#BUT STILL! HE IS WORKING ON HIS SOCIAL ANXIETY

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: A Helping Hand - Part Two Pairing: office worker!Mingyu x office worker!fem!reader Genre: office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, coworkers-with-benefits Wordcount: 11.6k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Your usually bitter coworker becomes your hero during a train ride home, and your strict work-relationship changes... is it for the better or the worst?

Warnings: mentions of nyctophobia (afraid of the dark) and social anxiety, nsfw content (MDNI), public sex,

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Masterlists

Read part one here

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Mingyu had made it his mission to find every possible way to make your life miserable, seemingly for no reason. One morning, you walked into your morning meeting right on time, only to discover that he had moved the meeting to another room at the last minute, causing you to arrive late. It was always petty, small things that your superiors could easily overlook. His antics were infuriating, and yet, on the rare days when he didn’t pull something, you found yourself believing that he might change. Wishful thinking, perhaps. Despite how annoyed Kim Mingyu could make you, you couldn’t deny that you found him incredibly attractive—especially not when he gave you every opportunity to check him out.

Mingyu's wardrobe consisted exclusively of tight button-ups and form-fitting trousers. Each day, he strutted into the office in yet another stylish and flattering outfit. His walk was confident, bordering on a swagger. If it was chilly, he wore a coat over his suit; if it was warm, he tossed his suit jacket over his shoulder and rolled his sleeves messily up to his elbows. It was the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a French romantic movie—elegant clothes, subtle showing off, and fiery glances.

Things only got more complicated after he stopped tormenting you. That morning, you came into the office a little late. You had missed your first alarm, and of course, the train you took had to shut down. You ran into the office, stopping by your desk to grab a few papers for the meeting. To your surprise, there was a yellow post-it note stuck on your papers. "Meeting moved to room 504," it said. You recognized Mingyu’s handwriting from all the documents you had seen him sign. 

Despite the possibility that he could be playing a joke on you, you decided to trust the note—and, sure enough, the meeting had been moved. When you walked into the meeting, which had only just started, Mingyu sent you a smile. Not the usual evil smirk but a genuine smile. After apologizing for being late and making a small comment about train trouble, you sat down.

Since the incident on the train home a few weeks ago, things had been different. The station had been packed, making it impossible not to stand close to him, or anyone else. Air wouldn’t reach the bottom of your lungs, your muscles tensed up, and a lump formed in your throat. You tried to close your eyes and do breathing exercises, but it had no effect. When the train arrived, Mingyu walked close behind you as you were practically pushed through the doors. As your heartbeat quickened to an alarming pace, Mingyu grabbed your arm and led you to a secluded corner of the train. He shielded you from the crowd with his body, giving you enough space to breathe.

While that was comforting, albeit a little embarrassing, it got worse when the train had a minor accident. The sudden and aggressive brake would have thrown you across the train, seeing as you had nothing to hold onto, but Mingyu’s strong arm wrapped around your waist. He held both of you upright by gripping tightly onto the railing. Instinctively, you hugged him to keep yourself steady but tried to pull away as soon as the train stopped. Just a second later, the lights went out, and Mingyu gripped you tighter. Your head was pressed against his chest, and you could hear his quickened heartbeat. He was scared of the dark. You stayed in place, letting him squeeze you against him—pretending not to notice his shaking hands.

When the train started up again, you both acted like nothing had happened. However, ever since that day, your work relationship with Mingyu has changed. He was kind to you for once; he helped you out when you had a lot of work to do, he had lunch with you, and he left you little notes about last-minute changes in plans. Was he scared you’d tell people he was afraid of the dark? Were all of his kind acts some sort of backward blackmail? Despite these questions, your view of Mingyu began to shift.

You still watched him walk into the office every morning, like a predator stalking its prey. But now, instead of a quick glance, Mingyu would turn to you and greet you with a warm smile. When he tried to strike up a conversation, you pretended to be busy—which wasn’t difficult, since you actually were busy. Although your coworker had suddenly become a big part of your day, your most important task was to get all of your work done by the end of the month.

So you found yourself staying late at work, just happening to pick the same day as Mingyu to do overtime. Neither of you said anything to each other, you didn’t even notice that everyone had left except for him until you stood up to stretch out your stiff limbs. As soon as you spot him on the other side of the desk, his face lit up by his monitor, you jump back with a loud yelp. Mingyu breaks out into a big grin as he tries to hold back his laughter. You try to fix your disheveled-looking self, having taken out your stress on your physical appearance while working. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Working,” he answered. “What else?”

“You’re so-” You sat back down in your chair with a groan and rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Mingyu peaked at you from behind his monitor.

No wonder you hadn’t seen him before. Despite the man being over six feet, and bigger than most men in the office, he wasn’t bigger than the giant monitors that your office had gotten you. He had to stretch, just ever so slightly, to get his eye-line over the edge of the monitor. You narrowed your eyes at him, any of your normal social capabilities had flown out the window as soon as you stayed in the office past five o’clock. 

“You’re wrong,” you muttered, “I do. Leave me alone.”

“You’re the one who interrupted me,” Mingyu argued.

You stayed quiet, long enough for Mingyu to return to whatever he was doing on his computer. An irritation bubbled up your throat as comebacks and retorts whirred around your brain. However, your brain was already tired and so, while you wanted to respond with a jaw-dropping comment, all you could do was huff and sigh. Looking at the clock, you realize how late it was. If you started going home now you wouldn’t get there until very late, which meant you’d want to sleep in just a little extra. 

You closed the things you had been working on to pull up your schedule - of course, you had an early morning meeting. A meeting where you had to prepare a few copies of the new agenda you had been working on. If you printed them now, you’d still be able to sleep in. With a new surge of motivation, you clicked print on your document and hurried over to the office printer. It stood in the corner of the room, mostly gathering dust since you were one of the few who still used it. 

You could feel Mingyu’s eyes burning holes in your back, but you refused to look back. Everything went smoothly, the printer started and you scanned your tag so that it could print out your papers. However, as you pressed on the document you wanted to print, it stopped. You cursed under your breath as you kicked the side of the machine - it didn’t help, of course. You sighed and put your forehead against your palm. By now you could’ve had the copies on your desk in a neat pile, walking out of here and leaving Mingyu in the dust. As if he could read your thoughts, you felt the tall man come up from behind you. He looked over your shoulder and let out a low whistle.

“This is why you should just send out digital copies,” he murmured next to your ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“You use the printer, too.” You try not to move, if you did you’d end up backing into his broad chest - and you could not be reminded of how good it felt to have him press you against him during that train ride.

“Ah, but I know how to push its buttons.”

At this point, you thought he must have been teasing you—pushing your buttons. Mingyu reached around you, his arms encapsulating you against the machine, and with one hand he pressed a few buttons to get the machine starting again - the other just rested on the printer. His face was right next to yours now, his entire body was practically engulfing you despite his skin never quite touching yours. 

The hand that had held your head up now came down to lay on your chest as if it could help keep your heartbeat down. You didn’t know if it was his body heat, or if you were actually able to create this much warmth on your own, but you were getting increasingly hot under your work clothes. The printer beeped in approval of Mingyu’s touch, and your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden sound. Your papers started printing, but Mingyu didn’t move. He put his hands down on the hard plastic, keeping you caged in.

“See? Not that hard,” he hummed.

“I guess not.” You tried to swallow the clump that had built up in your throat, but it was an impossible feat. 

For some reason, you turned your head to look at him. At your movements, he also shifted to look at you. His eyes drifted to your lips before he caught himself and looked back at your eyes. His gaze was heavy, and you almost couldn’t hold eye contact - at the same time it was thrilling and, like driving past a car crash on the highway, you couldn’t look away. It was as if his eyes were begging you for something, you just couldn’t figure out what. 

His breath fanned against your lips, reminding you of how close he was. Your lips parted, as you were about to say something, but the beeping sound of the printer being done broke the tension. Mingyu grumbled something under his breath, but you couldn’t hear it over the happy, unaware, printer noises. He moved away from you, gathering all of your papers and handing them to you. As you took the papers from his hands, your hand brushed against his and sparks ran from your fingertips through the rest of your body. This was bad.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I’ll be heading out now…”

“Let me walk you,” Mingyu offered a little bit too quickly.

The cold air outside the building was a blessing in disguise. You were shivering, but at least you got the opportunity to cool down. You could barely speak to him, only making short comments here and there - and he did the same. Despite the cooling air, the tension was still there. Had he wanted to kiss you before? Was he sleep-deprived or something?

The train ride wasn’t any better, but at least you had a reason to be silent. He offered you the last seat on the train, opting to stand and hold onto the strap handle right in front of your seat. You kept your eyes on your lap for the entire ride, only looking up when you had to get off the train at your stop. As you exited the station, you quickly said goodbye and walked in different directions. When you came home, you quickly took off your work clothes, and washed your face, before making yourself a quick, and a little sad, dinner. Then, finally, you got to throw yourself into bed and hide away from everything that had to do with Kim Mingyu… 

-

When you walked into the office the next morning, you were the only one there. You walked over to your desk, smiling at the neat pile of papers on your desk. Seeing as you had arrived so early, you went over to the coffee machine and made yourself a cup. As you waited, you turned around to lean against the counter only to see Mingyu sitting by his desk right in front of you. He was turned towards you, his usually neat hair now a mess, and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone - the light blue one, that fit him like a glove, and that he had matched with the navy blue slacks. He was slightly slouching in his chair, his legs spread out wide. 

