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lupinqs · 2 months ago

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THE TONIGHT SHOW ━━ paige bueckers x actress!reader

☆ ━ summary: a talk show, an after party, and far too much champagne leads paige bueckers straight to you.

☆ ━ word count: 9.5K

☆ ━ warnings: smut (scissoring, oral, fingering)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: shameless timmy chalamet cameo because i love him…. anyways that pic with p and the champagne single-handedly revived my writing

THE DRESSING ROOM is loud, but in a muted way—voices murmuring over each other, flat irons hissing like snakes, the faint thump of bass through the walls as the Tonight Show band rehearses. You’re sitting in a high-backed chair, eyes half-lidded, a stylist brushing highlighter onto your cheekbone while someone else carefully curls the ends of your hair. You’re barely paying attention, letting yourself be fussed over like a human Barbie. You’re used to it by now.

Timothée’s sprawled on the little velvet couch behind you, legs hanging over the arm like a spider that’s given up. He’s buzzing, as usual, knee bouncing, fingers drumming against his thigh. You love him, but he never seems to run out of energy. You glance at him in the mirror as he tosses a piece of popcorn in the air and catches it with his mouth. Barely.

“Missed,” you mutter.

He gasps like you insulted his lineage. “Just untruthful.”

You grin, but your attention shifts. Something itches in your brain—some piece of information you forgot to check.

“What’s the lineup tonight?” you ask, voice pitched slightly above the hum around you.

The girl doing your hair, her name’s Rachel you think, nods absently as she wraps another section around the curling iron. “Rami Malek’s first, then you two. Oh, and I think Paige Bueckers has a little cameo. She’s crashing the monologue but doesn’t have an interview.”

Timothée sits up like he’s just heard his name. “Ohhh, because they won the natty, right?”

Rachel nods, unfazed. “Yeah. She’s just doing a little bit with Jimmy to start the show. Real quick thing.”

“Damn,” Timothée whistles low, like he’s genuinely impressed. “She a hooper, for real. I wanna meet her.”

You roll your eyes playfully but don’t say anything right away. Of course you know who Paige Bueckers is. Everyone does right now.

A few days ago, you watched her team win the national championship. You weren’t at home or anything sentimental—just curled up in your trailer between night shoots, a bowl of cereal in your lap and your assistant’s login for ESPN on your phone. But you’d watched her. The way she moved. The way she led.

You’re not a basketball diehard by any means, but the big stuff? You pay attention. And Paige is big. A name on the rise. A face that teenage girls across America are scribbling in the margins of their notebooks, reposting edits of on TikTok, screaming about like she’s Harry Styles during prime One Direction days. The girl’s got motion.

You don’t know what it is about her. Maybe it’s the way she smiles when she’s caught off guard or how she carries herself like she doesn’t care at all what anyone thinks. Or maybe it’s just the fact that she’s hot and tall and athletic and entirely too marketable.

Timothée tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “What do you think she’s like?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes a little. Your co-star loves sports and Paige has been the biggest name in them this week. “I don’t know. Cool, probably.”

He nods along, chewing his popcorn. “Well, duh. She’s an athlete. They’re all cool.” (Case in point.)

You nod slowly, lips parting but not quite moving yet. You’ve been in rooms with world-famous people, with actors who have Oscars and musicians who have egos the size of planets. But there’s something about athletes—especially ones who just won something. There’s a heat to them, a freshness. Like they’re alive in a way everyone else is pretending to be.

“D’you think she’ll still be here after the show?” Timothée asks curiously. “Maybe at the after-thing?”

You hum, noncommittal.

But secretly, you hope so too.

Not that you’re planning anything. Not that it matters. You’re just curious.

That’s all.

And then—it’s time for rehearsal. Nothing new. You and Timothée are ushered through narrow hallways that smell faintly of hairspray and cold brew, past stagehands with headsets and clipboards. Jimmy’s warm-up guy gives you a quick wave. Someone hands you a printout with a few of the pre-cleared talking points: talk about the shoot in Italy, Timothée’s improv moment in the cafe scene, your character’s breakdown, funny story about the crying scene.

The usual fluff.

You barely glance at it. You and Timmy have done this song and dance enough times to know that the real magic happens when you ignore the cards and just talk.

Still, you sit side by side on the little couch in the green room, tossing lines back and forth as if you’re already on air.

“Okay,” Timmy says, clearing his throat in an exaggerated newscaster voice. “Tell me, what was it like doing another film where all you do is cry?”

You snort. “Life-changing. I mean, I think I’ve really got it down now. You, on the other hand…”

“Hey!” he clutches his chest dramatically. “I cried some beautiful tears.”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re both still laughing as the stage manager pokes her head in. “We’re about to get to your segment. Paige just finished her bit.”

At the mention of her name, something flickers in your chest—quick and sharp, like a spark. You don’t know why. You don’t even know her. You just saw her on TV a few days ago, limbs outstretched and screaming at the buzzer with the rest of her team swarming her like bees to honey.

Now she’s here, in the building. Probably just down the hall.

Timothée, of course, notices your shift. “You nervous?” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

You shake your head. “Nah.”

You don’t elaborate.

The rest of it happens fast.

They mic you up, fluff your hair one last time, and lead you through the wings toward the main stage. Jimmy’s voice floats through the air as he wraps up a bit with the band. The audience laughs, and the floor vibrates faintly with applause.

“Alright,” Jimmy grins, turning toward the camera. “Coming up next, two of my favorite people!” He calls your name and then Timothée’s, ushering you both onto the stage.

The applause swells like a wave. The music kicks in. You walk out with Timmy beside you, the lights hitting hard and hot, but you don’t flinch. You smile. You wave. You hug Jimmy and sit down on the couch, legs crossed, posture perfect. Timmy hams it up immediately, pointing at the crowd and then at you like, can you believe this woman? The audience eats it up.

It’s easy. Familiar. You talk about the movie. Timmy tells the story of how the gelato stand you filmed at got mobbed by fans. You talk about a scene that took eight takes because the wind kept flipping your hair into your mouth. Jimmy laughs too hard. The audience claps on cue.

And somewhere, offstage—maybe leaning against a wall or scrolling through her phone—Paige Bueckers is watching.

Maybe.

Not that it, like, matters.

PAIGE ISN’T USED to feeling like this.

She’s good with people. Always has been. Her dad used to say she could talk to a brick wall and get it to smile. She knows how to work a room, can flip the switch between lowkey and charismatic like it’s nothing. And normally, this kind of party would be her sweet spot—music pulsing, champagne in hand, famous people milling around.

But she’s been a little overwhelmed—and who can blame her? The last few days have been a whirlwind—interviews, flights, appearances, more interviews. Since the natty win, her world’s been spinning faster than usual, and not even her extroversion can keep up with the pace forever.

She’s grateful that Azzi and Kaitlyn are here with her. They’re posted up by the bar, all of them sipping champagne and trying to stay nonchalant, even though they just met Alicia Keys and Azzi legitimately had to walk away before she burst into tears.

“She said she watched the game,” Kaitlyn says, shaking her head in disbelief and swirling her glass.

“She said she loved my jumper,” Paige deadpans.

Paige lets the conversation blur around her, her eyes scanning the room over the rim of her glass. It’s crowded with beautiful, wildly successful people. She recognizes singers, actors, athletes. Everyone smells expensive and looks like they floated in from a campaign shoot.

Then she sees you.

You’re wearing a black dress that makes her blink twice. It clings in all the right places, dips a little lower than should be legal, and your hair is tucked behind one ear like you’re unaware of how gorgeous you look. Or maybe you are aware. Maybe that’s the point.

You’re deep in conversation with Kylie Jenner, who’s leaning in close, sipping on something pink and fizzy. Timothée Chalamet is perched beside you, laughing at something Kylie says, his hand tapping against her hip.

You look… perfect. Fuckable. Edible. Paige knows that it’s probably disrespectful to think of you like that when she’s never even spoken to you, but—damn—she can’t help herself.

Of course, she recognizes you instantly. She’s seen all your movies. Follows you on Instagram. Knows which photo you posted after the Venice premiere because she may or may not have saved it. She’s watched interviews you’ve done, including the one tonight with Jimmy Fallon and Timothée.

“You should go talk to her,” Azzi says beside her, like she’s been waiting for the moment Paige would finally catch up.

Paige startles slightly. “What?”

“You’ve been staring. Go rub your hands together and rizz her up or something,” Kaitlyn adds, laughing a little at the end. Azzi does, too.

“I haven’t—” Paige scoffs. “Fine, maybe a lil.”

Azzi nudges her with her elbow. “She’s right there. Just go say hi.”

“Yeah, because that won’t be weird. ‘Hi, I’m Paige, I’m a fan, please marry me.’” The blonde gives her best friend a look.

Kaitlyn grins. “You’ve said worse to girls you weren’t obsessed with.”

“I’m not obsessed with her.”

Azzi lifts a brow.

“… I’m just aware of her existence,” Paige mutters into her champagne.

She turns back toward you just in time to catch you laughing at something Kylie says. It’s a real laugh—head tilted back slightly, hand brushing your collarbone. You’re flushed with happiness or alcohol or both. Timothée leans toward you to whisper something in your ear, and you swat him away like a brother, grinning the whole time.

You look like a dream Paige isn’t sure she’s allowed to have.

Azzi nudges her again. “Go.”

“I’m waiting til she’s not surrounded.”

“She’s never not gonna be surrounded. That’s the point of people like her. They orbit.”

Paige sips her drink, hesitating. You glance up—just for a second—and Paige swears you catch her watching. Your gaze flits past, then back again, like you’re registering her face. There’s a pause, something unreadable in your expression, and then Kylie tugs at your wrist and you look away.

Paige exhales. She takes a sip of her champagne. She’s going to stay nonchalant. If she gets the opportunity to talk to you—later, maybe—then she will. But not right now.

Or, well, actually, maybe right now.

Because when she turns her head to look back at where you were previously standing, all she sees is Timothée Chalamet is walking toward the bar.

And you’re by his side.

You’re a few feet away, pausing just short of the counter to place a drink order. You laugh at something Timothée says, one hand resting loosely on the curve of your hip, the other reaching for a cocktail menu you probably won’t read. Paige’s eyes catch on the way your dress rides up just slightly as you lean forward, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, and it’s almost enough to knock the air out of her chest and send heat to her stomach.

She forces herself to look cool, calm. Like she belongs here. Like she’s not actively freaking out about the fact that the actress she might, sort of, maybe be lowkey obsessed with is now ten feet away ordering a drink.

And then it happens.

Timothée glances across the bar, eyes scanning lazily—until they land on her.

His whole face lights up. Like, visibly. Like they’re old friends or something.

“Yoooo! Paige!” he says, grinning, like he’s been waiting all night to spot her.

Paige blinks, actually looks behind her to make sure he means her.

“You’re Paige Bueckers, right?” he continues, already stepping closer. “Yo, I watched the championship game. You’re nasty. Ate them gamecocks up.”

Paige lets out a short laugh, genuinely caught off guard. “You watched?”

“‘Course I did, bro!” His grin widens, like it’s insane she didn’t believe. “I’ve been following y’all forever. Y’all are hoopers.”

Kaitlyn is already whispering to Azzi, probably something like what the hell is happening right now, but Paige tries not to pay attention to that. She holds her champagne glass a little tighter and nods coolly.

“Appreciate it, man. That means a lot,” she says, managing to keep her voice steady. “These are my teammates, Azzi and Kaitlyn.”

Paige watches as Timothée daps both of them up, his whole body buzzing—probably with champagne. “Nice to meet you guys. Love both your games, for real.”

And then Paige sees it—the way his eyes flick back to you as the bartender slides your drink across the counter. You’re turning to say thank you, lifting the glass to your lips. And then, without warning, Timothée reaches out, both hands grabbing onto your shoulders.

“Yo, you gotta meet someone,” he says, steering you gently but decisively in their direction. “Come here.”

You glance over, a little curious but not annoyed, your gaze settling on Paige and her friends as you approach. Paige straightens up slightly—not noticeably, she hopes—but she can already feel the warmth rising in her chest.

“This,” Timothée says, pulling you in beside him, “is Paige Bueckers. Bucketssss!” The way he drags out the second word leads Paige to believe he’s had one too many champagnes.

You smile easily, glossy lips pulling up at the corners. “Yeah, I know who she is.”

Paige feels her brain short-circuit for just a second.

Your voice is soft but certain, laced with that familiar confidence she’s seen in your interviews. And now it’s directed at her.

She nods, flashes a small grin. She hopes she seems chill. “Aye, good to know I’m not invisible.”

You laugh, and Paige swears the whole party sound dips out behind it. “Not even close.”

“This is Azzi and Kaitlyn,” Paige adds, gesturing toward her teammates, desperate to keep the conversation moving so she doesn’t drown in her own nerves.

You offer both of them a quick wave, clearly familiar enough with sports to know names, but you’re focused mostly on Paige now. And that’s dangerous.

Because up close, you’re even more stunning. Your dress dips just slightly in the front, and the shape of your cleavage makes Paige want to forget how to speak English. She reminds herself—she’s fine. She’s got game. She’s been in tougher spots than this.

But your eyes flick down her frame briefly—just a flash—and then back to her eyes. You tilt your head a little, smile. And she thinks, maybe she doesn’t.

“You played great in March, by the way. I saw that forty piece.”

Paige raises a brow, impressed. Her forty piece wasn’t in the natty or Final Four—it was in the Sweet Sixteen. So, maybe you weren’t just watching to watch. Maybe. “You watched that game?”

You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “I dabble in excellence.”

Timothée lets out a loud drunken laugh beside you, “Dabble in excellence—I’m stealing that.”

Paige’s grin widens. “You can’t just dabble in March.”

“Guess I’m a committed fan, then,” you say casually, and God, you really don’t play fair.

Azzi catches Paige’s eye behind your back, giving her the most painfully obvious oh, you’re screwed face. Paige ignores her entirely.

“Well,” Paige says, lifting her glass toward yours, “cheers, then.”

You clink glasses with her, your fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Cheers.”

And it’s not flirty, not exactly—not yet. But there’s something in the way you’re looking at her now. A spark. An open door. Well, shit.

Paige doesn’t know where this is going, but suddenly she doesn’t care how tired she is or how long this week has been—because you’re standing in front of her in that damn dress, and you know her name, and your smile is enough to knock her off balance in the best possible way.

But, the thing about nights like this is that they never really slow down.

One minute, Paige is thinking she might actually be getting somewhere—that you might actually be into talking to her—and the next, someone who looks vaguely famous (blonde, sequined, expensive) is whisking you and Timothée away with a cheerful, “Come on, you have to meet—!”

You shoot Paige an apologetic little smile as you’re tugged off, mouthing something like sorry!, and then you’re gone. Just like that. The crush of bodies swallows you whole.

And Paige… is left standing there, still gripping her champagne glass like it might offer answers.

Azzi bumps her shoulder. “Paige,” she laughs.

“I’m calm,” Paige lies through her teeth, staring at the spot you were just standing in.

“Uh-huh,” Azzi nods, looking entirely unconvinced, biting her lip to fight another laugh from escaping.

Kaitlyn grins, too. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’,” Paige mutters, taking another sip, “that I shoulda said more.”

Azzi snorts. “Nah, you said enough. She was into it.”

Paige gives her a side-eye. “You think?”

“She smiled at you like this.” Azzi does a dramatic, slow-motion head tilt, batting her lashes.

“Stop.” Paige shoves her.

But… yeah, maybe she’s hoping her best friend is a little right about this one thing.

IT’S ALMOST AN HOUR before she sees you again.

In the meantime, she’s made rounds with Azzi and Kaitlyn, posed for some photos, took another flute of champagne, and then promptly lost track of them somewhere around a table filled with sliders and very fancy-looking truffle fries.

She heads to the bathroom just to get a breather, leaning against the marble counter and staring at herself in the mirror for a beat too long.

You’re fine, she tells herself. You’re not twelve. She’s just hot. And famous. And you’re…

She frowns. “Also hot. And famous,” she says out loud, trying to hype herself up. It doesn’t work. She’s never really cared about either of those things.

And, of course, the mirror—as expected—doesn’t respond.

She leaves the bathroom and steps back into the party, only to find that Azzi and Kaitlyn have fully vanished. Not just moved—vanished. Gone without a trace. It’s not that big of a room, but the lights are low, and the music is louder now, and she’s weaving through the crowd like she’s suddenly in a dream sequence.

Then—

“Your teammates ditch you?”

The voice comes from behind, low and familiar, and Paige freezes before she turns.

You.

You’re standing there holding an empty glass, still looking so fucking fine in that damn dress, your weight shifted to one hip and an amused tilt to your head like you might already know the effect you’re having on her.

Paige blinks once. “Uh…”

You stare.

She clears her throat, pulling herself together. “Yeah. Seems like they did.”

You nod, tapping the side of your glass. “It’s okay. I was ditched too.”

She laughs softly, eyes flicking down to the floor and then back to you. “Timothée ditched you?” She doesn’t add the fact that she thinks anyone ditching you might as well be a crime.

You shrug, scrunching your nose just slightly. “Yeah. He and Kylie left. They’re always escaping to go be nasty together.”

And Paige—

Paige blinks, because the first thought that enters her brain is: you and I can go be nasty together.

And the second thought is: Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me.

She manages to keep a straight face, nodding with a mix of mock solemnity and disgust. “Gross.”

“Very,” you agree, leaning a little closer. “But I guess that makes us the abandoned ones. Left to fend for ourselves in this sea of glitter and Botox.”

Paige chuckles. “Could be worse.”

You smile at her, a dimple popping out of your cheek. “Could definitely be worse.”

There’s a beat. A pause, but not an awkward one. The music swells in the background—some mellow pop remix of a song Paige doesn’t recognize—and your eyes haven’t left hers.

But then they do, glancing at her empty glass. “Out of champagne?”

She looks down like she didn’t realize it. “Apparently.”

You hold up yours, empty too. “Same. Let’s fix that?”

Paige nods, heart ticking up a notch. “Let’s.”

You both drift to the bar again, standing shoulder to shoulder while the bartender takes someone else’s overly complicated drink order. You lean in a little as you wait, not quite touching but close enough that Paige can smell the citrusy perfume on your neck.

“Sooo…” you say, dragging the word out, looking at her sideways and smirking a little. “You’re gon’ be the number one pick next week, yeah?”

Paige feels her face flush a little, blood rushing through her cheeks. The draft. Another thing that’s coming head-on. She’s excited. Grateful, of course. Just… also still a little overwhelmed. It’s okay; she’ll be ready come Monday.

She swallows, shrugging a little. “If that’s in God’s plan for me, then I guess so.”

Your eyes seem to soften a bit at that but before you can respond, the bartender finally turns to you both. Paige puts on her normal smile, ordering two more glasses and sliding her card across the counter before you can even reach for your handbag.

You arch a brow. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she hums, not elaborating. She leans against the bar, looks at you. She hopes she seems smoother than she feels.

Your lips twist into something almost flirtatious. “Fine. But only if I get to buy the next round.”

“You planning on stayin’ that long?”

You tilt your head, gaze sharp and playful. “I don’t know. You planning on making it worth my while?”

And there it is—Paige feels it hit her chest, the full-body flush of oh my God, this is happening.

She plays it cool. Leans in just a little. “I might.”

You hold her gaze for a moment. The drinks arrive. You both take a sip, and something simmers in the space between you.

“Okay then,” you say softly. “Show me what you’ve got, PB.”

THE DRINKS GO DOWN easily. Too easily, maybe.

Because—one minute, Paige is flirting with you at the bar, and the next, you’re both in the family restroom.

It’s a nice bathroom. Like, really nice. Too nice for what’s about to happen in it.

There’s a changing table, a comfy little chair in the corner, even a soft-glow light coming from behind the mirror. It smells like eucalyptus.

Paige watches as you push the lock in with a soft click. You move then, stepping right into her space.

She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even think.

Her mouth is on yours before either of you says a word.

It’s hot. Messy in the way champagne makes everything feel a little blurred and desperate. Paige’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer and pushing you until your back hits the edge of the sink. You’re kissing her like you’ve been waiting all night to, and Paige is still trying to keep her cool but—God, the way you taste, the way you’re tugging at the open collar of her flannel—it’s a lot.

Paige slips her tongue into your mouth, licking around, tasting. You make a low sound when she sucks lightly on your bottom lip and Paige feels it everywhere.

“Fuck,” you mumble and Paige manages to laugh a little, low and breathless, before tilting your chin up to kiss you deeper.

Paige’s head spins a little.

How did she even get here?

She’s in a family restroom. At a celebrity afterparty. With you. Famous, perfect, actress you, whose Instagram she’s stalked more times than she’ll ever admit. And now you’re as close as possible, your tongue tangled with hers.

This can’t even be real.

And yet—your mouth moves to her jaw, kissing along it in slow, maddening lines, and Paige grips the edge of the sink behind you because if she doesn’t hold onto something, she might just melt into the floor.

You murmur into her neck, “You good?”

She laughs quietly, shakes her head a little. “Yeah,” she mumbles, a little breathless. She reaches for your face again, adding, “C’mere,” pulling you back in.

She kisses you, harder this time, a little reckless. You taste like champagne and mistakes and her own disbelief. And strawberry lip gloss. The same strawberry lip gloss that she’s essentially sucked off.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of her flannel, lightly tracing the skin above her waistband, and it makes her hips twitch forward before she can stop it. You feel it. Smirk into the kiss.

“Easy, Bueckers,” you tease, lips brushing hers.

Paige swears something explodes behind her ribs. Like a firework. Or a panic attack. Or both.

She groans, kissing you again—if she doesn’t keep doing it, she might lose her mind. Her hands move back to your waist, grabbing you, your dress wrinkling slightly beneath the grip of her palms. You kiss her deeper, mouth open and needy, teeth grazing the blonde’s lip.

Paige’s hands slide lower, palms skimming down the curve of your back, fingers trailing over the fabric of your dress until they land—firmly, confidently—on your ass. She gives a slow squeeze, exhaling lowly at the feeling. You make a soft sound, too, and it nearly sends her spiraling.

Paige feels you press closer to her, your leg nudging between hers slightly. Her pulse picks up like she’s got two seconds left on the shot clock and the ball’s in her hands.

Her hands palm at you again, trying to memorize the shape of you. At the feeling, you pull back just enough to speak, lips kiss-swollen and spit-slick, eyes a little glossy.

“D’you wanna leave?” you ask, voice low and slightly breathless.

Paige’s mouth instinctively moves to your jaw, kissing there, slow and a little greedy. She hums against your skin. “Where would we go?”

You tip your head back slightly, exposing your neck to her in a way that drives her insane. “Back to mine?”

And—fuck.

That snaps something within Paige.

She stills for a half-second. Not pulling away. Just taking a moment. Letting that sentence sit in the air between you two.

Back to yours.

You. Your apartment. You, a little tipsy and flushed and stunning and clearly just as into this as she is.

How in the hell?

This doesn’t happen to her. Sure, she’s fucked a good amount of girls on campus. Sure, she’s got a lot of fans that edit her. But this? You? The girl with the Oscar buzz and the actual fame and that little black dress that’s been driving her out of her mind all night?

All she can think is—thank God for that natty.

She kisses you again, deep and hungry and like that answers the question for her.

You smile into it, pulling back just slightly, lips grazing hers as you ask, “Yeah?”

And Paige—grinning now, breath uneven, hands still resting on your ass, fingers skimming the back of your thighs because your dress is so short—says against your mouth, “Oh, yeah.”

