#a spot of pirate dialogue in there

[cheekedupwhiteboy]

i forgot that all the pretty horses from the JUMP is like "john grady cole is gay this boy is gay these are gay boys gay ass gayboy"

[mr-cha-n]

Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning

Word Count: 18.2k

Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.

Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike. 

And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.

But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.

That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.

He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."

Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.

He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.

"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."

She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."

Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.

The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor. 

Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.

"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"

They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.

The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect. 

And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."

Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.

"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."

Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.

"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."

"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."

You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."

Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.

"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'

But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.

"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"

You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"

Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.

As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."

You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."

There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.

Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."

Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."

You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.

"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."

By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.

He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.

But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.

The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live. 

But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.

The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.

Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.

Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.

"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.

Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."

Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"

"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."

Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."

Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"

"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."

"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."

Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."

Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.

He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.

By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.

He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.

With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.

Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.

A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.

It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?

He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'

Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.

When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.

"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.

Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"

You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."

Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.

But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."

Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?

"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"

"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."

Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.

You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.

And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.

“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”

Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.

Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.

One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.

You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."

He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."

You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."

The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.

"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.

You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.

For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.

"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”

You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”

You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.

"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."

Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.

"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."

You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.

When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”

You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."

"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.

It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.

The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.

By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.

Enter: you.

Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."

Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"

"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."

And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.

"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."

You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."

Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.

“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."

Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.

He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”

By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."

The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.

As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.

He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.

When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”

Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.

As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."

He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.

“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”

The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.

And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.

For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.

Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.

One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"

"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.

The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.

Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?

Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.

So, Mingyu brings it up.

Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client. 

Except. 

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse. 

It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?

Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"

You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."

Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."

Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"

“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”

Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”

You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"

Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?

“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”

You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”

He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.

You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”

Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.

“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."

You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”

Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."

You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"

“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.

You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.

He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.

You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.

“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”

Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”

You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.

“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”

His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”

Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”

The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”

The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?

His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.

Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.

You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.

“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”

And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.

The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.

You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.

"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"

His brain practically short-circuits at that. 

You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.

The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.

You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”

He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”

“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.

Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.

The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.

You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”

His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.

You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”

Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”

You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”

As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”

His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.

He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.

He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.

“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.

He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.

On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.

So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.

“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.

“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”

“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.

The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.

By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.

“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”

You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”

There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”

And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.

It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.

“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”

Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”

Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.

“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."

“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."

Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil.  Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”

Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”

The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.

The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.

Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.

“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”

Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.

Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”

Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”

Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”

Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”

“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”

“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”

Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”

“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”

Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”

“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”

“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”

Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.

So, he knocks.

And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.

“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"

He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”

“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”

You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.

“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.

"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.

You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.

“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.

You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.

You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.

“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”

“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”

You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."

Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”

He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”

As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.

By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.

After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.

He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.

And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.

You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”

Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.

The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.

He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.

“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.

Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”

Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.

“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.

“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”

You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”

“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”

You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”

You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”

He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."

He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.

"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.

You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."

Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into.  "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."

For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.

It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.

Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.

You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.

“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”

His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.

“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”

He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.

“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”

Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."

You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”

And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."

For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.

You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.

“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.

“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.

You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”

You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.

“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”

He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”

You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”

The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.

“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.

“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.

The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.

Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.

“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.

He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.

When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.

“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”

“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.

But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”

Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”

He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.

Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.

You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.

He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.

“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."

You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.

“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."

It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.

You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.

And then—he takes a breath.

"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.

Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.

Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.

And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.

Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.

When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.

He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.

"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."

You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.

And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.

You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.

Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.

“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.

"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"

You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.

Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.

He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.

“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."

Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."

"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.

And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.

Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss. 

And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.

Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."

This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time. 

And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).

He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets. 

The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken. 

Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.

Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”

Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."

As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

[brekkie-e]

Veilgaurd exists in such a weird spot on the morality circuit to me. It's so clear that they've got overt inclusivity messaging all over the place. To the point of ludicrousy at times (looking at you Lords of Fortune i.e. Jake and the Neverland Pirates.) When they're trying to make a point about what is morally good and the correct point of view™️ they hit you over the head with it. Thinking about Taash's dialogues about the Lords not stealing anything "cultural, you know- important" and their codex entry about gender. It's not that any of these messages or sentiments are wrong. But the way they are handled in the story is so at odds with a piece of media rated for mature audiences.

And then. And then the game turns around and makes the Antaam the most egregiously racist depiction of the Qunari in the series to date. The fact they managed that is kind of amazing in and of itself because I think the goal was to minimize the Qunari dilemma. By saying "not all Qunari! Just the Antaam!" It's similar to what they're aiming for with the Venatori and Tevinter.

The problem is though, now they've backed in to a corner where the warring Qunari faction is under the umbrella of "ridiculous disney villian that we don't explore further than that." And in doing so paint almost every Qunari that follows the Qun as a mindless brute that wears next to nothing and spends most of the game growling. Which is just. Deeply unsettling to see in a game that is trying so hard to be woke you feel like youre watching them pat themselves on the back as you play.

Like how do you double down so so hard on the inclusivity in so many aspects, and then turn around and do that?

I mean how did Dragon Age 2, a game that came out in 2011, portray the Qunari characters as so much more nuanced and intelligent than the 2024 Inclusivity Champion? Not to mention Kirkwall as a whole actually explores Tevinter's slavery problem on a much deeper level than Minrathous does? The narration Varric gives about the Gallows and the slave trade in the span of 30 seconds discusses more about the Tevinter Empire's relationship with slavery than Veilgaurd does in the entire game. That's without even mentioning Fenris.

Now I'm not claiming any of the previous titles were without their own mis-steps here. Im just a little irritated by how much this game reeks of hypocrisy at points.

[hedgehog-moss]

I found a nice plant in a bog last year, like a reed with a tuft of very soft cotton at the top (bless you English, I just looked up "plant that grows in a bog and looks like cotton" and the English language replied "bog cotton, duh") (in French it's called linaigrette, which should be a small bird), and I was very charmed by the look of it and decided to try to pirate it so I would have some on my land. I plucked one fluffy reed and kept it on my windowsill so I wouldn't forget to return.

Of course, when I returned a few days later with a shovel and a bucket, I couldn't find the bog cotton again. Or the bog. It was a small swamp-y area in a very vast plateau with few landmarks, so it's possible I got turned around, but also, things tend to disappear around here sometimes, like the footpath that leads to the stream, only to reappear a few weeks later. I very much felt like I was in the correct location and the bog wasn't, but okay. Since I didn't trust myself to tell the normal reeds from the cotton-y ones in other seasons, I decided I'd come back around the same time next year.

I've had the linaigrette in my egg spiral in the kitchen this whole time as a memento, and I finally resumed my quest today. I left my car in the exact same spot where I'd left it the previous two times, just before the road gets squiggly for no apparent reason:

I climbed the hill and behind it were just miles and miles of estives (summer cow pastures) with sometimes a barn here and there with a mobile milking parlour. My plan was to follow every rivulet I came across, since I was looking for a watery area.

I picked a barn as a landmark to find my car again, and off we went.

Finding reeds wasn't difficult, but none of them had cotton tufts...

Pandolf was extremely aware that we were looking for something, but he wasn't sure what. Here he is digging in the mud with his paw, looking invested in this treasure hunt.

Sometimes he would stop with one paw poised in the air and his whole body pointed forwards like an English setter who just smelled a pheasant in a Heywood Hardy painting and it was always for cow herds. If I squinted and squinted I could be sure to find a cow on the horizon, the size of an ant—I think Pan was a bit disappointed when he realised I never followed up on the cows he smelled, and it probably wasn't cows we were looking for.

(zoom x400 in case you can't see this cow standing apart from her herd like a sentinel)

I tried to amuse him by giving him little challenges here and there, like climbing on big rocks because he likes rocks. He likes being congratulated even more, though, and if I didn't insist that he actually climb on the rock he would just sort of run towards it and push himself off of it like a swimmer doing a flip turn at the wall to run back to me even faster (for pats). (Had to turn off the sound in the video because the wind was loud, so I subtitled our dialogue)

Some challenges he politely declined to do. I like how despite being very eager to please he sometimes gives me very clear "no thank you"s when I tell him to do something that sounds absurd to him. We found a little waterfall that went down a slope like a mud toboggan and I said "down!" to tell him to slide down that thing and he was like

Our strategy of following water paid off, because look what we found eventually!!