“Oh! You scared me…” You let out a breath and tried to laugh the situation off.

One of his hands beckoned you over and, for whatever reason, you obeyed. You were right in front of him, standing in between his legs. He looked up at you with big, puppy-like eyes and patted his thigh. Suddenly, you were naked and straddling his lap - riding him. As you kept bouncing up and down on his thick cock, his hands were traveling all over your body. You gripped onto his nice shirt, wrinkling the material.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he moaned. “Fuck yeah, keep going…”

As your legs grew tired, your movements got sloppy. Mingyu noticed and picked you up with ease. With one swipe of his hand, he pushed everything off his desk to lay you down on it. His fingers gripped your hips, so tight that they must have left marks, as he slammed into you. All of his clothes were gone now, his bare chest and rippling abs on display for you.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You can do that, can’t you?” His voice was condescending, but you didn’t have it in you to bite back.

You moaned out his name, as your orgasm approached quickly…which is when you woke up.

You sat straight up in bed. The sun was trying its best to get through your blinds, and your clock said 6:14 am - sixteen minutes away from your alarm. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets tightly as if it could help you get rid of your thoughts. It was impossible. Images of Mingyu’s blissed-out expression were ingrained into your skull. With little to no shame left in you, you reached over to your bedside table and took out the vibrator you had hidden in the second drawer.

-

When you got to work that morning, you went straight for the kitchen. Unlike in your dream, the coffee machine was not in the office space - yet another unrealistic thing, you thought, so you shouldn’t pay any attention to it at all. Right? You took out a cup from the cupboard and poured yourself a large cup of black coffee. 

It was when you heard his laugh that you realized that you couldn’t logic yourself out of this. Did he know? Could he suddenly read minds? You turned around to see him talking with a few of your colleagues. Always the social butterfly. He was wearing the same outfit he had in your dream, the sleeves of his blue button-up deliciously rolled up to his elbows—showing off his veiny hands and arms—because of course he had to wear that today. He was too attractive for his own good. When he noticed you staring, he smiled and waved. You sent him a small smile and quickly left the room.

This was just because you had snooped around on his Instagram once or twice, you convinced yourself. He really should stop posting photos of his vacations or of him in the gym—posting half-naked pictures of yourself shouldn’t be allowed… at least not for him. You picked up the neat paper pile from your desk, suddenly remembering last night’s incident again. Kim Mingyu needed to get the fuck out of your head.

You were first in the meeting room, putting out papers on everyone’s desk before sitting down in your usual seat. A few minutes later, the rest of the team walked in - including Mingyu. He sat down right in front of you, and you felt like dying when he tried to get your eye contact again. The meeting started, and your supervisor thanked you for the documents. After telling her that it was no big deal, you didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting. You barely even noticed, you just nodded and laughed whenever everyone else did—none of the words they said processed in your brain, as it was far too busy trying to not think about having sex with Kim Mingyu. Which is why when he said your name, you almost flew out of your chair.

“Sorry, what?” You did your best to compose yourself while your colleagues snickered.

“You can do that, can’t you?” he repeated.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You can do that, can’t you?”

You wanted to hide under the table, desperate to hide the way your face started heating up. 

“Book a dinner at the restaurant?” he added when he saw you hesitate to answer.

“Oh, sure.” You cleared your throat. “... which restaurant?”

The rest of your team laughed again, someone commenting on how you should start getting more sleep. You had slept. You had slept wonderfully, in fact, but you couldn’t tell them that. Your supervisor told you that she’d write the name down for you and that you just had to call and check if they had anything open for a party of 25—the number of people working on the company’s latest project. You quickly agreed and accepted the note from her. 

The week couldn’t go any slower, but eventually, you got to Friday. You had called the restaurant and booked it up for the following week, and you had finished all of your tasks. Everything was looking up for you, and the dream of Mingyu was hidden in the back of your brain. Although, you couldn’t help but try to avoid him. It was difficult enough to look him in the eye, let alone have a conversation with him. The most you could do was sit silently at your desk while he worked at his desk right in front of you, and even that was difficult. 

Mingyu picked up on your weird behavior during that first meeting and immediately got worried that he had gone too far by the printer. He tried talking to you, but it was impossible. You always found an excuse to avoid him - whether it was another colleague calling your name, that he couldn’t hear, or if you had extra work you had to get done. Now, at the end of the week, he knew that you had finished all of your work as your boss had just praised you for it in front of him. 

The next time Mingyu tried to talk to you, you were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, and the gentle hum of the machine was oddly soothing. Mingyu approached his presence immediately setting your nerves on edge.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual yet expectant.

You felt a pang of panic and quickly blurted out, “Oh, I just remembered—I forgot something in the storage room.”

Without waiting for his response, you abandoned your half-filled coffee cup on the counter and hurried out of the kitchen, your heart racing.

Mingyu watched you go, frustration was evident in his eyes. He had had enough of your evasions. Determined to get to the bottom of things, he followed you to the storage room.

When he walked in, the dim lighting cast long shadows over the stacks of boxes and shelves. He found you standing in a corner, nervously picking at your fingernails. You weren’t searching for anything; instead, you were doing absolutely nothing to find the supposed item you had forgotten. Your eyes were fixed on the floor, and your shoulders were tense, betraying your unease.

“What are you doing here?” you asked quickly.

“I need to talk to you.” Mingyu walked closer to you, and you had nowhere to go except to press yourself against the wall.

“No, you don’t,” you peeped.

“Did I do something?”

“No-”

“Then what’s your problem with me? Why are you ignoring me?”

“Mr. Kim-”

“Did I go too far by the printer? I’m sorry if I did- I really am, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wish we could talk about it-”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you interrupted.

“... then why have you been ignoring me?”

You scoffed and tried to argue that you actually hadn’t ignored him, it must have just seemed like it since you had been so busy. But Mingyu quickly caught onto your bullshit.

“Y/N, please. Talk to me.” He sighed. “I know I’ve been an ass to you, and I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying to make it up to you ever since the- the train…”

“Mr. Kim-”

“Mingyu,” he said, “please.”

“Mingyu… you didn’t do anything, I promise. I just…” How were you supposed to tell him that you had a dream about him fucking you and that you then masturbated to the thought of said dream? Yeah… maybe leave that last part out. Still, you owed him some sort of explanation.

“Has something happened? Did someone tell you something?” He sounded worried.

“No- no… I just had… a dream about you.” You practically whispered out the last part.

“A dream?” Not only was Kim Mingyu attractive, smart, and funny, but he apparently also had super-sonic hearing.

“Yeah… it’s awkward, I’m sorry. This is why I didn’t want to tell you-”

Instead of backing away, like you thought he would, he walked closer to you. Your back was against the cold wall now, you had nowhere to go unless you wanted to jump over an old table or crash through a shelf. Parkour was not your strong suit, and definitely not in heels, so you stayed in place.

“What was the dream about?” He was towering over you again, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Mingyu, please…” you whined. “It was embarrassing enough to dream it, don’t make me say it out loud.”

“I want to know how you dream of me,” he said and put his arm on the wall behind you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he inched closer to you. His forehead was almost touching yours. In his eyes, you could see that same heaviness that you felt the night you were doing overtime with him. You felt compelled to tell him, you had to see where this would lead.

“We were in the office.” Your eyes darted to his lips as he wet them with the tip of his tongue. “I had just arrived, and you were the only one there…”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed. “And then?”

“Then you beckoned me over to your desk and…” Your face flushed. “Please don’t make me say it, Mingyu.”

“I want to hear what I did to you for you to get so flustered.” He reached up to cup your face with the hand that wasn’t still on the wall behind you. “Come on, baby. Spit it out.”

“I fucked you in your office chair.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Then you had your way with me on your desk…”

“And did you cum, baby?” he muttered.

You couldn’t answer, the words stuck in your throat. He grinned and leaned his forehead against yours. The feeling of his, much colder, skin against your flustered face made your eyes flutter shut. Now that you couldn’t see him looking at you, you gathered up the strength to continue.

“I woke up before I could cum,” you admitted.

“What a shame…” He paused and watched as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Unless you took care of it afterward… did you touch yourself to the thought of me, baby?”

“Yes…” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, “I’ve done it too.”

“You have?” You opened your eyes again.

“Believe me,” he said, “You’re not the only one with dirty dreams, sweetheart… Do you want me to make your dreams come true?”

You thought that you hadn’t heard him right, or that you were dreaming of him again. But when you nodded, and he leaned in, your breath hitched in anticipation. When his lips finally pressed against yours, the firm, demanding pressure confirmed that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

His kiss was intense, igniting a primal hunger within you. The warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, was far better than any fantasy. Your hands instinctively gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. Mingyu’s hands roamed your back, pressing you tightly against his body, the heat between you rising rapidly.