You laugh, and it’s giddy and bright and sounds like bells. Paige wants to hear it again.

But then you’re both moving. You smooth your dress, pulling it down a little, fixing your lipgloss in the mirror with a lazy swipe of your finger. Paige straightens her flannel and tightens her ponytail, trying not to look like she was just seconds away from doing something very vile in a public restroom.

You unlock the door. Step out first.

Paige follows, hand brushing the small of your back before she shoves it in her pocket, like if she doesn’t, she’ll touch you again in front of everyone.

You both re-enter the noise and chaos of the party like nothing happened. Paige sends a quick text to Azzi and Kaitlyn—wherever they are—telling them of where she’s going.

You catch her eye over your shoulder as you lead the way toward the exit. And Paige just follows—completely, hopelessly, happily gone.

YOU TAKE THE SUBWAY.

You could’ve called a car—should’ve, probably—but it just feels easier like this. It’s late, the platform is as quiet as it is all day, and there’s something a little funny about a famous actress and a famous basketball player going home on the subway following a celebrity afterparty. You half expect her to complain or hesitate, but she doesn’t. She stays right beside you the whole time. Close, like she needs to feel the heat from your skin.

You feel the same. It’s almost like your skin might catch fire if she gets any nearer.

You don’t talk much, just a few soft jokes between stations. Stuff like:

“Are the subways usually this dirty?”

“Paige.”

And:

“People are staring.”

“Yeah. At you.”

“Mm. Doubt it.”

“You’re holding the pole like it owes you money, Bueckers. You’re not exactly blending in.”

(Clearly, Paige is not a New Yorker.)

She laughs at that, quietly, and you watch her from the corner of your eye.

You didn’t plan this. At all.

When the girl doing your makeup mentioned Paige Bueckers would be popping into the Tonight Show monologue, you’d barely reacted. Just filled it away. You knew who she was, of course—who doesn’t, at this point? You’re not deep into basketball, more of a casual watcher, but she’s impossible to ignore. A little golden, a little unreal.

You definitely didn’t expect to be on your way home with her a few hours later.

But then Timmy geeked out. Saw her at the bar, dragged you to meet her. Said her name with this over-the-top awe as if he isn’t ten times more famous than her. You’d just laughed and let him, not thinking too much about it—until you got close.

And then, yeah, you understood.

She’s hot.

Like, obviously. She’s tall, strong, stupidly pretty in a way that seems both entirely effortless and at the same time a little intentional. Her posture alone—the confidence in her stature—made you straighten up, and you put on your best perfectly casual acting face for moments when you don’t feel quite as casual as you should.

But it wasn’t just her appearance.

She’s kind. That was clear right away. Not performative or trying too hard. Just nice. And funny, in a dry way. Quick with the side comments. Self-aware. And slightly, slightly nervous around you, which you can’t lie—you like. It’s endearing.

There’s this quiet little tension between you now. A hum under the surface. Every time your knees brush on the subway bench, you feel it spike. She keeps glancing at your legs like she’s trying not to, like she doesn’t realize you’ve already caught her twice.

You don’t say anything. You just sit there and let it build.

The ride doesn’t last long. Your stop comes faster than expected, and Paige follows you off the train without a word.

It’s chilly outside. The city’s quieter than usual, but not silent. It never is. You walk a block to your building, Paige’s steps in rhythm with yours, and when you glance over at her under the streetlight, she looks down and gives you a half-smile. It makes your chest tighten a little. Like something you didn’t know was there is trying to make itself known.

Inside your building, you greet the doorman, who gives you a knowing look that you ignore. Paige nods politely. She’s got that people-pleaser charm—you can tell.

The elevator is slow. Old. You both step in and the doors close with a soft thunk.

You hit the button for your floor. Then, the air shifts.

There’s a pause—quiet but heavy. The kind of silence that makes you feel the other person. Paige stands just a little too close. Not aggressively. Just… aware. The distance between you isn’t quite respectful. Her arm brushes yours, and neither of you move away.

You stare straight ahead, but your eyes flick sideways every few seconds. She’s doing the same. You can feel it. Like heat. Like static. The air between your bodies buzzes like it’s waiting for permission to break.

The elevator dings.

Your floor.

You step out. She follows. And this time, she’s close enough that you feel the warmth of her breath as she exhales.

You swallow and walk to your door, unlocking it quickly, gingers a little clumsy on the key. Your heartbeat’s in your ears now. Loud.

The door swings open, and you step aside to let her in.

Paige walks in slow. She glances around, taking in the space—it’s nice. You know it is. Acting—well, it makes good money. And your apartment is a reflection of that.

You let her look around, setting your keys down and toeing your shoes off. When you glance back up, she’s watching you.

Neither of you says anything.

You walk over to her slowly.

And Paige—still looking at you like she’s not quite sure how this is real—just stands there, letting you close the space between you.

Your fingers find the hem of her flannel, gently.

“You wanna stay a while?” you ask, voice quiet, casual.

She nods.

And this time, it’s her who kisses you.

Its immediate. The fire. The heat. The way her mouth meets yours like it’s something she’s been dying to do all night—maybe longer. Her lips are warm, soft but urgent, and you can barely keep up with the way she kisses you, like she’s been holding herself back and now there’s no reason to anymore.

You make a sound against her mouth, half gasp, half laugh, and she responds with a low hum, hands already gripping your hips like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the Earth.

Your fingers slide up to her shoulders, trying to steer, to hold, to anchor—but you’re barely steady yourself. The two of you stumble back a few steps, laughing breathlessly between kisses as she walks you toward the couch, bumping a wall, into the table, not even caring. Her hand is on your lower back, guiding you—no, pushing you—and you let her, let her press you into her, let her kiss you like she knows exactly what she wants and exactly where she wants it.

It’s messy. Hands moving with no direction, your bodies pressing into each other like you’ve already forgotten you’re in your own damn apartment. Her mouth moves from your lips to your neck for half a second and you feel your knees weaken a little. You bite your lip, grab her jaw, kiss her harder. It’s so much, too much—but not enough.

You gasp against her mouth, “Wait—bed,” and she pulls back, just a breath away, eyes wide and dark and already a little wild.

“Yeah,” she says, already reaching for your hand, letting you pull her because she’s not familiar with the space.

You thought maybe you’d end up… here. The couch. The floor. Whatever. But no—you make it to the bedroom, somehow. Still kissing, still giggling in these little gasps when you bump into furniture. Still fumbling. Still grabbing.

Once you’re there, you push her down onto the bed, your palms flat on her chest. She goes easily, grinning up at you as her back hits the mattress. She’s breathing hard. So are you.

You crawl into her lap, settling your thighs on either side of hers, letting her hands immediately go to your waist again—strong, sure now. Her fingers grip you tighter than before. She’s steadier. More confident. And it’s really fucking attractive.

You bend down and kiss her again, slower this time but just as deep, just as desperate. Her hands slide up your back, over your spine, under the hem of your dress, wandering. You don’t stop her. You don’t want to.

And God, the way she moves underneath you. The way she kisses you now—like she’s not nervous anymore. Like she’s got you, and she knows it.

Your lips trace down, slow and hungry, grazing her skin like you want to memorize every part of her. Her jaw. The curve of her throat. The warm spot just beneath her ear. You suck lightly at first, then a little harder when you feel her shift beneath you—when her grip tightens and her breath gets heavier.

She mutters something low and strained, a quiet “Christ,” that sends a pulse right through you.

Her hands slide under your tiny dress. You feel her fingers splay across the back of your thighs before moving your, gripping your ass in a way that’s both firm and reverent. Like she’s still shocked you’re even here, straddling her, touching her. You groan softly against her neck, sinking your teeth gently into her skin there before pulling back with a kiss.

Your focus shifts to her flannel. The sparkly thing that you think probably only she can pull off. You eye it, fingers fumbling a bit as you reach for the buttons. She doesn’t move to help you at first. Just keeps her hands right where they are, thumbs brushing slow, distracting circles as she watches you with this little smirk.

You finally get the last button undone and she shrugs it off, tossing it across the room. She’s left in a black Nike sports bra and cargos and somehow still looks like maybe the hottest person you’ve ever seen in your life—and, seriously, you’ve seen a lot of hot people.

Your hands run up her bare abs, firm beneath your palms, before she pulls you back down like she can’t go another second without your mouth on hers.

This kiss isn’t sweet or exploratory. It’s flat-out hungry. Like now she’s got permission to take her time and take her fill. Her hands are back on you again, sliding lower, gripping tighter, pulling you down into her until your whole body is flush with hers. You can feel the heat of her skin through the fabric between you, the tension that’s been simmering since the moment your eyes met hours ago now boiling over.

You grind into her without even thinking, and the way her breath stutters against your mouth makes your whole body buzz.

You chuckle, soft and breathless, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her lips are kiss-bitten, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Okay?” you whisper.

“Mm,” she hums before pulling you back into her quickly like she was offended you pulled away at all in the first place.

You respond immediately, tongue sliding against hers, teeth clashing. Her hands are everywhere. Your hips roll against hers instinctively, your breath catching every time her fingers dig into your skin or slide along your thighs. It’s hot and heavy and dizzying in the best way.

At some point, she pulls back just slightly, lips parted, gaze hungry. She looks down at the way your dress rides yo as you move against her and then back up at you like she’s barely holding it together.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, voice low, almost hoarse. Her hands pull at the fabric a little. “Needa see you.”

There’s this desperate kind of honesty in the way she says it that shoots straight through you. You not without even thinking, already helping her—grabbing at the hem of the dress, pulling it over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.

It lands somewhere near the door. Neither of you cares.

Now, you’re in nothing but your lacy black thong (thank God you decided to wear a sexy pair of underwear today, seriously), straddling her, skin flushed and warm and bare to her, and when Paige looks at you—really looks at you—she groans under her breath. Head falls back for a second like she needs to reset, eyes fluttering before they lock onto you again, darker than before, icy blue mixing with the black of her enlarged pupils.

“Shit,” she mutters, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to your waist, then higher. “You’re—”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

She pulls you down to her again, but this time her mouth doesn’t go to your lips. Instead, she kisses across your chest, slow at first, open-mouthed and warm. Her rough palms hold you firm against her, fingers splaying along the swell of your ass as her lips move down. And then her mouth closes around one of your nipples, sucking—lightly at first, just enough to make you twitch in surprise—and then again, a little harder, her breath hot where it fans out.

You exhale shakily, fingers fumbling with her hair tie before undoing it, letting her ponytail fall loose. She looks up at you for just a second, grinning like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

And she keeps kissing across your chest and tits, mouth open and warm and purposeful. Her lips drag over the swell of you, her tongue flicking occasionally at your nipples like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react. And you do react—your back arches, your hands tighten in her hair, and your hips roll forward against her without even thinking about it.

She hums in response, low and satisfied. The sound vibrates against your skin. Her fingers tighten at your waist, holding you in place, guiding your rhythm.

“Fuck,” she murmurs against you. “Don’t stop doin’ that.”

You don’t.

You move against her with a little more purpose, the friction sending a slow burn through your body. Her hands are hot and strong where they grip you, and her mouth doesn’t let up. She kisses over the curve of one of your tits, up to your collarbone, then back down, her breath shaky now too. She’s unraveling under you, even if she’s trying not to show it.

But you’re unraveling, too. Fast.

You let her mouth linger a little longer, let yourself feel every second of it—and then you’re tugging away from her, chest rising and falling a little too fast. Her eyes flick open, meeting yours, a silent question in them.

“I need…” you trail off, already reaching down.

She gets it. She shifts under you, lifting her hips as you start pulling at her cargo pants. She helps, fumbling a little in the rush to get them off, and her boxers come with—unintentional, but neither of you is complaining.

Paige leans up, kissing you again—a little slower now, a little more sensual. Tongues sliding and tangling languidly. There’s a kind of reverence in it now, like she’s savoring. You’re straddling her still, one knee braced beside her bare thigh, your chest still flushed and wet from her mouth, your breathing uneven. Her hands are at your hips, fingers flexing like she can’t decide whether to hold on tighter or let herself get lost in the feel of you completely.

Her fingers drift along, ghosting along the hem of your thong. She pauses, just barely.

“Can I?” she asks lowly. It’s respectful; you like that.

You nod, already leaning in. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Yeah, Paige.”

She kisses you once more—quick, urgent—before sliding her hands down, easing your underwear over your hips, your thighs. You lift just enough to help her, and she works them off completely, tossing them to join the growing pile of clothes somewhere on the floor.

And then she pulls you down again. Fully. Flush against her.

You gasp quietly at the contact, your bare cunt pressed to hers, the heat and slick between you unmistakable now.

Paige groans quietly, head dropping to your shoulder, arms wrapping tight around your waist as she holds you to her. Her hands splay wide across your lower back, like she needs to ground herself in the feeling of you there. Her lips brush against the curve of your neck, and you feel her smile just barely.

“Fuck, ma, you’re killin’ me here,” she mumbles into your skin.

You laugh, breathless. “Pretty sure you started it.”

Her hand drifts lower, palming your ass, her mouth now back on your jaw. “And I’mma finish it.”

Her words send a jolt through your stomach. And then she’s shifting beneath you, hips twitching up against yours, your slick clits bumping. Her palms guide you, moving you against her with slow, grinding pressure.

It’s instinct more than choreography. Your bodies find the rhythm together, messy and hot and overwhelming.

You let out a sound—something caught between a sigh and a moan—and she tightens her grip like she’s trying to draw more out of you. Her eyes are glazed over, locked on yours, and there’s a kind of quiet desperation in them that makes you grind down against her harder.

“Fuck, that—” you gasp a little as she shifts her angle, her pussy hitting yours just right. “Right there, Paige—”

She groans, pulling you down so your forehead is resting against hers, your lips brushing. You can feel her breath against your mouth, fast and shallow. You can hear the slick, vile sounds of your wetness against hers filling the room.

“Keep going,” she mumbles. “You feel so good, just—don’t stop.”

You nod, can’t even form a real answer, just roll your hips against her again, and again, chasing the way her body feels under yours, the way her mouth keeps finding your throat, your jaw, your shoulder. Her skin is slick with sweat, her hair dampening, sticking to her forehead.

You’re both panting heavily now, bodies moving in sync, heat building between you like it’s alive. The room spins a little around the edges, your heart pounding so loud it feels like the only thing you can hear besides Paige’s voice, the occasional moan, and the rustle of sheets.

She grips your waist and rocks up into you, and the pressure makes your vision blur.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Paige laughs under her breath, low and ragged. “Mm. I—I know.”

Everything begins to sharpen around you and you lean in, kissing Paige as hard as you can—teeth clashing, mouths open and desperate. Every roll of your hips, every sound that escapes either of your lips, every gasp and half-muttered name. Her hands hold you so tight you think she might leave bruises—you don’t care. Your cunts are warm and wet and swollen, sliding messily enough to get each other’s arousal on both of your thighs.

It builds fast. Hot and tight in your chest, in your stomach, in the way you’re grinding against her now—faster, harder, needing more, needing her. She’s right there with you, her mouth pressed to the side of your neck, her voice rough and muffled against your skin.

“God, you’re—” she chokes out, breath stuttering. “You feel—shit, I’mma—”

“Paige,” you mewl.

She nods, biting at your throat a little.

That’s all it takes.

Everything inside you snaps. White heat floods your senses and you fall into it, trembling and moaning against the blonde, your whole body shuddering as you come, pressed tight against her. Paige follows right after, hips stuttering, arms wrapped tight around your waist as she falls apart with you.

You collapse against her—completely boneless, your cheek pressed to the curve of her shoulder. Paige’s arms stay around you, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts against yours, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You just breathe. Skin damp, thighs sticky. Hair in your face. Her heartbeat thudding loud under your ear.

Then she rolls, gently shifting you onto your back and settling between your legs again. Her body rests over yours, her nose nudging your jaw before she starts trailing wet kisses along your neck and shoulder.

You hum at the feeling, the pads of your fingers trailing down the side of her arm. “Feels good,” you murmur lazily, eyes half shut.

Paige chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your jaw. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly, watching as she lifts her head just enough to smirk at you, her eyes heavy-lidded and bright. Then, without breaking eye contact, her hand moves lower—slow, easy. You don’t even realize where it’s going until you feel it between your thighs, her fingers sliding between your slick folds, pressing lightly against your sensitive clit, confident and sure.

Your breath catches.

Paige leans up, her mouth just by your ear. “Can you gimme another?”

You blink at the ceiling for a second, trying to form a coherent thought. She was nervous before, you could tell, and now she’s so damn sure. You turn your head to see her. Her expression is intense—she looks almost like she would devour you if she could. Her fingers stay resting on your clit, unmoving with the slightest bit of pressure. The touch alone makes your skin feel like it’s buzzing.

You swallow. “Mhm. Yeah,” you stumble out.

Paige’s mouth curls into a grin, something between cocky and sweet. “Good girl.”

And then her fingers finally move. She circles your clit—once, twice, three times. Your thighs twitch some, still sensitive from before. Paige reaches down after that, sliding her middle finger inside you. She gives you a moment to adjust before adding a second digit in.

You try to keep it together—you really do—but the way her fingers move in and out, slow and certain, curling just when you need her to… she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her blue eyes flick between where her fingers thrust inside you, covered in your slick, and your face. Her lips are parted, chest rising and falling with the same shallow rhythm as yours. It’s hot in here. You’re sweating. You’re both still breathless, still recovering and already going again.

Your hand tightens your grip on Paige’s bicep as she moves her fingers just a little deeper, her wrist flexing with intention. Your hips twitch up in response, and you catch her smirk as she glances up at you—flushed cheeks, messy blonde hair, a cocky look in her eyes that should be illegal.

“Oh, my God,” you mumble, breath hitching.

She grins, biting her lip as her gaze stays locked on the way your cunt swallows her digits. It’s seems to do something to her because then—quietly, mostly to herself—she murmurs, “Fuck, I gotta taste you.”

You think your breath may stop entirely.

She shifts downward, pressing kisses across your stomach as she goes—soft, almost worshipping. Her fingers never stop moving, scissoring inside you, making it even harder for your lungs to function, and her mouth follows the trail of heat between your thighs.

Her tongue flicks out, swiping between your folds. You shudder at the feeling. Simultaneously, her fingers keep working you open, skilled, like she’s mapping out every reaction she gets. The combination of both is almost too much. You can’t help it—you grip at her hair, threading your fingers through the soft strands and tugging when she does something particularly good—which is often.

And she notices. Of course she does.

Paige hums against you, just enough vibration to make your thighs tremble. Then she glances up at you—barely, eyes hooded, teasing. “Don’t tap out on me yet, ma.”

Your eyes roll back at the nickname and the feeling of her fingers hitting that spongy spot inside you. You let out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a moan. “I—I’m not,” you say, trying to convince both her and yourself.

Her grin flashes, all pride and playfulness, before she dives back in—lips slick, tongue slow and focused. Her mouth wraps around your clit and sucks deliberately while her fingers curl inside you just right. You feel yourself fall deeper into it, into her, one hand pressing to the back of Paige’s head like you don’t want her to go anywhere.

You don’t. You really, really don’t.

She speeds up just a little, coaxing another sound from you, and your hips lift off the bed involuntarily. “God, I—”

That earns you another smirk against your skin, and she doesn’t stop. She’s locked in—and she’s not letting up until she gets everything she wants.

So, she keeps going.

Even when your hips stutter and your lungs stumble. Even when your hands slip from her hair to the pillow, fingers flexing and grasping at anything to hold you down. Even when you whimper something that barely sounds like her name.

Paige doesn’t stop.

Her mouth is certain, her tongue sliding through your folds, up and down across your clit. You feel like you’re melting into the mattress, boneless, trembling, completely at her mercy. Her fingers never lose rhythm, continuing their thrusts, and you vaguely wonder if her hand is cramping yet.

At one point, you hear her murmur something against your cunt, too muffled to catch.

“What?” you gasp, barely managing the word.

She lifts her head slightly, lips shining, and says, “Said you taste really fuckin’ good. Can’t get enough of you.”

And then her mouth is right back on you, her head shaking back and forth as her tongue follows the movement across your swollen clit. You make a sound that isn’t even close to human. It’s almost too much. The way she licks into you with purpose, the way her hand holds your thigh down like you might actually float away, the way her fingers keep coaxing more out of you like it’s her only mission.

“You’re—Paige, fuck, you’re…” You can’t even finish the thought. Can’t form words. Cant think straight. And she loves it. You can tell in the way she groans lowly into you, like you’re the best meal she’s ever had, like she’s the one getting off.

It’s so good. It’s too good.

Her fingers start pumping harder and faster, a white ring forming around them. Paige is unrelenting; she can probably tell that the coil deep in your belly is preparing to snap. She wraps her lips around your bud again, sucking and sucking and sucking.

“Paige—” you gasp, voice breaking. “I—shit—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she murmurs, low and husky against you. “C’mon, mama, I gotchu.”

She thrusts again. She lays her tongue flat, shaking it.

That does it.

Everything tightens, your whole body curling in on itself for one suspended second—before it all shatters. You cry out, hips stuttering, thighs shaking as the orgasm rips through you like a wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. You can’t even think. All you can do is feel. Her. Her mouth. Her fingers. Her voice.

She works you through it, gentle now, easing you down. Only when you’re twitching and completely spent does she finally pull away.

You’re panting. Drenched in sweat. Barely coherent.

And Paige looks… completely wrecked in the best way. Her lips are swollen and pink, her cheeks bright red, her fingers slick. She licks them slowly, not breaking eye contact, cleaning the cum off.

“Good Lord—taste unreal,” she mutters, voice rough. Then, she leans down, kissing the inside of your thigh before crawling back up your body, lazy and satisfied.

When she finally teaches your face, she’s grinning. She kisses you softly, almost sweetly now, brushing her nose against yours as she whispers, “Told you I needed that.”

You shake your head, smiling a little in disbelief, letting her peck your lips one more time before laying on you. Paige is warm and a little damp with sweat, her breathing now steady. You run your fingers lazily along the slope of her shoulder, and she hums a little at the touch, face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

For a while, it’s silent. You’re not sure if it’s too late or too early, only that the city outside your window sounds far away.

Paige traces circles on your side with thumb. Slow, soft. Barely there.

“Hey,” you say eventually, voice a little raspy.

“Mmm?”

You glance down, and she shifts just enough to look at you. Her eyes have gone a little sleepy—she looks pretty like this. You think she probably looks pretty all the time, though.

“So, like… Dallas, right?” you ask hesitantly, bringing up the WNBA draft on Monday.

She pauses, and you feel her thumb stop its movement. “I mean, yeah,” she says eventually, her voice quiet, almost careful. It’s not set in stone—but everyone knows. She’s going to Texas.

You nod, stare at the ceiling for a second. You’re not sure if you should say what you’re thinking. You just met her tonight. But… fuck, she was good. And she’s hot. And she’s nice. And she’s funny. And—what’s the harm? “I’m filming a movie there all summer.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then you glance down at her and you watch as she stares at you for a long moment before her lips begin to curl up in the softest, most dangerous smile.

And, oh yeah—you already know. You’re both so screwed.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #dallas wings #wnba #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #wlw

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daisies-and-domming · 2 months ago

Text

Zayne: In Heat! (NSFW)

Right Here, Right Now!

Summary: A new sort of Wanderer keeps appearing around Linkon City, sending the Hunters Association into a frenzy trying to figure out just what it does. When killed, it releases some sort of dangerous “pollen”, but that’s all you’re really cleared to know - other than the clear warning to get back to headquarters as soon as possible if you are hit. Turns out, that’s easier said than done.