I had a very hard time digging up one clump of reeds with some roots; the bog was holding on to its cotton for dear life. Every time I opened a hole in the mud with my shovel with a horrible sucking noise, the bog would immediately close on itself again with an even stronger vacuum. It also tried to eat my boots, repeatedly. When I moved around the reeds I was trying to steal I had to take my foot out of my boot, stand on one leg like a heron and put the tip of my shovel under the sole of the boot to pry it up. But after maybe 20min of effort, the bog finally let go of one muddy clump of reeds in a loud, dejected SLURP and I was able to put it in my bucket. It was about 10x heavier than I expected so the walk back to my car was slow!

(One thing to keep in mind if you're going to wrestle a swamp for half an hour, is that you're going to end up looking and smelling like a swamp creature. I had to stop at the post office to send a parcel and I really regretted not doing it earlier. It's funny because the post office lady is always like "no, don't worry, come in!! <3" when you show up on rainy days apologising for your muddy shoes, but when I arrived today and asked her from the entrance if I should just throw my parcel at her rather than go in, with my socks making a pitiful plop-plop sound in my boots as I walked, and mud freckles all over my face from aggressive shovelling, and overall looking like a gravedigger, she took one look at me and went "... yes, throw it.")

The good news is, I didn't get lost returning from the swamp to my car, and had no trouble finding my barn-landmark again, and there were new animals there, a nice mule with a retinue of small ponies.

She was friendly at first but then soured on me when I refused to let her sniff and maybe taste the reeds I'd had so much trouble digging up, and then she wouldn't let me approach her ponies.

One of the ponies approached Pandolf, and I told him to stand still—we've been working on "reste là !" (stay there) for a while and it's hard because he's so friendly and exuberant, so I was very proud of him when he stood there frozen as a marble statue, waiting for the pony to come closer. The pony ended up stopping at a prudent distance and stretching his neck out to try and sniff Pandolf, it was very cute.

That's the end of the quest for bog cotton! Here it is now, transplanted to the swamp-y part of my pasture, I hope it'll like it here.

[edgeray]

hi, ray 💟

remember that siren!arle and pirate!reader idea? consider:

siren!arlecchino who preys on pirates lost at sea (not by coincidence, i fear). she doesn't enjoy them much, especially the men. then, she spots you. she's never seen such a pretty little pirate before! she must have you.

of course, she's fortunate enough that you're one of the ones who sits alone on the deck at night, foolishly stargazing while everyone else is tucked away in their beds.

she sings to you, calling you to her, trying to reel you in, only to find it isn't working. you seem to hear her, looking for the singer of the melody, but you're not quite entranced.

she keeps trying, only to eventually be spotted by you. she's... a little embarrassed, to say the least.

whatever else happens is up to you, or feel free to totally change the plot! ♡

The Sea's Calling

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Hi aris!!! Ty for the ask, and for being my first! <333 love you. I hope you like this one. Since it's my first ask, I'm a bit nervous. Is this semi-One Piece-inspired? Perchance. Wasn't sure if you wanted fem! or gn! reader, but considering your writing I chose fem! reader, though I tried to not reference reader as female as much as possible. I kind of didn't know what to do after they met, so I threw in some not so good dialogue :(. It is also 02:00 as I am writing this, and I'm supposed to wake up at 06:00. Quality dropped at the end because I am tired. This was not a good idea doing this tonight but whatever. Content warnings / info - implied fem! reader, monster x human, arle is ooc because she's a siren, 1.7k words 

You had always thought that the sea was calling out for you; it's been your dream since you were young–to explore the vast ocean that this world had to offer, to be surrounded by nothing but the comforting waves, to be free. Being a pirate allowed you to fulfill your dreams. You went on all the adventures you wanted, stole whatever the hell you wanted, and all while doing that with your crew, who cherished each other, you included, like no other. Yes, you've longed for the ocean, and you'd like to think that the ocean was always trying to draw you in. 

Still, when you meant that the sea was calling out for you, you meant in a figurative sense. Not in a literal sense. Though if this was the kind of sign the ocean was giving you, you might as well jump the ship. 

—

Pretty gems came far and few in Arlecchino's eyes. Humans, lost at sea and lured in by her voice, were easy meals. She was rarely picky with her meals, sustenance was sustenance, she supposes, but still she finds it disappointing the lack of humans that were easy on her eyes. The seas were infested with brutish and crude-looking humans, particularly among the males. It is a shame that it's been a good while since she's seen a human female, with their fair bodies and their soft features– a suitable mate for her. 

She wanders the sea again, not especially hungry, but if she finds a meal or two, she wouldn't have to find another for a few more days. Traveling through the waters, sniffing for the faint and familiar scent of human musk, she finds a ship soon, to her mild delight. She approaches the ship, it being smaller than most ships that wander this part of the ocean, but no matter. She is sure that she'd be able to snag at least one human tonight–there is bound to be one that is awake? 

Peeking her head above the water, she observes the deck of the ship for any humans yet to have slumbered. Humans in slumber were always hard to lure in, but possible. Her eyes gleam when she spots a lone figure on the surface of the deck. It seems like tonight's hunt would prove to be easy. Nearing closer, however, the smell that comes from this figure is distinct to the usual humans she encounters. Though still reeking of the musk that all humans contain, the human contains a refreshing fauna smell and lacks the liquor aroma that most males contain. Curious, she nears the ship more until she can observe the distinct features of the human that sits so carelessly on the edge of their ship.

Her cold heart thumps like never before when she finally spots you, and oh, how she pauses in utter awe. A human whose beauty far surpasses that of any ivory pearl or glittering gold. Has there ever been a human more majestic than you? She would dismiss any notion of a human achieving flawlessness, but yet here you are, shredding her previous foolish thoughts. How do you attain such, so effortlessly? Oh, how fortunate for her to have decided to roam the sea tonight, for the ocean to have given her the most perfect mate in waiting. She must have you, no human male could ever treasure you like she can. She would give you the sea, if it made you hers. 

And so she sings, her sweet song carrying into your ears like a gracious invite. She hopes for you to accept.  

— 

The stars are beautiful, you often think to yourself. It is another reason why you love being out in the sea. Directly underneath the stars, sometimes you feel that you're close enough to reach out and touch them. Little dancing specks of lights were all they were to you, and yet you were entranced each time. The stars and constellations have become one of your closest companions, always twinkling down on you regardless if you were facing soothing waves or warring riptides. Like so many nights before, you find yourself perched on one of the railings of the ship, simply gazing up, observing the midnight canvas that spans above you. 

Is there something more beautiful than stars? 

You find your answer that night when you hear a voice, melodic and sweet sounding, sugarier than any honey-coated treat. It piques you, as you know from the sound's direction it does not come from inside your ship, but beyond–somewhere in the waters. You'd imagine it's what people would describe as a voice from the heavens, because a light song fills the air, nearly entrancing you, however you're too busy searching the source of the sound for the intended effect to be inflicted on you. Instead of impelling your body to go overboard, you whip your head around, still seeking for the singer. 

You've heard of instances like these. You've heard of the warnings: if you hear a beautiful song coming from the waters, you cover your ears and ignore it as much as possible. Though, many say that once you hear them, it is much too late for you. The fates of those who had fell for those voices, you know of them too well, and you intend not to share the same fate. You've heard that among those that were able to escape a siren's call, they're easily dissuaded after one song. All you had to do was to ignore the voice until the song's end. 

The song ends soon after. You pay no mind as silence fills the void, just the sound of waves and the whistles of the wind as your company. But then, another song, the same one. After the second repeat, it starts again, and after that, another.

Were sirens this persistent? You've never heard of one this stubborn. But it is thanks to these songs that you're finally able to pinpoint the origins, and your eyes catch the slight glint of scales in the moonlight, and then the head of ivory hair. A pale face peaks from the water's currents, along with the tip of something–a tail, you discern. You gasp slightly once crimson-pupils land on yours, but then the head sinks down, like a shy animal having been caught. 

Adorable. Was this an unfitting description of what was most likely a siren? You disregarded that very thought, instead, opting to wondering why this siren wanted your attention so much. After all, you should give her the respect of your acknowledgement of her existence after four songs. 

Perhaps you were an idiot. Perhaps you were just heading straight to a gruesome death. But had those things stopped you previously, you would have never been out here, never would have been a pirate. Foolish curiosity may be the death of you, but not tonight. And so, like a pirate in search of their treasure, you take to the seas; in this case, literally into the sea. You let yourself lean backwards on the railing, arms outstretched by your side as you freefall into the sea. 

