#but i love you and it really does mean a lot

[rosenclaws]

hi, rose!! i had an idea for the headcanon about logan seeing you in a sundress for the first time. maybe because you just aren't the type of person to wear dresses or skirts at all (totally not me... totally...)

hi!! im so sorry this took forever my brain isnt braining lately. Also so real im not a dress or skirt person so it feels so weird wearing one 😩 This gets a little…spicy but no smut lol.

Origins Logan -

Oh man he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. I mean look Logan doesn’t care what you wear as long as like it. He thinks your attractive in 5 layers of clothes or nothing at all. But its a nice summer day and you planned a nice day out. Deciding its the perfect time to break out this old sundress you found at a thrift store a while back. He does silent when you walk out of the bedroom. Apart of him wants to stay home just so no one else gets the pleasure of seeing you in it but you’d never go for that. He’s following you like a love sick puppy around town. He’s obsessed with the way it swishes and how it looks on you. He can’t keep his hands off you. When you get home he begs you to wear it more often. Especially when you’re home with him. Preferably with no underwear if he had his way

Trilogy Logan -

Absolute menace. He will not be able to help himself. It’s a nice summer day at the mansion and Jean had given you a nice sundress for your birthday. Logan was lying on his bed, grumbling about the damn heat and the noisy kids outside. You knock on his door asking if he wants to come outside with you. He gets up ready to tell you not today but then he sees you in your dress and all thoughts go out the window. You just look so fucking cute. His hand rests at your waist the whole time he’s walking with you. Shooting daggers at anyone who even thinks about looking at you. His hand may slip down a couple times and you scold him for it but he’s never sorry.

He whispers a lot of dirty things in your ear. Asking why you never put this on before and how pretty you look. When he’s sure no one is looking he even lifts it up to catch a glimpse at your underwear. Like I said menace. He really likes it and makes it very known. In fact the next week you find a bag sitting on your bed with a shorter sundress in Logan’s favorite color.

DOFP Logan -

He swears you’re trying to kill him. Honestly you can’t just wear something like that and expect him to be normal. He’s grading papers when you stop by his classroom to kiss him goodbye. You’re taking some students to the mall and you’re wearing the most gorgeous sundress. He makes a comment about never seeing this get up before while checking at your ass. You just shrug and say it’s new.

Forget those damn papers he gets up pulls you into him. Kissing you messily until you’re whining for him. He doesn’t wanna let you go but you don’t wanna keep the kids waiting and so he reluctantly loosens his grip. But not before slapping your ass loudly as you leave. He also tells you to buy more of those kinds of dresses with a wink. You tease him a little by trying on a few more at the mall and sending him pictures. Poor guy, you’re really gonna send him into cardiac arrest with those.

Old Man Logan -

He’s slightly ashamed because of the absolutely filthy thoughts in his head. He wants to take you on a nice date. It’s been forever since you had quality time together. He’s waiting for you and nearly chokes on his own spit seeing you all dolled up for him. He can’t stop playing with the hem of your dress as he drives. He kisses your cheek telling you how cute you look. He can tell you’re a little nervous because you don’t wear dresses much. He struggles to keep his hands to himself at lunch and you can tell. Its adorable seeing the wolverine so flustered at the sight of a dress

On the ride back you tell him he’s always your perfect gentleman and he tells you that the dress is making him think thoughts that aren’t as polite as you make him out to be. That sundress gets ripped when he gets a little too excited and Logan promises to buy you a new one. Fuck he’ll buy you hundreds more if you asked.

Worst Logan -

He lets you know how much he likes it right from the start. A low purr in settles in his throat the moment he lays his eyes on you. He’s very handsy as he pulls you into his chest. You ask if he likes it and he tells you he fucking loves it. He sneaks a peak down your dress and slips his hand up it once or twice. You scold him and tell him to behave and he just grins. Wade tells him to stop eye fucking you so loudly and Logan doesn’t care.

As the sun sets and the weather turns colder he’s got you close to him. Your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your waist. He pops a claw and slowly lifts the back of your dress up so that you shiver. He coos and tells you he’ll help you get real warm. Total perv hehe

[prettydaisygirl]

idk if you’ve seen the tik tok trend where you prank your bf by making a video and being like “okay so me and my current boyfriend….” and then the bf reacts but it’s really funny and cute and I’d love to see your spin on it with James!!!

