had boyfriends but they never really lasted cause they always wanted one thing which I find repulsive. My virginity. I’m able to keep it safe thanks to some medication my mom has been able to purchase for me and also because of how dominant I am. I always make sure to never submit myself to anyone. Except my parents cause ya know… parents.

Now I’m a 19 year old freshman in college, an introverted-smart-self-taught girl who’s still a virgin and proud. name’s Choi y/n, a girl with long black hair with bangs. Just a normal girl who doesn’t belong anywhere. I’m not even part of a pack, I don’t really care much to even be in a pack. I’m actually happy. I don’t like being called “lone wolf” either, it’s a dumb term. I mostly hide the fact that I’m a werewolf, I consider myself more of a human. I live with my adoptive parents, they aren’t like me which I don’t mind. They knew nothing about what it takes to even raise a wolf like me. But they tried their best. After finding out about my true self, my parents have to make many sacrifices for my safety, one sacrifice they made was having to leave their jobs and to move to a more secluded area, the forest.

Going back to my sad life of having no boyfriend, I like staying single. I just never really understood why girls younger than me would throw themselves at boys and brand about how they lost their virginity. Thinking back, high school was the worst. The first Haze in she-wolfs starts when they get their first period. Usually it doesn’t depend on their age, but more so of “when the body feels ready.” But from then on it goes away until the age of 15. That’s when it officially starts. It was weird. Being a she-wolf sucks.

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So excited for this!!!

Elemental (Teaser)

Posting Date: TBD (hopefully within the next few weeks!)

Genre:  Second Chance / Magic!AU / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by knowing you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed. Something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The one person making you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And just maybe, you find the constraints you place on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Author’s Note: Loosely inspired by the Seven MV. Songs to listen to: Dark Skies, A R I Z O N A; Fallingwater, Maggie Rogers; Cold Water, Justin Bieber; Hold Back the River, James Bay; Through Me (The Flood), Hozier

Estimated WC: 23K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,015

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This is me!

Sappho, from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho; tr. by Anne Carson