Surely, if the siren wanted you so badly, then she would save you, wouldn't she? 

The icy waters greet your form, and you shiver. Your breath is stolen away, and it is only you start sinking that you start to question your choice. You stare up, with only the moonlight reflecting off the water, your source of life and you instinctively reach out towards it. Your eyes burn from the brine, so you close your eyes, trying to combat the swallowing waves as you futilely flail your arms. 

Something moves in the water, and before you know it, a weight presses against your chest, something distinctly cold and what you imagine scales to feel like, and something else slides underneath your arms, the texture much like human skin. You feel your body begin to rise, until the sudden rush of oxygen barrages at you, and you greedily inhale the air with heaving breaths, while coughing out the sea water from your throat. Once you're done hacking up your lungs, you crack open an eye, greeted with the same gorgeous face you saw earlier. 

“You're beautiful…” The both of you say at the same time, and you feel your ears burn from the compliment. Her voice, deep and resounding, rings through your ears. Meanwhile, her expression visibly brightens, akin to the stars you adore so much. 

“Y-you won't eat me, right?” You ask hesitantly, and to your relief, she shakes her head no. She pulls you closer, before nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. The arms wrapped around your figure tightens, and so does the tail around your legs. 

“No. Want to be my mate.” She says bluntly, and you feel sharp fangs prick your skin. You gasp, and she pulls her mouth away, deciding to lick your neck as a quick apology. 

“Why me?” 

“Pretty human. But stupid.” 

“Hey!” You exclaim out of feigned annoyance, but then she purrs into your neck, the noise vibrating through your body. Sirens purr? That is adorable. “What does being a mate mean?”

“You are with me, forever. I feed you, protect you, love you, always. Mine, forever.”

A tempting offer, truly, especially with the way her clawed hands grip your sides so tenderly and the way she looks at you like you are her sun.

“But what about my companions?”

“You do not need them.” 

“I do,” you assert, and her face falls. It's like being stabbed in the heart, seeing her expression like that. You raise both of your hands and cup her face. 

“I want you,” she says, with as much of a whine as a siren can possibly make. It is cute, a mix between a cry and a groan. 

“I need them too.” 

“I am not enough?” 

“I want to be free. I don't want to stay in one place.” 

“Then I will follow,” the siren asserts, her red pupils ablaze with determination. It is as simple as that, apparently. “Can I?” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you affirm with a nod. “Don't eat them either. Then I'll be yours.” 

The siren nods, purring again. “My pretty human. Mine?”

You smile. “Yours.” 

Salty lips are brought against yours and you've never been more elated–here is the freest you've ever felt. 

[isayoldbean]

i don't really know how to break this to anyone but it always kills me when i see otherwise well thought-out ff14 meta mention thancred's ability to hold his breath for 10 minutes as a real genuine canonical thing. i regret to inform you that it's completely made up for the english language version of the game and i know this without even having to check because it's a blatant reference to the classic point and click adventure game secret of monkey island, wherein the pirate captain asks the aspiring pirate main character guybrush threepwood if he has any special skills that will make him useful as a member of the crew and his response is 'i can hold my breath for 10 minutes!'

this is further emphasized by the next spot of optional dialogue thancred gives which involves another of his skills being the crafting (or selling? idr) of fine leather jackets, which is a long-held running gag of the monkey island games and lucasarts games of the day as a whole

the origin of this quote was so well known for so long i never bothered to assume people didn't know but. i'm sorry you had to find out this way

[thissupposedcrime]

Zolu in One Piece Video Games

I put 65+ hours into One Piece Odyssey, a game in which the Strawhats are robbed of their powers and must relive memories of key events/battles (Alabasta/Crocodile, Dressrosa/Doflamingo, etc.) to earn them back. Post timeskip/pre-WCI so no Jinbe on the crew.

Zolu are wild in it, so enjoy the highlights. 

Their general nonsense:

When they reunite early in the game, Luffy/Zoro greet each other first/only despite the whole crew being there

Shared brain cell of agreeing that “Charging through a marine outpost sounds like fun”

Don't communicate with words in battle and somehow both know what to do in Alabasta when their memories 'change'

During a fight with Aokiji in Water 7, Luffy is frozen solid, and only Sanji and Zoro can bring him back to the Merry. Zoro flawlessly navigates through the entire city and even points out what directions they must go in, much to Sanji’s surprise. 

AKA the only time Zoro knows directions is when Luffy needs him most

While Luffy is injured and a conflict with the marines starts, Zoro takes the lead because “my crew is frozen” 

Towards the end of the level, Zoro has a unique reaction (no one else does individually) when Luffy can’t beat Lucci and is the only strawhat to realize the Lucci in their memories is stronger

Once Luffy wins, Zoro’s unique dialogue is, again, “Seriously, you almost scared me back there.”

When going to Marineford memories, Zoro is the only one to comfort/check in with Luffy, asking if he’s alright/ready to do this. Luffy responds ‘yeah’ - and in that section, Zoro is the only person Luffy speaks to

Clicking on other crewmates just has them speaking, not Luffy responding to them

Similarly, post-Marineford, Zoro is the one to respond to Luffy’s “I’m glad everyone’s okay” with a ‘yeah’, because they don’t need to talk about it further.

In multiple situations, Luffy and Zoro are the only ones to realize an enemy is tracking them or ”not right” and will check with the other about it- “Did you notice?/Yup, they’re getting closer”

Since they’re usually placed together in cut scenes, Zoro is almost always the first crewmate ‘shown’ reacting to Luffy and often has minor, unique dialogue just for him

Zoro whines/demands to Luffy that he wants to fight in the coliseum in Dressrosa this time. 

“I don’t want to, but if Luffy says so.”

At the game's ending, Zoro places himself in front of an injured Luffy to protect him (and had done that through the game)

“We’re more about the future than the past now, right Luffy?” “Right!” (their final lines are together).

Their unique ‘battle’/gameplay conversations are a riot:

They talk about killing specific monsters because they’re hungry

Zoro spots a swordsman and wants to fight them/Luffy cheers him on

Are very happy to keep fighting when the other ‘pushes’ an opponent into their area of battle (Nami is not!)

Zoro claims Luffy shouldn’t have to fight certain weak enemies and that he’s already about to beat them, even though Luffy complains he wants to fight too!

When they finish a battle, Zoro will sometimes reference the Baratie vow and that he’ll become a master swordsman, concludig with “Got a problem with that King of the Pirates?” as Luffy laughs and says "Nope!"

"You're in MY captain's way. Time to move it or lose it!"

Odyssey is focused on the whole crew and the island mystery they’re solving, but there was so much heart between everyone (Sanji saves Usopp, Robin affectionately calls Nami their reliable navigator). It was very obvious how much these two rely on each other and that Zoro isn’t just the swordsman but the first mate

[ghostiequill]

Mihawk x Librarian

Can be read as gender neutral reader

please go easy this is literally my first ever fanfiction lol

Let it be known that Lord Dracule Mihawk was a romantic at heart.

Every mission that he decides to grace the Marines with his presence, he rewards himself with the sappiest, most bodice ripping book he can find

He wasn't embarrassed, why would he be? Every man has his vices and his was far more healthy than the heathen souls he had come across along his travels

If anyone has a problem with them, they dare not say for his hawk eyes practically bore into their soul, silently challenging them to comment 

So when he docked on your island after a mission, he dedicated to make the trek to the small, and only, bookstore in town- your bookshop

You were proud of the tiny establishment you managed to build up over the years. The walls, up to the ceiling were smothered in books of every genre you had managed to get a hold of. The cozy atmosphere emphasized with plush oversized couches, mismatched bookshelves, and knick knacks that you’ve collected over the years that you just couldn't leave the store without

Walking in, he was immediately hit with the smell of the used pages of well loved books and the coffee that patrons had had before.

Silently scoring the shelves, his eyes looking for the prey he planned to devour, luckily for everyone with fighting experience he had only planned to devour a good book

Looking through the brightly colored spines, one managed to catch his eye-a soft pink cover with a woman fainting in a man’s arms, reading the back. Satisfied, he tucked it under his arm and made his way to the front counter where you sat reading.