Hi nonnie! This is so cute, I hadn't actually seen the trend before you requested this. BUT just before writing it, I watched TheWizardLiz do it with her husband, calling him her ‘current’ husband and it was hilarious haha! Hope you enjoy <3

boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader 'current' boyfriend titkok trend ✿ 401 words

cw: fem reader, James gets his feelings hurt for just a second, mentions of future marriage, this is just a cute lil thing :)

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

“Jamie,” You say to your boyfriend, who looks up happily from where he’d been resting his head on your shoulder. His arms are around you, hands on your thighs, your back pressed to his chest. “Do you wanna film a tiktok with me? People want to see what you look like.”

James, hopelessly in love with you and excited to have you showing him off to your followers, agrees with a series of quick, enthusiastic nods. You smile, pull up the camera and press the button. Part of you feels bad for what you’re about to do.

Your followers want to know what James looks like, yes… But they also want you to pull a little prank on him. A trend going around the app where you refer to your boyfriend as your ‘current’ boyfriend to see how they’ll react.

“Hi everyone!” You say with a little wave. James looks so cute beaming behind you, and he waves a little too. You already feel guilty and you haven’t even said anything yet. “So a lot of you have been asking me to show him, so this” You gently grab James’ chin with your hand and he looks at you adoringly, “is my current boyfriend, James.”

You see the change in his face instantly, like a dog getting scolded. The smile drops from his lips, his eyes dart to yours with a furrowed brow and you swear his ears would droop if they could. You continue to record his reaction.

“‘Current’ boyfriend?” His voice is more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it and your heart breaks just a little. “What does that mean? You don’t… see a future with me?”

You break immediately. “No, baby, that’s not-” You’re quick to reassure him with a kiss and he perks up just a little bit. “It’s just a joke. It’s a tiktok prank.”

“Oh…” James looks at you recording and he seems to understand what is happening. His face brightens and he pulls you even tighter into his grip. “I’m your ‘current’ boyfriend because soon I’ll be your ‘forever’ husband!”

You look at him with a bit of a raised brow and he kisses you, making you giggle. His hands are all over you and you let the phone drop, completely forgetting you were recording at all.

Later, you’ll post it, and everyone will absolutely swoon over James and his reaction to you. #couplegoals 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ㅤ Digital Girl

Batfam Yan! × Scene! Reader

| Platonic |

Note / English is not my first language / M.list

A / N | I don't know much about scenecore so this is just a very superficial view, if there are any mistakes please correct me (|||´Д｀) !!

TW / Yandere behavior, obsession, violence, toxic relationships, manipulation

Headcanon | How would they react to a scenecore batsis?

Character | Dick Grayson | Jason Todd | Tim Drake | Damian Wayne | Bruce Wayne

⎯ Bruce Wayne ★

He'd be surprised the first time.

Don't take this the wrong way, it's just...well, he's pretty new to all of this.

He tries to be an understanding father, but I feel like he'd be the kind of father who'd say it's all a phase; he just hopes this phase of yours doesn't last too long.

He's not a strict father (well, maybe a little, or maybe too much), but he wants you to understand that it's best for you.

He wouldn't like you to wear too many bracelets or bangles on your arms because he's afraid your skin would get irritated or leave marks.

He'd never forgive himself if something happened to his baby.

If you tried to dye your hair, his hair would be a big no-no.

He'd only let you dye your hair if you begged him all week and told him to let him choose the color and let him dye your hair.

There wouldn't be any problems with your way of dressing, although it would depend on how colorful and extravagant your outfits are.

Most of your family tends to wear dull, muted colors. You could only occasionally see Dick in a brightly colored shirt, but most preferred duller or less flashy colors.

That way, you'd definitely draw a lot of attention with your outfits.

If you two ever go to a gala, he WON'T let you dress like that. Look, he doesn't judge you (even if he does).

But he thinks you should find another, less flashy "style." He loves you the way you are, but sometimes he wishes you were as obedient as other young people.

He's afraid that at some point you'll become rebellious and escape his complete control.

He should, no, he needs to control everything about your life.

Even your style of clothing. He just wants you to be a normal child.

He knows how cruel the world is to people as different as you.

He's just in some kind of midlife crisis, and your teenage "rebellion" isn't helping much.