Warnings: yes this is an A/B/O fic (the demons got me), afab!reader, omega!reader, alpha!characters, heat, swearing, petnames (Zayne calls you "darling" and "wife"), marking/mating, breeding kink (Zayne), office sex, a little bit dubcon!!

This is Zayne's part to this series! Looking for someone else?

Rafayel | Xavier | Caleb

Or use the tag #daisy's series: in heat!

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

– – –

It was a simple mistake, you try and tell yourself. You didn’t know the Wanderer was going to explode like that!

But even the simplest of mistakes gets people in your profession killed. Being a Deepspace Hunter, especially a hunter in the UNICORNS unit, meant you couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not when other people’s lives were on the line.

So you don’t go back to headquarters, not yet anyhow,heading straight for the hospital instead.

You know for a fact Zayne’s in office tonight, because you were complaining about him cancelling yet again your plans to hang out. He was your best option right now - whatever you got hit with is making you feel all sorts of weird.

The first thing you noticed was your vision blurring and your sense of smell dulling; like the world was fading into grey. You smack the side of your head, trying to keep yourself in one piece. The hospital was only two more blocks away, and you couldn’t afford to not make it. Even if Zayne didn’t know exactly what was happening to you, hopefully he could draw your blood or send you for an eval in one of the other offices. There’s no one in your life that you trust quite like Zayne, and you’re certain that he can help you with whatever the hell was going on with you.

The second thing you notice, as you draw nearer to the hospital, is the looks. People always look at you, especially when you’re in your hunter’s uniform, but there’s something…different. Some people look sympathetic, like they know something you don’t. Others jeer at you, making comments that made you wish you were off the clock right now and could kick their ass. But you’re a professional - so you hold your head high, and you keep moving.

You make it into the clear glass doors of the hospital, and that’s when the third thing hits - the smell. Your sense of smell had dropped drastically when this “pollen” had originally got you, but there was a mysterious smell coming from somewhere in the hospital that was calling out to you. It smelled like hot chocolate on a winter’s day, the kind that you have right next to the fireplace after having been outside for too long. It smelled like home, and almost mindlessly, you try to follow it.

You’re stopped pretty quickly by a nurse, who mutters something about “heat” and “omega” to one of the passing nurses. You’re led to sit down, but the bright lights of the waiting room are nauseating, and you almost lose your whole lunch as your world spins.

“-you okay? Is there anything we can do for you? If you forgot your heat suppressants, I can direct you to the pharmacy down the street-”

“Heat? What are you talking about?” You respond, snapping your head towards hers, “I’m here to see Dr. Zayne. He’s my primary care physician? Something’s wrong, I just went through a Wanderer attack, and-”

She shushes you, looking over her shoulder (likely for back-up, even you can tell you’re acting a bit crazed right now).

“Honey, you’re in heat. At this point, all we can do is suggest a heat partner. Do you have a ride home?”

You frown, still not understanding. In heat? You’re a beta, always have been. You don’t have to worry about finicky things like “heats” or “ruts”. You move to try and explain this to her, but a voice from behind the nurse cuts you off.

“Is everything alright? What could you possibly be doing here this late - oh.”

Zayne’s voice sends a spike of heat through your body, and you can’t help the smallest of whines from slipping out of your mouth. It’s quiet, but you can tell he hears it, and his whole demeanor shifts.

“Did they tell you what happened?”

The nurse tries to tell Zayne what you’ve told her so far, but he’s not actually listening - all of his senses are honed in on you. He notes your symptoms - visible fever, shortness of breath, pupils dilated - and he motions for the nurse to move, offering you an arm.

“They’re my patient. They’ll listen to me,” he tells the nurse, keeping his composure as much as he can.

He won’t tell her that it’s because he’s merely a man, a selfish one at that, and he can’t stand the burning looks of the other alphas in the room boring into you. To them, you’re nothing more than a good time, a pretty little omega for them to fuck and move on. Something protective rumbles in his chest before he can stop it. The nurse sends him a skeptical look, about to protest, when you grip on to his extended arm, and oh. Your skin isn’t even touching his, and yet it’s like a wet dream come true. You set him alight, and it takes everything in his power not to coo at you as you lean your weight into him.

“Zayne, what’s happening to me?” You sigh, looking up at him with your eyes blown wide.

“Let me get you to my office, okay? I can tell you everything you need to know there, just need to get you away from-” he sends a weary, menacing look to any wandering eyes behind him, “-from all of these heathens.”

“Okay,” you respond, so soft and sweet it sends a sick sort of thrill down Zayne’s spine.

He knows as he leads you to his office it’s a bad idea. He knows, but he can’t help himself. He’ll regret it in the morning, but for now? For now, he can have you, his darling, all needy for him in his office. He imagines bending you over every surface of the room, pushing your bare body up against the glass for everybody to see - and he’s already leaking. If you were a well attuned omega, you would be able to smell the lust rolling off of him in waves, but you don’t know what’s happening to you. All you know is that something about Zayne is sending your body into a frenzy, and you want nothing more than to burn under his touch.

Finally, finally, you make it into his office, where he guides you to sit on the couch there. He hovers for a moment, as if contemplating his next move, before leaving you there to lock the door (odd - you don’t remember him ever locking the door for your other appointments). He’s almost on top of you in the next instant, and his scent makes your brain foggy and your limbs heavy. He smells like warmth on a winter day, and you’re acutely aware, if only for a moment, that you’d let him do anything to you.

He reaches out with a hand, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to look up at him. His other hand brushes stray hairs from your face, before falling back to his side. He looks just as crazed as you feel, his pupils swallowing the chocolate brown of his eyes. If it weren’t for the lab coat he was wearing, you’d be able to see the wet patch he’s leaving on the front of his slacks, his cock already straining for release.

“So?” Yyou ask, eyeing him curiously. You’re a little on edge now, your senses a little sharper.

You may have been hit by something funny, but you’re not stupid. Zayne, in all of his quiet composure, has a tell - the tips of his ears are dusted with a light pink, and he pushes up his glasses not once, but twice (even if they’re not on his face. It makes you giggle every time). He’s holding something back, and you’re worried all over again.

That’s when a terrible pain rips through your body, like your abdomen is being ripped apart from the inside. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of you, and a sob wracks your body. Zayne rushes forward as your body goes limp.

“Hey, hey, look at me, darling,” he says, urgency lacing his tone.

“Look at me.”

The pain ebbs a bit as he nears, but you can still feel the way the pain tears at your stomach. Barely lucid, your weary eyes find his, pleading and wet.

“I can help, okay? Are you okay with me helping? Just let go for me, darling.”

He’s close - too close - but God, you could care less right now. There’s nothing in the room right now but him, in all of his glory, hovering just inches away from you.

You give him the smallest of nods, but it’s enough. Enough for him to spring into action, hand already working at the button of your pants. You’re so wet with slick that he has to peel them off your skin, but it’s worth it to see you, poised on his work couch in only your underwear.

He thumbs at the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping under it teasingly.

“May I?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, go ‘head,” you say back, voice gravelly with want.

But he doesn’t take them off like you thought he would - instead, he shoves his face right up against your entrance, lapping at it through the soaked fabric of your underwear. Your hips buck instinctually, and his hands find their way to your thighs, kneading at them. Your legs try to close around his head, but he gives you a warning look over his glasses, and you try your best to keep them spread. A small smirk appears on his face at your obedience, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, because he’s already diving back in for more.

Even through your underwear, he can taste your arousal so potently, coating his tongue like the sweetest ambrosia. He’s sucking it through your underwear like a pervert. All open-mouthed and nasty, but it’s only making the slick pour from your entrance like a waterfall. Watching the usually cool and collected Zayne fall apart at merely a taste of you was dragging you close to an early edge. His glasses are starting to fog at the heat you’re radiating, but he doesn’t care - just dives deeper into you. He wants to taste you on his tongue forever, to keep his pretty, perfect omega satisfied. He doesn’t need anything from you, the bulge in his pants meant nothing to him. All he can think about is drawing those sweet little noises from you.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and in a pleasure-seeking haze, you grind his face into your entrance. He groans, rich and deep, and it sends pleasant shockwaves through your system. Everything is hazy, like you’ve stepped into a dream, but you keep rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high. You’re heavy eyelids lift long enough to catch him staring up at you reverently, glasses askew and foggy, and that’s all it takes to send you spiralling over the edge. His unabashed worship for you, even now, made you clench around nothing as you came, the universe exploding into a million stars behind your eyes.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come back down, but by the time you do, Zayne has you in his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The sensitive spot just below his ear is where his scent is the strongest, and when your head feels like your own again, you shift to nuzzle your nose into it. When that’s not enough, you start to nip at his neck, placing gentle kisses between lips. You can hear him exhale through his nose, and you feel the way he stiffens beneath you, trying not to interfere with whatever you’re doing. But he’s just so sensitive, and the little “anh!” that escapes his lips at your ministrations sounds almost like a whine.

“Are-mnph-are you feeling-ah-better?” He stutters out, his whole body weak to your touch.

“Mhm,” you mumble out against his neck, still not quite sure what you’re doing.

All you know is that he smells intoxicating, and you need more of him. You want to feel every inch of his skin against yours, want to cut him open and crawl inside of his skin so you can feel him everywhere. It makes you sick just how badly you yearn for him at this moment, and you bite down a little harder at the soft flesh of Zayne’s neck, grinning against his skin when his hips buck up against you.

“Mine.” You declare, before you can stop it.

It feels so natural, to call him yours. Almost like it’s always been that way. It twists your gut in a way you don’t understand, so you don’t try to. Instead, you lean back, taking in Zayne under you.

He’s flushed, a pretty red that spreads all the way from his cheeks down his neck, and he looks like your wettest dreams. He’s gnawing at his lip as he looks up at you so prettily, and your eyes flick down to them - a question. As you lean in, you give him enough time to back out, but he sinks into you instead, meeting your lips halfway. It’s a juxtaposition to the filthiness that went on earlier, the way he kisses you like you’re something delicate. You can still taste the hints of yourself on his tongue, and it makes you melt against him, fingers tangling into the short hair at the back of his neck. The moment shifts, and everything starts to feel more intimate. With the worst of the pain gone, you realize this is Zayne, your Zayne, the one who made you little snow seals when the seals at the aquarium made you feel bad. The one who texts you to make sure you’ve eaten lunch, and to make sure you’re not overworking yourself (to which you usually respond “hypocrite”, which shuts him up awful fast). You’re overwhelmed with something akin to embarrassment, and you pull away.

“Are you okay, darling?” He searches your face, concern written all over his expression. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

You hum, a noncommittal thing, still too embarrassed to properly look him in the eyes. He huffs, and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, dragging you so close that your forehead knocks against his.

“Talk to me.”

It’s not a question, this time. It’s a command, and heat sparks in your stomach anew.

“I just…’m sorry I dragged you into whatever this is,” you say, unsure of yourself.

“I know this is probably just work to you, but-”

“It’s never just work with you.”

He says it with such sincerity you can’t help but lean in to kiss him again, short and chaste. You hope he can feel your love in every move you make against him, that this means something more than just sex to you.

And then it hits again - that twisting heat in your abdomen, like a punch to your stomach. It’s less bad, now that you’re pressed against Zayne, but it still makes you hiss, hand moving to put pressure on your stomach. He moves to pull you closer, looking down at your shaking frame.

“Anything you need, darling. Anything.”

So you beg. You plead until all that’s left of your voice is wispy breaths. You’re not even quite sure what you’re saying anymore, overwhelmed by the raw need to feel him fill you up, to have him carve the shape of himself into you. Your lips find his neck again, and your hands fumble for his belt, buried under the thick weight of his lab coat. His thighs twitch underneath you, and you shift just enough to yank his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, enough for his cock to spring out of its confines. It smacks heavily against his black button-up, and god, is it glorious.

He’s impressive in length and in girth, the kind of thickness that would just split you apart if you weren’t already dripping for him. A lone blue vein runs up the underside of his cock, prominent and glistening with his own precum.You can feel your mouth watering at the idea of tracing it with your tongue. But when you go to slide off of Zayne to do so, his fingers find purchase on your hips, dragging your dripping heat to rest just over his leaking cock. You both groan at the contact, and you can’t help but press down into him, catching your clit right on the throbbing head of his dick. Heat overtakes your body, and your hips can’t help themselves as they began to rut down into him, your body begging you for more.

“I-fuck-I need t’feel you, need it, alpha,” you pant out, already forgetting your desire to taste him.

His eyes roll back in his head, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, hard enough to bruise. Something inside of you purrs at the idea of him marking you up with the kind of bruises that leave no doubts about what happened tonight.

“Darling I-hngh!-can’t hold b-back anymore,” Zayne starts, heaving as your hips refuse to slow down, “I have to have you. Can I? Please, can I have you?”

You can barely nod before an obscene rip echoes in the room. Between Zayne’s fingers is the tattered remains of your underwear, a lewd string of slick connecting it to your entrance still. You watch in awe as he presses the ripped fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. His tongue darts out, and a groan rumbles out of his chest when he gets another taste of your slick, his dick twitching pathetically against your now bare entrance.

And when his tip just barely catches against your entrance? It’s over, his cock already spurting hot cum against you, coating his abdomen.

“W-what a waste, darling,” he murmurs, muffled by the underwear still pressed to his face. “Should-hah-should’ve been i-inside.”

And his free hand moves from its place on your hip down to his release, scooping up some of the sticky mess onto his fingers. Before you have a chance to question him, he’s pressing his fingers to your entrance, forcing his cum inside of you. The feeling of his thick fingers stretching your entrance has your head falling back and your mouth falling open in a silent scream. His fingers reach so deep, and you wonder, briefly, if you’ll even be able to take his cock. They escape your entrance once again, just to messily smear more cum into your hole, mean and unforgiving.

If you weren’t so lost in your own pleasure, you’d be able to see how Zayne couldn’t look away from your entrance, now dripping with a mix of your slick and his release. He was hypnotized by the way you can’t help but grind down on his fingers, begging for more of him. He curls them just right, and his breath catches in his throat when you fall forward into him, moaning out his name. No pleas, no “alpha!”, just Zayne.

A sick, twisted part of him hopes it takes. He can already see it - how beautiful you’d be all round and heavy with his pups - and it makes him burlly another finger into your entrance, trying to dig his cum deeper into you. All he can think about is you, his sweet little darling, all powerful and strong, reduced to his little housewife.

“Can’t take it anymore,” you whine, snapping him out of his perverted daydream. “Want your knot, want to feel you fill me up, please.”

And something mean twists in Zayne’s gut, something sharp twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at you. He slips the tattered underwear into the pocket of his lab coat, and his now freed hand moves to tilt your head to look at him.

“Are you sure, darling? I’m not sure I believe you,” he responds, eyes glowing with mirth, “Beg for it.”

What a cruel alpha he is, making a heat-riddled omega beg for his cock. But the idea of him not filling you up sends you into a frenzy, frantic pleas falling from your mouth as you squeeze around his fingers pathetically.

“No, no! Need it, promise I do. C-can’t you feel how-ahn!-wet I am? Please, ‘m drippin’ for you, need to feel your cock fill me up, need you to mark me as yours-uhn! I’m yours, aren’t I, Zayne?”

At the sound of his name, so sweet falling from your lips, Zayne rips his fingers from your entrance, fumbling to grasp at the base of his aching dick. It’s flushed red and he’s not sure how long he’s going to last inside of you when you’re looking at him like that. Like he’s the only thing left in the world, like you love him.

But neither of you can even think once his cock slides into your entrance. No amount of fingering could have prepared you for just how thick he truly was, and tears bead at the corners of your eyes at the stretch. And it just keeps going, keeps sinking into your heat until you feel him all the way in your stomach. His tip is kissing your cervix so sloppily, and it makes your walls clench around him.

And suddenly you’re in the air. You’re dizzy and disoriented as you move, his dick sliding impossibly deeper in a way that has your legs locking behind his back, keeping him there. His teeth dig into your shoulder at that, trying to keep his sounds down, but it’s impossible when you just feel so good.

With one hand, Zayne balances you against his body, and with the other, he sweeps the papers and trinkets off of his desk, not caring where they end up. He cradles your head as he drops your back to meet the cold surface of his desk, always worried about your safety, even when he’s balls deep in you. It makes your heart squeeze in your chest, an unfamiliar warmth flooding your body.

You don’t have much time to think, though, before he’s pulling his hips back until only his tip is still inside you. He stays there for a moment, loving the way you pulse around his sensitive head, before his self-control fully snaps, and he’s bucking into you wildly. The desk creaks under you, shifting under the raw power of Zayne’s thrusts, until you hear it roughly thunk against the wall.

You’re certain the whole wing can hear you two, bodies sliding and humping at each other like animals, but you don’t care, not when his cock is slamming into that spot that makes you see stars. Your body surrenders to the heat overtaking it, surrenders to him, and you’re limp in his hold, forced to take until your body is satisfied.

“Z-Zayne, mark, pl-uhn-please?” You beg between moans.

And this isn’t really consent, not when you’re so deep in an unfamiliar heat, and the back of Zayne’s mind is screaming at him to stop, don’t give in. But when your head falls to the side, baring your neck to him so submissively, how was he ever supposed to resist?

His canines sink into the delicate flesh of your skin, right in the juncture where your scent gland rests, and it’s like fireworks explode behind your eyes. It feels like your souls are intertwining, a metaphysical connection that fills your entire being with the warmth of a thousand suns. Your body convulses under him, but that just makes him dig his teeth into your skin harder, the metallic taste of your blood filling his mouth. Only when your convulsing turns into weak twitching does Zayne’s jaw unlock. He presses gentle kisses into your shoulder, licking at the blood dripping from his mark, unable to stop his hips from still bucking into your sensitive body.

“You’re mine, mine, you hear me?” He babbles, not even realizing he’s saying anything at all.

“My omega, my perfect little darling, a-aren’t you? Fuck, ‘m gonna fill you up so good, make you-mhm-round with my pups, make you a pretty momma, knot you again and again and again until i-it takes. Do you-hah-want that, darling? Want to be my perfect little wife?”

Your head is filled with cotton and your limbs don’t feel like they’re even yours anymore, but you blink your weary eyes up at Zayne. His silhouette is blurry from the tears you can’t seem to control, but even blurred he’s still a sight to behold.

His glasses are barely still on his face, askew and only really still hooked on one of his ears. He’s still almost fully dressed, but his collar is mussed, and his pants and boxers have made their way around his ankles. His belt, still looped through his pants, clanks against the floor with every harsh thrust of Zayne’s hips, mixing into the symphony of moans and squelches filling his office.

It’s obscene and sloppy, everything is dishevelled in a way that is so markedly not Zayne, but it makes you clench around him nonetheless. Only you get to see him like this, make him like this. It sends a thrill down your spine, and a rush of heat floods your abdomen, your walls fluttering around Zayne’s girth.

“Darling, darling, feel so good for me, are you going to let go? Let go, let me feel you cum around me.” Zayne coos, looking down at you adoringly.

You frantically shake your head. You’re close, unbearably so, but you want-need Zayne to come undone with you. So you lift your feeble hands to grip at the hair at the back of Zayne’s neck and to pull his collar to the side. With the last of your strength, you yank him down to you, right into your eager mouth. He gasps as your teeth sink into his scent gland, and that’s all it takes - the base of his cock swells, and you can feel his knot start to take. The pathetic whimper that escapes Zayne’s mouth as your teeth sink deeper into his skin is enough to tip you off the edge, and you cum hard, biting into Zayne’s neck in a weak attempt to muffle your noises. It doesn’t matter anymore, really - the slam of the desk against the wall and the wailing you did earlier was certainly enough to tip anyone off to what was happening in here. But as you start to come back down to Earth, a wave of embarrassment overcomes you. This was your best friend. You just had sex - you just mated - your best friend, and an embarrassing part of you doesn’t even care. You’ve just claimed and marked the illustrious Doctor Zayne as yours, and he’s going to have to walk around the hospital after this, smelling like you and wearing your mark on his gland.

“It’s going to be a while before my knot goes down.” Zayne says, his voice still strained but mostly back to his normal matter-of-fact tone.

His knot. It all floods back to you - how you pleaded for his knot, how you begged him to mark you - and you fluster under his watchful eye.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, still unable to really even look at him, “I shouldn’t have forced you to do this, to…to mark me.”

You say it with so much contempt that it makes the ever-stoic Zayne frown, concern written in the creasing of his eyebrows. The hand thumbing at your hip moves to cradle your face, and he leans closer to you, wincing at the way his sensitive cock shifts inside of your gummy walls.

“Do you…” he ponders for a moment, “Do you regret it?”

He looks at you, searching your eyes for even a hint of anger at him, but all he finds is guilt. Like somehow you were at fault for all of the sick things Zayne did to you when you didn’t know what was happening to you. It makes something in his stomach flip, sadistic and cruel. You were so sweet, thinking that any of this was somehow your fault, and it makes him want to bite into your scent gland all over again. It was likely that the effect of whatever hit you would soon fade, but a little voice in the back of his head hopes that the mark he left doesn’t fade with it. That when you have to go back to work, all of the people that so much as glance at you can tell that you’re his, that you’re off-limits forever. In every lifetime, he’s given himself up to get even a taste of your love, and a certainty settles into his gut that he’ll never be able to let you go again, not after he’s had you.

“Do…do you regret it?” You ask, still carrying that heavy guilt in your eyes.

“Of course not,” Zayne responds, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I could never regret anything if it’s with you.”

– – –

ehehe thank you for reading!!! I don't have a sylus part planned, buuuut if anybody wants it please let me know! I just unlocked him and I wouldn't be opposed...

(also if you have other ideas for LADS send them in! I am so feral about them right now I will write just about anything)

#daisy writes<3 #daisy's series: in heat!#lads smut #love and deepspace smut #lads a/b/o #a/b/o #omegaverse #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne smut #zayne x reader #yes i'm on my freak shit again i'm so sorry

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aelinad · 7 months ago

Text

Staged Romance - Kim Namjoon One-Shot

Pairing: !Idol Namjoon x f. reader

Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞

Word count: ~ 28k

Summary: Y/N and Namjoon enter into a mutual agreement to fake date, with Y/N aiming to catch Jimin's attention and Namjoon hoping to win back his ex. What starts as a carefully crafted plan to fool everyone around them slowly begins to unravel as real emotions creep in. With every stolen glance, shared laugh, and moment of vulnerability, they find themselves questioning the boundaries they've set. When pretending becomes indistinguishable from reality, Y/N and Namjoon must decide if this is still part of the plan or the start of something real.

!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, fingering, a bit slow burn, angst, fluff, female riding,

Love the story? ☕ Support me on Ko-fi! 💕 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ll step out for a bit” I said as I stood up from the table where I had been hanging out with the whole BTS group. It was late at night, and after all the filming they had done for their newest Run BTS show, the staff had booked them a two-story house for the night. We had just finished dinner and were chatting at the table while playing some games. Earlier, I had been seated between Namjoon and Taehyung, with Jimin and J-Hope in front of us, and my sister and her boyfriend, Jungkook, to their right. Jin and Suga were tired and had gone to sleep straight after dinner. I decided to step out onto the balcony for a few minutes.