You were leaning over the counter, thoroughly engrossed in your novel, twirling a piece of hair in your fingers. Your eyes quickly scanning the pages of the book as you heard a polite cough from in front of you

Embarrassed, you hastily put a bookmark in your spot and shoved in back under the counter as you turned towards your patron

Your face lit up as he placed his novel on the counter. You started ranting about how much you loved the author, how much the romance genre was underrated and overdramatized by those foolish enough to not partake in it, citing that they were just too afraid to admit their own love for trash

He remained silent. Now to the untrained eye, Mihawk could have been seen as bored, but this was entirely untrue. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but you apparently existed to challenge that perception. Your passion and enthusiasm was utterly infectious and he couldn't help but sink into your words, eagerly awaiting your next sentence.

Realizing you had yet to hear a reply, you faced the person who decided to buy and your face dropped, Dracule Mihawk-looking like he got ripped straight out of one of the covers of your favorite novels with his sharp jawline, piercing eyes, strong arms, and the fashion of one of the pirates that you once dreamt would sweep you off your feet and whisk you away on the adventure that you had read countless times before 

You had tried to stutter out an apology before he put a hand up, suddenly silencing you

After the shock had worn off, you had managed to slowly start making small talk about more of the books you had read of the romance genre getting more and more excited the more you talked

Mihawk found it adorable the way your eyes lit up and tried to continue this conversation as long as he could, steering it in direction, demanding the waters of the conversion as he steered it in the ways that made you smile the most

Mihawk regaled you with the many tales and summaries of the books he's read before, making you laugh at their extravagant plot holes and extreme dialogue.

A lull in the conversation eventually developed, making you realize again who you were talking to, making you blush and look down

Mihawk studies your face for a moment, a strange itch causing him to miss your enthusiastic voice

You quickly write up his book and before handing him his receipt, you pause, write something down unable to make eye contact as you hand him the folded receipt and the book

Mihawk politely tips his hat and turns to leave, unfolding the receipt he stops in his tracks: 

“Are you a library book, ‘cause I’d love to check you out” with a lopsided wink and your number scrawled at the bottom

He turns around, amusement playing at his lips as he sees you blatantly staring, realizing you got caught and trying to quickly duck behind the counter

Mentally berating yourself at the stupid pick up line, why would this ever work? He’s a warlord- prim, proper, and powerful. He was just making polite conversation why would be be interested in you-

“You know, if you wanted my number you could have just asked” a smooth voice above you says. “I would have gladly given it up”

You slowly stand up, eyes darting to his face to try to see if he was making fun of you or not. 

Seeing the little bookstore owner that he had witnessed so passionately defend their trash books now suddenly overcome with shyness made Mihawk very amused. He quickly scrawled his number at the bottom

“I look forward to talking with you” He smiled, tipped his hat and made his way into the crowded street

You were awestruck, you had just managed to get the number of the Dracule Mihawk. Clutching the receipt to your chest, you couldn't help but smile. What's the rule of how long you could call again?

Both of you were unsure of where this next chapter of life would lead you, but both of you felt a sense of optimism of what was to be.

[twistedbunni]

Unrequited

Buggy x Reader Angst

A/N: I just wanted to write something moody, it's not the best honestly but I might continue it sometime. I took inspiration from the song "DYWTYLM" by Sleep Token and a bit of dialogue makes it very clear.

You'd been left behind in some shitty run down town. The ship you had sailed on for the past decade had drifted out to sea along with the crew that's been like family to you. Your life had basically disappeared right infront of you.

You knew none of them meant to leave you behind, but you also knew it'd be far too late for them to come back for you when they do finally notice your absence. They'd all been so excited to Finally see the Grand line, practically buzzing as they had loaded the final crates of supplies they needed for the trip, far too distracted with thoughts of what they would see out there that no one had noticed you weren't back from running the final errand you'd been tasked with.

By the time you'd returned to the dock the massive ship was already far enough away that it looked no bigger than your hand. Shouting or swimming were far beyond the possibilities of working out in your favor. You fell to your knees heartbroken at the sight, watching everything and everyone you'd ever known shrink into the sunset never to be seen by you again.

You'd still been there when Buggy's ship pulled into the harbor late that night. The Clown's men had whooped and hollered in delight of finally being on land again as they past you. The crowd of them seemed to move around you as if you'd been a rock and they were a river flowing around you. None of them seemed to pay you any mind, too concerned with the prospect of getting drunk at the few bars the town had.

It was only Buggy who'd stopped, he stood there staring at your form now sitting with your knees to your chest as your eyes stared unfocused and empty out at the sea at the exact spot your ship had finally disappeared from view. He could tell from the state of your face that you'd cried, maybe even sobbed and we're now left shivering from the chill of being soaked in a mix of your tears as well as the water that had occasionally splashed up onto you from the waves of the sea.

Silently he had placed his coat over your shoulders, sitting down beside you to look out at the water as well. He knew what was wrong, he could tell exactly what happened to you. You had that undeniable look of someone who knew they'd lost everything, he'd seen it multiple times before on people whose lives the Buggy pirates had destroyed, and more importantly had seen it first hand on himself when Shanks betrayed and abandoned him.

"You'll catch cold if you stay out here any longer, especially with the state your in." Finally he'd broken the silence, broken you from your trance of despair, bringing you back to reality and the pain it brought with it.

"They're gone. They left me behind. I'll never see them again. My whole life was practically on that ship, I know nothing but life on that ship... and now it's just... Gone." Your voice was weak, throat hoarse from the lump that'd formed in it hours ago when you'd first began crying.

Buggy wasn't entirely sure what to say now, his initial comment was just to bring you out of that dark mindset he knew you'd been stuck in for what was practically all day. He wasn't use to comforting people, just threatening them or leaving them for one of his crew to take care of. All he could muster up in his head was generic bullshit. "I'm sorry, I've been in your shoes honestly but I don't know what to say."

"What am I supposed to do now? I have nothing left and no where to go." Finally you'd turned your eyes from the sea, looking over to the man sitting next you.

Buggy kept his eyes on the sea thinking for a moment, before turning to meet your gaze. "I don't know, but you're more than welcome to join my crew and I. Even if it's only till you figure out what you'd like to do next."

God were his eyes beautiful, the moonlight was making them practically glow, infact all of him seemed to glow in the silver light as if he were an angel. You gave a weak nod to him, a small seed of happiness planting itself deep within your hallowed heart.

He stood lending a hand to help you up as well, leading you onto his ship. He'd fed you, given you a change of clothes, told you all about his crew, all their flashy acts and adventures. He seemingly fixed you that night, taking you in as one of his own and taking care of you.

You knew it was due to the emotional mess you'd faced that day but when Buggy had tucked you in and bid you goodnight, your heart couldn't help falling for him.

A year had passed now since Buggy took you in and in that time you'd grown to become one of his most faithful crew members. You'd always assist him with all preparations for his performances, standing by during his shows with anything and everything he'd need. By now your dedication to the man could not be questioned, and no one dared to anyways, they could see you loved the man they all looked up to.

Everyone except the man himself could see how you adored Buggy since that fateful night, and some of them even tried to protect those feelings you held. Cabaji or Mohji would always distract you somehow when they knew the captain was 'entertaining' himself with someone, making sure you were too far away to hear any moans that would surely spill out of the Captain's room.

The pair often felt guilty for sheltering you but they couldn't stand to see their newest friend get hurt and deep down they were hoping the captain would eventually fall for you too. Sure your feelings had started out unhealthy, you initially falling for Buggy because you were broken and he was the one that had picked up your pieces, but by now you'd actually grown to hold a healthy love for the man and the both of you deserved to feel that love.

Things changed when Alvida was added to your crew. Buggy was often too absorbed with scheming up plans with the beautiful new co-captian, that he seemed to not have much time to spend with you or any of his crew anymore frankly. It was affecting a good chunk of his crew, especially you, and no matter how much Cabaji or Mohji tried to distract you from the hurt, the pair knew they couldn't fix the problem entirely.

Cabaji was stood out on the upper deck with you currently, looking out at the stars and holding mindless conversation about how to better his act for the next performance.

"Maybe I could teach you how to unicycle, then we could figure out some flashy synchronized thing to do as a pair." He placed his fist to his chin in thought.

You chuckled at the thought of you on a unicycle, swerving around the circus ring with a spotlight on you. Knowing your luck and coordination you'd probably wipe out midway through and end up somehow run over by your own unicycle or Cabaji's. "I'll let you teach me but I don't think I'd ever become as good as you are."

"That's bull, your good at just about everything!" Buggy's voice called out, interrupting your conversation.