He'll get over it eventually

⎯ Dick Grayson ♥︎

He'd be the one who best handled this.

I get the idea that Dick also went through some emo or alt phase, so he's pretty understanding about this.

Most of your accessories, like bracelets and makeup, were bought or made by Dick.

He likes to sneakily create bracelets with his initials on them so others know who you are.

Even though he pretended to be a cool brother, he's just as possessive as the others.

Just because he was "nice" to you doesn't mean he won't manipulate you.

He'd take any opportunity to be around you.

Oh! You want to dye your hair? Don't worry, your brother Dick conveniently has the color you wanted!

You can dye your hair like him and match with him! He's the kind of guy who's very obsessed with your tastes.

He wants to be the best brother to you, so don't be scared because he's too intense.

Also, I think he'd listen to hyperpop just for you. It's not his type of music, but he'd just listen to it to spend time with you.

He's not the best, but at least he tries, umm...

⎯ Jason Todd ♣︎

He doesn't really care.

He'd be like,

"Oh, you're scene? Cool."

One of the things he'd be least bothered by is your clothing style or appearance.

I mean, as long as you don't do anything stupid, he wouldn't mind.

Although I think he'd buy hair dye in all sorts of colors and literally turn your hair into a fucking rainbow, just to piss off Bruce because he knows you're not allowed to dye your hair without Bruce's permission.

He'd kill anyone who dares say anything negative about you or make fun of how you dress.

He wouldn't allow any bastard to talk bad about his sister.

He'd listen to hyperpop while reading or doing some activity like reading or kicking criminals' asses. I think it would be pretty funny.

He'd probably only listen to it because you asked him to, but I think eventually he'd start to like that style of music, but he'd never say it out loud

⎯ Tim Drake ◆

He'll pretend he doesn't care, but he really cares.

I could say he's one of the most obsessive people; he knows everything about you.

Maybe he knows you better than you know yourself; he has a folder full of your interests or possible interests in a private file on his computer.

He'll spend hours on the internet searching for information about it. If he wants to get close to you, he has to be smart.

He's like a predator.

He analyzes his prey and then attacks.

I think his approach would be subtle. It has to be smart and not too aggressive. He doesn't want to scare you into thinking he's some kind of creepy guy (if he is).

I think he would start slowly, with small comments about your appearance.

"Oh! You look pretty nice today!" or "That shirt really matches your outfit!"

Then, make comments about your interests, and he'd start getting closer and closer to you. He's not like the others.

If he wants to have you in his hands, he'll have to do it slowly and calmly. He's very good at hiding his true intentions.

I think he'd spend hours trying to find the best hair dye for you. He doesn't want your hair damaged because you decided to buy a poor-quality one.

Also, if you want to take a picture, don't worry! He'll be your personal photographer.

He takes the best photos on your blog. He's always taking pictures of you secretly. I'm pretty sure he knows all your good sides.

The only reason he's interested in all of this is because of you.

He'll do anything to be near you, even if it means changing all his interests to match yours.

⎯ Damian Wayne ♣︎

He thinks it's ridiculous.

He'd make pretty offensive comments saying you look like a clown or some kind of Joker Jr.

He'd be the worst when it comes to this; he doesn't know what's so interesting about dressing like a walking rainbow.

Be prepared for the mockery and passive-aggressive comments (though they're more aggressive than passive).

Even if he'd eventually accept it, halfway.

Sure, he'd still think it's completely ridiculous and pathetic, but he'd only accept it because it's you (and deep down, he thinks some of your outfits are pretty cool).

But he still WON'T ALLOW anyone to make fun of the way you dress.

you still remember the time he got suspended for a week from school for hitting on a kid who said your way of dressing was stupid

He's the only one allowed to make fun of your ridiculous way of dressing.

Also, I think he'd be drawn to your bracelets and shoes, if you're the kind of people who wears those long shoes, I think he'd really like them.

He'd indirectly ask you to give him one of your bracelets because he thinks they're pretty. Maybe he'd give you some accessories like colorful belts or a hair accessory.

He'd really pay attention to your makeup; depending on how colorful or extravagant your makeup is, he'd like it.

He secretly listens to the music you recommend. No kidding, some of it is actually quite good, so he even put it on his playlist.

He's more or less supportive of all this. He's grateful that his jokes about your appearance have lessened.

Although he'll most likely continue to make jokes about your appearance when he gets bored of being a good person.