My sister was deeply in love with Jungkook, and he felt the same way about her. I wouldn’t say I was jealous, but my situation with my crush on one of the group members had never progressed any further. Every time we met on days like this, I felt a pang of disappointment. It’s not that I lack the courage to confess my feelings, I just sensed that he wasn’t interested. Jimin had always been polite and kind, and that was that. I tried to distract myself from my feelings as I stared at the view ahead. The night was a bit chilly, so I quickly lit up a cigarette. I had never been a fan of smoking, but life happens and sometimes it leads to bad habits. I put the cigarette between my lips and took out my lighter. After multiple attempts, I kept failing to get it lit.

“Damn, I can’t even light this” I muttered to myself. All this crush drama and the work I had to return to tomorrow made me feel burned out. Sometimes, I wished I could just book a flight and go on vacation to clear my mind.

Then, a small flame lit up in front of my face. I stepped back, surprised.

“I saw you out here and noticed you were struggling with that.” Namjoon said, pointing to the lighter I was clutching.

“Ha! So you could tell from that far that I’m new to this? I don’t even think it’s broken, I just haven’t used it properly. I’ve only done it a few times over the past few days.”

“Never thought I would see you smoke. You should drop it; it’s a bad habit.” Namjoon took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, lighting it and nodding in my direction, telling me to bring mine closer so he could light it.

“You do realize you’re smoking too, even though you said that, and lighting mine isn’t going to make me quit.” I replied as I approached, the cigarette back in between my lips while looking at him.

“I’ll forgive you tonight, you seem to have a lot on your mind judging on how you left earlier.” He said as he came closer, covering the cigarette with his free hand and lighting the cigarette for me, his gaze never breaking mine.

“Joon, I didn’t know you were so observant. But yeah, I do, life’s been rough lately.” I said as I blew my first puff in the air.

“Well, I just hope it isn’t the fault of a particular person,” he teased.

“Huh? Wait, what?” I panicked, feeling my cheeks flush.

“You like Jimin, don’t you?” At that moment, I think I stopped breathing. He said it so bluntly, like it was a fact. The thought of anyone inside the house overhearing made me incredibly embarrassed. I knew for a fact that no one had heard it, they all were quite loud in there. Besides my sister, no one knew about my feelings.

“What gave that away? Haha! I mean, I have a crush on all of you, in case you didn’t know.” I said nervously, hoping that maybe by saying that, I could hint to him that it was true, but he didn’t have to know the specifics.

“Yeah, right. You kept staring at him the whole time during dinner and while we played games.”

“Was it that obvious?” I facepalmed myself.

“Let’s say a little bit,” Namjoon said, puffing out some smoke.

There was a brief silence after that, the only sound being the smoke from our cigarettes. I decided to break the silence again.

“Well, now you know the truth, I guess, and as you might know, he doesn’t feel the same way, so these feelings will fade on their own.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at me. “How do you know he doesn’t like you back?”

“Well, he’s never initiated anything like that. I don’t think he’s ever come to talk to me first, it has always been me! Gosh, that sounds so pathetic, right?”

“No, I can see what you mean. Maybe he’s shy and just needs a little push.”

“Like what?” I had heard that so many times from my sister that I couldn’t bear Namjoon saying it again. So I snapped, sounding a bit more on edge than I intended.

“I don’t know, maybe by making him realize what he’s losing out on or something like that.”

“I understand what you mean, but I would like the person I like to know beforehand, not me having to squeeze it out of them.”

“Right, but nobody’s perfect, so you might have to give that small push.”

“Well, I don’t even know how to start…” I trailed off focusing on looking at the ground.

“Use me.”

“What?!?” My head snapped back and I nearly dropped the remainder of my cigarette on the floor. “Aren’t you in a relationship, or did I hear that wrong?”

“Nope, you heard it right. And to answer your other question, I broke up with her a few weeks ago. Actually, she sorta broke up with me. I was thinking about making her jealous to show her what she lost, kinda like your situation. We should help each other out, get what we want, and then go back to normal.”

“Wait, so she broke up with you? What the hell, for real? Her loss though… So does that mean you want to fake-date for a while to see how things turn out? I mean, I’m not against it, but there are a million things that could go wrong. I have to tell my sister about it, and probably Jungkook with his big mouth will spill the beans, and what about the media? How’s that going to work?”

“Well, first, don’t tell your sister the whole truth for now, just spin this whole situation with a white lie. As for the media, we won’t go out in public together—just to closed events that my ex might attend, along with other staff members at nights like this when it’s only us as a group.”

“Right… and how long are we faking this? We can’t just go out there and drop the bomb on the members and be like, ‘Hey guys, we’re dating.’ That will confuse everyone!”

“Don’t worry about that. They might think I’m the jerk who is using you after my ex, but we want Jimin’s attention, don’t we? So he can notice you properly, although now that I’ve said it, you being my fake girlfriend and him having feelings for you kinda hurts my ego.”

“Look who’s jealous now! Haha. But omg, this is crazy, Namjoon. How long have you been planning this?” I questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“I just thought about it after seeing you here on the balcony.” he said, raising his shoulders, as if it was no big deal.

“Wow, I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You just don’t. We can discuss everything in detail later. Are you in or not?”

My mind was racing. I had always been very calculative, I’d never been spontaneous, like those people who book a flight within a day and leave for a trip, returning a month later, especially not like this. But something about Namjoon’s plan made me feel safe. Yes, it would cause a little drama in the group, but I doubted it would lead to anything major, right?

“Fuck it. Yes, I’m in… but we are definitely setting some rules later on.”

“Then shall we?” Namjoon extended his hand toward mine, motioning towards the room. I let him take it, and we both smiled at each other as we walked back hand in hand where the others were.

***

The room had changed since I quickly left for the balcony. Now, everyone was engaged in different activities. My sister and Jungkook were deep in conversation, laughing about something, while J-hope was dancing to some background music. Taehyung and Jimin were laughing loudly, watching him. Namjoon and I walked toward the table, still holding hands. J-hope noticed us first, abruptly stopping his dance and screamed loudly, shaking the whole house. You could hear Yoongi and Jin coming out of their rooms, frustrated about the commotion.

J-hope’s eyes widened, and everyone followed his gaze to our linked hands. My eyes instinctively searched Jimin's face. I couldn’t pinpoint his reaction; he clearly wasn’t laughing anymore, but his expression was unfazed, and I had no idea what he might be thinking.

“Y/N! Why are you holding hands with Namjoon?” my sister exclaimed, rising from her chair in shock. I had anticipated her reaction, but at that moment, my throat went dry. I didn’t know what excuse to give. It looked like Namjoon sensed my hesitation. He squeezed my hand once and stepped toward my sister, not letting go of my grip.

“Well, you caught us! We just started dating this week and didn’t want to keep it from you guys any longer, so we decided to announce it today. Y/N was telling me that you might kill her later if we dragged this out without telling everyone,” Namjoon said, while everyone stood in silence. From time to time, I averted my gaze from him to Jimin, who didn’t bother to look at me directly but was actively listening to his hyung.

“Well, congrats, guys! Is this why J-hope screamed?” Suga said, yawning. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, me too. But congrats!” Jin added as he headed back to his room.

“Whoa, that explains why you guys were seated next to each other today!” Taehyung said, covering his mouth as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“I noticed you following her after she excused herself, but I didn’t think you were dating, hyung,” J-hope chimed in.

“Y/N, as long as you’re happy I am too but you have to tell me all the details later,” my sister said. “Yeah, congrats, guys! Now your sister and I won’t be the only couple here!”Jungkook exclaimed.

“Thanks, everyone,” I said, smiling at how supportive they were, even though this was all just a facade. I really hoped they wouldn’t be upset later when we had to tell them that we were ‘’breaking up’’.

“Didn’t you just break up with your ex, Namjoon?” Jimin finally spoke up. I hadn’t expected him to go after Namjoon like that.

“Yes, she dumped me weeks ago, but I always had my eyes on Y/N. She’s different, as you might have noticed,” Namjoon replied, turning to me with a smile.

“Congrats, then,” Jimin said, rising from his chair. “I’m going to sleep, I’m actually tired.” He glanced at Taehyung, probably signaling him to follow since they were sharing a room.

“Thanks, bro. We should probably all go to sleep anyway, it’s late.” Namjoon pulled me closer and kissed my cheek before leaving quickly, leaving everyone stunned.

The room fell silent, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. I probably looked like a teenage girl who just interacted with her crush. His gesture was making this feel less fake than it was. Damn him.

Everyone was looking at me, including Jimin, who slowly looked me up and down before leaving after Namjoon.

“Well, Y/N, I’m happy for you and Namjoon. You seem to like each other a lot! We can tease you two later. I’m off to sleep, too. Bye!” J-hope said, dragging Taehyung with him as they left.

It was just me, Jungkook, and my sister now.

“I’ll leave you girls to it. Goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight, love,” Jungkook quickly pecked my sister on the lips and left the living room.

“Look, let’s discuss this tomorrow; I want to sleep too!” I quickly fake yawned looking at my sister.

“No way, sissy! We’re staying up all night until you give me all the details!” she said and pulled my arm towards our room.

Great, this is going to be a long night.

*** The next morning, I woke up after only two hours of sleep. The late-night conversation I had with my sister about Namjoon made everything feel surreal. Sure, I’d lied a bit, letting her believe that this was real, but she’d understand later, I didn’t want her accidentally telling Jungkook and blowing our cover.

I grabbed my phone, got up, and started dressing to go for a walk to clear my head. I decided to just wear something casual , a white tank top and jeans. Mid-change, my sister woke up.

“Y/N, what’s with all the noise? I want to sleep,” she groaned.

“You’d have slept better if you hadn’t insisted on talking last night,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to Namjoon’s already?” she teased getting up to look at me.

I finished putting on my top and headed toward the door. “I’m getting coffee first. See you later.”

As I opened the door and took a step forward, I smacked right into a firm chest. After a second, my blurry vision cleared, and I looked up to see Namjoon, his fist raised as if about to knock.

“Ouch,” I muttered, rubbing my head.

“You alright?” he asked, concerned in his voice.

“Oh my god, Joon! She was just coming to you!” my sister shouted from her bed.

“Is that true?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I quickly closed the door so my sister couldn’t hear or see us anymore. “No,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Sure,” he replied, his dimples showing in a playful grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Can’t confirm or deny.”

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked, curious.

“Well, you mentioned we had some unfinished ‘rules’ to go over. I figured since everyone’s still asleep, I’d come get you and finalize everything.”

“What if I hadn’t answered the door? I barely slept last night.”

“I’d have walked in,” he said with a shrug.

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Scared, Y/N?”

“Me? Never. But seriously, what if I was changing? And I share a room with my sister.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” he teased, earning a smack on the arm from me.

“Ouch! Relax, I’m joking. We need to make this look convincing, you know, we can’t act like just friends.”

“Fine. Just save it for when others are around, then.”

“Alright, let’s head to the park nearby. I doubt anyone would be there to recognize us this early.”

“Sure.”

***

We found ourselves sitting on a bench at the park. It was early, and no one else was around.

“So, I think we should come up with some rules, like they do in the movies,” I suggested.

“Don’t people end up falling for eachother in the movies when they say this?” he questioned me.

“Hello! You know what I mean, stop joking around.” I said, slapping his arm.

“Okay okay…I’m up for whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N. You say your rules, and I’ll say mine.”

“Fine. So, this is kind of cliché, but no kissing unless absolutely necessary, like if people are starting to suspect something. I don’t want this to be too… cheesy.”

“I understand that,” he said, nodding. “But if you want to kiss me, Y/N, just say so.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Okay, I’m fine with other PDA stuff. But you have to let me know if you’re seeing anyone for real or if that ex returns. I don’t want to interfere with anything important. Same goes for me if, say, Jimin confesses or something. And this lasts for a maximum of two months. We’re not dragging this out. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah, deal. It’s all in here, don't worry .” He tapped his head with his index finger following along with a grin. “Anything else you want to add?” I replied.

“Yeah, just one thing: promise not to fall in love with me.”

I gave him a deadpan look, but he burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face! I’ve always wanted to say that line.”

“Unbelievable. Are you serious? I thought you were better than this!” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Hey, I’ve always been this way,” he replied with a wink.

“Sure, sure…”

***

We decided to head back to the house after our chat. As we approached, Namjoon standing beside me suddenly took my hand and pulled me towards him. Now we were standing face to face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, leaning close. “Shh, he’s watching. Right there, on the balcony.”His head made a gesture leaning slightly forward towards the balcony’s direction but I didn't dare to turn my head and look.

And just like that, we walked toward the entrance, hand in hand.

“Here come the newlyweds!” Taehyung shouted as soon as we stepped in.

“Y/N, does this make you the group’s ‘mom’? Since Namjoon’s the dad and leader?” J-hope joked laughing.

Namjoon released my hand and muttered to me, “Gotta grab something from my room.” He slipped away, and I turned to J-hope, who was eagerly awaiting an answer.

“Yes, I guess I’m the mom now!” I declared, making a playful grab for him. He bolted, and I chased him into the living room while everyone laughed and shouted at us to stop.

We finally stopped running when Jimin came down the stairs, and I bumped into him, making us both fall to the floor.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, didn’t see you there!” I said flustered.

Jimin stood up quickly and stretched a hand out to help me, but before I could grab it, Namjoon stepped in and helped me up instead.

“I leave for one second and you already have other guys all over you Y/N,” Namjoon teased looking at Jimin and me.

“Not my fault! Blame J-hope,” I said, playfully glaring at him.

“Me?? I didn’t do anything!” J-hope protested from across the room.

“You’ve done it now, J-hope! You made Namjoon unhappy. Run for your life!” Jungkook shouted, grinning.

Namjoon took off after J-hope, and I was left standing next to Jimin.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyebrows slightly shooting upwards.

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

***

The rest of the day passed with a few more playful teases from the guys. The shoot was over yesterday, and we were all getting ready to leave. As everyone packed their things, we gathered in the living room to say our goodbyes. J-hope and Taehyung were still struggling to pack up so everyone decided to just stay downstairs till they finished. As for me I hadn’t gotten much sleep, and I felt myself starting to doze off on the couch.

Just before I drifted off, my phone buzzed with a message from Namjoon. I looked up to see him watching me with a small smile.

Namjoon: It was a close call earlier

Y/N: Close call for what? I replied, confused.

Namjoon: Jimin helping you and being all touchy

Y/N: Yeah, why did you interfere then?

Namjoon: You need to play hard to get.

I rolled my eyes at him, and he sent me a screenshot of our text conversation. Confused, I opened it to see if anything looked different but couldn’t figure it out.

Namjoon: I can see that confused look, I already changed your contact name to ‘Y/N <3’. Change mine, too.

“Fine,” I muttered.

After thinking about it, I matched him and set his name to ‘Namjoon <3’. I took a screenshot and sent it back to him.

His only reply was a single red heart.

***

After we left that day, Namjoon and I didn’t have much reason to meet up. We texted here and there, so my phone lit up with his name from time to time for my sister to see and his phone with my name for the boys. Although lately with the guys’ busy schedules, we didn’t actually hang out. Two weeks passed like this.

One day, my sister casually brought it up. “You know, even when he’s busy, Jungkook comes to see me. I haven’t seen you and Namjoon together at all. Are you guys even dating?”

I panicked. Was it that obvious? “Of course we are! He’s just been busy, but we talk every day. I was just about to visit him at the company,” I replied quickly, hoping she’d buy it. I didn’t even know Namjoon’s schedule for the day, so I could only hope he’d be there.

“Really? Jungkook mentioned they’re rehearsing a new choreography and might be there late tonight.”

Maybe I should go there just for today to clear any suspicions out .“Yep, I knew that! Well, see ya!” I said, grabbing my things and rushing out the house.

After a quick stop at the nearest convenience store to grab snacks for everyone, I tried calling Namjoon three times, but he didn’t pick up. Finally, I decided to just head to the company and hope for the best.

When I arrived at the building, I used the staff access card my sister had gotten from Jungkook. Despite Namjoon and I being a “couple,” no one else at the company knew, aside from the guys, so it would’ve been suspicious for me to have my own card.

I knew they’d be in one of the practice rooms, but there were a lot on the second floor, and other groups seemed to be practicing there at the same time. I tried my best not to look suspicious as I moved closer to each door, listening for any familiar music, hoping to recognize one of BTS’s new singles.

After several tries, I finally heard that familiar tune I was looking out for. I waited outside until the music stopped, indicating they were either taking a break or resetting. Once it was quiet, I slipped inside.

They were all there, gathered in front of a camera, analyzing their dance moves. Jimin noticed me first and gave a small smile.

The others must have caught on because Namjoon and the guys turned their heads toward me.

“Y/N!” J-hope shouted, “What are you doing here? Missed Joon already?”

I didn’t even bother responding. Namjoon quickly walked over and asked, “What are you doing here?” He positioned himself in front of me to shield me from the others’ view.

“Well, I tried calling three times to let you know I was coming, but you didn’t pick up. What else was I supposed to do?” I lowered my voice. “People are getting suspicious, you know. My sister even asked why we never hung out since announcing we were together.”

“I’ve been busy, as you can see…”

“I noticed, which is why I came here to act like the girlfriend who missed you and all that corny stuff.”

“Right… Okay, go on with the show.”

I looked over his shoulder to see if the other members were still watching, and they were, especially Jimin, who gave me a look that made me wonder if he was jealous or just amused. I set the snacks on the floor, wrapped my arm around Namjoon’s waist, and hugged him tightly.

“Bear with it for me a bit, Joon,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply, he just hugged and squeezed me back. After a couple of seconds, I let go, picked up the snacks, and walked over to the guys.

“Yes, J-hope, you’re right. But who said I don’t miss you all too? I also brought some snacks, I wasn't sure what everyone liked, so I just got a bit of everything.”

“WOAH! Y/N, you’re the best!” Taehyung shouted, rushing over to peek into the bags.

Jimin stepped up and took the bags from me, gently brushing my hand as he thanked me before taking them to a nearby table. The others gathered around while Namjoon stayed beside me. I felt his presence and turned to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can we do it after the shoot? We’ve got one more left.”

“Oh…” Feeling shy, I blurted out, “Can I stay and watch? Not in a creepy way, just until you’re done so we can talk privately.”

“Yes, I’d like that… I mean, yeah, sure. The others might think it’s cute, you waiting around like a proper girlfriend.”

“Hey, I am a good girlfriend, thank you very much! … Wait, do you think it’s cute when girls stay and watch you practice?”

“Not all girls, just my girlfriend,” he said with a wink.

“Oh please, you act like you’ve had so many.” I rolled my eyes.

“I won’t tell you how many, but… what I’m trying to say is, I want you to stay.”

“Okay…”I didn't know how to respond to that. But I had already decided that I wanted to stay.

“Joon, let’s finish this up so we can dig into the snacks!” Jin called from the table.

“Coming!” Namjoon replied, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back. It always catches me off guard when he does that. Flustered, I found a chair near the corner where the camera couldn’t catch me.

Soon, the music started, and all seven of them moved in perfect sync. My eyes traveled first to Jimin, his moves were fluid and perfectly on beat. Then I glanced at Namjoon, whose dancing had a different but equally captivating vibe. I couldn’t help but fangirl a little, watching them perform up close reminded me of just how professional they were. I didn’t even realize I’d been staring at Namjoon the entire time.

When the music stopped, everyone cheered, “Good job, everyone!”

I swear I heard Suga mutter, “Finally, I can go to sleep now.”

I laughed to myself, watching their reactions, and before I knew it, Jimin was standing in front of me.

“Hey, I think you bought too many snacks. Want to come over to the table and share with us?”

“Sure,” I replied, realizing I was actually hungry. “I left in a hurry to get here and might’ve skipped lunch.”

As I sat down at the table with everyone, Jimin took the seat right next to me. But Namjoon was nowhere to be seen—he’d disappeared entirely. Curious, I quickly slipped my phone under the table and messaged him to ask where he was. I must’ve looked worried, because Jin caught on and leaned over with a gentle smile.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alright? Want some ramen? I’m prepping some now.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Jin! Everything’s fine, don’t worry!” I replied, brushing off my concern. Namjoon was probably in the restroom or something. I started to dig in as Jin placed a warm bowl of ramen in front of me.

“So, Y/N, how far have you and Namjoon gone?” Taehyung teased, grinning mischievously.

I nearly choked on my noodles, coughing as Jimin shot Taehyung a sharp look and patted my back gently.

“Tae, that’s really none of your business,” Jimin retorted, his voice carrying a protective edge.

Taehyung just shrugged and grinned wider. “Come on, Jimin, we’re all friends here, right, Y/N? Where did Joon-hyung go either way? If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t leave you for one second alone!”

“Good thing you’re not her boyfriend then—you’d drive her insane,” Jimin muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, like you’re any better, Mr. Single,” Taehyung shot back.

“Not for long,” Jimin whispered, almost too low to hear. I turned to him with a curious look, only to see Taehyung caught off-guard, equally stunned.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up. “Gonna drag Namjoon back here so he doesn’t miss all the food.’”

I headed to the hallway, scanning the area for him. When he wasn’t on the second floor, I went downstairs, guessing he might be in the smoking area by the parking lot. I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. After twenty minutes of looking, I finally found him, but he wasn’t alone. A woman stood close, and from the look of things, they were deep in conversation. I approached quietly, not wanting to intrude, but as I got closer, I couldn’t help but overhear.

“How have you been?” she asked softly. “You know I have missed you.”’ she said while rocking in place and tracing her fingers along his bicep.

“Fine,” Namjoon replied, his voice tight, while staring at her hand. “What else do you want me to say? You know why we ended things. What do you want now, why are you here?”

Without a second thought, I stepped up beside Namjoon, slipping my arm through his yanking him away from her touch. “There you are, babe!” I said, smiling sweetly. “The guys have been waiting for you to join us.”

Namjoon looked over, startled, just as the woman frowned. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

I gave her a calm but pointed smile. “Who am I? The real question is who are you?”

“She’s…my ex,” Namjoon muttered, seeming caught between confusion and discomfort.

“Ah,” I said, squeezing his arm a bit. “In case you missed it, I’m his current girlfriend. And I plan on being the last, right, babe?”

Namjoon’s eyes went wide for a moment before he quickly nodded. “Uh…yeah.”

His ex scoffed. “Right. Is this some joke to make me jealous, Namjoon? You know these things don’t work with me. I know us so let’s go somewhere to talk alone shall we?”

Great, I thought. Typical ex drama. But I kept my cool. “No need, we will be leaving together instead…” I said with a tight smile.

I tugged on Namjoon’s arm to lead him away. “Come on babe, everyone’s waiting,” I said and Namjoon quickly added, “see you around!”

“Or not,” I added, giving her one last look before we left. As we walked arm-in-arm back to the elevator, I leaned closer to Namjoon, whispering, “What’s going on with you? You tell me to act like your girlfriend, and then you turn into a deer in headlights in front of her. She probably figured it out that we’re faking this.”

Namjoon seemed distracted, barely listening. “I know, sorry…it was just…unexpected.”

“Okay, so…are you on track to getting back with her?” I asked carefully, watching Namjoon’s face. “I mean, you should if that’s what you want. That’s why we started this whole fake-dating thing, anyway.” I sighed, suddenly feeling the messiness of the situation. “Besides, I don’t even know if Jimin is interested in me or not. He said something really confusing earlier…”

Namjoon and I stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft chime. He looked at me, pausing thoughtfully before he replied. “It’s complicated, Y/N, but I’m not going to break our two-month agreement now that the guys know. I gave you my word, remember?”

I nodded, somewhat reassured. “I thought so. Not to be rude, but…your ex seems like a…” I paused, choosing my words. “Not so very nice, let’s just say that.”