Cabaji saw the way you froze and placed a hand on your shoulder whispering his next words to you. "It's just capt, she's not with him don't worry." He gave your shoulder a little squeeze and you a friendly smile before turning to face the Clown.

"I'm gonna let you two talk, I've gotta go practice my routine anyways." Cabaji excused himself, heading below deck to give you two privacy.

"Long time to see it feels like!" Buggy joked coming to lean against the railing beside you.

"It's your own fault you know." Your tone was cold and your eyes remained fixed on the night sky.

"Yea, I guess it is." He felt a little guilty now that'd you'd pointed it out. "Sorry bout that."

"Whatever. Why aren't you spending your night with her like usual? Did her beauty become too much for you, so you came to see me instead?." Your words were laced with hurt.

He glanced at you for a moment, confused at what you were trying to imply. "She's got some things of her own to do tonight is all. What does her appearance have to do with me talking to you?"

"What doesn't it have to do with it? She far more attractive than me, it's no wonder you abandoned me for her." Your gaze shifted downward to the sea below you, watching the waves shimmer in the lights of the night sky.

"I didn't abandoned you, what the hell are you talking about?!" Buggy turned to face you fully, trying to desperately read your body language or what little of your face he could see. "I spend time with her because she's a co-captian and we have to plan out how the hell to accomplish the things we need to!" You stayed silent, not moving at all from you spot, and just when Buggy was about to storm off you had spoken.

"I regret joining your crew." A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

"What do you mean?" The clown honestly couldn't believe your words. How could you regret being one of his crew? You had given no signs of ever being unhappy until now, you'd grown close to his 2 right hand men almost immediately and always seemed to eager to help him with his shows. So why are you just now telling him you'd regretted your decision?! Did he do something upset you? Were you silently hurting as a result of him never having time to spend with you lately?

"I regret everything that's happened since that night you found me. I regret agreeing to let you take care of me that night. I regret agreeing to join your crew and befriending some of them. I regret being by your side ready to help you with everything and anything. I regret letting the others distract me when you'd sleep with a captive or crew mate. I regret letting them try to mend me when Alvida joined and you'd grown distant. I regret feeling at home here. I regret you finding me that night at all. But most of all.." You paused, finally turning to face Buggy with tears in your eyes.

God did it break your heart to see him lit up like an angel just as he had looked on that faithful night. And Man did it break Buggy's heart to see your eyes were filled with that hurt of betrayal and abandonment like they'd been when he first saw you. You were both back to the same state of being you'd been in when you had first met.

You sighed, closing your eyes finally ready to say what you needed to. "Most of all I regret falling for you, letting not only myself but also the crew believe you could ever grow to love me back."

He felt like he'd been hit by one of his famed giant explosive Buggy balls. Every single thought that had been in his brain was gone with the only thing remaining was you admitting you fell for him, replaying over and over again. He knew you were deticated to him but it was normal for a crew member to be deticated to the captain. How had he missed the fact your looks and actions towards him were filled with far more adoration, than those of the rest of his more faithful members. He hadn't let himself see you in the same light as you did him, only letting you remain as someone who's pain he could relate to. He stopped making time for you, distancing himself without even realizing it. Somehow he had managed to push you from his thoughts entirely to the point he had grown to see as just another member of his crew.

"I- I didn't- I don't-" He was stuttering, desperately fighting for his mind to say something, ANYTHING at all.

"Save your breath, I know you didn't know my feelings for you were so deep." Your eyes opened finally, seeing Buggy fighting to get ahold of his own thoughts.

You watched him flounder his mouth open and closed a few times for a moment before taking a few steps away to lean on the railing to watch the stars again. "I'll be leaving ship tomorrow when we dock in Loguetown."

Finally his mind seemed to snap into place, allowing him to speak and think clearly again. "Why?! No one wants you gone."

"You told me that I could stay with you and the crew till I figured out what I wanted to do next." Your voice was soft and smooth, any hurting you felt was undetectable in your tone.

"So you decided what you want to do?" He moved a step closer to you.

"Not really, I only have a small idea of what I could do." You shrugged.

Buggy grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face him, his eyes searched yours intensely. "Then why the hell are you leaving?"

"Buggy do you love me?" You had ignored his question, asking one of you own and when he didn't reply you decided to ask a different one. "Do you wish that you loved me?"

He was silent still, causing you to sigh and push his hand off your shoulder begining to walk away. Though his hand quickly flew to stop you, he finally spoke. "I don't know how I feel honestly. I try to tuck away my own emotions so I don't have to deal with them."

"Maybe it's not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist. At least none for me anyway." It was a harsh reality that you knew he also knew but was trying to fight. "How ironic isn't, that you're so desperate to be loved by someone, but now that I do you can't bring yourself to love me back. You can't force feelings Buggy, no matter how viciously you try to and we both know that."

His hand released you coming back to rejoin the rest of him. "You're right, I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself."

With that you walked off going to pack your things, leaving the clown to think as endlessly as the stars above him. A hollow feeling formed in his chest, not because he was losing someone he loved or cared deeply for, but because he wasn't and it made him feel extremely guilty for not feeling that way.

By the time you'd docked in LogueTown the next day the whole crew had heard of your leaving them. Many wanted to try to convince you to stay, especially Cabaji and Mohji but they all knew you leaving was for the best after hearing of your talk with Buggy last night. Both Buggy and you had not spoken or even seen each other since said talk, a mutual feeling that there was nothing left to say between the pair of you.

The purpose of the ship docking here was to find the straw hats and reclaim the map of the Grand line from them. The two captains, your two friends and about half of the crew went off to complete the mission, so you really didn't have anyone there to see you off. You'd just grabbed your belongings, saying a few goodbyes to crew that was left on the ship, then left to go into town. Maybe you'd join the Marines now, or find some fishermen and offer to help them out, you honestly had no real idea of what to do now.

Due to the commotion in town caused by the mix of Buggy's crew, the Marines, and the straw hats, you'd somehow ended up on board with the latter. Setting sail for the Grand line with the band of misfit pirates Buggy and your friends had failed to capture.

"So what were you doing in a town like that?" One of the crew asked.

"Nothing really, just saying goodbye to my heart I guess you could say." You answered, a sad smile on your face as for the 2nd time in your life you watched the life you'd grown to know, shrink till it was out of view.

Though this time it was you onboard leaving someone behind to watch helplessly from the docks.

[raconteur-wanpi]

One Piece 1130

Here comes another review / reaction!

Starting with the Yamato cover stories again, it seems whoever is the suspicious kidnapper is also trying to steal Yamato's katana! Or at least, I'm assuming it's the same person. I feel like this means we're going to find out who it is rather soon. Is my bet on Perospero going to be completely and utterly debunked? We'll just wait and see.

Franky and the rest of the strawhats remaining on the giants' ship seem to have decided to call off the search! It's certainly the right decision, because as we'll see later, the rest of the crew is indeed already on Elbaf. It's interesting to see Franky specifically showcasing determination and speaking out the decision, I kinda love it. You have to remember he was the leader of the Franky Family for a long while, nice seeing that element of his again.

The rest of the New Giant Pirates are starting to show up! I remember both Gerd and Goldberg, but getting more dialogue from them is nice, they seem like genuinely charming characters and I love both their designs. They even showed up in Vegapunk's flashback, helping out Saul pick up all the books in Ohara. They seem to not like Rodo very much, which is kinda funny but makes total sense. It's also worth mentioning that apparently, according to Linlin's childhood flashback, Loki, Rodo and Goldberg were all born on the same day, or at least very close to each other! (From chapter 866)

The strawhats unfortunately don't recognize these two, who are certainly their allies, so instead they hide away from them.

This panel of all of them making their escape from Rodo's weird creepy dungeon is pretty cute, I always love seeing the strawhats casually interact. Sanji saying he used to cross a rope bridge like this is very interesting to me, surely there was one in Germa, right?

* Edit: oops, turns out that's Chopper saying it! Big thanks for the corrections in the replies. It's really hard to tell, but that makes more sense, we do see that in Drum Island.

Anyway, Luffy seems to spot something that catches his interest during this walk-away.

Meanwhile, back on the ship with the Giant Warrior Pirates....

Dorry and Broggy have been framed for the Egghead incident by Morgans also! Well, they did go against the government, so it's to be expected. Their bounties increasing to such numbers seems to actually align with real life inflation rates, Oda did his research.