Every touch, every movement, fueled the fire inside you. The real Kim Mingyu was solid, warm, and undeniably present, far surpassing any wild thoughts your mind could conjure. This was raw, physical desire, a craving that demanded to be satisfied.

That’s how you ended up on the old table in the storage room, with Mingyu’s cock buried deep in your cunt. His strong hands gripped your waist hard, and he used that grip to mercilessly pound into you. The two of you had barely had time to take off your clothes properly; your pants were shoved down to your ankles, and your shirt pulled up to expose the swell of your breast, meanwhile, the bottom of Mingyu’s shirt was pulled between his teeth, keeping it out of the way for him to continue absolutely ruining you. Mingyu’s pants were pulled down just far enough for him to pull his dick out, and you hoped that his pants are dark enough to hide the stain that your juices are definitely leaving on him.

“Don’t stop-” you hissed out through gritted teeth.

While the storage unit was secluded, it wasn’t soundproof. You tried your best to contain all of your noises, but Mingyu seemed to have a mission to push all of your buttons until you were screaming his name. One of his hands traveled from your hip to your clit, where he furiously rubbed small circles over the bud. You were practically convulsing on the table at this point, clenching around him sporadically.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum-”

“Yes- shit- cum inside me,” you moaned.

The man above you lost his mind at your words, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he pushed his hips against yours. He came, and you soon followed him into paradise from his work on your clit. Mingyu’s form slumped over yours, his head lying by your shoulder. With a groan, he pulled out of you. Before his cum could trickle out of you, he pulled your panties and your pants back up.

“Don’t want you to make a mess and expose us, right?” he hummed. “Can you keep it in for me, baby?”

You couldn’t respond and only nodded yes. While you lay still on the table, Mingyu got dressed. The shuffling of his clothes slowly woke you up from your drowsed state, and you slowly sat up as you heard him buckling his belt. He had managed to tuck his wrinkly shirt into his pants, although it didn’t look as proper as it did this morning. He noticed you staring when he put the belt through the final hoop. Mingyu’s hair was a mess, probably from your relentless tugging on it, and his pupils were blown out.

“Do I look okay?” he asked with a small smile.

“You looked like you just got fucked in a storage room,” you deadpanned as you started fixing your clothes.

“I’m not the one who got fucked,” he argued, grinning wide.

“Don’t talk semantics with me right now.” You groaned.

As you stood up your legs were a little shaky, but, even worse, you could feel Mingyu’s cum dripping out of you and soiling your panties. The fact that you were getting turned on by it was something you didn’t dare say out loud. Mingyu’s cocky grin at your facial expression was embarrassing enough.

“Same time next week?” he joked.

“Fuck off.”

-

And yet, just a few days later, you were back in the storage room with Mingyu. It wasn’t your fault that he had a body sculpted by the gods, and possibly the best dick you’ve ever had. Despite hating him outside of this storage unit, you let yourself love the way his large hands manhandle you in that storage room. There’s always an urgency to Mingyu’s touch and you can’t tell if it’s because he wants to get it over with, or if he’s just that into you.

Every time you're free, from then on, you leave little post-it notes on his desk, and he does the same for you. Usually, it’s a question like “Got time?” or “Meet up later?”, but when one of you is feeling particularly needy—like when Mingyu decided to wear a tight-fitting t-shirt instead of his usual button-ups—you just write “five minutes”. 

That wasn’t the only way the two of you got creative. Sometimes you didn’t make it all the way to the storage room, sometimes Mingyu would sneak you into a bathroom or a meeting room with curtains. After a few weeks of this, you’d been eaten out in your usual meeting chair, fucked against a bathroom mirror, and you had cum more times than you could count in that storage room.

At this point, you got embarrassed whenever your coworkers said they were going to the storage room - if only they knew. One of them almost found out once. You were unsure of who it was, but while Mingyu was eating you out in the storage room someone had tried to get in. The footsteps could be heard outside the door, and you had desperately tried to push Mingyu away. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he continued eating you out on the old, creaky, table. You didn’t try to fight it, instead throwing a hand over your mouth and hoping that the door was locked. Luckily for you, it was. Mingyu had known but said nothing to you at the moment. You punished him with ignoring his pleas for sex for a few days, before eventually giving in to your urges.

It’s late, and you’re still in the office—working overtime, just like the evening that it all started. You were sitting in front of your computer, still working on a current project that you had been procrastinating on. It wasn’t the fault of Mingyu; the frequent sex with him had, surprisingly, led to the two of you getting a better work ethic. Getting your frustrations out on each other worked wonders on your projects, to the point where your supervisor praised you both for the amount of work you had gotten done. 

Mingyu sits by the desk in front of you, unlike you he is not working. He was watching you, and you knew it. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes—if it was one thing that he did like his life depended on it, it was getting horny by the slightest things. You had gotten slightly undressed; you had unbuttoned the top buttons on your shirt—it really only exposed your collarbones. 

“Y/N,” Mingyu rasped.

“Not now, I’m still working,” you muttered.

He groaned, throwing his head back and bumping his head on the back of his chair. You chuckled, not taking your eyes away from your screen—yet, you knew that he was pouting. Still not looking up, you heard him get up and walk behind you. He placed his warm hands on your shoulders, the weight of them forced you to relax your stiff muscles. Gently, he started working his thumbs into your flesh. 

“You could use a break,” he hummed.

“I have to get this done,” you said, trying to bite back the sounds Mingyu’s hands were beginning to pull out of you.

“Just quickly?” His voice was right by your ear now, and he bent further down to press a kiss to your neck. “I need you.”

“You always do.” You sighed, partially out of annoyance but also because Mingyu’s thumb had found a sore spot in your left shoulder.

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that next time you want me.”

His hands traveled from the curve of your neck to your upper arms. As he loomed over you, encasing you completely, it got harder for you to breathe - your lungs would only fill halfway before you had to breathe out again. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his breath by your ear. Mingyu’s lips found your neck and he left soft pecks along your delicate skin. 

“I’ll be in the meeting room,” he whispered in your ear.

Mingyu left your side, and a chill ran down your spine as his warmth left you with him. You were staring at your screen again, the light harsh on your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you turned off the computer and stood up from your chair. You knew which meeting room Mingyu was talking about - because there was only one meeting room that didn’t have cameras or windows on the doors.

When you opened the door, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of Mingyu shrugging off his button-up - his muscles moving delicately under his skin. How he got so ripped, you will never know; you just assumed he had been blessed by some other-worldly creature. He looked over his shoulder with a cocky grin playing on his lips, his canines flashing.

“You came,” he said.

“You knew I would,” you answered.

He turned around to allow you to see an even more heavenly sight and as he walked toward you, you were at a loss for words. Mingyu’s hands easily found your waist as he pulled you in closer, still grinning about winning the game of your attention.

“Yeah, I did,” he murmured before pressing a kiss on your lips.

Your hands were on his chest in a matter of seconds, pushing him towards an empty chair - getting no protests from the man in front of you. When Mingyu sat down, you got on top of him. You straddled his lap and connected your lips again, as you began grinding against his crotch. The always needy Mingyu gripped you tighter, his hands being his only way of expressing his deep desire when your mouth was drowning out his whimpers. Your movements never stopped, but your lips traveled from his lips to his neck - allowing him to make whatever noises he needed to. As your fingertips explored his exposed chest, testing out what would bring the biggest reaction out of him, you felt him hardening against your clothed core. 

The pencil skirt you were wearing had ridden up to sit on your hips, and Mingyu took the opportunity to grab your almost bare ass. You remember the first time you had worn this to the office - you always wore slack out of comfort, but ever since your escapades with your coworker, you had wanted to dress up more - and the image of Mingyu’s, almost pained, expression had been enough for you to keep wearing it, that and how rough he fucked you during the days you decided to tease him with it. Today was that kind of day, as you slid down from his lap and onto your knees on the floor.

“I’ll bring you coffee from the place across the street every morning, if you please suck me off right now,” Mingyu just about begged.

“I was already planning on doing that,” you murmured as you palmed him over his pants. “But I’ll take you up on that offer anyway.”

You went to unbuckle his pants, and Mingyu lifted his hips off immediately. Words of praise slipped out of your lips at his good behavior, and he let out a soft whimper - you would have to remember this for later. After pulling down his pants, you let your nails drag down his thighs. He was visibly hard through his underwear, and it made your mouth water. You palmed him again, peering up at him through your lashes as you did. Mingyu’s pupils were almost entirely covering his iris, his eyebrows knitted together, and his teeth biting down on his bottom lip to hold in his moans. You licked along his clothed cock before playing with the hem of his underwear.

“There’s no one else here,” you murmured. “Don’t hold back on me, baby.”

At your command, Mingyu let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in - a soft moan coming out with it. He nodded and lifted his hips up again for you to pull off his underwear. His pretty cock slapped against his abdomen, and you took it in your hand to guide it back to your mouth. Pressing a sweet kiss to his tip had Mingyu shivering. 