Before Namjoon could respond, the elevator shuddered and came to an abrupt halt between floors, the lights flickering for a split second before dimming to an emergency glow.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” I groaned, glancing up. “This is a high-end building, how does the elevator just get stuck?”

Namjoon placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry; just press the emergency button. They’ll fix it within a few minutes. No need to panic.”

“Right, yeah.” I rang the emergency bell and leaned back against the wall. “But still, I bet my ramen’s cold or eaten by now…” I muttered. I glanced at him, and he still seemed distant, like his thoughts were a million miles away. “Namjoon, are you even listening to me? You’ve been in a daze since we ran into her, is there something I should know?” I said, folding my arms.

“Y/N, can you stop?” he snapped suddenly, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.

I jumped slightly, startled by his tone. I was just trying to help. He looked regretful almost instantly but moved toward me, trapping me against the wall of the small elevator, his expression serious.

“I told you, it’s complicated. And it’s not just about her anymore, so can we drop it for now, please?”

“Why are you getting so worked up over all this?” I protested, meeting his gaze. “I was only trying to help. You know, you asked me to be your ‘girlfriend’, but you barely act like my boyfriend. Then when I do step in, you get all flustered.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead and leaning closer, so close that I could feel his breath. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s just…she cheated on me. She didn’t break up with me, I ended it because I found out. I really cared about her, but after that, I just felt…worthless. Like I don’t deserve to be loved.”

His confession hung heavy in the air. I felt a wave of empathy for him, my face softening at his confession. “Namjoon…you are one of the kindest people I know. You’re a great guy, and if anyone I know deserves love, it’s you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

He looked at me, his gaze softening and our eyes meeting. For a brief moment, he seemed to forget everything. His ex, the fake relationship, everything but the two of us in this tiny, dim elevator. He glanced down, and I felt the brush of his nose near mine, our faces inches apart.

“You say that, but you still like Jimin,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, almost vulnerable. “And that…feels unfair, doesn’t it?”

My heart skipped a beat. “I…” I started, but the words wouldn’t come. A warm flush rose to my cheeks as I met his gaze, and in that instant, his eyes flicked to my lips, lingering there for just a second before he looked away, resting his head on my shoulder. It felt as though all the tension and worry had finally let go, but as if on cue, the elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, revealing two maintenance staff…and Jimin and J-hope.

J-hope burst into laughter at the sight. “Well, well, Namjoon. Didn’t know you were so…romantic,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Are you two alright?” one of the staff members asked, extending a hand to help us out of the elevator. Namjoon stepped out first, then turned, offering me his hand, which I took, feeling more flustered than I’d expected.

Jimin stayed silent, watching us with an unreadable expression, Namjoon’s hand not letting mine go the whole time.

"I've always been like this. You just didn't need to know," he replied to J-hope.

"Oh, I mean as long as Y/N knows," J-hope chimed in with a smirk.

Namjoon and I didn’t respond, but he quickly leaned over and whispered that he had something to handle with the staff. He asked me to wait with the others until he returned.

Jimin spoke up first. "How long were you guys in there? We just heard the bell from the hallway."

"Yeah, Jimin was getting worried since you were taking so long," J-hope added. "So we came to check for you when we heard the alarm."

I was surprised, my mouth slightly open. I hadn’t expected Jimin to be so concerned. It was unusual... and kind of nice?

"Oh, thank you for looking out for me," I replied, glancing at Namjoon, who was handing some cash to the maintenance guys. He quickly came back over, giving us a knowing look.

"I’ll explain along the way," he murmured as he leaned closer to my ear.

Taking my hand, he led us back toward the practice room, with Jimin and J-hope trailing behind. Once we were a bit farther from them, Namjoon spoke quietly. "I had to give the staff some money to keep them from spreading rumors about us. We only wanted the guys to know, and well... my ex. Speaking of which, what did you want to discuss again? Sorry for earlier, I rushed to get a hoodie from my car downstairs and ran into her. That’s why I was late. You know the rest."

"Oh, that explains it. Don’t worry about why I came here to talk —I just needed to convince my sister that we’re still together since we haven’t been going on any dates lately. I called you earlier while I was looking for you but you didn’t pick up.” I paused, then asked, “Do you even have my number because you act like you don't." I said with a sigh.

"C’mon, babe, you know I’ve got it," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and glancing back at Jimin. "I’ll make sure to call you every day from now on and promise to answer every text and call."

"Alright, you better! Also the other reason I came here was that…. I was thinking we should go out one of these days, just for an hour or so, and take a few couple photos. We don’t have any of those, and it’d be nice to have them on our phones. No need to do anything too extravagant, you know typical couples things."

"Sure, but we could also take one right now," he said, pulling out his phone. He lifted the phone, leaned his head close to mine, closed his eyes, and flashed his dimples before snapping the photo, his arm still wrapped around me, catching me completely off guard.

"There, you look cute," Namjoon said, smiling. "I just sent it to you."

"You know we can still see you guys, right? We’re just behind you!" J-hope called out, laughing.

"Now you know, J-hope. I’m shameless when it comes to love."

I felt my face heat up and turned away, bowing a little to the guys as a silent apology.

When we finally made it back to the practice room, the others were still eating. Besides my snack, they’d ordered fried chicken. They must have been starving.

*** After everyone finished up, I greeted the guys one last time, giving each of them a hug before deciding to make my way back home.This time, I opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, my heart racing as I recalled the moment I shared with Namjoon. I couldn’t help but blush, replaying that exchange in the lift. If no one had interrupted us, would it have led to a kiss? I facepalmed, trying to shake off the thought.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Namjoon probably still had feelings for his ex, despite the way she had treated him. And then there was Jimin, my feelings for him were still tangled up in my mind. I sighed as I made my way down the stairs, anxiety swirling within me.

I suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs, and panic surged through me. What if a crazy sasaeng saw me today and felt jealous? I quickened my pace, and as I rushed down, my vision became blurry. I lost my balance and found myself almost flying through the air, heading straight for the ground. Just as I felt gravity take hold, two strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me backward with such force that I bumped into something or rather someone. I managed to escape the tangled position and looked up to find Namjoon groaning.We both ended up on the floor, with his back against the wall crushed with his legs spread apart and me sitting between them. “Oh my god, Joon, what are you doing here? Didn’t you leave with the guys?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me? Not ‘Are you okay? Does anything hurt?’ or the fact that I just saved your life?” he hissed a bit in pain.

‘’Oh, that too! I am so sorry…. I quickly looked around gathering my words. “Let me explain!” Taking a deep breath I started explaining. ”I became paranoid and thought some crazy fan was following me. Why else would they take the stairs? No one knows that the elevator got stuck except us and the other guys. I mean, I thought I was about to be assaulted! I–uh … sorry, I should have turned my head and looked back. Don't mind me , I am… such a mess. How am I supposed to handle dating an idol like this? Maybe I shouldn��t even bother with dating at all, this girlfriend thing doesn’t seem to suit me.” I kept mumbling, and Namjoon kept looking at me with the same gaze I had seen back in the elevator. I think a tear escaped my eye, and he reached out, swiping it away with his thumb. Then, his hand locked onto the back of my head, pulling my head into his firm chest. “I’m sorry you went through that. Don’t worry, the company is safe most of the time,” Namjoon said quietly.

I let out a breath I had been holding and inhaled, catching a whiff of his scent. It was comforting.

“Y/N, I don’t think you understand how much any of the guys would love to date you now that they’ve seen how cute you act around me. I mean, you are my girlfriend, after all. The reason I came after you is simple: I wanted to drive you home. I’m pretty sure you walked all the way here carrying those snacks by yourself, not letting anyone help you. I thought I could take my car and drive you safely so we could discuss the date we’re going on along the way. But after I told the guys goodbye, you had disappeared, and I knew you wouldn’t dare take the elevator. I know you. After everything that happened, I rushed down the stairs after you. Maybe I should have called out your name to make it clearer that it was me. I’m sorry.”

I looked up at him, creating a bit of space between us. "You have nothing to apologize for. And yes, I’d actually love for you to drive me back; it sounds nice. Thanks for saving me… again haha."

I asked him once more if he was okay and if we needed to go to the hospital, worried that the bump might have had an impact. But he brushed it off, saying this was nothing compared to the rough training days he’d endured as a trainee. With some hesitation, I let it slide, for now.

We both laughed as we stood up and made our way to the parking lot where Namjoon had parked his car. Trying to lighten the mood after the incident, I joked, "It would be funny if your ex was waiting by your car, you know."

He glanced back at me, smirking. "I doubt it. I think you scared her off."

I scoffed. "I mean, she was all over you, and that pissed me off. Especially now that I know what she did to you… she deserved more of a scolding. I can’t believe people like her exist."

Namjoon raised a brow, grinning. "Careful, Y/N, you're starting to sound a little jealous."

"Huh? I’m just saying she shouldn’t be touching you like that. I’d feel the same way if anyone did that to one of my friends! This isn’t jealousy," I replied, looking away.

Namjoon chuckled as he pulled out his car keys and unlocked the car. We got in, and he began adjusting his seatbelt and checking his mirrors. I couldn’t help but find it a little endearing, so I quickly snapped a photo of him without him noticing. I just wanted a memory of all this when it was over.

Once he started the engine and began driving, we discussed when he was free to meet up again.

"I'm free tomorrow evening since we got most of the filming done today. How does that sound for you? Are you free?"

"Let me check my calendar," I replied, pulling out my phone to double-check. "Pretty sure I’m free too." After confirming I had no meetings or other plans, I smiled at him. "Yep, tomorrow evening works!"

"Perfect. I’ll need just three hours of your time."

"Only three hours? Wow, Namjoon, you really know how to disappoint a girl!" I laughed, teasing him. "Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘Give me the whole evening, baby!’"

Namjoon shook his head, chuckling. "Well, I was trying not to be too greedy, especially since you were the one who originally suggested just an hour. But hey, if you're offering…" He grinned, glancing over at me. "Actually, I don’t know if your sister mentioned it yet, but Jungkook has been bugging me for weeks about a double date. I finally told him I’d consider it, only if you said yes, of course. It could help clear any doubts your sister has about us… but it's totally up to you."

"Wow, you really thought this through, didn’t you?" I replied, impressed. "Sure, I don’t mind going on a double date with you guys if it helps. So… where are we meeting again tomorrow?"

"I’ll text you the location later. It’s a surprise," he replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Look at you, trying to make a girl feel special, huh?" I teased.

"If it’s you, I don’t mind going all out," Namjoon said softly, turning his head to meet my gaze. I just stared at him, eyes wide.

A beep from the GPS broke the moment, snapping me back to reality. I hadn’t realized how quickly time had flown and Namjoon had already parked near my place.

"Guess we’re here," I murmured, feeling a strange sense of disappointment.

"Yeah… already," he whispered, almost to himself.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, preparing to leave, when I suddenly felt his hand resting gently on my thigh.

"Stay still," he said in a low, quiet voice.

I froze, my mind going blank as I looked up at him, heart pounding. But before I could process it, he was already out of the car, walking over to my side. He opened my door, extending his hand to help me out, the softest hint of a smile on his face.

What a tease. I thought to myself, holding back a grin. "Keep this up, Namjoon, and you’re going to make every girl fall in love with you," I said, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed softly, his hand still holding mine. "Maybe I only need one girl to."

***

When I got back home, my sister was exactly where I’d left her, sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, grinning. “So, how was Namjoon? And the guys?”

“Good. I’ll fill you in later; I’m exhausted. Going to bed,” I replied, stifling a yawn.

“This early? It’s only 8:30pm!” she called, giving me a suspicious look.

I smirked. “Well, I have a date tomorrow, so I need my beauty sleep. Night!” I rushed to my room, giggling as my sister yelled after me, begging for details.

As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but smile. This whole fake relationship wasn’t so bad after all, I was actually having fun. And Namjoon was surprisingly perfect at being my “boyfriend”. After changing into my pajamas, I replayed the events of the day in my mind, from our moment in the elevator to the way he’d looked at me during the drive home. With a contented sigh, I slowly drifted off to sleep, the memory of his warm smile lingering like a gentle whisper in the back of my mind. *** Instead of giving me the location for our meet-up, Namjoon just texted to be ready by six, saying he’d pick me up himself. I guess he really didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Right on time, I waited by the entrance, and soon enough, a car pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing Namjoon in the driver’s seat, wearing a low-brim hat. Even with tinted windows, he was clearly taking extra precautions. Despite that, he still got out of the car and opened the door for me.

"Hi," he greeted as we both settled in, setting up the GPS to navigate. As he drove us through unfamiliar streets, I couldn’t help my curiosity.

"So… can you finally tell me where we’re going?" I asked, leaning over with a grin. "I’ve been dying to know."

“You don’t need to hype it up too much," he chuckled, glancing over with a shy smile. "It’s just a place I thought we could go to let loose for a bit, and afterward, I’ll take you back to my place to eat. My mom’s cooked a few dishes for me, but if you’d rather do takeout, we can do that, too."

“That sounds perfect! And we can take the photos there, too no need to worry about people spotting us. A lot of couples do such stuff at home anyway.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do… what at home, Y/N?"

I flushed, immediately backtracking. "Ya! That came out so wrong! I mean… couples do photoshoots at home, that’s all I meant! Nothing else."

“Right, photoshoots…” he teased, his dimples showing as he fought a laugh.

The drive was about thirty minutes from my place, but with all our teasing back and forth, we seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye. When we pulled up to a sleek building, Namjoon got out and took my hand, guiding me inside. At the counter, he had the tickets already pulled up on his phone, so the staff barely looked at us, though he was still keeping his cap low just in case.

Looking around, I started piecing things together. We were in an escape room building, and it clicked. I'd once mentioned wanting to try one with all the members someday. Namjoon must’ve remembered. While I was still taking in the space, he released my hand, turning to me with a smirk.

“So, figured it out yet?” he asked.

“Yes!" I laughed, buzzing with excitement. "This is amazing, I love it! We better get out on time, though. You’re known for being smart, so I expect you to really bring it tonight!”

He chuckled. “Alright, but heads-up: there are paid actors involved, and it’s a scary maze. Just watch out for that.”

“Ay ay, captain.”

***

We made it out with ten minutes to spare, and I was still cracking up over Namjoon’s reactions to the jump scares. For someone who’d warned me, he was definitely the one who got startled the most. The theme was intense, a hospital infested with zombies, where we had to find the antidote and escape. Despite all the screaming, Namjoon seemed to have had as much fun as I did. As we left the maze, I was still playfully nudging his shoulder, trying to stifle my laughter.

Just then, a staff member approached us, causing both of us to freeze momentarily. I worried he might recognize Namjoon, but the employee just smiled.

"Congrats! You both finished on time! We actually have a new feature where players who beat the game can take a souvenir photo, something to remember your victory by. Would you both be interested?"

I glanced at Namjoon, checking to see if he was okay with it. To my surprise, he nodded.

“Joon, are you sure?” I whispered. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He shrugged with a reassuring smile. "I doubt it. Plus, the whole point of this date was to make memories.. And take photos."

“Alright!” I smiled back, feeling a little thrill as we posed for the camera.

Namjoon slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him slightly, flashing a peace sign as the staff member took the photo with a Polaroid camera. Moments later, he handed us the printout, a perfect little snapshot of our night. *** After we finished taking photos, we made our way to Namjoon’s house, stopping to grab some drinks along the way. His mom had cooked some delicious side dishes, and we also ordered fried chicken, along with the inevitable soju, of course.

Once we arrived, we decided to put on some background music and set up the food in the living room, sitting on the floor across from each other. As Namjoon dug into his fried chicken, I couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction to the crispy skin.

“Here, let me get a picture of that!” I said, quickly snapping a photo of him mid-bite, his eyes wide in delight.

He chuckled, his mouth full. “You’re just going to keep embarrassing me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little! But I can’t help it. You look adorable!” I replied, scooting closer to him. “Now let’s take some of those selfies!”

As we snapped pictures together, I felt a warm flutter in my stomach. Namjoon grabbed my phone and started taking candid shots of me, making silly faces that had me laughing uncontrollably. His playful antics were contagious, and soon we were caught up in a whirlwind of laughter, striking goofy poses and trying to outdo each other with the most ridiculous expressions.

“Wait, do that again!” I said between giggles, holding up my hands as if I were trying to frame a perfect shot. “I want to capture your best ‘surprised zombie’ face!”

He obliged, widening his eyes and dropping his mouth open comically. “How about this?” he asked, pretending to stumble toward me like a zombie.

“Perfect!” I said, snapping the photo just in time. We took so many in different poses, wanting to ensure we had plenty of options for later. “I can’t wait to look at these in detail later and see which ones make the cut.”

After a few more rounds of photos, I suggested, “Okay, one last serious one! Let’s try a cute couple pose!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow playfully. “You mean a ‘we're definitely not just friends’ pose?”

“Exactly!” I laughed, leaning into him as we settled into a pose. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I couldn’t help but feel giddy at the closeness. As the camera clicked, I savored the moment, knowing I’d want to remember this day forever.

“Okay, now that we’ve documented this historic moment, how about a game?” I suggested, feeling a bit tipsy already. “Let’s play Two Truths and a Lie!”

“Alright, I’m in! You go first,” he urged, grinning.

“Okay, um… I once met a celebrity, not any of you by the way, I can cook a five-course meal, and I have a pet turtle named Frank.” I announced, trying to sound serious.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to figure it out. “I’m going to guess… the pet turtle is the lie?”

“Nope! Frank is very real!” I replied with a laugh. “It’s your turn now!”

“Okay, here goes,” he said, thinking for a moment. “I like to go to museums, I’m not scared of zombies, and I also have a crush on someone.”

I squinted at him, considering his words. “I think the lie is… you’re not scared of zombies!”

Namjoon laughed.”You guessed right, I made it easy for you huh.’’

“But wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. “What do you mean you have a crush on someone? Who is she? Now, I’m curious, should we put on a show for her too, or is this still about that awful ex?”

Namjoon’s gaze became intense as he looked at me. “Nah, you know her very well. No need for anything,” he replied, his tone teasing but serious.

I felt a flutter in my chest, my mind racing as I wondered if he was talking about me. But I shook it off, not wanting to jump to conclusions. “Oh, really? I know her well?! I don't think we have too many girlfriends in common, Joon. Give me a clue.”

Namjoon just stared at me, his expression unreadable. “For someone who's very intelligent, Y/N, you sometimes surprise me.” After a brief pause, he continued, “The day she notices and looks my way, I’ll tell you then.”

I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. All this new information from the game had him saying such things. Maybe he was just tipsy. I didn’t want to push further, so I suggested something else to do. “Let’s just watch a movie for the rest of the hour!”

Namjoon chuckled and nodded. “Alright, what do you want to watch?”

“How about She’s the Man? It’s a classic!” I suggested, eager to skip the topic.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, though I could feel his eyes still lingering on me as I settled in next to him on the couch.

I tried to shake off the feeling of his intense gaze and focused on the movie while we cleaned up the snacks around us, laughing and joking about our favorite scenes.

As the movie played, Namjoon grabbed his phone and recorded a quick video of me as I reenacted some of the funniest moments. He even jumped up to join in on the fun, pretending to act out a scene while I filmed him, both of us cracking up at how ridiculous we looked. But as the night wore on, we eventually grew tired and fell into a comfortable silence, the movie’s dialogue blending into the background.

I began to drift off, the combination of the delicious food, drinks, and the warmth of his presence lulling me into sleep. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, and just before I fully surrendered to the peacefulness, I caught a glimpse of Namjoon’s soft smile as he watched me, his attention shifting from the screen to me.

Later on, when I finally woke up, I realized it was already the next day. Blinking a few times to gather my thoughts, I felt a warmth radiating from the body next to me. It took a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to register that I was tangled in a cuddling position with Namjoon. His arms were wrapped around me protectively, and a sense of comfort washed over me as I took in the cozy scene.

The soft light filtering through the curtains illuminated his peaceful face, and I couldn’t help but smile at how serene he looked in his sleep. His hair fell across his forehead, and his chest rose and fell gently with each breath. I shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him, but the movement only caused him to tighten his grip around me, pulling me closer.

Feeling a mix of warmth and butterflies in my stomach, I wondered how we had ended up like this. The memories of last night flooded back our laughter, the silly games, and the intense moment we shared when he mentioned having a crush. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the wave of emotions that rose within me.

Glancing at the clock displayed on the TV, I realized it was still early. I didn't want to break the peaceful moment, so I settled back against him, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Just then, I heard him stir beside me. His eyes fluttered open, and when he met my gaze, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

“Good morning,” I replied softly, my heart racing a little at how cute he looked. “Did we really fall asleep on the couch?”

“Looks like it,” he chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I guess we had more fun than I thought.”

“Yeah, it was a great night,” I said, feeling a flutter in my chest. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like this. It was only supposed to be 3 hours!.”

Namjoon shifted slightly, brushing his fingers against my arm. “I’m not complaining. I could get used to this.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks at his words. “Me too,” I admitted in a whisper, unable to hide the smile on my face.

***

Days passed, and Namjoon and I had been talking every day, exchanging random thoughts and snippets of our lives. It felt so natural, as if we had known each other forever instead of just a couple of weeks. The day after I left his appartament, I decided to send him the photos we took during our date. As I scrolled through them, I noticed that in most of the pictures, he was looking my way, and I couldn't help but blush.

I realized we only had two weeks left in our agreement. I couldn’t believe how quickly time had flown. Just when I was getting comfortable with this new dynamic, we had plans to meet again for Hobi’s party, celebrating the release of his new single” Chicken Noodle Soup.” The entire company was invited including me and my sister, and I felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

The night of the party arrived, and the energy in the venue was electric. I stepped inside and was immediately greeted by the sound of laughter and music. Namjoon was there, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted black shirt and jeans, but I knew we had to keep our distance given the crowd and all the staff milling around. Despite that, it was hard not to steal glances at him. I felt my heart race every time our eyes met, a small smile always tugging at my lips.

As the night went on, I found myself chatting with some of the other BTS members when a random guy approached me. He had an easy smile and an inviting energy that made him hard to resist.

“Hey there! Would you like to dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Namjoon. He was probably talking to J-hope about his thoughts on the song, but I could feel his gaze on me. Still, the music was calling, and I didn’t want to miss out. “Um, sure,” I said, taking the guy’s hand and following him to the dance floor.

The moment we started dancing, I could feel Namjoon’s eyes on us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. The guy was friendly enough, spinning me around and laughing as we moved to the beat. I tried to enjoy myself, but every time I caught a glimpse of Namjoon watching from a distance, my heart raced.

As I swayed to the music, I felt a rush of warmth at the thought of Namjoon. “You know, you’re a great dancer!” the guy said, flashing me a charming smile.

“Thanks! You’re not too bad yourself!” I replied, trying to keep the conversation light. But my mind kept wandering back to Namjoon, who looked tense, his jaw slightly clenched.

Just as I was beginning to get comfortable with the rhythm, I noticed Namjoon striding over. “Hey, mind if I cut in?” he said, a hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“Uh, we are in the middle of the dance…but sure.” the guy replied, stepping back, clearly scared by Namjoon's interruption.

Joon wasted no time taking my hand and pulling me into his arms. The moment he wrapped his hands around my waist, I felt a spark. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, leaning down so only I could hear. “I couldn’t let him have all the fun.”

“Namjoon, we’re in public…that's why I agreed to dance with that guy.I don't want the guest to spread rumors about any of this.” I said, glancing around at the crowd and in between us.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Let them see. Besides, if you want Jimin to get jealous, you need to look at me more.”