Aaaandd here it is, one of the biggest things in this chapter. Vivi left a message to the strawhats!!!!!!! Being with Morgans, she was obviously able to draw the marking on the photo before it started getting reproduced for publishing. Everyone predicting Vivi joining the strawhats this arc is probably correct, hopefully! Please let it happen. Go get your girl kids!!!!!!

OK, this is the other huge (pun unintended) thing revealed this chapter. More information on Loki and, well.... the revelation Harjudin might be his brother!? They're both the King's sons, right? They both get referred to as princes here, aren't they!?

King Harold is referred to as Loki's father here, so it's safe to assume he was Harjudin's father also. If this is the case, Harjudin going after the Flame Flame Fruit in Dressrosa makes more sense.

Hmm, this narrative is pretty interesting, Loki getting called things like "cursed", "the shame of Elbaf" "not right in the head" etc, it feels like pretty cruel words. Even if he is indeed a horrible and dangerous person, something tells me we're meant to be wary of people being spoken about that way, so it might be a case of the people of Elbaf taking their measures against this guy too far and pushing him into what he eventually turned into.

One Piece loves this narrative, when you have things like Wano's unjust treatment of the Kurozumi Clan or Doflamingo's treatment when he was a child. Yes, Orochi and Doffy did turn out into terrible, horrible people, but the implication of those narratives is that it's the systems that failed them that created those monsters. It's not to feel sympathy towards them or anything, they really don't deserve that at this point, but rather to understand how they were created, and that the people who unwittingly turned them into such dangers were in many ways in the wrong as well. After all, Tama is also a Kurozumi, for example, and Wano needed to get over their treatment of entire clans for the crimes of a few. We even see that with Yamato being hazed for his father being Kaidou in the cover stories, only for Denjiro to scold the younger generation for this behavior. Not to mention, "the shame of Elbaf" does immediately make me think of "the failure of Germa" and such similar things. In fact, if we wanna push that parallel further, Loki being almost married off to the Charlottes' in a similar way, might have in fact been an attempt at "getting rid of the failure" and letting someone else deal with him, rather than an attempt at making amends with Linlin. I do think it's most likely that Loki will be a bad guy, but I think there will also be a narrative on how cruelty breeds more cruelty. Oda's favorite!

And here he is, the "accursed prince". Wow, what a panel! This is such a good drawing in sense of scale and danger. Incredible artistic work. Immediately leaves such a strong impression on who this character is, it's quite the introduction!

[the-badger-mole]

what's the

Pirate Zuko AU Idea about?

I don't have a ton of this fic written, tbh. I think it amounts to maybe a half a page altogether, but here's the synopsis and a bit of dialogue I've been noodling around with.

Instead of a wild goose chase for the Avatar for 3 years, Zuko and his crew rebel against Ozai and turn pirate. Their targets are FN war vessels. They become sort of folk heroes to the EK and lower class FN citizens. When he realizes how much support Zuko is getting, Iroh suggests rolling their rebellion into a coup.

It takes a while, but Zuko eventually agrees after seeing how much harm his father is doing, and he and Iroh decided it's time to start building alliances with the other nations. Their first stop is the SWT, as they seem the likeliest to join the cause. As they're entering the southern waters, Zuko and his crew spot a strange beam of light in the distance.

Against all odds, they've stumbled upon the Avatar...

This is the bit of dialogue I've come up with. I think it would happen sometime soon after Zuko meets Katara, Sokka and Aang. I'm not sure why Zuko lied about his identity, but I like the idea of this scene.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were the Fire Lord’s son?” Katara asked. She kept her eyes on the horizon, but she felt Lee…no, Zuko shrug.

“Would you have trusted me if I had?” he countered.

“I guess not.” Katara sighed and turned to Zuko. Prince Zuko. That would take some time to wrap her mind around.

“If it makes you feel better, Ozai hasn’t claimed me as his son in quite some time.”

“Yeah, what happened there?” Now that the shock was beginning to wear off, Katara found herself curious about the pirate captain.

List of WIPS (last reblog)

[descendantsramblings]

I absoloutely love your Storys and i wanted to request one as well :3

Morgie x Male!Reader

Male Reader is Part of the Vk's or his studie Partner in an Assignment (your choice) and the Reader is in Love with Morgie, Morgie on the other hand is into Uliana and always talks about her which is breaking Reader's Heart

So- Hurt comfort/no comfort with a Happy or Sad ending, whatever you like more

I won't lie to you, something about this fic turned extremely dialogue heavy and this feels a touch behind the bar to my other works, I'm sorry about that.

Also somehow his friendship with Hook had me writing this in the mindset of “boooooo he sucks, kiss his friend” so feel free to read it as Hook having a thing for the reader. Adds to the one sided chaos

One Sided

Morgie le Fay x VK! Reader

Pronouns used: he/him/his

Summary: What else was he meant to do but just take the boy’s words like they’re rolling punches?

Warnings: no happy ending we die like men, Morgie gets called stupid out of frustration a lot

Word Count: 1.9K

     “James, I am going to implode,” the boy flops onto the pirate’s bed with a dramatic huff, body just barely missing the legs that rest under his maroon blanket. Hook had grown used to this, shifting to making room beside him, in case his friend was  willing to take him up on it. Not that (Y/n) ever did, too scared that Morgie would walk in. If he saw how close the boy got to his roommate, the sorcerer would never see him as an option. Not that the serpent did see him as anything.  “Do you know what he just did?” He flips over onto his stomach, chin cradled in his hands as he whines at Hook.  The pirate lets out an sharp exhale that vaguely resembles a laugh, “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” “He asked me to go with him to that new coffee place in town, and I mean, I knew it wasn’t a date. But he asked me to go so he could tell me more about Uliana. I mean, how blind does a man have to be? Asking a boy who’s falling at your feet to get coffee just to talk about some girl who doesn’t even want you.” He looks up at the boy, and where you’d expect to see sadness, all that sits on his features is annoyance. Hook laughs, patting the spot he made on the bed for the other boy. “Morgie le Fay is a boy at best, not a man.” It earns him a laugh from (Y/n) who sits up, turning to him but not quite filling the spot with his name on it. Hook does his best to ignore it, letting his eyes stay focused on his friend instead. With a shake of his head, he smiles over at the pirate, “He could be. He’s just, not.” 

      A hum comes through his closed, pouty lips. “If you say so. And since you came to me, I’m assuming that means he,” James drags the one syllable word out, waiting for the boy to finish the sentence for him. “Left me early because Uliana showed up. She needed someone to carry her bags for her while she’s shopping for Castlecoming. He’s so stupid, James. That girl is never going to look at him as anything more than someone to use. How does he not see that?” There’s a mocking air to the first sentence, eyes rolling with a wave of his hand. Mocking the sea witch in a way that would surely get him in trouble were she to see. Lucky for them, they would be alone for hours. “He’s a boy, (Y/n), he’s stupid.” It makes them both laugh, James reaching over to push his knees slightly. “You’re a boy, James.” “Yeah, so are you,” Hook waves a hand at him, a smile plastered on his lips. “I personally am a man,” (Y/n) laughs, putting a hand over his heart as he speaks as if he’s offended. 

    It was a song and dance both boys had become far too accustomed to. Morgie would upset (Y/n) by talking about Uliana while they’re alone, or even by leaving him for the sea witch like he had today. Then he’d come running to Hook, if Morgie wasn’t coming back for a while, they’d stay on his bed. Otherwise it was (Y/n) and Hades’ dorm or the hideout. The boy would complain, his pirate companion would comfort him. Then when he was happy again, and they part ways, Hook would get a soft thanks, a swear that he was a good friend, and they would split. And now, as they reach the finale of their duet, (Y/n) puts a hand on top of Hook’s, an adoring smile stretched across his face. “You know, James. I really wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re the best friend a boy could have.” He rolls his eyes, a familiar and playful smirk on his face, “And you are a wonderful stroke to my ego, Lad, really.” “Yeah, yeah,” the boy laughs, standing up from Hook’s bed, “Thank you, idiot.” “Anytime.” 