You noticed his hands gripping the armrests like his life depended on it, so - before you took him in your mouth - you had mercy on him and guided his hands to your head instead. Mingyu’s fingers entangled themselves in your hair as if he had done it a thousand times before. When you took him in your mouth, he gasped and whined - he tried to push his hips up, but you pushed him back down again. The part of his length you can’t take in your mouth, you stroke with your hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Mingyu moaned. “You’re going to be the death of me… please, let me cum on your tits this time? No one’s around to see it—”

You pop your mouth off his cock but keep stroking it with the same roughness and fast pace, enjoying watching him fall apart for you. “You’ll cum in my mouth or you won’t cum at all. I’m not walking home with stains on my shirt.”

Mingyu huffed, but couldn’t bring himself to complain. “... could I cum inside you?”

You looked up at him with a knowing smile. At this point, you were convinced he had a breeding kink of some sort—even if you were on birth control, the thought of cumming inside of you still made him go mad.

“Fine.” You stood back up.

Mingyu adjusted himself in his seat as you took off your panties. You pushed the wet fabric into his mouth, and he moaned around it. “To keep you quiet,” you said.

He always got so loud when you were riding him. You stayed clothed and got on his lap again. Mingyu’s hands settled on your hips while you guided his cock to your entrance. A satisfied sigh left your lips when you sank down on him. Grinding on him, you took your time to adjust to his size—which was driving Mingyu to insanity.

“Please.” His voice was muffled by the fabric of your underwear and he peered up at you with big, almost teary eyes.

You take pity on him—such a big, brawny man and he can’t bring himself to grip your hips and have his way with you—so, you start moving. It wasn’t always that he was like this, but you always enjoyed yourself thoroughly when he was. Mingyu groaned and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. His fingers grip your hips roughly but didn’t use his strength to move you to his will.

“Oh god–” He let out a muffled moan as you clenched around him.

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cooed at him. “Who makes you feel this good?”

“You.”

“That’s right. Good boy.” You smiled proudly and pressed your lips on his. 

Mingyu hungrily responded, pushing forward in his chair and wrapping his strong arms around your frame to press you further against him. The chair creaked and croaked, but you paid no mind to it. All of your focus had to be on Mingyu.

“Cum for me, please?” you murmured against his lips.

Mingyu pulled away slightly to look into your eyes, but you never stopped moving. “Inside?”

“Inside.” You nodded.

For the first time this rendezvous, Mingyu took control of you. His hands picked you up so that he could start rutting up into you. You brought down one of your hands to rub your clit, determined to cum with him. You’re close. The coil in your stomach is about to snap, and when it does you see stars. Mingyu let out a groan as you spasmed around him, and spilled himself inside you. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close while he comes down from his high.

When Mingyu leaned back, his breathing heavy, you found yourself still catching your breath. He took your panties out of his mouth, throwing them on his pile of clothes—no doubt planning on making you walk home without them. The rawness of your connection lingers in the air, charged with an electric tension. A sudden, unexpected stillness envelops the room. You feel Mingyu's warmth radiating against you. When you meet his gaze, you expect the teasing yet unattached Mingyu. But this time, there's something different in his eyes – a softness, a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

Before you could process the change, he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and deliberate. His thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek, and then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, lingering – a stark contrast to the fervor of just moments before. His lips pressed against yours with a chaste, almost reverent tenderness, conveying emotions words could never express.

In that instant, as his lips melded with yours in a delicate dance, a realization dawned upon you. This wasn’t just a fleeting affair or a simple coworkers-with-benefits arrangement. There was something deeper here, something profound and undeniable. The kiss ended, but the impact of it resonated within you, leaving you breathless and irrevocably changed.

Mingyu pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours as if silently asking if you felt it too. And as you looked at him, heart pounding, you knew that things between you would never be the same. You pulled back and stood up from his lap, the weight of the kiss heavy on your mind. Mingyu’s eyes, still soft with lingering tenderness, followed your every move.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a gentle plea. “What’s wrong?”

You averted your gaze, focusing on the scattered papers on the table. “This… this wasn’t supposed to happen,” you stumbled over your words, your heart racing. “We agreed to keep things simple. No feelings, no complications.”

Mingyu stood up, his expression earnest. “I know, but…” He reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “That kiss… it meant something, didn’t it?”

You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. “It can’t mean anything, Mingyu. We can’t afford to complicate things.”

His eyes searched yours, a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Why does it have to be complicated?”

You shake your head, taking another step back. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”

You paused at the door, glancing back at him. His eyes held a silent plea, but your own feelings are too tangled to unravel just yet.

-

You’ve been avoiding Mingyu since that day in the meeting room. The memory of his tender kiss haunted you, a constant reminder of the emotions you’ve been trying to suppress. At work, you kept your interactions strictly professional, dodging his attempts to talk. It was easier to bury your feelings beneath a facade of indifference.

Tonight, the team was out for dinner, a rare occasion meant to celebrate the completion of a big project. The restaurant was lively, filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. You sat at the end of the table, nursing your drink, and tried to appear engaged in the conversation around you. But your thoughts kept drifting back to Mingyu, seated just a few places away, his eyes occasionally flicking in your direction.

As the night progressed, you felt the effects of the alcohol more acutely. The room seemed to spin slightly, and you laughed a bit too loudly at a colleague’s joke. Just as you’re about to take another sip, you felt a presence beside you. It’s Mingyu.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, trying not to draw attention.

You glanced up, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so close. “Now’s not a good time,” you muttered, looking away.

“Please,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a minute.”

With a sigh, you set your glass down and follow him to a quieter corner of the restaurant. He stopped near the entrance to the patio, the cool night air providing a brief respite from the crowded, warm interior.

“What do you want, Mingyu?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

You scoffed, the alcohol loosening your tongue. “Do something wrong? You kissed me, Mingyu. After everything, you kissed me like it meant something.”

“It did mean something,” he said softly, taking a step closer. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “We agreed this was just a physical thing. No feelings, no complications. And now you’re trying to change everything.”

“I’m not trying to change anything,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’m just being honest about how I feel.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I can’t deal with this right now, Mingyu. It’s too much.”

The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but he doesn’t back down. “You’re pushing me away because you’re scared. But I’m not going anywhere. I care about you.”

“Stop it,” you say, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Just… stop.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked back to the table, grabbing your drink and taking a big gulp. You could feel the weight of Mingyu’s gaze on you, but you refused to look up. The rest of the dinner was a blur, the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest. You sat at the table, isolated despite the crowd around you, and tried to drown your sadness in drink after drink.

Mingyu stayed at the other end of the table, a silent presence that you can’t ignore. You knew he was giving you space, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Each sip of your drink felt like a futile attempt to erase the memory of his kiss, the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes.

By the end of the night, you were too drunk to think straight, the world around you spinning as you stumbled to your feet. You lost count of how many glasses you downed in an effort to numb the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. The world around you has taken on a hazy, dreamlike quality, and your steps are unsteady as you attempt to stand.

Mingyu was beside you in an instant, his strong hands gripping your arms to keep you from toppling over. “Hey, easy there,” he says, his voice laced with concern. “You’re not looking too good.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to shrug him off, but your legs betrayed you, wobbling beneath you.

“Let me take you home,” he offered, his grip tightening to support you.

“No,” you slurred, shaking your head stubbornly. “I can manage.”

Mingyu sighed, clearly unconvinced. “You can barely stand. You need help.”

“I don’t need help from you,” you snapped, the alcohol making your words sharper than intended. “I don’t even know you.”

His expression softened, a mix of hurt and understanding in his eyes. “I’m not a stranger. It’s Mingyu. Let me help you.”

You scoffed, still struggling against his hold. “Strangers can be named Mingyu too. I’m not telling a stranger where I live.”

He let out a resigned sigh, looking around the nearly empty restaurant. “Alright, if you won’t tell me where you live, I’ll take you to my place. You can sleep it off there.”

Too tired and drunk to argue further, you let him guide you out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits you like a splash of water, momentarily clearing your head. Mingyu kept a firm grip on you, his presence steady and reassuring as he led you to his car.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine a soothing background noise as you fought to keep your eyes open. Every so often, you stole glances at Mingyu, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. There was a determined set to his jaw, but his eyes flickered with concern whenever he looked your way.

When you arrived at his apartment building, he parked and helped you out of the car. The lobby was quiet, and the elevator ride up felt like it took forever. Mingyu kept an arm around you, ensuring you didn’t stumble.

Finally, you reached his apartment. He unlocked the door and guided you inside, the space warm and inviting. “You can take my bed,” he said, leading you to his bedroom. “I’ll crash on the couch.”

You nodded, too exhausted to protest. The bed was soft and comforting, and as soon as you lay down, sleep began to pull at you. Mingyu pulled a blanket over you, his touch gentle. “Get some rest,” he murmured. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You barely managed a nod before sleep claimed you, the last thing you remembered was the sound of Mingyu quietly closing the door as he left you to rest.

-

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently rousing you from sleep. You blink, disoriented, as you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. The bed was comfortable, the sheets warm and soft, but panic gripped you as you realized you were not in your own room. Memories of the previous night come rushing back, and your heart raced as you sat up, fearing the worst.