“Wait, what?” I said, caught off guard.

“Just trust me,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at me while we dance.”

I nodded, biting my lip to suppress a smile. As we danced, I found it hard to concentrate on anything else but him. The way he held me felt different, intense and possessive. I could see Jimin nearby, talking to a couple of guests. He caught my eye for a brief moment and then turned to look at Namjoon, his expression unreadable.

Once the song ended, I stepped away from Namjoon, my heart racing. “Thanks for the dance,” I said, my cheeks slightly flushed.

“Anytime,” he replied, flashing that charming smile of his. Just then, Jimin approached, a casual grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N! Want to dance?” he asked, his tone friendly.

“Sure!” I said, feeling a little guilty about leaving Namjoon.

As I moved towards Jimin, I glanced back at Namjoon. He stood there, watching us with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn’t quite place. I tried to shake off the feeling of tension as I began to dance with Jimin, who had a different energy than Namjoon. He was playful and energetic, making me laugh as we moved to the music.

“Having fun?” Jimin asked, spinning me around. “I saw you dancing with Namjoon earlier. You two looked good together,” he commented casually.

“Yeah, thanks! Just enjoying the night!” I replied, laughing. This was a first, maybe me and Namjoon dancing together perhaps made him a tiny bit jealous.

“So, just curious, for how long have you liked Joon-hyung?”

“Hah, what's with all these questions Jimin, since when does that matter. ” I insisted, though I felt a bit flustered under his gaze. What does he want to get out of this conversation? ‘’I mean you guys have been together for barely 2 months right, so your feelings aren't that strong yet I am assuming? “I don’t think liking someone works like that,” I shot back, a little defensive. “Oh really? How does it work then?” Jimin pressed, clearly intrigued.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to articulate how I felt. “Well, I guess it’s more about the connection you build over time. It’s not just about the length of time you’ve known someone, but how you feel when you’re around them.” “And how do you feel around me Y/N?”Jimin asked, his voice low, catching me off guard. I paused, the question hanging in the air between us. My heart raced as I considered my response. “Um, I…” I faltered, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion about my feelings for Jimin. It was hard to articulate just how much my emotions had begun to shift.

Jimin seemed to sense my hesitation, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “You know, you really light up the dance floor. If you ever need a partner, I’m your guy.”

I smiled, feeling flattered yet torn. “Thanks, Jimin! You’re a great dancer too.” But I couldn't shake the sense of uneasiness stirring in my chest. How did I really feel about both of them? Just then, I glanced over at the sight of Namjoon leaning against the wall, his whiskey in hand, watching us intently. To my rescue, J-hope made his way through the crowd, grinning widely. “Hey, you two! Come on, we’re taking a group photo!” he called out, gesturing for me and Jimin to join the others.

Namjoon and I exchanged glances as we moved closer together, although I could still feel the lingering warmth of his presence beside me as we joined the group. The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and I felt a spark of happiness knowing I was part of this special night, even amidst the confusion of my feelings.

After the photo op, I looked around the venue, trying to soak in the atmosphere. The music was pumping, laughter filled the air, and I felt a surge of joy being surrounded by friends.

“Want to grab some snacks?” I suggested turning to Namjoon.

“Sure! Let’s go before they run out,” he said, flashing me a smile.

As we made our way to the food table, we chatted and joked about the party. “I can’t believe how much fun this is. Hobi really knows how to throw a bash,” I said, eyeing the delicious spread laid out.

“Definitely. And the food is amazing,” he agreed, grabbing a plate.

Just then, I spotted my sister across the room, chatting animatedly with Jungkook. I waved at her, and she returned the gesture with a huge grin. “Look, there’s my sister! She’s having a blast!” I pointed out to Namjoon.

“Your sister seems to be enjoying herself,” he said, glancing over. “And Jungkook looks like he’s making her laugh. They get along really well, huh?”

I nodded, watching them for a moment. “Yeah, they’ve always had a special connection. It’s nice to see her having fun.”

Namjoon chuckled, setting his plate down to grab a couple of snacks. “I can’t blame Jungkook. Your sister is awesome. But let’s focus on our snacks before they disappear!” I couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort being there with him, the worries of the outside world momentarily fading away. As we finished eating, Namjoon turned to me, a curious glint in his eyes. “Hey, what were you and Jimin talking about while you were dancing?” he asked, leaning in slightly as if he wanted to hear my answer more closely.

I felt a slight flutter of unease at the question, the earlier conversation with Jimin flashing through my mind. I tried to keep my tone casual. “Oh, nothing important, really. Just typical dance floor talk,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.

“Are you sure? It looked like you two were having a pretty deep conversation,” Namjoon replied, raising an eyebrow. There was an intensity in his gaze that made me feel like he was trying to read between the lines. I swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt for not being entirely truthful. How could I tell him about what happened, when I didn't have an answer yet. “Dont worry about it.”’ ***

Since the party, Namjoon and I have been texting here and there, casual conversations that left me wondering if he’d been busy or just distant. But beneath each message, I could sense a tension, something unspoken simmering between us. That dance with Jimin at the party had left me wondering if I still had feelings for him, or were they fading? And why did talking to Namjoon feel so natural, like we’d been doing this for years?

Either way, this was supposed to be the last week of our fake relationship. We’d both agreed on that. I wanted to bring it up, to ask him what he thought about it all, but every time I tried, the words just wouldn’t come.

Friday arrived, and my sister reminded me of the "couple's date" she’d set up, me with Namjoon and her with Jungkook. I groaned, grabbing my phone to check with Namjoon. Part of me hoped he’d back out, but when I texted, he just replied, "I’ll be there."

That evening, we all met up at a lively bowling center. The place was buzzing with laughter, the crash of pins, and cheers from other lanes. This was a favorite spot for Jungkook and my sister; they always loved a bit of competition, so naturally, they thought it’d be the perfect place for all of us to meet up. I spotted them near a lane, already laughing and waving us over.

Namjoon was sitting close by, fiddling with the scoring screen and taking a sip of a drink he’d already ordered. He looked up as we approached, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. His calm confidence eased some of my jitters.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for my hand as I sat down beside him. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a tiny spark running up my arm.

“Hey,” I replied, glancing up at him, trying to gauge his mood. Did he sense that I was nervous?

We barely had a moment to settle in before my sister leaned in with a playful smirk. “So, Namjoon,” she teased, “are you keeping my sister out of trouble?”

Namjoon chuckled, squeezing my hand gently under the table. “Actually, she’s the one keeping me out of trouble.”

My sister laughed, and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “You two seem like you’ve got this whole couple thing down.”

A lump formed in my throat. Did we? I cast a quick glance at Namjoon, who seemed unfazed, as always. His calm expression gave nothing away, and it almost made me want to ask, was he as unsure about everything as I was?

When the server came to check on our orders, I realized I hadn’t even glanced at the menu. I’d been too wrapped up in how to bring up the impending end of our “relationship.” Just then, Namjoon leaned over, his voice gentle.

“I ordered you a light beer, since you looked a little distracted,” he said, eyebrows slightly raised in question.

I blinked, snapping back to reality. “Oh! Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks.”

As the night went on, it was easy to fall into the rhythm of the group, though I couldn’t shake the sense that something was missing. Jungkook and my sister were on a roll, winning nearly every round with their practiced ease, while Namjoon and I fumbled our way through a few frames, laughing despite our weak scores.

Jungkook grinned, picking up his ball with a flourish. “Looks like Namjoon’s been busy writing again, huh? You’ve got that faraway look, hyung.”

Namjoon smiled, shrugging slightly. “It’s been a busy month. A lot of new music, ideas I’m trying to figure out.” He shot me a quick look. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely been putting in the work,” I added, although I wasn’t entirely sure. He’d been so occupied, and sometimes I felt like just another task on his to-do list.

“Y/N?” My sister’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, sorry!” I said, snapping back to the game. I could feel Namjoon’s eyes on me, but I avoided his gaze, feeling caught.

“We need to focus here,” he whispered, his tone soft but playful. “No more zoning out, partner.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped. Maybe it was just the thrill of the night, or maybe it was the weight of something unspoken hanging between us. For a fleeting moment, I thought Namjoon was looking at me with the same question in his eyes, the same confusion and quiet hope I felt, but before I could be sure, he looked away.

After a few more rounds of bowling, we decided to explore the arcade on the upper level of the center. The lights from the machines cast a warm, colorful glow, and the air was filled with cheerful noises, beeping games, laughter, and the click of tokens sliding into slots. Namjoon and I stayed close, trying out a few games and exchanging easy laughs, while my sister and Jungkook were busy competing at air hockey.

“Look at this!” my sister called suddenly, bouncing up and down as she spotted an old-school photo booth tucked in the corner. She grabbed Jungkook’s hand and waved us over with a huge grin. “We have to get in there and take some pictures. It’ll be like a memory of tonight!”

The four of us managed to squeeze into the tiny booth, laughing as we scrambled to fit into the narrow frame. My sister gave enthusiastic instructions, calling out poses as the camera clicked.

“Alright, first shot: everyone smile!”

The camera flashed, capturing the four of us grinning, cheeks squished together.

“Now, do a funny face!” she said, pulling a ridiculous expression that made us all crack up just in time for the next shot.

“For the last one… let’s make it a couples’ kiss!” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. She turned to Jungkook, already leaning in for their shot. I felt my heart pound in my chest as I turned to Namjoon, feeling my face flush as I took in his expression.

Namjoon’s eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw the same hesitation, the same unspoken question that had been following us all night. We’d never kissed, not even for show, and now we were in this tiny photo booth with a camera about to flash, only inches separating us. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he leaned forward ever so slightly, his face close enough that I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment to come…

But it didn’t.

I opened my eyes just as he pulled back, offering me a polite, almost forced smile. My stomach dropped, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me, making my cheeks burn. Trying to brush it off, I quickly turned to the camera after the last flash, the awkwardness settling heavily between us like a wall.

When the photo strip began to print, I couldn’t ignore the nagging questions twisting inside me. I stepped out of the booth with the others, walking a bit farther so they wouldn’t overhear, and Namjoon followed, sensing I wanted to talk. I glanced at him, feeling vulnerable but needing to know. “Namjoon… why did you stop?”

For a second, his usual composure slipped, and I caught a glimmer of something almost sad in his eyes. Then he shrugged, looking away. “There’s no point, Y/N. We’ve only got a couple of days left of this… arrangement, right?” He gave me a small, almost bitter smile. “Besides, Jimin’s probably already feeling jealous enough. I saw you two at the party, you were laughing with him, looking happy. I figured… there’s no need to make this more complicated.”

His words felt like a punch to the chest. I realized then just how much I’d been hoping for that kiss to mean something, for it to be a turning point between us. But the way he dismissed it so casually left my heart aching in ways I hadn’t prepared for. I swallowed hard, forcing down the tears threatening to rise.

“You don’t even know what we talked about,” I said, my voice barely steady. Jimin had asked me at the party how long I’d liked Namjoon, and maybe I had smiled without realizing it. I hadn’t told Namjoon about it that night because I hadn’t known how I felt then. But now… now, I was sure. I wanted him more than anyone, yet he’d just walked away from the chance to kiss me, even after I’d closed my eyes and leaned in. If he couldn’t even kiss me now, he clearly didn’t feel the same way.

Namjoon’s face was hard to read as he replied, his voice quieter. “You’re right, I don’t know. But I asked you then, and you didn’t tell me. I get it, Y/N… this is fake, and I’m not your boyfriend. You don’t owe me anything, so I didn’t push it. But don’t act like you wouldn’t rather have Jimin here right now instead of me.”

I felt my anger and frustration rise to the surface, all the confusion of the past few weeks pushing me over the edge. “How do you know what I want?” I snapped. “You think you know me so well after just two months of us ‘being together’? You’re right, Namjoon, I don’t have to tell you anything. And since this ‘deal’ between us”, I gestured between us, my voice sharp, “ends in two days, maybe we should just end it now. Right here. I might as well go to Jimin after this.”

He stared back at me, hurt flashing across his face before he composed himself. “Fine. I thought that was the point of this whole thing anyway. Good luck.” he said flatly, his eyes holding mine with a hardened look. Neither of us spoke, tension building in the silence, the distance between us now feeling like miles.

Just then, my sister and Jungkook walked over, holding the strip of photos. My sister was laughing at first, but when she looked closely, her expression changed as she noticed the last photo.

“Wait… you two didn’t kiss?” She looked between us, her face full of confusion. “Come on, you guys!”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension. “What’s going on?”

Something inside me snapped. All the frustration, disappointment, and anger bubbled to the surface. I turned to my sister, unable to hold back. “Because it’s all fake,” I said, my voice louder than I intended, the words coming out like a final admission. “None of this is real.”

The room fell silent. My sister’s smile faded, her face filled with surprise and hurt. Namjoon’s face went blank, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the shock radiating off him.

“Y/N, wait—” Namjoon reached for my arm, but I jerked away, feeling the sting of tears as they blurred my vision. Without another word, I turned and left the arcade, letting the lights and sounds blur around me as I hurried down the stairs, desperate to put distance between us. ***

When I got home, I shut my bedroom door and sank onto my bed, letting out a long breath. I tried to hold it together, but the weight of the night finally broke through, and a few tears slipped out before I could stop them. I felt so mixed up, like I’d been thrown into a storm without a compass. Namjoon’s words kept replaying in my mind—how he’d brushed off the kiss, how he seemed to assume I’d rather be with Jimin. It stung more than I wanted to admit.

After a while, I wiped my face, deciding I was done feeling sorry for myself. This was supposed to be a temporary, harmless plan, so there was no point in getting tangled up in something that wasn’t meant to be. I distracted myself for a bit, scrolling through my phone, but my thoughts kept circling back to him.

Then, I heard the front door open. Moments later, there was a soft knock, and my sister stepped into the room. She took one look at me, her expression a mix of concern and understanding, and came over to sit beside me on the bed.

“Hey,” she started gently. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

I hesitated, but she didn’t push, just sat there patiently until I was ready to say something.

Finally, she sighed and continued, “Look… Namjoon stayed a bit after you left. He… Well, he explained everything to us.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. “What did he say?”

She gave me a careful look. “He told us the whole thing, that you two only started dating to make Jimin jealous, and… to get back at his ex.”

I cringed, suddenly feeling a flood of embarrassment. “He told you that?”

She nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. I think he was just trying to be honest. He looked really upset when he was explaining, though. Like… I don’t know, like he didn’t really want to be saying it out loud.”

I blinked, my mind racing. Part of me felt a strange sense of relief that she knew, but it didn’t erase the guilt or the way my heart still ached at the memory of his words in the photo booth.

My sister hesitated, then asked gently, “Y/N… who do you really like? Is it Jimin, or… Namjoon?”

I swallowed, feeling a weight settle in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought I still liked Jimin, but… being with Namjoon felt so natural, so easy. And tonight, it felt like maybe… maybe I’d been lying to myself about my feelings.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “That’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to feel confused. But it’s important that you’re honest with yourself. Just think it through, and don’t do anything just because you’re afraid of what it might mean.”

I nodded, feeling the tension ease a little. She stayed with me, her silent support enough to make the chaos in my heart feel a little less heavy. Maybe I didn’t have the answers yet, but I knew that tonight had shifted something inside me. And maybe that was the first step to figuring it all out.

***

By Saturday evening, I’d almost convinced myself that tonight would be normal, just a simple get-together with friends, no awkwardness or confusing feelings. Taehyung was hosting a small party at his place, just a casual night for all of us to catch up. I hesitated at first, but after all that had happened, I figured it would be good to see the others. Besides, Namjoon had already mentioned in the group chat that he couldn’t make it because something had come up, so it wasn’t like I’d have to worry about seeing him.

So that evening, my sister and I got ready and headed over together. The minute we walked in, the familiar sounds of laughter and the low hum of music filled the air, instantly easing some of the tension I’d been holding. I spotted Taehyung across the room, chatting with Yoongi and Jin, who were already nursing drinks. J-hope was over by the music setup, picking out the next track, and Jungkook waved at us as we walked in.

“Hey, you two! Glad you could make it,” Taehyung greeted us with a grin, pulling us both into a quick hug. He handed us each a drink, smiling mischievously. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”

I laughed, feeling a bit lighter. We settled in, and soon I was chatting with everyone, catching up, swapping stories, and just enjoying the easygoing atmosphere. I’d forgotten how nice it was to just be around friends without the weight of the past week lingering over everything.

At one point, I glanced across the room and noticed Jimin looking at me. He didn’t say anything, just watched me with a quiet intensity that sent a little jolt through me. I quickly looked away, pretending not to notice, but I could feel his gaze lingering, even when I wasn’t looking his way.

A little while later, Taehyung clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Alright, everyone! Time for a little game to keep things interesting.” He grabbed an empty bottle and placed it on the table. “Let’s do a classic: Never Have I Ever. But first, drinks all around!”

Everyone cheered, and we each grabbed a drink. Before starting the game, Taehyung took out his phone and snapped a quick photo of everyone holding up their drinks, laughing and cheering. “Alright, group photo for the memories,” he said, quickly sending it to the group chat.

I checked my phone and saw the notification pop up in the chat. I couldn’t help but smile at the picture, everyone looking so carefree and happy. Just then, I noticed that Namjoon had seen the message. A small pang hit me, but I shook it off and put my phone away, trying to focus on the game.

Taehyung spun the bottle, and as it pointed at each person, they took turns saying things they’d never done, and the others either drank or laughed as they tried to remember their own stories. The energy was light, with people teasing each other over the stories they shared, and even Yoongi was getting into it, smiling more than usual.

At one point, Jimin leaned over and grinned at me as I took a sip for something silly someone had said. “You’re a bit of a mystery, aren’t you?” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. “Or maybe I just have a lot of secrets,” I shot back with a smirk, making him laugh.

The night went on, and I couldn’t deny that there was a certain freedom in being here without Namjoon, like I could just be myself without all the confusing feelings getting in the way. But every now and then, I’d catch Jimin’s eyes on me, the way he seemed to be watching me a little too closely, like he was waiting for something.

About 30 minutes into the game, just as the conversation was getting more lively and the drinks were flowing, the front door swung open. I didn’t even notice at first, lost in conversation with Jungkook about some random funny video he had seen. But then, I heard a familiar voice from across the room.

“Did I miss anything?”

I turned, and there, standing in the doorway, was Namjoon. He was casually dressed, a slight smile on his face, but his presence hit me like a wave. My heart skipped, and suddenly, the air felt a little heavier. He was here, and I hadn’t expected it at all.

He must’ve noticed the change in atmosphere because everyone’s attention shifted to him. Taehyung grinned, raising his drink. “Look who decided to show up! The party’s just getting started, hyung.”

Namjoon gave a half-shrug, his gaze scanning the room before landing on me for a brief second. He didn’t stay on me long, though, quickly moving toward the group and grabbing a drink from the counter. I tried to keep my composure, but the tension in my chest was impossible to ignore. He’d shown up, and everything I thought I’d managed to put behind me came rushing back.

Jimin, on the other hand, didn’t look away from me. His gaze was sharper now, and I could feel the weight of it, like he was waiting for me to react. I looked down at my drink, trying to focus on anything but the way Jimin’s stare was beginning to make me uncomfortable.

Namjoon joined the circle, exchanging pleasantries with the guys. He settled in, his usual calm demeanor in place, but there was something more guarded about him tonight. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the tension too, or if I was just imagining it.

After a few moments, Taehyung clapped his hands again, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s keep the fun going. Who’s up for a round of shots before we start the new round?”

Namjoon smiled, but I could tell it was a little forced. “Sure,” he said, reaching for the bottle that was passed around. I noticed that when he got to me, his hand paused for just a second, like he was trying to decide something, but then he took the shot with a steady hand.

Jimin, who had been quiet for the last few minutes, finally spoke up, his voice light but pointed. “You sure you’re up for this, Namjoon? You looked like you were busy earlier.”

Namjoon glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, something came up. But I’m here now. So, no more excuses.”

I could feel Jimin’s eyes on me again, sharp and almost searching, but I kept my gaze ahead, not wanting to react. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, but there was something about the way he was looking at me, almost like he knew something I didn’t.

The game continued, but now there was a new layer of tension. I could feel Namjoon’s presence weighing down on me, even as he chatted with the others. I tried not to look at him, but I couldn’t help it. Every time I glanced in his direction, he was either talking to someone else or looking at his phone, but there was a part of me that kept waiting for something to happen. What was I waiting for? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were far from resolved.

And as much as I told myself I should enjoy the night with everyone else, a part of me still wanted to know what Namjoon was thinking, why he’d suddenly shown up, and what it meant for the weird, fake relationship we were trying to make sense of.

The mood in the room was light, with alcohol flowing and teasing picking up. Taehyung, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the attention as everyone turned toward him.

"Alright, alright, let’s make this interesting," he said, his eyes scanning the group. "Never have I ever liked a girl in this group." He looked directly at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to drink. "Come on, Jungkook, no skipping this one. You know the rules."

Jungkook immediately rolled his eyes. "Gladly," he muttered, grabbing his drink without hesitation. He downed a shot, then looked at my sister, sending her a flying kiss before turning back to Taehyung. His face tried to stay serious, but he couldn’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips. "Happy now?" he said, clearly playing it off for laughs, but the whole room could tell it was more for fun than anything deeper.

Namjoon was next. He took a sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving mine. I couldn’t help but notice the intensity in his eyes as he drank. I tried to remind myself that he was just continuing the act, that this was still a fake relationship, that we were pretending for everyone else since we hadn’t told them yet the truth about ending it. It was all a game. But something about the way he held my gaze made it harder to believe it was all pretending.

Then, just as I was processing it all, Jimin, of all people, raised his glass. His move was so sudden that it left the whole group stunned into silence. Without a word, he took a shot, his eyes locked on me the entire time, a quiet challenge lingering in his expression.

The room went silent. The tension was palpable. No one knew how to react. Taehyung blinked first, breaking the silence with a loud, surprised laugh.

"Well, I guess we’re all in now," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Looks like we’ve got some secrets floating around in this group."

But I didn’t find it funny. My heart pounded in my chest, the situation suddenly feeling a lot more real than it had a few minutes ago. Jimin’s move was unexpected—why had he done that? And Namjoon... his constant attention, the way he drank right after Jungkook , it felt too intentional. Had I been reading too much into everything? I couldn’t focus on anything else, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between the three of us.

The game continued, but all I could do was watch, trying to ignore the strange mix of emotions that churned inside me. Something had shifted, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

I excused myself from the game, the weight of everything pressing on me like a physical force. I needed space to breathe, to clear my head, and figure out what was going on in my own heart. My thoughts were spiraling, tangled in Jimin’s unexpected actions and Namjoon’s steady gaze. What did any of this mean? I couldn’t make sense of it, and it was eating away at me.

I made my way toward the guest room, my steps slow and heavy, as if I could outrun the thoughts crashing through my mind. Was Jimin really into me this whole time? Did the plan to make him jealous actually work? What was going on between Namjoon and me? And why did everything feel so... real tonight?

I stepped into the bathroom of a guest room and stood in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at me didn’t seem like mine anymore, too confused, too lost. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get away, to clear my mind.

Before I could walk back into the party, I heard the door to the guest room open in front of me. I froze. It was Jimin. I didn’t expect him to follow me, and my heart jumped into my throat.

He stepped in slowly, looking like he was carefully choosing his words. I turned toward him, but I didn’t know what to say. The silence hung heavy between us.