Hi, I'm back.

Sorry for not updating for so long. My health has been getting worse for weeks, and I've only recently recovered.

This is a late request, so I hope the anonymous person who requested this enjoys it.

I don't know when I'll update again because it's exam time and school is really giving me a hard time. Lolololol

[dammit-tazmuir]

C— kept saying, Pick one. Are we more invested in proving this new plan is bullshit, or in saving you? I was like, It’s both, how can it not be both. C— was like, It can’t be both. Pick one and stick to it. Decide what you give a fuck about.

Spoiler alert, it wasn't both.

But ya know. I'm sure it'll be both this time. The faceless oppression of global capitalism and collective exploitation of billions over the course of centuries was bad and all, I guess, but like, John also hurt people who didn't deserve it, and more importantly, people we the audience personally like, which is way worse than people we don't know.

Obviously we won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it and are objectively qualified to decide that. Quests for vengeance never have collateral damage if you're morally pure, and John's problem is just that he always sucked. He probably lied about his whole backstory and wasted a quarter of a book, I'm sure Tamsyn would do that to us. Alecto probably, uh, played eeny meeny miney moe or something, she definitely never had a real reason to choose him.

Also sure there's very little misogyny in the empire but sometimes he's dismissive toward Mercy (far more condescending and meaner to everyone including other women, but when she does it she's a girlboss) and he patronizes the babies (definitely because they're women, not because they're babies) so obviously he's just super sexist. Ignore his relationship with his own masculinity, his childhood love for dolls and hatred for older men, his aversion to casting himself as "Father" despite all the Catholicism. Ignore that his original inner circle minus puppets consisted of his childhood bestie, his boyfriend, his boyfriend's inseparable baby brother, his girlfriend, and four other women and no other men. Also being polyamorous definitely means he's running a gross sex cult, that claim isn't anyone's biases showing at all, it's not like it took his partners 500 years to seduce him. Also ignore any and all historical allegations against any of the schools he's attended, I'm sure those details were arbitrary and being in the first paragraph of a book isn't important. It's not like he vents often but avoids directly saying anything that makes him sound weak or vulnerable. And we all know that the world consists only of blameless victims and malicious abusers. So I'm sure he's just power-hungry and manipulative for funsies and we totally just need to murder him already.

Hi can you tell I'm tired.

Anyway yeah it wasn't "both" for him and it would really suck and undermine the entire point if it was magically both now for us.

Obviously he did a lot of shit wrong, and I'm not even saying there's no satisfying way he could be punished or even die, but our girlies just storming the palace and assassinating him ain't it.

Tamsyn Muir: “Here's a series about how a man's vindictiveness dooms the universe, all because his trauma left him incapable of believing in forgiveness over vengeance. As contrast, the protag in the first book reflects something closer to divinity by extending her abuser grace so that she can repent and change, and the protag of the third book begs her brother to not flatten a planet in revenge after having experienced forgiveness.”

too many TLT fans: “yass can't wait for my girlies to kill God!!!”

[beanarie]

this is not the next installment of "buck takes a mental health break". i mean, it is, but i'm skipping around a little.

~

"My godbaby just had a lovely christening, Uncle Buck."

"Athena! Hey. Oh, uh. Was that today?" He squints at his alerts. "No one's sent me photos yet."

"Yeah, huh. That was today. Guess the days are less distinguishable out on the open road. What have you been up to? Maddie tells me about your adventures. Didn't see you as a Graceland type of guy."

"That was Albert's idea."

"Oh, he dragged you there, did he? That whip of a thing that you could break like a toothpick?" She sounds good, far lighter than she did the last time he saw her, about a week after Bo's birth.

"Okay, I admit I was a little curious."

"And?"

"Did you know Elvis had an identical twin?"

"What?"

"Jesse. He was stillborn."

"So there could've been two of him walking around," she says. "Interesting thought. Is that all you got from it?"

"He lived in a regular place first, but his neighbors didn't like dealing with the crowds, so he asked his parents to find him a farmhouse."

"A farmhouse?" She laughs.

"Yeah." He chuckles quietly. "It didn't stay that way. You know, when I first saw it, I wondered why anyone would ever need that much. It felt greedy."

"It is!"

"Yeah, no. It is. Just. He didn't start out wanting a palace. He tried something much quieter, more- more normal. The people around him didn't like it."