Had you given in to temptation while drunk? You quickly glanced down, relieved to find yourself still fully clothed, albeit a bit disheveled. With a sigh of relief, you slid out of bed, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room was tastefully decorated, modern but cozy, and it was clear this was Mingyu’s place.

Curiosity mixed with a bit of apprehension drove you to explore the apartment. You moved quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was nearby. The living room was spacious, with large windows letting in the morning sun, and the kitchen looked sleek and well-kept. As you turned a corner, you spotted him.

Mingyu was sprawled on the couch, his face peaceful in sleep. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, one toned arm draped over his eyes to block out the light. Your eyes fell on his naked shoulders—your imagination ran wild as his blanket was pulled up over his chest. Relief washed over you as you realized he had slept here, not with you. The tension in your chest eased slightly.

As you tiptoed towards the door, the floor creaked beneath your weight. Mingyu stirred the arm over his eyes falling away as he blinked up at you, groggy but alert. “Hey,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You’re awake.”

You froze, caught in the act of sneaking out. “I’m sorry,” you stammered, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He offered a small smile, swinging his legs off the couch and standing up. He was only in pajama pants. “It’s alright. I was going to get up soon anyway.” He stretched, looking around the apartment, and pretended like he wasn’t showing off. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit hungover,” you admitted, rubbing your temples as an excuse to look down. “But otherwise okay. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Of course,” he said, walking towards the kitchen. “I didn’t want you going home in that state. Are you hungry? I can make us some breakfast.”

You hesitated, still feeling awkward about the whole situation. “You don’t have to. I should probably just get going.”

Mingyu shook his head, already pulling out a frying pan and some ingredients. “You need to eat something. Besides, we should talk.”

His tone was gentle but firm, leaving little room for argument. You nodded reluctantly, making your way to the kitchen island and sitting down. “Okay. Breakfast sounds good.”

He worked quickly, the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs soon filling the air. The domesticity of the scene feels strangely intimate, and you find yourself relaxing despite the lingering awkwardness. Mingyu moves with ease, his focus on the task at hand.

“So,” he began, glancing over at you as he cracked an egg into the pan, “about last night…”

You shifted uncomfortably on the stool. “Yeah. Sorry if I was difficult. I didn’t mean to be a burden.”

“You weren’t a burden,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And… I’m sorry if I pushed too hard. I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you.”

You sighed, fiddling with the edge of the counter. “It’s not just you. It’s everything. I’ve been trying to keep things simple, but it’s clear they’re not.”

Mingyu nodded, flipping the bacon. “I get it. This isn’t easy for me either. But maybe we can figure it out together?”

His words hung in the air, a tentative offering of hope. You met his gaze, seeing the genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said softly, the possibility of something more settling gently in your heart.

He smiled, plating the food and bringing it over to you. “Let’s take it one step at a time. For now, eat up.”

You and Mingyu sat at the kitchen island, plates of breakfast between you. The initial awkwardness had faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. As you ate, the conversation started to flow naturally. You talked about work, mutual colleagues, and light-hearted topics, gradually easing into deeper territory.

After a while, Mingyu looked at you thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, curious. “Sure.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you remember the train incident?”

You swallowed, memories of that night flashing in your mind. “Yeah, it’s hard to forget.”

He nodded, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “You know, I’ve never told anyone this, but I’m scared of the dark. Always have been. That night on the train, when the power went out… I panicked. I couldn’t breathe. But then you were there.”

You looked at him, surprised by his vulnerability. “I had a feeling, I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was,” he admitted, looking down at his plate. “But your presence helped. You distracted me. I felt safe with you.”

His words touched something deep within you. “I’m glad I could help. Crowds have always been difficult for me. That night, it was overwhelming, but then you… you made it bearable.”

Mingyu looked up, his eyes locking with yours. “We helped each other that night. And it made me realize something.”

You tilted your head, heart pounding in anticipation. “What’s that?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been trying to push my feelings for you away, to keep things professional. But after that night, I couldn’t deny them anymore. I just wasn’t ready to commit, I thought our arrangement was enough.”

The conversation lingered in the air, and the unspoken emotions between you and Mingyu were finally brought to light. As the breakfast dishes sat forgotten on the counter, he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Mingyu,” you began, but he stopped you, his expression serious.

“Wait,” he said softly. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know I’ve been difficult to work with. Cold, even. And I want to explain why.” He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that’s surprisingly endearing. “My attitude towards you… it wasn’t because I disliked you. It was the opposite. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, and it scared me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away.”

The confession hung in the air, and you felt a mixture of relief and confusion. “You were mean to me because you liked me?”

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “It sounds stupid, I know—believe me, I feel like a damn kid who can’t control himself around a pretty girl. But I thought if I kept my distance, it would be easier to ignore how I felt. Seeing you every day, working so closely with you… it was harder than I thought.”

You looked down, your mind racing. “I didn’t know,” you whisper, feeling a surge of emotions.

He reached out, gently lifting your chin so you met his gaze again. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I thought it was the only way to protect myself. But I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for the right words. “Mingyu, I… I’ve been trying to hide my feelings too. I was scared of what it would mean for us, for our work.”

He smiled a look of understanding in his eyes. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Not from me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. “I’ve been falling for you, Mingyu. I’ve tried to ignore it, to keep things simple. But I can’t deny it any longer.”

His eyes softened and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “I’m glad you told me. Because I’ve been falling for you too. More than I ever thought possible.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. “We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time.”

You nodded, tears of relief and happiness welling up in your eyes. “One step at a time.”

Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that felt both familiar and new. It’s filled with the promise of everything you’ve both been too afraid to acknowledge, a connection that goes beyond the physical.

As he pulled back, his eyes filled with warmth and affection, he took your hand. “Come with me,” he murmurs, leading you towards his bedroom.

You followed, your heart pounding with anticipation and excitement. In his bedroom, the atmosphere was intimate and comforting, a safe haven for the two of you to explore the depth of your feelings.

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze intense but filled with tenderness. “I want to be with you. Not just for today, but for as long as you’ll have me.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of certainty and peace. “I want that too, Mingyu. More than anything.”

He kissed you again, the passion and emotion between you growing stronger. As you moved together, every touch, every whispered word, solidified the bond you’ve both been too afraid to admit. It wasn’t just about the physical connection anymore; it was about the love that was there all along, waiting to be acknowledged—taking the time to explore it. You were lucky you had the day off.

In Mingyu’s arms, you felt a sense of completeness, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. And as you fell into each other once more, you knew that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together, one step at a time.

-

A few months had passed since that morning in Mingyu’s apartment. Since then, your relationship has grown deeper, richer, and more fulfilling than you ever imagined. To comply with your job’s regulations around relationships within teams, Mingyu was reassigned to a different unit. The transition was challenging, but you both found ways to maintain your connection, meeting during lunch breaks and after work, and sharing stolen moments that made the separation bearable.

As you sat at your desk, immersed in a report, the familiar rhythm of your office provided a soothing backdrop. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway, and your heart skipped a beat. Mingyu stood there, a stack of papers in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He strode over with a confidence that drew every eye in the room, placing the papers on your desk with exaggerated formality.

“Delivery from the marketing department,” he said, his tone playful and his eyes sparkling with hidden meaning.

You looked up, unable to suppress a smile. “Marketing department? Since when do they hand-deliver reports?”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Since I needed an excuse to see you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you bit back a grin. “Well, you’ve made your delivery. Anything else I can help you with, Mr. Marketing?”

Mingyu glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, then nodded subtly towards the door. “Actually, there is. Follow me.”

Intrigued, you stood up and followed him out of your office. He led you down a series of hallways, the usual hustle and bustle of the office fading away as you reached a more secluded area of the building. The quiet, unused conference room that used to be your occasional rendezvous spot, a hidden sanctuary where you could be together without prying eyes.

Once inside, Mingyu closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sealing you into your private world. He turns to face you with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I’ve missed you,” he said, stepping closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you too. It’s been too long.”

He kissed you deeply, the passion between you reigniting instantly. The feeling of his lips against yours, the way he held you tight, all of it sent a thrill through you. When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he takes your hand and leads you to a small couch in the corner of the room.

“So, how’s the marketing department treating you?” you asked, settling into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

“It’s different,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender touch. “But it’s worth it. Anything is worth it if it means I get to be with you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment. “I’m glad we’re still making this work.”

Mingyu’s eyes locked with yours. “Me too… I know we’ve been careful at work, but do you want to–.”

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned him. “I finally got a promotion, I can’t be caught screwing a subordinate in a conference room.”

“Damn, so I can’t even be your dirty little secret?” He grinned.

“You can’t be a dirty little secret if everyone at work knows,” you argued.

“Ah, but our friends and family don’t know yet.”

“Soon, Mingyu,” you reminded him. “We’ll tell them soon. I just need to find the right moment to tell my friends that I’m dating the guy who I’ve been complaining about since I started working here. I don’t want to give them a heart attack.”