"Y/N," Jimin said, his voice calm, but there was an edge of vulnerability there. "Can we talk?"

I didn’t trust my voice, so I simply nodded, still unsure of what was happening. His presence filled the small room, and my nerves were on fire.

He sighed and took a step closer, clearly thinking about what to say next. "I didn’t expect Namjoon to show up tonight," Jimin began, his voice low and almost distant. "The guys had told me they saw him talking to his ex before he left the studio. I figured he wasn’t going to come, so when he showed up... I was surprised."

I tried to keep my face neutral, but the mention of his ex hit me harder than I expected. The thought of Namjoon with someone else, especially with that ex, was like a punch to the gut. But I stayed quiet, letting Jimin continue.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his tone. "But then Jungkook told me something yesterday. About you and Namjoon... about the whole 'fake relationship' thing." He paused, his eyes locking onto mine. "He told me that you two were pretending to make me jealous. That it was all an act."

My heart skipped a beat. Of course, Jungkook would have been the one to spill it. Now, hearing Jimin say it out loud felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me.

Jimin shifted, his face growing more serious. "At first, I didn’t know what to think when I heard that from him. But then, it hit me." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I realized that I’ve been an idiot. I’ve been sitting here, watching you, pretending like I didn’t care, when the truth is, I care more than I’ve ever let on."

He took a breath, and my heart fluttered nervously in my chest. I didn’t know what he was about to say, but it felt like everything had come to this point.

"I’ve liked you for so long, Y/N," Jimin confessed, his voice a little softer now, vulnerable. "But I’ve always been afraid to say anything. Afraid that it would ruin our friendship, that it would change everything between us." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready, that it was better left unsaid."

His expression softened, his eyes searching mine. "But watching you with Namjoon tonight and these past couple of months, pretending to be with him, it made me realize how much of a fool I’ve been. I should’ve stepped up sooner, I should’ve told you how I felt." He shook his head, frustration and regret in his voice. "I’ve been too scared, too wrapped up in my own insecurities to take a chance. But I’m done with that, Y/N."

He took another step forward, the space between us closing. "I care about you," he said, his voice steady now, full of sincerity. "I’ve always cared about you. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I like you, Y/N. I really like you. And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it."

I stood there, frozen, my chest tightening as his words echoed in my ears. Jimin, the guy I had had a crush on for a long time, had just confessed to me. The weight of his confession settled over me, both a relief and a shock. But there was also confusion, so much confusion. Had I been blind to all of this? Why had he never said anything before? And if I was being honest with myself, did I like him back anymore?

Before I could process everything, Jimin stepped closer, his eyes filled with hope and uncertainty. "So, what do you think?" he asked softly. "I know it’s a lot to take in, but I couldn’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way about you anymore."

I felt my heart racing in my chest, torn between Jimin’s confession and the unresolved feelings I had for Namjoon. I didn’t know how to respond, but I knew one thing for sure: everything had just changed.

I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I had left. This wasn’t easy, and I knew it was going to hurt, but I had to be honest with Jimin. I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay, like my heart wasn’t pulling in two different directions.

"Jimin," I started, my voice quieter than I intended, but firm. "I need to be honest with you. Yes, it was about you, making you jealous, at first. It was part of the plan, to make you see... make you notice me." I paused, watching his face as he took in my words. His expression shifted, and for a second, I could see the pain in his eyes, but I pushed forward.

"But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about that." I shook my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Somewhere along the way, I... I started to fall for Namjoon."

Jimin blinked, his lips parting slightly as if trying to make sense of what I’d just said. His gaze was intense, like he was searching for something in me, an explanation, an apology, I wasn’t sure.

"I don’t blame you for not realizing sooner," I continued, my heart heavy with the truth I was finally saying out loud. "I should’ve said something. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of waiting around for you to make a move. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for so long... and I was too scared to admit that I was falling for someone else." I wiped at my eyes, trying to hold it together, but it wasn’t easy.

Jimin’s face softened, his usual mischievous smile gone, replaced with something more vulnerable. "Y/N... I didn’t know," he murmured, his voice low. "I didn’t know you were waiting for me like that. I thought... I thought I had all the time in the world."

I nodded, feeling the weight of my own regrets. "We both did," I whispered. "But maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe we weren’t supposed to figure this out sooner. Maybe everything that’s happened, all the confusion, the pretending... it was just leading me to this point."

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was freeing myself from something heavy I’d been carrying for far too long. "I like Namjoon now, Jimin. And I don’t know what’s going on with him, with his ex, or whatever. Maybe he’s with her again, maybe not. But I can’t keep holding onto what could’ve been with you, because I’ve realized it’s not just about you anymore."

The silence stretched between us as Jimin absorbed my words. I could see him trying to process everything, his eyes searching my face for any hint of uncertainty. But there was none.

"I’m sorry," I added softly, my voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I can’t keep pretending, either. I’ve made my choice."

Jimin finally sighed, his shoulders dropping as if he was releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, there was no frustration or confusion in them, just a quiet understanding.

"I get it," he said, his voice rough but steady. "I kinda knew I was too late. And maybe... maybe I should have said something sooner too. But I can’t blame you for that. You deserve to be with someone who’s not afraid to take the chance, someone who’s not scared of ruining the friendship. I see that now." He smiled, but it was bittersweet. "And if Namjoon makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. I mean that."

I felt a weight lift off my chest, the tension between us dissolving in that moment. "Thank you," I whispered. "I... I never wanted to hurt you, Jimin. You’re still one of my dearest friends. I just had to be honest with you."

Jimin nodded, his smile softening as he gave me a reassuring look. "I know. And I’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere, you know? We’ll figure this out, all of us."

The words he said were comforting, but the reality of it all still felt heavy in my chest. I wasn’t sure where things would go from here, but for the first time, I felt like I could breathe again, knowing that I had said what I needed to say, that I had let go of the past.

I took a final, steadying breath and gave him one last, grateful smile. "I’m glad we talked, Jimin. And... I hope things don’t feel too weird between us after this."

"They won’t," he assured me, his eyes soft with understanding. "We’ll be fine. You and me. I just... want you to be happy." As the conversation came to a close, I took a step back, the weight of it all finally beginning to lift from my shoulders. Jimin and I had said everything we needed to say, and I was starting to feel like I could move on, that this awkward, unresolved tension was finally behind us.

Jimin offered a small, bittersweet smile before opening his arms. "Come here," he said softly, and without thinking, I stepped into his embrace. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t meant to be, but in that moment, it felt like the closure we both needed. I could feel his warmth, his steady presence, and it grounded me in a way that reassured me everything would be okay. We’d move past this, even if things weren’t perfect right now.

I closed my eyes, letting the moment stretch out for a few seconds, savoring the comfort of having things settle between us.

But just as I was starting to relax, I heard the door creak open.

I pulled back instantly, my heart racing as I saw Namjoon standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in shock. His gaze flicked between me and Jimin, lingering on us just long enough for the weight of the situation to hit him too.

It felt like time had frozen for a moment.

"Y/N..." Namjoon said, his voice a little strained. "Jimin...?"

I didn’t know what to say. The look in his eyes made my stomach twist. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but something like confusion, hurt.

Before he could say anything else, I quickly moved toward him, trying to make sense of the situation, the tension hanging thick in the air.

"I... We need to talk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked at him.

Jimin, sensing the shift headed towards the door. I watched as Jimin left, his footsteps fading as he passed through the hallway, leaving me alone with Namjoon. The silence between us felt like a wall, too heavy to break, but I couldn’t ignore the burning need to face this.

I turned to Namjoon, my throat tight. "We need to talk," I repeated, this time louder, more urgent.

Namjoon nodded, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Yeah. We do."

"Is this why you didn't tell me what you and Jimin talked about at the party?" Namjoon’s voice was tight, the words coming out sharper than I expected. "Did you get what you wanted, Y/N? Is this why you and him are hugging in a separate room?"

His words hit me like a cold wave, and I felt the sting of them settle deep in my chest. The air between us grew heavy, thick with the weight of his accusation, and I could feel the space between us shrinking in all the wrong ways.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. His eyes never left mine, and there was something raw, almost broken, in the way he looked at me. It was like he was trying to figure out if he’d been a fool this whole time, if everything we had was just a game to me.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. My heart was pounding, but I couldn't just let his words hang in the air like that.

"So, you're gonna judge me for talking to Jimin? After you were spotted with your ex?" I shot back, the words coming out sharper than I meant. "You have no right to say anything about me and Jimin when you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing with her."

The moment I said it, I regretted the bitterness in my tone, but I couldn’t help it. It was like everything inside me was bubbling up all at once, frustration, confusion, and that gnawing ache I’d tried to ignore for so long. Namjoon had been acting like nothing had changed, like he was fine with our arrangement, while I was over here questioning everything. And now he was calling me out like I was the one in the wrong.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, his gaze faltered. I could see the flicker of guilt, maybe even regret, but it quickly turned into something else, something I couldn’t quite place. Was it anger? Jealousy?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew we were both standing on the edge, and I didn’t know how to pull us back. Namjoon took a deep breath, his gaze briefly flicking away as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was tight, his words sharper than usual. "Yeah, I met with her," he admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "But it's not what you think. She kept showing up at the company, begging for forgiveness, even after you told her to back off. I couldn’t ignore her anymore. I had to put an end to it, for good."

He paused, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else, something that felt too raw for me to understand in the moment.

His next words hit harder than I expected. "I saw you hugging him, Y/N. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? This whole game, this act you and me were playing for him. You wanted to make Jimin jealous, and now it finally worked." His voice wavered, and the words came out harsher than he probably intended, like he was trying to convince himself. "And here I am, watching all of it, like a damn fool."

There was a pause, and the room seemed to shrink with the tension between us. Namjoon stepped even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. "You know what? It worked on me, too," he said, his voice low and pained. "I thought I didn’t care, If you still chose him after everything, but I do. More than I should. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending I didn’t feel anything, but seeing you with him, seeing you so... close... it made me realize how much I care.Why I can’t stop thinking about you”.

His voice broke, and I saw the regret and jealousy in his eyes. "I should’ve kissed you that night, Y/N. After we fought, I should’ve stopped you from leaving, should’ve said something. But I didn’t. I let you walk away, and I regret it every single second. I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since."

The room felt like it was holding its breath, the air thick with everything that had been said, and everything that was left unspoken. Namjoon stood so close, his presence overwhelming, yet it felt like there was still a gap between us, one that neither of us knew how to cross.

I finally found my voice, despite the tightness in my chest. "What’s stopping you now?" I asked, my tone quieter but firm.

Namjoon blinked, his eyes still searching mine, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice a little strained.

I stepped forward just a fraction, closing the distance, and then, with a sense of finality, I answered him. "The moment you saw after you came here, it was us giving closure to our feelings. Yes, it worked. I made Jimin jealous, and he confessed to me. But I turned him down, Namjoon. Because I can't stop thinking about you, too." My heart pounded in my chest, but I pushed through the fear, the uncertainty. "So, let me ask you again: What’s stopping you from kissing me now?"

The question hung in the air, thick and heavy. His eyes were locked on mine, searching, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For a brief moment, time seemed to stop as we stood there, inches apart, the silence between us deafening. I could see the storm of emotions in his gaze, hurt, longing, confusion, and, beneath it all, something that told me he wasn’t ready to walk away. Not this time.

And then, without warning, he took a step closer. His breath mingled with mine as he cupped my face with his large, warm hands. The touch was gentle, but there was a certain urgency to it, a need that seemed to pulse in the very air around us.

His thumb brushed against my cheek, a soft, almost reverent gesture, as if he were memorizing the feel of me under his fingertips. His eyes never left mine, but I could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took. And then, as if the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between us finally broke, he closed the distance, his lips crashing into mine with a force that took me by surprise.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, as though he’d been holding back for too long. His lips moved against mine with a raw intensity, a release of all the emotions that had been building between us for so long. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of me, like he was trying to pour every ounce of feeling he had into that single, electrifying moment.

I responded with my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The world around us seemed to fade away, the tension, the confusion, everything that had been holding us apart, until there was only the two of us. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, as if we were both trying to make up for lost time, to reclaim something we had almost thrown away.

And in that moment, everything else ceased to matter. The only thing that existed was the overwhelming, undeniable connection between us, a connection that no words, no misunderstandings, could ever break. The kiss grew more passionate, and everything around us faded into a blur. Namjoon’s hands were at my back, guiding me backward until the wall pressed against my shoulders. The warmth of his body, the intensity of his kiss, left me breathless and yearning for more. His lips moved with purpose, each touch sending waves of heat through my body. He pulled away for a split second, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath.

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve been thinking about this?" His voice was low, almost a growl, sending a shiver down my spine. "How your lips would feel against mine...I have been dreaming about it since that day on the elevator... no, even before that." He said it with such intensity that it made my heart race, and I couldn't help but wonder what he meant, but the questions would have to wait. I didn’t care to ask them now. All I could focus on was him, the way his lips moved with mine, the way he made me feel.

I arched my back as my head leaned against the wall, and his hands found their way to my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss continued. His lips trailed down to my neck, kissing and biting gently murmuring words like ‘mine’ above my skin between every kiss, sending a mix of pleasure and electricity through my body. Soft moans escaped my lips, and I could feel the heat between us building. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, unable to get enough of him.

But then, a loud crash echoed from the other room, pulling us both out of our haze. We froze for a moment, catching our breath, our faces inches apart.

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "We can continue this later," he said with a teasing smirk, still holding me tightly against him. "I will make up for every time I didn't kiss you, I promise."

The playful yet possessive undertone in his voice sent a wave of heat through me, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. But for now, we both took a step back, trying to regain some composure as the sound of the broken bottle in the other room faded into the background. Before we left the room, my fingers nervously tugged at the hem of Namjoon's shirt, a sudden shyness washing over me. The heat from the kiss still lingered on my skin, and the words I needed to say felt heavy on my tongue, almost foreign after everything we’d just shared.

"Namjoon," I started, my voice barely above a whisper as I avoided his gaze for a moment. My heart was racing, my hands slightly trembling as I looked up at him. "I... I want to be with you," I confessed, the words feeling like they had been waiting to escape for so long. "After everything that's happened, I don’t want to be here anymore. I just... I want to be with you. Alone."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smile, but there was something tender in his gaze. "You want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, as if he were savoring the thought. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my fingers still clinging to his shirt, my gaze lifting to meet his. "Yeah... I can pretend to be sick. We can just leave together. I don’t want to be around anyone else right now." The idea of being with him, just the two of us, felt like the only thing that made sense in that moment. Everything else, the party, the other people, suddenly felt so far away.

Namjoon’s expression softened, and he placed a hand gently on my cheek, as if grounding me in the moment. "If that’s what you want, we’ll leave Y/N." he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Let’s go."

I smiled, relief flooding through me as I took his hand. We didn’t need any more words. We were finally on the same page. As Namjoon and I walked back into the room, the weight of everything between us still lingering in the air, we were met with curious glances from the group. My sister was the first to notice me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the flush on my face, the way I clung a little too tightly to Namjoon’s side.

"Y/N?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was a hint of suspicion in her tone. "Are you okay? You look... a little off."

I blinked, quickly thinking of something to say. My mind was still clouded from everything that had just happened, but I needed to get out of there, needed to get away from all the questions and awkward tension.

"I... I feel a bit tipsy," I said, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I think I need to head out first. It’s been a long night."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly still a bit skeptical. But before she could ask more, Namjoon stepped in, his voice smooth and calm.

"I already ordered an Uber for us," he said, his hand gently resting on my lower back, as if to reassure her. "We’ll head to my place. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine."

Jimin, Jungkook, and my sister exchanged glances, clearly surprised, but they didn’t press further. After a beat, Jungkook nodded, his usual easygoing smile returning.

"Take care, Y/N. Hope you feel better," he said, giving me a quick wave.

"Yeah, feel better," Jimin added.

My sister’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, but then she sighed, shrugging as if she’d decided there was nothing to do about it.

"Alright, take care of yourself," she said, giving Namjoon a quick nod, as if accepting the situation. "Don’t do anything too crazy, okay?"

I smiled weakly, feeling a mix of guilt and relief at her words. It was like she knew, but she didn’t. Either way, she was letting me go, letting me make my own choices.

With that, we exchanged goodbyes, and Namjoon and I walked out, hand in hand, the door shutting softly behind us.

As we left the party, the world outside felt like a breath of fresh air. The night was cool, the streets relatively quiet. But all I could think about was what had just happened between us. Everything that had been left unsaid before now felt so clear. There was no going back now.

And as the Uber pulled up and we climbed inside, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The uncertainty was gone. Whatever had been between us, whatever it was that had kept us apart, had finally clicked into place. And now, as the city lights blurred by the window, I knew that whatever came next, I’d be ready for it, with Namjoon by my side.

*** As we stepped into Namjoon’s apartment, a comfortable silence settled between us. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had just happened. He closed the door behind us, his hand resting on the doorknob for a moment as he turned to face me.

“So,” he began softly, his eyes meeting mine, “are you… really okay with this? With us?”

I felt a shy smile tug at my lips. “I’ve never been more sure.” My voice was soft, but I meant every word. I was here, and I didn’t want to turn back. “What about you? Are you… okay with all this?”

Namjoon let out a low laugh, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. “I think I’ve been waiting for this, waiting for you, for longer than I ever realised.” There was a warmth in his gaze, something so honest that it made my heart skip a beat.

We moved further into the room, and he gestured for me to sit. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?”

I nodded, chuckling nervously. “Tea sounds good. Something calming, maybe?”

He flashed me a knowing smile and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to take in my surroundings. I’d been here before, once late at night for our date, but I hadn’t paid much attention then, too caught up in the moment with him. Now, with a moment to breathe, I could see pieces of his personality everywhere, books stacked on the shelves and in piles on the floor, his collection of vinyl records carefully arranged next to the coffee table. It all felt so unmistakably him.

A few moments later, he returned with two steaming mugs, setting one in front of me. As he sat down next to me on the couch, close enough that our knees brushed, he looked at me with a more serious expression.

“Can I ask… when did it change for you?” he asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “When did you know you felt something for me?”

I took a slow sip of tea, hoping it would help me organize the mess of emotions inside. “Honestly?” I hesitated, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I think it was always there, in some way.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me closely, and I felt my heart skip at his quiet attention.

“I mean, I liked Jimin, yes… but when I first met all of you, you were the one that caught my eye. But I found out pretty quickly that you had a girlfriend back then, so I pushed the thought away and settled on seeing you as just a friend.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened as I spoke, and it gave me a bit of courage to keep going. We both set our mugs down on the table, the warmth of the tea long forgotten as the weight of our words filled the space between us.

“But when we started pretending…” I paused, looking down at my hands. “It felt more real than I expected. I kept telling myself it was just for show, just a game we were playing. But the more time we spent together, the harder it was to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t say anything because I was afraid. Afraid I’d misread it, or that I’d just end up… hurting you, or myself.”

He reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wish I realised sooner.”

I felt his thumb tracing soft circles on my hand, the warmth of his touch anchoring me in the moment. His quiet reassurance, the way he looked at me, it was all starting to melt away any lingering doubts I had.

“Well, we’re here now,” he repeated softly, his gaze steady and full of something I could only describe as understanding, and maybe relief.

I managed a small, nervous smile. “Yeah, we are.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable and calm. Then, taking a breath, he lifted his other hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "And now that we’re here,” he murmured, his voice a little lower, “I think we both deserve to stop second-guessing ourselves."

He paused, his eyes searching mine. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. No more games, no more hidden feelings. Just… us.”

My heart raced at his words, the weight of everything finally lifting. I looked down at our intertwined hands, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest. “No more pretending,” I echoed, feeling the truth of it settle over me. I met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at my lips.

“So… where do we start?” I asked, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, savouring the closeness.

Namjoon’s smile softened as he shifted closer, his eyes warm with that familiar spark. “How about we start fresh?” he murmured, and then, leaning in, he pressed his lips to mine, a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a quiet promise, a beginning we’d both been waiting for.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine, before leaning in again, his lips brushing softly over mine, testing, savoring. Slowly, his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tracing gentle circles, and I felt him draw me in closer. This time, the kiss deepened naturally, as though all the unspoken feelings between us were finally finding their way through, leaving my heart racing in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt as though we were back in that moment in the guest room, but this time, without the weight of uncertainty between us. His hands were gentle yet sure, tracing down my back, leaving warmth in their wake. The kiss grew bolder, a mix of all the moments we’d held back, and I felt my own hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer.

We broke apart just briefly, his forehead resting against mine, both of us catching our breath, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I was thinking of ordering us something," he murmured, his voice a low whisper that sent a thrill through me. His gaze locked onto mine, dark and filled with intent, and I could feel the tension building between us again.

"But dinner can wait," he added, his words dripping with warmth, making my heart race. "Right now, all I want is you."

With that, his lips found mine again, a bit hungrier this time, and I let myself melt into it, matching his intensity as the moment wrapped around us, everything else falling away.

As the kiss deepened, my hands slid up to his chest, fingers brushing over the firm muscles that were hidden beneath his shirt. I could feel the strong beat of his heart, and I couldn't help but smile against his lips, knowing the effect I was having on him.

Namjoon’s breath hitched slightly as I gently tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head with a growing sense of urgency. The cool air brushed against his skin, and I let my fingers trace the contours of his muscles, marveling at how solid and defined he was. He shivered slightly under my touch, his body reacting to me in ways that made my heart race.

"Y/N..." he breathed, his voice a low growl of pleasure as I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath my fingertips. "You don't know what you do to me."

A soft moan escaped his lips as my touch moved lower, the heat between us intensifying with each passing second. He pulled me closer, his hands sliding to my back, pulling me flush against him and laying me on the couch. Our bodies pressed together, and I felt his desire, undeniable and powerful, pressing into me.

I broke the kiss just long enough to look up at him, my breathing shallow as I let my hands roam, feeling every inch of him. His eyes were dark, his lips swollen from our kiss, and he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to my waist, slipping beneath my shirt, his touch warm and electric against my skin.

I gasped softly as his fingers skimmed the skin of my back, sending a wave of heat through me. My hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and we resumed kissing, this time with more urgency. The world outside of the room didn’t exist anymore, there was only Namjoon, and the undeniable pull between us.

We continued, caught in the heat of the moment, kisses growing more passionate, more desperate as we lost ourselves in each other. Time seemed to stand still, and all that mattered was the connection we were building, one that felt right, real, and unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

Namjoon pulled out for a bit to catch a breath and leaned in closer again , his breath warm against my skin as he gazed down at me, his fingers brushing gently along the fabric of my shirt. His voice was low, smooth, and filled with a quiet intensity.

"Can I?" he asked, his eyes flickering between my chest and my eyes, seeking permission with the unspoken question.

I nodded, my heart racing, feeling the heat of the moment building between us. There was no rush, just the weight of our emotions and the pull between us. Slowly, he slid his hands to the hem of my shirt, his touch reverent, as if he was savouring every inch of the space between us.

As the shirt lifted over my head, I could feel the electricity between us intensifying. Namjoon didn’t break eye contact. He looked me up and down, enjoying the image. “So perfect, just for me...” His gaze was unwavering, filled with something deeper than desire, something more intimate. His lips parted, but before they could meet mine again, he lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my neck, his lips tracing the curve of my skin.

I arched into him, my fingers threading through his hair. The kiss from his lips moved down my throat, then between my breasts, and continued further down to my stomach. He stopped just above my heat, still covered by my pants, sending a surge of warmth through me.