                                     ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

    The next time that (Y/n) sees Morgie, it’s in “History of Piracy”, his head laying gently on the sorcerer’s shoulder as the teacher drones on. Something about a research project where they got to pick their own partners. Not that the villain cared to listen. Morgie would, he’d never admit it but, he always did. The kid was smarter than he let on, something about it was oddly admirable. And it was too hard to listen anyway, no way he could care about something as minor as pirates when he could feel Morgie’s body heat through the silk shirt pressed to his cheek. His head moving so slightly as the boy breathes that the human eye wouldn’t pick it up. It was so cozy, quiet, something out of (Y/n)’s daydreams. And for once, there was nothing about Uliana to interfere. Class was a genuinely Uliana free zone, the boy and the sea witch being blessed with wildly different schedules. It made going to class just a touch easier.

    As the man finishes talking, the whole room gets up, kids crossing left and right to get to their friends, picking out different partners. The shoulder he leans on shakes ever so slightly, earning Morgie a slight glance in his direction. “We’re going to be partners, right?” His eyes fly open, moving off of Morgie’s shoulder to stare at him. Mouth running dry as he lets his eyes flicker wildly over the other boy. “What?” “We’re going to be partners on this project, right?” Right, he should’ve known that. “Actually, I was thinking of asking Charming, got a huge crush on him, you know. This would give me a way in.” Morgie’s face falls, looking over to the prince. Charming is leaning against Ella’s desk, obviously partnered with her. He turns back to (Y/n), “Oh well, I think he actually has a partner. I could see if Ella could switch if you wanted? Not that I want to work with her, I’d rather work with you.”  He’d rather work with him.

    (Y/n) forcefully laughs, reaching out for the boy’s arm, “Morgie, I’m kidding. Of course I’m going to be your partner. You’re my other half.” A nervous smile stretches across his face, leaning onto his hand, “It’s not a funny joke. I thought you were actually going to leave me.” Lip finding its way between his teeth as he literally tries to bite back a smile. He was scared he would leave him? Maybe the boy meant more to Morgie than he thought. “Never,” it’s meant to be light hearted but (Y/n) can feel the way it tugs on him. It’s a promise, he knows in his heart that it’s a promise. And the idea of it is absolutely horrifying. 

    “So, what exactly is this project?” Morgie laughs, shaking his head as he pulls out his sloppy notes on the assignment. “We have to write a research essay on how being a pirate can lead to harm.” A teasing little smirk makes its way onto the boy’s face, an excited air filling the space between them as he bounces ever so slightly in his seat, “We could do it on James losing his hand.” The laughter that erupts out of Morgie is loud, light and joyful as it shakes his shoulders. Smile meeting his eyes, squinting them with their perky glow still barely visible. He looks amazing, (y/n)’s lip once again sliding into his teeth as he stares lovingly at his friend. “Hook would hate being used for a project,” Morgie shakes his head, absentmindedly brushing his scarf over his shoulder. “You must not know your roommate very well, le Fay. James would absolutely love being the center of attention. Don’t play with me.” “Well, if you’re so sure.” “I am. Let’s go to your dorm.” His hand wraps around Morgie’s wrist at the exact same time as the bell rings, dragging the boy up from his chair.

    There was no use in fighting against him, Morgie was well aware of that. So he allows his excitable villain friend to drag him up to his dorm, fingers wrapped tightly around his skinny wrist. Pulling him into his room and throwing the boy down onto his own bed. The bedsprings screeching as the sorcerer falls to it, his body bouncing with the mattress. The little display earns them a shocked noise from Hook, his eyes wide as they turn to him. “Whatever you two are up to, I am in here, please be aware of that.” It makes Morgie laugh but (Y/n)’s face heats up at the idea, glaring pointedly at the pirate. The look on his friend’s face makes Hook smirk, crossing his arms and leaning back against his headboard. “What could you possibly be up to then?” The boy laughs, perching on the mattress beside his friend. “We came to see you. We have to do a silly little project on pirates.” “Oh, do ask away then.” 

    It doesn’t take long for the trio to go off the rails, what was once James getting to brag about his times at sea quickly turning into the three just hanging out. (Y/n)’s head in Morgie’s lap and his legs in Hook’s. Fingers ghosting through his hair as the sorcerer who cradles him babbles. “I mean she just, I don’t know. She sees me, obviously she does because she drags me around with her but she doesn’t see who I can be, you know? And that’s so frustrating because all I do is try, I am constantly on her beck and call. It’s exhausting, she’s so beautiful and talented. Evil too, and I understand that love isn’t evil but everyone is just a little bit good, aren’t they?” He pauses, smiling down at his friend, “I mean you’re so full of love. Especially with the way you treat us, and Hook over here is a serial romantic. There has to be some sort of love to her. So why can’t she just point it at me? It’s so unfair, I just want someone to love me.” 

    Unfair? It’s unfair that Uliana can’t love him. He has someone who loves him, why is he so stupid that he can’t see that? The boy looks up to Hook, his dark eyes already trained on him. The two of them have a silent conversation, the pirate silently promising that he had his friend’s back. And as if that was all the push he needed, the boy stands up, cutting off Morgie’s bubbling rant that had been going on for at least the last ten minutes. “I need to,” he pauses, looking at both boys before heading to the door, “I need to not be here. We’ll finish that project later, yeah?” 

     And they don’t get a minute to respond before he’s storming out of the room. Two pairs of eyes staring at the empty space where the boy once was. “What,” Morgie looks up to the door, “Was that?” His question is met with a sigh, the pirate rising off his bed.”You really are stupid, you know that?” He huffs, staring over at the boy with his mouth agape, “Excuse me?” Hook rolls his eyes, rolling his jacket onto his arms and grabbing his room key. “You’re stupid. He’s been in love with you for the past year, mate.” And the pirate storms out too, leaving the sorcerer alone, gapping at the wooden door. He’s been what?

[incorrect-riordanverse]

watched ep 3 & 4 of the pjo show. here are random thoughts:

ep 3

ive said before that ive put off watching the pjo show after episode 2 because the pacing seemed like a rush of getting from story checkpoint to story checkpoint and it never sat in one place long enough to actually grip me. episode 3 started off like that too, before the trio went on the quest. i only started to really like it when they were on the bus together and more of their dynamic was shining. theyre so funny bru.

i like all the acting but leah jeffries and aryan simhadri are CARRYING SO HARD. its like they took annabeth exactly how i imagined her out of my head and plopped her on screen and im so shocked at the accuracy??? her attitude and side eyes and sass is perf. and simhadri’s grover is insane because (dont come for me) i actually like the show version of him better than i did in the book 😭 perhaps reading him was rocky and i interpreted him wrong but seeing him on screen makes me SO attached to him. like in the books he always seemed like a sort of third wheel and annabeth and percy were outshining him so much but he’s actually slaying the show. i love him lots.

i like the dichotomy between percy and annabeth. their dynamic is already so juicy, especially with how they view both their godly and mortal parents. you can see some of their fatal flaws already shining through UGH i love them

i like medusa WAY more in the show. she seems so menacing yet classy and much more multifaceted. my only complaint was that she died way too quickly. there was so much build up in tension only for her to get one-tapped and it was honestly disappointing.

LIN MANUEL MIRANDA SPOTTED 🫵🫵

dialogue was great in this episode, btw.

ep 4

dream sequence went so hard -> “just breathe mummy ☺️ you’ll always be here 😁” *cuts to percy alone on a desolate plane where she is, in fact, not here*

sighhh sometimes i forget these kids are just twelve and theyre literal BABIES and percy just misses his mum 🙁

annabeth exposition time. a comment on all the exposition— there’s always something each episode but i think the show is doing a well enough job of not dumping everything in a way thats spoon-feedy to audience or in a way that makes viewers feel overwhelmed. theyre breaking information up nicely (imo).

echidna is slaying so hard. sorry but the villains are actually eating the whole dish up. mwah no balls.

its giving “im not a monster, im a mother” 🔥

fight scene annoyed me again but at least the mother of all monsters wasn’t ONE TAPPED. but i was annoyed because the monster was not thrashing him around as much as it had the opportunity to and it was giving plot armour im so sorry. might be cause of budget or target audience/rating though idk. the commentary of the show seems more mature however.

anyways yurr those are my observations. i like these last two eps more than the first two so maybe i should let this series cook.

remember to pirate this show if ur gonna watch it!!