He chuckled and squeezed your hand, his gaze unwavering. “I know. And I’m not saying we announce it to the world, but I think they deserve to know.”

You considered his words and the prospect of being more open about your relationship both exciting and daunting. “I think so too,” you said finally, a smile spreading across your face. “I want to share what we have with the people who matter to us.”

He grinned, pulling you into another kiss, his lips lingering on yours. “Good. Because I can’t wait to show you off.”

You laughed, feeling a surge of happiness. “And I can’t wait to be shown off.”

Mingyu grinned, but his expression turned slightly more somber as he looked at the clock. “We should probably get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”

You took his hand, the world of the office creeping back into your awareness. “Yeah, don’t want to give them any reason to suspect.”

He smirked, leaning in for one last kiss, a promise in his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely,” you replied, your heart light as you walked back to your office. 

The workday finally drew to a close, and as you gathered your things, a familiar excitement bubbled up inside you. The office buzz gradually quieted as your colleagues filed out, leaving behind the hum of computers and the soft rustle of papers. You made your way to the lobby, where Mingyu was waiting, leaning casually against the wall. His presence was magnetic, and when he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that seems to brighten the whole room.

“Ready to go?” he asked, pushing off the wall and walking toward you, his movements fluid and confident.

“Ready,” you replied, slipping your hand into his as you stepped out into the evening air. The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of rush hour, cars honking, and people chattering as they hurry by, but all you can focus on is Mingyu beside you.

As you walk together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you fall into easy conversation. “So, what do you want to make for dinner tonight?” you asked, glancing up at him, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his face.

Mingyu tilted his head, thinking. “How about something simple but delicious? Maybe pasta?”

“Pasta sounds good,” you agreed, squeezing his hand. “We could do a creamy Alfredo with chicken and mushrooms.”

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “And maybe some garlic bread on the side?”

You laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I love garlic bread. What about dessert?”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up mischievously. “How about we bake some cookies? We can make them together.”

“Cookies it is,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought of spending a cozy evening together in the kitchen. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip,” he said decisively. “The classic.”

“Perfect,” you replied, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. “I always love our dinner plans.”

Mingyu chuckled, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Me too. I love doing these everyday things with you. It makes everything feel more special.”

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for him. “I feel the same way. Even just walking home together like this… it’s my favorite part of the day.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. The city noises faded into the background as he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and tender. “Mine too,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “I love you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled up at him, feeling a rush of pure happiness. “I love you too, Mingyu.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was a moment of pure joy, a promise of all the simple, beautiful moments you’ll share together. When you finally pulled away, you continued your walk home, hand in hand, talking and laughing about your day and your plans for the evening.

As you reached your apartment, you felt a sense of contentment settled over you. Mingyu unlocked the door, and you stepped inside, the familiar, comforting scent of home welcoming you. The soft lighting cast a warm glow over the cozy living space and you kicked off your shoes, already imagining the delicious dinner you’ll create together.

Mingyu wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Ready to cook?”

“Ready,” you said, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “Let’s get started.”

The two of you moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, the clatter of pots and pans mixing with your laughter. You chopped vegetables, and the rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board adds to the symphony of your evening. The pasta boiled on the stove, and the rich aroma of garlic bread baking in the oven fills the air. Every so often, you stole a kiss or a playful nudge, the simple act of affection made everything feel perfect.

As the pasta simmered and the aroma of garlic bread grew more intense, you glanced at Mingyu, feeling a rush of gratitude for this wonderful, ordinary evening. “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” you said, your voice soft with emotion.

“Me too,” he replied, smiling at you, his eyes twinkling with happiness.

You nodded, knowing that you’d cherish every single one of these moments. And as you sat down to enjoy your meal, the table set with care, you felt a deep sense of happiness. Whatever the future held, you knew you would face it together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01,

@loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag,

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz

[bunnliix]

Somebody I used to Know

I wrote this a couple weeks ago when I was feeling angsty, so this is not a reflection of my mood today, since I got Stray Kids tickets! But, have some angst with this fic because this fic hurts/

Pairing: Chan x reader Summary: You realize the distance between you and Chan, and think about your friendship with the idol. wc: 2.6k Genre: Angst Warnings: Angst (it's really angsty y'all), hurt/no comfort, reader being sad, crying, anxiety, reader having a really rough time here, panicking on the side of Felix and Chan, yelling I think, this is just really sad and we got no happy ending. Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society Beta'd by the lovely @palindrome969

It had taken you a while to realize just how distant you and Chris had become. You had been friends with him for years, even before he had left for Seoul to pursue being an idol. Despite the long distance between the two of you, your friendship had remained strong, both of you finding time to maintain it and spend time with each other.

Now, you had realized that more and more time passed between the times you would talk with him. It made sense, Chan had gotten busier as time had passed, Stray Kids shooting up in popularity. But it had really been in the last year that he had messaged you less and less. You had to message him first most of the time nowadays, and even then, the likelihood of getting a response quickly, or at all, wasn’t great. You felt like you found out more about what he was up to via social media, than from Christopher himself. You were used to hearing every little thing that happened, both for himself personally, and for his group. You didn’t quite know when that stopped, but it had, and that feeling and realization hurt. You had been one of his closest friends for years, and now you felt that he was an acquaintance, almost a stranger to you.

And now here you sit, in a hotel in Seoul, having planned a trip to see him and the others. Felix had helped you plan this trip, seeing as you hadn’t gotten a chance to see Chan in a couple years now, due to busy social and work lives. You were grateful to the other Aussie, but now as you sat here to unanswered texts from either man, you felt that maybe this trip had been stupid. You figured Felix would make sure that there was time for you two to meet, but you guessed he forgot, even as close as two days ago, when you checked in for the final time before flying here. 

You laid back on the bed, when your phone buzzed and when you pulled it up to your face, you saw it was a message from Chris.

‘Sorry, I can’t talk now. Can we talk later?’

You sighed, feeling tears well in your eyes as you responded, ‘That’s fine. Talk to you later Chris.’

You wallowed in your sadness for a while, losing track of time while you let yourself drown in the silence of the hotel room. You didn’t know what to do now. Felix still hadn’t answered you, and it’s not like you had ever gotten any of the other’s numbers. Sure, you could go to JYPE and try to see him there, but you didn’t think your chances of even getting in would be good. That left you with a trip to Seoul where you now had nothing to do.

After another hour of laying there, you decided to get up, decided to go and explore the city. Because why not? You should at least use your time here wisely, and despite being friends, you had never travelled to or explored Seoul before.

You decided to wander, letting yourself be guided wherever your feet took you, finding yourself walking down side streets filled with little shops and buying whatever caught your eye. You spent the majority of the daytime that remained like this, just finding the little family run shops and cheering yourself up by buying things that made you happy. 

When you returned to the hotel later that evening, having had dinner and carrying multiple bags, you also found yourself getting a message from Felix.

‘Sorry! I was busy today, the group had rehearsals for our concerts in a couple days. Also, there will be a ticket for you, for the concert in two days. You’ll also have backstage access after the concert ends.’ The message said, along with the location of the concert.

Well, you guessed this will be your chance to see Chris then, even if it was just at a concert. You moved to drop your bags on the table in the room, moving to figure out a suitable outfit for a concert. You found more than a couple options, leaving them laid out to ask Felix his thoughts on them later, figuring the idol might have some opinions.

(linebreak)

You looked up at the arena hosting the concert, finding yourself among thousands of your friend’s fans, and somehow seeing the pickets of him and those dressed up like him only made you feel sadder, not happier. You had been effectively ignored by Chris, the man not having messaged you. And that shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did make standing here today even harder. You no longer felt like a friend, you felt like one of their fans. And no hatred to their fans, they’re wonderful people, but you hated being reduced to coming to a concert for a chance to even see him, let alone talk to him. 

You found a staff member, and asked them for directions to where Felix had told you to go, to retrieve your ticket and anything else you needed. You were quickly directed to where you needed to go, finding one of their managers and after proving you were who you said you were, you were then ushered to the line up with the rest of those who had won the battle for floor tickets. You didn’t really care if you were at the front, and found yourself towards the middle of the line. Though this didn’t stay that way for long, finding yourself pulled by a staff member to your rightful place, at least as far as the number on your wristband told you.

Because you had arrived late, and maybe to the displeasure of those around you, you didn’t have to wait too long before you were let into the stadium. You found yourself right against the barrier, despite your wish not to be that close. But here you were, and within a half an hour, the group your friend led was walking out onto the stage for soundcheck.

You watched as they waved at all of their fans, and you guessed you were now included in that category, and you noticed that Felix saw you, smiling and waving at you, which you returned, though you knew your smile was strained. You could see how the blonde wished he could say hello, but this was not the time nor the place, and he was quickly swept back into the group to start the soundcheck rehearsal for the fans. You watched as they performed song after song, and interacted with their fans in between.

Somehow Chris never walked by your side of the stage, though almost every other member had. You instead watched him as he interacted with the crowd of fans, saw the genuine smile on his face as he did, remembering a time when you got those smiles too. You felt tears well in your eyes, and you quickly tried to blink them away, and just as you wished hadn’t happened, Felix walked by and saw the tears in your eyes before you could hide them. You know he saw them, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and worry, but before he could do anything, he was grabbed by Hyunjin, who dragged him away.