Then, as his lips came back up to mine, my hands reached for his belt, never breaking the kiss. My fingers fumbled with it briefly, but soon it was undone, he helped me push his trousers down. He kicked them off swiftly, and moved to undoing my trousers, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked them off my body. As he traced his fingers along the inner part of my thigh, his lips continued their journey down my skin, sending electric jolts of anticipation through me.

Now, we were both only in our underwear. Namjoon hovered above me, his eyes meeting mine with a silent question, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze as he sought my consent. I nodded, breathlessly. With that, he placed a hand on my back, unclipping my bra slowly, as if savouring the moment. He slid it off with ease, his hands now fully free to roam.

His touch was firm yet tender as he cupped both of my breasts, his fingers gently kneading them while his lips found the spot below my ear, murmuring sweet words against it. His breath was hot against me, the weight of his words sending waves of desire down my spine. I could feel his body pressing into mine, his clothed groin humping me, the heat between us building again. “Joon” I moaned. “I think I need you now.” My body felt hotter by each second that was passing.

“I know, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and intense. “Just let me pleasure you more first. Let me take care of you.”

He continued with his move again, not breaking eye contact as his hand travelled down, hovering just above my heat. Gently, he moved my panties to the side and slid one finger in. He retracted it and put the finger in his mouth.

“So wet…so sweet” Namjoon murmured, licking the slickness from his finger. I gasped from the pleasure as he went back and slid in another finger, both now moving in and out. Then he began using a scissoring motion, working in perfect rhythm. When he added a third finger, my vision blurred.

“Ah… I think I’m close,” I managed to gasp.

“Then come for me, Y/N,” he urged, finding that perfect spot that made me tremble. A high-pitched cry escaped me as I reached my climax, releasing everything that had built up inside. But it was not enough. I needed more of him.

“Namjoon, you either fuck me right now or else—”

“Or else what?” he teased, smiling and hoovering on top of me.

“I—I don’t know. I’ll probably fuck myself again with my own fingers if I can,” I breathed.

“As much as I’d love to see you do that, I think that can wait a little,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Before I could protest, he scooped me into a bridal position and rose to his feet. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I almost fucked you right here, when you were calling my name. But as much as I want to, I’d like to make you comfortable first, in my bed,” he said, walking toward his room. A few moments later, I felt the soft cold mattress behind my back as Namjoon placed me down hovering again on top of me. I looked up and slowly averted my gaze down toward his bulge, it looked big and hard, his member almost ripping off his underwear. Both breathing heavily I came forward again and caught his lips against mine. But that didn't last long as Joon put some distance and quickly gave me a peck on the forehead. ‘’Fuck”’ Namjoon hisses under his breath.”’Look at you so perfectly layed on my bed” his eyes continuing to roam my body, and when they reached a particular part my female hood, I decided to tease him further and sliding my panties slowly to the side while under him. His eyes returned to me for a bit and then back to where my hands were occupied. Silence creeped all over the room and only the beating of our heart and breaths could be heard. There I was now all bare under him, soaking wet anchoring for his touch.

“Fuck... Y/N… You have no idea, do you? The effect you have on me. God only knows how many times these walls have heard your name these past weeks.”

“So... you mean... you did that?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice thick with need. “Even in my dreams, all I could see was you. I’ve craved you every day since we started this whole ‘fake’ thing. And now...” He trailed off, his gaze intense. “I’m going to make you feel good, baby. I—”

“Fuck, Joon… just fuck me already, please.” I pleaded, unable to stand the teasing, the intense gaze, and all the compliments any longer. Just the sound of his smooth, raspy voice had me close to reaching my second orgasm.

“Someone’s needy… and ruining that pretty little mouth for me,” he murmured.

“If you let me, I think you'd be surprised at what else this mouth can do,” I replied with a smirk.

“Oh?...than I better fuck you now so you can show me all of that later”

Namjoon stretched his arm to my right, above my head, reaching for his nightstand. He opened the top drawer and took a condom out of the box. I didn’t even question it—he’s a grown man, after all, and probably has a lot of experience with this. Still, I felt a little shy. It wasn’t my first time, but thinking about it all made me feel a hint of pressure. I quickly pushed that thought away, I liked Namjoon a lot, and he seemed to like me too. My eyes shifted to his actions as I tried to stay in the moment.

He slipped out of his boxers, and his thick, hard length sprang free, red and glistening with precum.

"Shit, Joon..." I whimpered, looking up into his eyes.

"What?" he asked with a smirk, clearly amused by my reaction.

“You’re huge... How is that going to fit?” Embarrassment crept up my cheeks.

“You’ll get used to it,” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

If my face had been red before, now my whole body felt on fire. But I wasn’t about to let him think this was too easy for me.

“You sound so cocky… What if you end up disappointing?” I teased, laughing softly and covering my mouth.

Namjoon’s grin widened as he rolled the condom on, then slid two fingers into me without warning. I gasped, muffling the sound with my hand, thankful I’d caught it, or the whole neighbourhood might have heard.

"Let’s just say you chose the right member, love... the one that’ll make you scream the loudest.” he murmured.

I couldn’t respond, only nodding as he began to move his fingers, preparing me for what was to come. He met my eyes, waiting for my signal, and when I nodded again, he slowly replaced his fingers with his thick length, easing himself in.

If I hadn’t seen stars by then, I certainly was now. One push, and I was already crying out from the stretch.

“Fuck, so tight, so perfect... Y/N, tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, voice rough.

But I was too lost in pleasure to respond, only nodding and moving with him as he began to thrust, each movement filling the room with our heavy breaths, pants, and the sound of skin meeting skin.

Namjoon lifted one of my legs, hooking it over his shoulder, and suddenly, he was hitting a deeper spot that made me see white.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my legs ended up bruised. Longing for his lips again, I reached up and captured his mouth, losing myself in the kiss.

Tongues and teeth met as we kissed until Namjoon broke away, gasping for air. “You take me so well, Y/N… like your body…” His fingers traced circles over my clit. “This pussy… was made for me.”

I couldn’t respond, just nodding and crying out in pleasure. The way Namjoon made me feel, the way he moved inside me, it was like we were perfectly made for each other. Everything that had come before led to this moment, us becoming one.

Thrust after thrust, kiss after kiss, I lost all sense of time.

Not until Namjoon said against my neck “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he panted.

“Then let go,” I whispered.

“Y/N, I’m about to—”

“Me too.”

And with that, we came together, bodies pressed close, shuddering in sync as the last waves of pleasure passed over us.

Namjoon pulled out, quickly removed the condom, and tied it off before stepping out of bed. Moments later, he returned, gently wiping me clean with a warm towel. His movements were soft, careful, as if he were savoring each moment. I watched him in silence, feeling a strange mix of bliss and tenderness settle over me. Once he finished, he tossed the towel aside and lay back down beside me, pulling me into his arms.

We stayed like that, wrapped in each other, letting our breathing slow in sync. His fingers traced gentle patterns along my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, melting into the warmth of his embrace.

"So," I said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, "I guess the sex wasn’t that bad after all."

Namjoon laughed softly, looking at me with a raised brow. “Oh really? Just not that bad? I thought I was pretty damn good.”

I grinned, poking his chest playfully. “You were good. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Perfect. There’s still a lot I could teach you.”

His expression shifted, and I saw that familiar smirk spread across his face. “Is that so? I’d love to see what you’ve got in mind, Y/N,” he teased, his voice low and filled with mock confidence.“Does it have anything to do with that pretty mouth of yours?” “Careful now, Joon. I won't give you the satisfaction just yet,” I teased back, running a finger down his chest. “Besides, you’ve had a lot of practice pretending, but a real relationship with me is a whole different thing, you know?”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “Oh, I’m not pretending anymore, love. And I think we’ve got a real thing going here. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

I laughed, a little breathless from the way his words made me feel. “I think I can handle it. You just better keep up.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against mine in a brief but tender kiss. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that. But I’ll be sure to keep you on your toes.”

“Good,” I whispered, my smile playful as I looked up at him. “Because if you can’t keep me entertained, I know someone who can.” He growled softly, pulling me closer, his arms tightening around me. “You’re really trying to make me jealous, huh?”

I smirked, teasing him further. “Maybe I am.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, but there was still that edge of possessiveness in his eyes. “You’re mine now, Y/N. Let’s make sure you don’t forget that.”

And with that, it seemed like Joon and I were bound to continue, losing ourselves in each other throughout the night.

***

The morning sun crept in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I stirred, feeling Namjoon’s arm wrapped around me, our fingers loosely entwined as we lay facing each other. His eyes were still closed, a relaxed expression softening his features. I smiled, gently tracing my thumb over his knuckles, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment.

As if sensing my gaze, Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, a little shy as I tightened my hold on his hand. We lay in silence for a few moments, just taking in the comfort of being close, his fingers absently tracing small circles along my back. I layed there with him, enjoying the quiet simplicity of the moment, feeling like we didn’t need any words to understand what we were both feeling.

After a while, a thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t resist asking. “You know… I’ve been meaning to ask,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper, “you mentioned you liked me a while back. Was it… that time during our date, when we played Two Truths and a Lie, and you mentioned that you had a crush on someone… Was that me?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as his thumb continued to stroke along my spine. “Yes, but” he said, looking into my eyes with a gentle smile. “It was actually before that, long before.”

Namjoon’s eyes held mine as he gathered his thoughts, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but the first time I saw you, it wasn’t like anything I expected. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you just… had this ease about you that made everyone around you feel comfortable. It got to me.”

His fingers traced light patterns along my face now as he spoke. “Back then, I was with my ex, so I didn’t dwell on it too much. But even so, there was this… spark of curiosity, you know? Like, I wanted to understand what made you, you.” His smile grew fonder, his eyes distant, lost in the memory. I felt my cheeks warm at his confession, my heart racing as I watched him speak. “And then… when my relationship ended, it felt like I was finally allowing myself to really notice you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “But by then, I could tell you had your eyes set on Jimin. And I’ll be honest, it bugged me a little. I just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was missing something… how foolish he was not to notice you”.

I could see the faintest hint of frustration flash in his eyes“ And I don’t know, maybe it was selfish, but… I wanted you to look at me that way. It started small at first, just these little moments where I’d think about you, or catch myself looking for you at gatherings. Then, when I’d see you laughing at something he said, I’d feel this pang of… jealousy.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and filled with something raw. “When I saw you on that balcony, smoking and looking lost in your thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder what was on your mind. And I thought, why not make my move? If Jimin was too blind to see you, maybe I’d have a chance. Even if it was selfish, even if I was coming in knowing you liked someone else… I just wanted you to see me, notice me, even if I had to pretend at first.”

Namjoon paused, looking down at our hands, his thumb stroking softly over my knuckles now. “I guess that was when I realised… pretending or not, I just wanted you to feel about me the way I felt about you.”

His honesty made my heart swell, and I was at a loss for words. I could see in his eyes that every word was real, and in that moment, I knew he was letting me see a part of him he rarely showed anyone else.

My heart pounded as his words sank in, the honesty and vulnerability behind them making my chest tighten with emotion.

“Guess it was lucky for me that Jimin never noticed, then,” I whispered with a soft smile, and he chuckled, his forehead pressing gently against mine.

“Lucky for both of us,” he murmured, his gaze warm and full of promise. “This still feels like a dream,” I said softly, my gaze drifting over his face. “These past two months, and then last night… it all feels unreal.”

“Feels pretty real to me,” Namjoon replied.

I grinned, unable to resist a tease. “You know,” I murmured, leaning in slightly, “for someone who was so sure of himself last night, you seemed pretty determined to impress me.”

Namjoon’s brow arched, and he chuckled, squeezing my hand. “Determined? Or just confident?”

I let out a laugh. “Confident? Maybe,” I said, grinning. “But I’d say you were pretty eager to prove yourself.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, his voice low and playful, as his fingers continued to trace gentle patterns along my hand. “Sounds to me like you enjoyed every second.”

I bit my lip, raising a brow. “I don’t know, Mr. Kim. You may have to convince me again.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled, his hand slipping around my waist, pulling me a little closer. “Careful, Y/N. If you keep teasing me, I might just have to make it my mission to remind you all day,” he murmured, his lips hovering close to mine, a playful challenge lighting up his gaze.

I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “How about I take charge today instead?”

A flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the idea. Instead, he leaned back slightly, watching me with a smirk of his own as I moved even closer, letting the suggestion linger between us.

We were still both very much naked from last night, with only the sheet draped over us. I shifted slightly, lifting myself just enough to reach toward his nightstand on my left, remembering from last night that this was where he kept the condoms, or at least, I was pretty sure that’s where they were. Namjoon’s smirk deepened as he watched me, clearly intrigued. "Oh, I’m all yours," he murmured, his tone full of invitation. He leaned back further against the headboard, keeping his arms folded behind his head, completely giving in to the moment.

As I inched closer, I took my time, savouring the way his eyes never left mine, his gaze filled with a mix of amusement and anticipation. I slowly opened the wrapper, letting the silence hang between us, thick with tension and a playful edge. His breathing grew just a little heavier, betraying his calm facade. His cock hard and dripping already as I slid the wrapper over him.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying the view,” I teased, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder as I positioned myself just above him.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Well, you’re making it hard not to.” He raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze roam over me. I smirked, letting my fingers trail slowly down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch. "Oh, am I?" I whispered, tilting my head as I looked at him, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Because I could always take my time... really draw this out. Make you wait."

Namjoon’s gaze darkened, his smirk widening as he tried to keep his composure. “You think I’d let you get away with that?” he murmured, but there was a challenge in his tone that only encouraged me.

I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his neck, my breath warm against his skin. "I don’t think you’re in any position to stop me, actually," I teased, pressing a few light kisses along his jaw, my hands tracing down his sides, deliberately slow.

A low chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head slightly to give me more access, his hands resting on my hips but making no move to stop me. “Careful,” he whispered, his voice soft but intense. “I might just lose my patience.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see how long you can hold out,” I replied, brushing my lips just over his, close enough to feel the warmth, but keeping just enough distance to keep him guessing. I held his gaze, letting a playful smile spread across my lips as I positioned myself, teasingly closer. Leaning in, I pressed my body against his, letting him feel the warmth but still holding back. I could feel his hands tighten around my waist as his breathing grew heavier, his gaze intense with anticipation and just a hint of frustration.

Slowly, I sank down, letting him feel the barest hint of contact, then just as quickly lifted myself back up, watching his reaction. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing with a mix of desire and impatience. “You’re really testing me here,” he muttered, his voice rough, a little desperate.

I smiled at his frustration, feeling the power shift in my favour as I teased him further. "Oh, but I like watching you squirm," I whispered, my voice light, yet dripping with the tension of the moment. I lowered myself just enough to feel the brush of him against me, but pulled away before it could escalate.

Namjoon let out a frustrated groan, his hands gripping my hips with an intensity that bordered on desperate. His eyes were burning with need, and I could see the control he was trying to maintain slipping away. "Y/N... please..." His voice was rough, almost pleading, and it sent a thrill through me.

I raised an eyebrow, enjoying the way he was unravelling before me. "Please what?" I teased, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered the words.

He froze for a moment, a conflicted look crossing his features before he finally let out a frustrated breath. "Please, don't make me beg," he muttered, his voice thick with want. "I can't take much more of this."

The challenge in his tone only made me smile wider. "Oh, but I think you can," I murmured, my fingers tracing his jawline as I leaned in close again, lips barely brushing his. "Beg for it, Namjoon."

The raw edge of his voice when he finally responded—"Please, Y/N, I need you..."—was all the confirmation I needed. The desperation in his eyes, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath me, made it impossible to resist. I slowly lowered myself once more, this time not pulling away.

When I sank down, both of us moaned in unison, the sound filling the air between us. I started moving up and down, the rhythm slow at first, but I could feel Namjoon trying to hold back his moans, his control slipping. He couldn't contain it anymore, and he began moaning my name, deep and desperate.

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?” I barely replied, my voice a whisper.

“I am yours, Y/N…”

The sound of it sent a rush of heat through me, and I found myself doing the same, moaning his name as I picked up the pace, moving faster and more urgently. He tightened his grip on my hips, his fingers digging in as he helped me move faster, the thrusts harsher now, each one more powerful than the last. His lips travelled down my neck and chest, and he began to play with my breasts, his kisses trailing down my body, sending waves of pleasure through me. My hands ran down his back, nails lightly scratching his skin as he groaned into me, his body pressing harder against mine.

He groaned my name again, the sound low and desperate, making my body tremble in response. I could feel the heat building inside of me, the pleasure spiralling with every move. I arched into him, feeling his teeth graze my skin, the sensation causing my legs to shake.

My hands roamed up to his hair, tugging him closer, pulling him into a kiss that was as urgent as everything else between us. His tongue met mine, hungry and demanding. The heat between us was unbearable now, the tension mounting, and I could feel myself getting closer to the edge with every passing second.

“You’re in control, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Take what you want.”

His mouth was parted, a low growl escaping him as he groaned, his eyes dark with need.

“God, Y/N, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my skin. “Don’t stop, don’t slow down.”

I leaned down, pressing my chest against his, our lips brushing together briefly before I lifted myself again, the sensation of him filling me overwhelming. His hands slid to my back, pulling me closer, pressing me into him as he thrust up in time with my movements, making me gasp.

“You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” Namjoon breathed out. “I can’t... I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Say my name,” I whispered, my voice sultry as I rode him even faster.

“Y/N!” Namjoon gasped, his body trembling beneath me. “Y/N, please… don’t stop.”

The desperation in his voice made me smile, and I pushed myself to go even faster, each thrust more powerful than the last. I could feel myself getting closer, the pressure in my lower stomach tightening as I moved with him, both of us chasing that inevitable release. “Fuck, Y/N… I’m so close…” Namjoon groaned, his hands gripping my ass harder, his body arching into mine as he kept me in place, him buried deep inside, grinding back and forth, stimulating my clit with every move. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he tried to keep his composure.

“Me too,” I panted, my voice breathless as I leaned down to kiss him, our lips crashing together in a desperate, hungry kiss. I kept riding him, faster now, each motion pushing us both closer to the edge. “Don’t stop, Namjoon... keep going...”

“I won’t,” he muttered, his voice rough, his hands pressing me down onto him harder, pushing us both to the brink. “Fuck, Y/N... I’m going to...”

His body tensed beneath me, and I felt the tight coil inside me snap as I let out a low moan, the pleasure rushing through me, making my vision blur for a moment. Namjoon followed right after, his grip tightening on me as he groaned my name, his release overwhelming him.

We both collapsed, breathless and spent, our bodies still tangled together, as the tension finally eased, leaving us in the aftermath of everything. I rested against his chest, trying to catch my breath, his heart still pounding beneath my ear.

"God," he whispered softly, his fingers gently running through my hair, his voice hushed but full of satisfaction. "That was... incredible."

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the quiet settle between us as we tried to slow our breathing. ***

After, we showered together, the water cascading down our bodies, we shared a peaceful silence, the steam fogging up the bathroom. There was an unspoken comfort between us, the quiet intimacy of helping each other wash our bodies. The moments that would normally feel awkward or rushed felt so natural with him, every touch between us a wordless connection that I hadn't realised I was craving.

When we finally stepped out, the warmth of the room met our damp skin, and I reached for a towel, drying my hair as Namjoon looked at me with that familiar concern.

"Let me help you with your hair," he said softly, stepping closer.

I gave him a playful smile, brushing the towel through my hair. “It’s fine, Namjoon. I got it,” I reassured him, wanting to do it myself since I knew it would take a while to dry.

He chuckled, clearly not ready to stop being helpful. “Okay, then how about I make us some coffee? You probably need it after all that…” His words trailed off with a grin, but there was a hint of awkwardness in his tone, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to go from here.

“Sounds good,” I said, reaching for one of his shirts hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It was oversized, the fabric soft and warm as I pulled it over my head, a small comfort against my still-damp skin. It felt right, almost like it was meant for me.

As Namjoon turned toward the kitchen, I couldn’t help but linger for a moment, watching him walk away. His broad shoulders and the way his muscles flexed with each step had my heart racing. I felt this undeniable pull to him, and the shirt I wore only made me feel closer, more connected to him. It was like I was already a part of his world, and that realisation made me smile, despite the growing rush in my chest.

I entered the kitchen, stopping in front of him to get his attention. The sight of me in his shirt, with nothing but my bare legs showing, made him freeze for a second. His eyes darkened, and the intensity in his gaze was impossible to ignore. He swallowed hard, the breath hitching in his throat as he looked me up and down, as if trying to decide whether he could keep his composure or if he was going to lose himself.

Before I could say anything, he stepped toward me, and with one swift motion, he lifted me up onto the kitchen counter, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was desperate and full of hunger. “You look so good in my shirt…” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and raspy. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

His hands roamed to my waist, pulling me closer and I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, the heat between us escalating in an instant. But just as things started to get more heated, the sound of a phone ringing broke through the thick tension in the room. I pulled away just slightly, eyes narrowing as I tried to figure out whose phone it was. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. It could’ve been Jungkook, or worse, my sister. Neither of them had heard from me since I’d come back here with Namjoon, and I knew they’d be worried by now. We hadn’t texted them about anything, not even letting them know I was still here.

Namjoon, looking just as frustrated at the interruption, gave me a brief kiss on the forehead before pulling away. “I’ll grab our phones,” he said, his voice heavy with need but also that underlying concern for what was going on outside the bubble we’d created for ourselves.

I slid back down from the counter, standing with my legs shaky from the intensity of our kiss. Namjoon went to grab the phones from the living room, and I quickly adjusted my shirt, feeling the sudden awkwardness of the situation hit me.

Namjoon returned with both phones in hand, and I glanced at the screen of mine, seeing the name that immediately caused my stomach to flip, my sister. I let out a deep breath before answering, holding the phone to my ear while my eyes stayed locked on Namjoon, who was now back at the counter, making coffee as though nothing had happened.

"Hey," I said into the phone, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight quiver in my voice that betrayed me.

“Y/N, are you still at Namjoon’s?” My sister’s voice was laced with concern. “I’ve been calling, texting, you didn’t answer any of my messages. We were getting worried!”

I glanced at Namjoon again, and his eyes were on me. There was no judgement, just an understanding in his gaze.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, speaking into the phone while my eyes never left Namjoon. I couldn’t help but smile at the way he moved about the kitchen so casually, so unaffected by what we’d just experienced. “I’m still at Namjoon’s, okay? I promise, I’ll explain everything later.”

My sister didn’t sound fully convinced, but she let out a small sigh. “Alright, just call me when you’re back. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I will,” I assured her, hanging up after a brief exchange of more pleasantries. I looked over at Namjoon, who had just finished making the coffee and was now smiling coming towards me. His smile was effortless, revealing his adorable dimples, and there was a warmth in his gaze that deepened with every moment we shared. As I stood there, the realisation slowly crept in that everything was finally falling into place. Soon, we'd have to explain everything to the group, the fake dating, the misunderstandings, and everything that led us to this point. Sure, some details would be left out, things that didn’t need to be said, but it no longer mattered. What mattered now was what we had here, right in this moment, real, unfiltered, and undeniable.

With Namjoon, everything felt authentic. There was no pretending, no uncertainty. For the first time, I didn’t have to second-guess myself or him. I was falling for him in a way I hadn’t expected, and this time, it wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a story we were playing out for anyone else. This was real. This was ours. And as I stood there with him, I knew that this was the beginning of something new, something I never wanted to let go of.

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