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 43 – ENEMIES TO LOVERS

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: imposterhuman

I pretty much love all of the ideas and AUs that imposterhuman comes up with for these boys, they're so much fun! Especially the ones where they are clearly rivals, which is why I chose to rec them here. The characterizations are spot on, and I really love the dialogue – imposterhuman writes fantastic sassy banter.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

the new romeo and juliet

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: G Words: 2,179 Tags: No Powers AU, Firefighter Bucky, Detective Tony

Summary: Bucky and Tony weren’t dating, because a firefighter and a detective couldn’t date (never mind that Tony hadn’t slept with anyone else since their thing had started, and he and Bucky hung out with an alarming frequency, and the whole precinct thought that they were an item). It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how Bucky had a drawer of Tony's things and vice versa, they just couldn't. It was a classic Romeo and Juliet situation, if Romeo and Juliet actively disliked each other on top of everything.

Reasons why I love it: Aw, look at our idiots in love, they're adorable. The dialogue in this is hilarious, and I really enjoyed the rivalry between the different departments. And of course, it takes a kick in the ass for Bucky and Tony to finally admit how they're feeling. I love it, and I bet you will too!

all dressed up for a hit and run

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: G Words: 2,174 Tags: FBI Agent Bucky, Criminal Tony, Flirting

Summary: “I’m not sleeping with a criminal,” Bucky said sternly, trying to pretend like his resolve wasn’t wavering. “C’mon, baby,” Tony purred, raking a nail down his chest. “You’ve got nothing on me. Innocent until proven guilty, right? Technically, I’m not a criminal.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’ve stolen billions of dollars worth of artwork.” “Allegedly,” Tony shrugged artfully. “Everyone needs a hobby."

Reasons why I love it: Oooh, Bucky, my man, you're in danger. Tony is sexy as hell as an untouchable art thief, Bucky doesn't stand a chance at resisting him. I love the UST in their dialogue, and the entire setting just makes me want to read a whole novel about this verse. It's amazing, and I really hope you give it a shot for yourself!

white flag

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: G Words: 1,005 Tags: High School AU, Science Bowl, Banter

Summary: “You sound uncertain,” Bucky said. “Maybe you should give up. In fact-” he dug in his pocket for a moment, producing a piece of white cloth that he thrust at Tony. “Here.” “Ew, Barnes,” Pepper wrinkled her nose. “No one but Tony wants to see your dirty underwear.” He barely spared her a glance, intense gaze focused on Tony. “It’s a white flag, and you better start waving it now, doll.” “Does he just… carry that around?” Rhodey asked quietly. “Like, all the time?” “Probably,” Bruce said placidly. “He does seem like the type.” Tony ignored them and pushed Bucky’s white flag back at him. “The only thing that I will be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your weeping mother!”

Reasons why I love it: Tony is such a little shit, I love it! And I bet Bucky loves it too, that little faker. I would read a million more words in this verse, as is the case for pretty much all of these, really. This fic is fantastic, and I hope you go and check it out for yourself!

a pirate's life for me

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: T Words: 4,295 Tags: Pirates, One Night Stands, Pining

Summary: If Bucky Barnes didn’t stop chasing him across the seven seas, Tony was going to have to do something drastic, probably involving cannons, illegal activity, and a shit ton of rum. “You need to sort out your relationship with Barnes,” Rhodey scolded. “He’s chasing you like a scorned lover.” “Scorned?” Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “I was perfectly courteous the morning after. It was a mutual decision to not see each other again, seeing as he’s supposed to arrest me on sight.” “You left before he woke up, didn’t leave a note, and stole something valuable, didn’t you?” Rhodey looked to the sky like he was praying for strength. “Tony, if we get arrested because you had a one-night stand with the commodore’s first mate, I will send you to the gallows myself.”

Reasons why I love it: I grew up with Pirates of the Carribean, so this fic was like catnip to me. The reference are perfect, I love the banter between Tony's crew, and of course, the Winteriron is magnificent. I adore this fic, and I bet you will too, so I hope you'll check it out!

suicidal stolen art

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: G Words: 1,871 Tags: No Powers AU, Thieves, Flirting

Summary: Tony was going to kill Bucky Barnes. Tony was going to cut the other thief’s flesh arm off and beat him with it. It was bad enough that they were both running jobs in the same building, but they had to be going for the same necklace, too. Really, the universe hated Tony. He stared at the ceiling, sending up a very nasty prayer in case someone was listening, then turned back to the job at hand.

Reasons why I love it: I really enjoyed the back-and-forth in this one. They're clearly both equally skilled, and the power play that comes with that is just delicious. I love this one, and I bet you will too, so you should definitely read it!

[zenzeroruletheworld]

every now and then I think about what Jack Sparrow's death would be like. And I cant even imagine it: I can't think of an exit as impressive as the rest of his life!

Like: every single moment of his life is iconic. his exit from the spotlight must be equally... or even more so! You get it?

I refuse to imagine him dying of old age or a sickness. It would be his second death, it need to be big! And i just cant wrap my head arround It.

its always feels like its not enough, like I'm insulting him with a death that isn't iconic enough

I personally believe he is one of the best written fictional characters EVER. His character is brilliant, all his adventures, his dialogues, his movements, his personality, and features and attitude, pose, style! his character is terribly complex. he has done and seen everything imaginable and every time you think he can't outdo himself he finds a way to do it! and many of these things are due to Johnny Depp who is the only man in the world capable of interpreting him in all his greatness and genius!

And also, he manages to steal the spot light as soon as he appears. He is the reason why pirates of the caribbean had so much success and so many movies (even in the 5)!

If you dont like Jack Sparrow you are wrong. And thats not up for discussion

[stayatsam]

dragon age fanbase is crazy because every time a new game comes out theres the same cry about them somehow ruining the lore story that they've been following ever since the first game. it's the same old story since origins

VEILGUARD SPOILERS UNDER CUT

some complaints ive seen plus the games' explanations:

"the archdemons are tied to the elven gods?" yeah they've been hinting at that for some time

"the maker might not be real?" the entire chantry being built on a lie was kind of spot on since origins. we found out in trespasser that it was solas who made the veil, also.

"why do the dalish know the gods are evil/blighted?" because solas' agents have been spreading the word, and the veil jumpers also discovered more about the true history, a veil jumper rook even says so themselves. veil jumper codex' entries also seem to imply not all of the gods were on the scale of elgar'nan and ghilan'nain, (like sylaise and june, it's more complex than They Are All Evil Evil Evil Tyrants. it's similar to orlais' politics, i won't get into all that though. like, they were all branding people but Mythal was too and people let her off the hook too much for that)

"i cant believe they destroyed southern thedas!" well it IS a double blight and southern thedas has the least amount of grey wardens right now, the entire region has been unstable for decades. ten years isn't long enough to recover from three wars (mage-templar, corypheus, war of lions, and ten years prior it's also said it takes decades to recover from a blight). i'd be mad if the south got off without any damage from the literal apocalypse

"why would orlais' nobility side with the venatori?" orlais has always been one of the most corrupt nations on thedas, inquisition put a bandaid on its civil war, no wonder some of them sided with the venatori. solas says again and again it doesn't matter WHO the gods are, they're dishing out glory and power to selfish people who crave glory and power

"why do the venatori worship elven gods?" the elven gods ARE the the old gods of tevinter in its glory days, plus solas even says it doesn't matter who they worship so long as they have power, and the gods give that to them. venatori combat barks specifically call out to the old gods, too. plus there's so much blood magic and mind control going on they might not even be fully aware these are elves they're worshiping

"they sanitized the crows" i wish we got more morally dubious crows too and i won't lie they definitely took a less offensive side to them, but lucanis' and illario's various dialogues definitely imply they had an abusive upbringing under caterina. there's also banter of how zevran's house murdered 8 of their own members after origins. the crows are such a massive organization too we're ONLY seeing treviso. not to mention zevran's been killing antivan crow leaders for the past twenty years to purposefully shake up the organization. things change in twenty years

"the lords of fortune are too nice to be pirates" they aren't pirates, they're treasure hunters/scavengers that ransom relics to orlesian nobles. ngl not a whole lot to say since i think they're a boring faction and i wish we got to see more of them

"they took the slavery/evil parts out of tevinter" they definitely toned down tevinter i am also disappointed we don't get to see more of its gritty side but we do meet venatori slaves and save several from blood magic rituals, the venatori torture a halla in front of a kidnapped dalish clan, if you save treviso you'll see public executions and carts piled with bodies swarmed by flies in the streets of minrathous

like. i have genuine complaints about the game and i wish they handled certain things differently and with more detail but the writers have confirmed they're still working off the same worldbuilding that was written for origins

Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are also 10x better villains than Corypheus ever was, i'd say they're probably the series' funnest main antagonists yet