You just stared at the stage for the rest of the soundcheck, which thankfully only lasted for another fifteen minutes. You didn’t quite know what to feel anymore, all of your feelings hitting you at once. You moved towards the back of the area you were at, letting others take your spot at the barricade. You didn’t want to be up close anymore, you fear you would sob if you were there the entire time. And being at the back allowed you to stay away from the view of either Aussie idol when it came time for the actual show to start.

(linebreak)

“Y/n’s here tonight,” Felix said, as he sat down next to Chan.

“What? She’s here?” Chan said, confused. How was she here at the concert, let alone in South Korea? He didn’t know she was supposed to be here, and she should have told him that she was here.

Felix nodded, “Yeah, she’s out in the crowd. She looked like she was going to cry at one point,” he said, both to himself and to Chan, a bit confused at Chan’s reactions. Felix had told the older Aussie that his friend was coming to Korea to see him. How could he have forgotten? He remembered it clear as day, he told the older man while he had been in the studio with 3racha.

“Oh,” Chan said, not sure what to say. He didn’t really know what to do with that. Maybe she was just emotional to finally be able to see him performing? To his knowledge, she had never gotten the chance to see him or the group as a whole perform live.

Before Felix could say anything more, their manager stuck his head into the green room, interrupting anything the blonde was going to say, “Guys, five minutes till show time, let’s go.”

Felix lost any chance of saying anything further, as the group of eight men walked out to start their concert.

The start of the actual concert came very quickly, and you watched as they all came out, their energy insanely high, and even as your emotions swirled within you, and the realizations of what your choices were, you felt yourself be absorbed into that energy as well.

You were merely an observer within the thousands of fans, feeling like you were on the outside of it all. You watched every interaction Chan had with fans, and though you knew it wasn’t the same, you realized that his happiness here was more than you had ever received in recent times. He seemed lively, happy, enjoying life, and as the concert continued, you realized that you no longer had a place in his life.

You realized that no amount of effort you could put into this friendship would make it work. Chan had stopped putting the effort in, and maybe it was time for you to do the same. Taking one long look at your friend on stage, seeing him looking over towards you, though you doubt he even saw you, you saw him smiling and happy, and that was the best way you could think to remember him. You only ever wanted him to be happy, and maybe his happiness didn’t include you anymore. 

Feeling a tear trail down your cheek, you turned and started walking away from the floor, and walking away from your shot at talking to Christopher. You knew that you could have taken the chance to talk to Chris and figure all of this out, but would it really do anything with how much the friendship had died already? 

You silently walked out of the stadium, a clear contrast to all the happy and excited fans who filled the stadium. You had located one of their managers, who had been alerted to your presence, by their recognition of you, and returned the lanyard that would have granted you backstage access. You told them, when asked, that you weren’t feeling well, and that you were returning to your hotel.

It took a while to get back to your hotel room, and instead of changing, you just crawled into the bed and laid there, zoning out and staring up at the ceiling as tears fell down your cheeks. You didn’t know how long you laid there, until your phone started buzzing like crazy, and you found that both Felix and Chan were messaging you. You numbly read through their messages, and as you took a couple deep breaths, you created a group chat for the three of you. 

You first thanked Felix for doing his best to get you and Chan the opportunity to meet up again and hang out. Because you were thankful. He had been helping you do this, as well as informing Chan about it, all while being busy himself. You even thanked him for the concert ticket, and that you were grateful to see them live, just once. As you kept typing, messages from the two came flooding in, each one more concerned than the last. When Felix stopped typing, you think he must have come to one of two conclusions, either you were ending the friendship, or doing something worse than that.

‘Christopher, I will always cherish our memories together, the decade long friendship that we shared. But I think we’re on different paths now, I think fate has said that our journey ends here. So with a heavy heart, I wish you all the best, and I’ll always love you, even though we won’t get to talk anymore. Goodbye Chris.’’

You left the group chat after that, not seeing any of the responses from either idol, and while it took you a moment to push yourself to do it, you deleted both of their numbers. Setting your phone down and ignoring the buzzing, you pulled your laptop out, deciding to cut your trip short, and rebooking your flight to leave midday tomorrow. You knew that as much as you’d like to stay here longer, if you wanted to avoid contact with your now ex-friend, it would be better to leave.

You then moved to pack up your things, not that you had many to begin with, as well as laying out your comfiest outfit for the morning, and packing away the outfit you had on currently. But not before taking one last selfie in it, so you could look back on this day, as sad as it would be.

You had arrived at the airport a couple hours early, having checked out of your hotel room early, knowing Felix had known what hotel you were in, and hoping to avoid that interaction. Thankfully the check-in process was quick, seeing as you were there much earlier than others would be, and it was just under 30 minutes before you were making your way over to security. You were in line waiting to enter security when you heard someone call out your name. You turned your head to find Chan, a hat and mask on, but neither hid his eyes, his eyes that were red and bloodshot as he stared right at you.

“Please! Talk to me!” Chan begged you, standing on the other side of the barrier that separated the two of you.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up the words to respond to him. You knew this was the coward’s way out, but you just turned around and moved into security all while he kept calling out to you, his cries getting more desperate.

You went through security, knowing that he was still on the other side hoping that you’d turn around and come back out. But you couldn’t.

Instead, once you passed through security, you opened up your phone to send him one more text.

‘I’m sorry it had to end like this, Chris. I’m truly sorry. I’m a coward who can’t muster up the words to explain why, but this is better for both of us. I won’t have to worry if you really still want to be friends or if I still have a place in your life, and you can forget about me and continue making your fans happy.’

You knew you could absolutely be the villain in this story, and you were okay being that. No matter what, you couldn’t hurt him. Chris was too good for you to ever do that. You turned your notifications off as you put your phone in your pocket, heading to your gate, and leaving this all behind.

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow . L-U-X.”

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”

[skeletinmoss]

Let's talk about Sanders Sides and why it should end.

Disclaimer: this is my opinion, I don't have any malicious intentions by voicing it, please don't harass me or people working on the show as the result of reading this rant. You can just stop reading if you don't like what I am saying.

Thank you for understanding.

I myself only joined the fandom 3 years ago. Along the years there has been a lot of content and I was captivated immediately. The characters are the main thing of this fandom and I would like to talk about them first.

They started to not be themselves. Maybe it's now that obvious when you watch one new episode every year, but for someone who just showed up and binged it it's quite noticeable.

There is a thing that happens to every character in every long term content (I'm sorry I can't remember how it's called). With time they become parodies of themselves. And as the time goes on they become more and more simple. That can change the character drastically. Someone who was street smart becomes a character that you can't believe is still alive with how stupid they are.

The same thing is starting to happen is Sanders Sides. It's basically a running gag that Logan lost all his whimsy and is gonna snap at any time. This is the example of simplification, what is left of him is only his core elements. Logic, no feeling, smarty pants, facts, jam. However it ties into the story quite well. No one listens to logic. It makes us invested in how this unnoticed before conflict would be resolved.

With Patton it's not the same. He used to be innocent. An adult who doesn't want to grow up. He was relatable. Maybe it's because Thomas is older now, but the innocence in Patton's character started to come of as ignorance. He used to come of as deeper than at first glance, smarter than you give him credit for. Now he just acts stupid. A guy who can set water on fire. A guy who doesn't even try to confront reality. He was supposed to get character development. Where is it?

Virgil started to be more cringe and boring. He's emo and his character trait is to act like an angsty teen. However now it's more of an adult pretending to be a teen. You can most see it in the Jam video where he tries to do skateboard tricks and we can see his boxers sticking out. Why would you do this? He used to be sassy, he used to be arrogant villain who can't get rid of. He got excepted, and despite the Halloween episode about the phases, and him saying " It's still my job to scare you" we don't ever see him do it. He hangs around I guess, but he lost all his bark and bite. All that's left of him is just moody.

Roman likely didn't change that much. His original chaotic nature masks any changes so far. Although I would say Roman lost quite a bit of his drama and sass. Being sick because the ego was bruised, starting a rap battle just to prove a point and show off, singing and " Making the song 10 times better" in his opinion, freaking out because a person he ships Thomas with has called him back. In flirting with social anxiety he does freak out because of the cute guy, which is very Roman, but it's a bit strange that the embodiment of pure creativity would not find words to finish a poem. ( I have my questions with him in the nostalgia episode like playing the instrument poorly even if he showed he can draw a Mona Lisa with crayons, or not allowing Thomas to demonstrate the dance, but I'm just gonna put that under " Possibly Janus pretending to be Roman")

And Remus and Janus wasn't here long enough to start to fall apart. Although I don't think Remus would actually be able to fall apart as a character because of his chaotic nature.

The second thing I want to discuss are sponsorships.

I am happy that Thomas gets the money and has the opportunity to get more. But did he had to put characters into the sponsorship?

The jam one was fun. It was a joke what turned true. A running gag. But it also gave the community something to interact with. Four new jam flavours, characters on the package, limited sets. You could try something your favorite character likes!

There were good sponsorships on Thomas's chanel before. Like Hello Fresh. He did the advertising as himself, not as characters. It wasn't so in your face. And that's how it should be. He wasn't begging for you to buy it. He was simply sharing a good thing he uses. It wasn't loud and obnoxious. Even if it wasn't as entertaining as the jam musical or character jam merch, you still felt like you could buy it. The food looked good!

It's not the same with VPN, now is it? I would not get any character interactions if I buy this thing. So why are the characters involved? Because I like them and it would be easier to sell me something if They tell me to buy it? Why are you so pushy for me to buy it?

We all are waiting for the season finale. Something grand. Something epic. Something to finish the story. But I don't think Thomas should start another season. He would probably be tempted to, because of the new character involved, but that might not be a good decision. I'm not saying he should stop with the Sides altogether. But I feel like short video format would suit the characters better from now on. No big plots, no storylines, just characters interacting with each other in different situations.

Finish it. Put a stop to the story. All good things need to end. Don't drag it out or you will ruin what we love so much about those characters. It would turn into 8 seasons of Winx instead of the planned 3.

Give them their happily ever after.

I hope I'm not coming of as rude, because I don't meat it in a rude way. I just have things that are bothering me that I want to talk about with someone and see if other people think the same

[nekrosmos]

☕️ König headcanons

Oooooh thank you Anon, I love König very much <3

- The man is extremely capable in his work and has no problem leading a high risk mission, but the moment he's not working, his anxiety creeps back in. I think there's a huge difference between König and the man behind the name and mask. He feels safe and strong as König but as a civilian he hates how much he stands out, how much people are looking at him when he's outside, and he has a very lonely existence because of it.

-Where some other operators / characters wear masks for anonymity, König 100% wears his because it makes him feel confident, makes him feel intimidating and accentuates that König/The man behind distinction. Doesn't help that he's a pretty boy and that people used to not take him seriously because of it, thus leading him to wearing a mask.

- Ginger, 100%

- Struggles with mental health a lot, and I hc that someone important (family maybe?) gifted him that red bracelet from his arachnid skin. He seems like someone who would be close to their mom to me.

- Not really a hc but I just want the 141 to adopt him. I've seen fanart of him and Gaz being friends and it melted my poor heart, and I think Price should take him on a fishing trip someday.

NSFW below, in case you don't want to read

- Subby top, the man wants, NEEDS to be told what to do in bed. He's not very experienced and fumbles a lot through the act, but has a lot of energy and love to give. He's into wearing lingerie but feels extremely ashamed of it, thinks he's too big and manly for it. He'd need a partner to guide him, tell him what to do, treat him like he's the most beautiful thing in the world, reassure him and praise him while he's ravaging said partner. Big guy.

Have a little screenshot edit of him

[always-a-joyful-note]

The more I think of this OP's drawing and description of the i7 anniversary AU, the more I realise that the Au Is literally the i7 boys living their besy lives as their canon self's greatest failures

[tenrose]

I hate living in this world.

[malaierba]

It kills me as in I find it really funny when fics call it "a mask" when Karamatsu tries to act more confident than he feels, or even when he's upset but doesn't let it show

Its.... emotional self-control. He may not be using the skills that a psychologist would love to see for processes of emotional self-regulation (at least not obviously+it's a gag anime) but it's not unhealthy and it's not exactly masking? It's quite literally developing skills to remain functional regardless of feelings

Compare 18!Krmts to adult Karamatsu. It's obvious which of them has a higher degree of agency, self-sufficiency. They are both stressed out by the events of the movie, but where baby Karamatsu flounders, adult Karamatsu manages to act even as he has moments where he introspects. He's able to use the responsible, rational braincell when he's with Osomatsu, and when he eventually speaks up about the regrets plot he explains the situation effectively.

Shout out to both of them for having so many scenes where they simply observe the situation and think about what to do. 18Karamatsu with visible apprehension, while Karamatsu looks cooler — During the movie is likely because he already knows what'll happen but during the sick dad arch he's more detached. You can quite literally see him meditate and process his feelings on the inside.

What's going on in that head of yours, blue man?

[introvert-celeste]

Welp, I can safely say that October and Halloween have been ruined for me. I envy everyone who can actually look forward to the festivities because my heart is just not in it this year :/

[storybycorey]

.

[drizzedoffrootbeer]

had a normal moment and googled my ex. 0/10 wouldn't recommend

[void-tiger]

I’m learning that my interpersonal jealousy isn’t so much exclusivity and wanting to hoard someone else like a dragon—it never has been. And I’ve been on the receiving end of that many, many times, some of which has been actively malicious versus just the other person’s insecurity.

It’s moreso a cry of “what about me? Me too! This isn’t fair! Why not me?” And keeping that in-check when the other person isn’t that connected to me yet. Tell the inner insecurity gremlin to chill. Wait. Address that later if there is a later.

Because…actually I like it when someone else has their own life. Hopefully that’d also mean they wouldn’t begrudge me for having mine. Actually that’s what I find interesting and attractive about people, so I’d never want to stifle that.

…I just don’t want to be forgotten. I want to feel secure that the feeling of wanting to connect is mutual.

And…heck. All of my friendships are quite literally long distance, and my closest ones are with people who are usernames shortened to nicknames since they’re internet friendships. Some I chat with daily. Some it’s closer to once a week or once a month or longer—but that’s all fine because I feel secure with where I stand with them. We’ve reached a stable equilibrium. I respect their introvert needs to recharge, and they tolerate my more extroverted need to word splatter and have a back&forth conversation.

Because—at least for me—that’s what jealousy is: it’s an intense awareness of want/need and lack of equilibrium and security. It will go away if those needs are met if a relationship continues to form.

[snarltoothed]

i need to be in a female separatist psych ward but alas they don’t exist! and as such i will continue being a problem

[milkwands]

had a dream abt him last night

[girltalkcollectives]

Double Standard Dictionary: A Guide to Things That Are Only "Problems" When Women Do Them

Let's have an honest conversation about something that drives me absolutely crazy. You know those little comments and judgments that somehow only seem to apply to women? Yeah, we need to talk about that.

The Professional Edition

When men vs. when women do the exact same thing:

He's assertive → She's aggressive

He's focused → She's cold

He's passionate → She's emotional

He's dedicated → She's obsessed

He's confident → She's arrogant

He's strategic → She's manipulative

He's busy → She's neglecting her life

The Dating Double Standards

The classics that never seem to die:

He's dated around → She has "a past"

He's a bachelor → She's "left on the shelf"

He's selective → She's picky

He's career-focused → She's married to her job

He's a social butterfly → She's attention-seeking

He's "finding himself" → She needs to settle down

He's direct → She's desperate

The Appearance Police

The endless contradictions:

Look professional, but not too try-hard

Be attractive, but not attention-seeking

Wear makeup, but keep it "natural"

Be fit, but not too muscular

Dress well, but not too sexy

Look youthful, but not immature

Age gracefully, but never look old

The Emotion Edition

How it's perceived:

His anger is justified → Her anger is hysteria

His sadness is deep → Her sadness is dramatic

His stress is from hard work → Her stress is from "not coping"

His excitement is enthusiasm → Her excitement is over-the-top

His concerns are valid → Her concerns are paranoid

His anxiety is pressure → Her anxiety is weakness

The Family Chronicles

The never-ending judgment:

He's babysitting → She's just parenting

He's helping around the house → She's doing her job

He's focused on work → She's neglecting family

He needs time to himself → She's selfish

He's weighing his options → She's wasting time

He's figuring out what he wants → Her clock is ticking

The Office Politics

Things I'm tired of seeing:

Men get mentored → Women get hit on

Men network → Women "sleep their way up"

Men are busy → Women "can't handle it"

Men are thorough → Women are perfectionists

Men delegate → Women are lazy

Men need work-life balance → Women are uncommitted

The Social Scene

The ridiculous expectations:

Be fun but not too wild

Be social but not too friendly

Be smart but not intimidating

Be successful but not threatening

Be independent but not difficult

Be strong but still need help

Be confident but still humble

The Success Paradox

What we're dealing with:

Be ambitious but not threatening

Lead but don't be bossy

Achieve but don't outshine

Negotiate but don't be demanding

Succeed but stay likeable

Excel but remain modest

Win but make it look effortless

The Reality Check

What this actually means for us:

Constant second-guessing

Walking on eggshells

Energy drain from overthinking

Imposter syndrome

Reduced authenticity

Limited self-expression

Unnecessary stress

The Way Forward

What we can do about it:

Call it out

Name the double standard

Question the logic

Point out the inconsistency

Support other women

2. Break the patterns

Reject unfair labels

Define success personally

Set our own standards

Celebrate authenticity

3. Change the narrative

Share success stories

Highlight achievements

Create new networks

Mentor others

To Every Woman Dealing With This

Remember:

You're not "too much"

Your achievements are earned

Your feelings are valid

Your ambitions are worthy

Your standards are important

Your voice matters

Your path is yours