She makes a thoughtful noise. "Listen, Buck. If you find a place that feels more like home-" She pauses. "Or feels the way this place used to feel, you hold onto it. Don't cut yourself off from something that could be exactly what you need just because it's new. That's an order, Firefighter."

"Understood," he says, blinking rapidly. "I- How are you holding up, Athena?"

"Today was a good day," she says, a little brittle. "I had one last week, too."

"Tell me about it?" he asks, tentatively, unsure if it's his place. And she does.

~

(Buck): Hey, when do I need to make a decision about coming back?

(Hen): What do you mean "make a decision"?

(Hen): You really don't know if you're coming back

(Buck): It still hurts

(Hen): I know. That will never go away completely. Bobby was too important.

(Buck): Not him. You guys. You said I made myself small, but I didn't just decide to do that. It was what everyone clearly wanted.

(Hen): Oh, Buck

(Buck): It might be better if I join another house

(Hen): Is that what you want?

(Buck): Not really

(Buck): But I can't go back to whatever that was. No one would talk to me. I felt like I was on fire.

Hen bubbles him for quite a while. Buck finishes his sandwich and brushes the sand off his pant legs. The sun is strong today, but there's enough of a breeze coming off the water that it doesn't feel overwhelming.

(Hen): I think because we knew your grief would be a lot, we didn't know how to handle it on top of our own. So we didn't even open the door. Then enough time went by, it seemed like you were past the worst of it and bringing it up might cause you to backslide.

Buck stares at her words and listens to the waves crashing.

(Hen): That doesn't make it okay

(Hen): I think Bobby would be pissed at us

(Hen): No, I KNOW he'd have thoughts. Loud ones. He loved you.

(Buck): He told me that, you know. That night.

(Hen): Did he?

(Buck): I didn't say it back

(Hen): He knew. We all knew.

(Hen): I'm sorry, Buck. I really am. This goes a little further than forgetting your birthday.

(Buck): I don't have a yard, or gutters. I don't have a house.

(Hen): I'll help you find one. When you're ready. Just say the word.

tagging: @peppermintquartz @chococara25 connected-dots, tumblr won't let me tag you

[show, you cannot tell me hen and buck have the kind of friendship where he does yard work for DAYS to make up for forgetting her birthday but she leaves him to drown alone in his grief and that's just, fine. do me a fucking favor]

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Silentmoor

Request: I would love more than anything for tooth rotting fluff (NSFW optional but always welcome) with a tall muscular/chubby reader.

A/N: This is mainly bc I fucking love strong women that could squeeze my head till it pops, also it escaped my power and ended up being way longer than expected. Enjoy!

Distractions and concussions

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || porn with feelings, oral sex, body worship, (light) dirty talk || tw: internalized fatphobia

You’ve been eyeing him for the past week. He’s new at your local gym, and you’ve been noticing him more than anyone else. Truth be told, he’s the only monster on the premises, so everyone is staring. But for you… For you is different.

You don’t stare at him because of his monster-ness (well, not just for that). He’s like really hot. His brownish fur, his tall horns adorned with a couple rings and the way he grunts when he’s benching weights… Fuck, it does things to you. But you try to stay away, too self-conscious about your own exercises.

But for some reason, today you can’t seem to shake the feeling he’s following you. It must be because you both are working on legs today, but it feels like he’s in your peripheral every time you look over your shoulder. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s staring at your ass. But that can’t be.

You are lost in your thoughts when you hear a thud behind you. When you turn around, your minotaur crush is on the ground with the weight bar over his abdomen, looking pitifully at the ceiling. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You rush to his side, and see the already-turning-purple spot on his forehead. “You hit your head! We need to call a doctor,” you rapidly say, grabbing for your phone, but he stops you.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he grunts, pulling the weights off him and sitting up with a sigh. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.” It doesn’t sound like nothing when he tries to get up and groans in pain. You extend your hand and help him to his feet, not leaving his side just in case.

“You could be concussed, it is something,” you try again, worried about him. In the back of your head, you realize it’s the first time you two interact, and it makes you feel nervous for some reason. But your worry overpowers those feelings.

“We should call a doctor,” you repeat. He shakes his head, covering the bump in his forehead with a hand and wincing.

He whispers something under his breath that sounds a lot like “You did enough looking like that,” but you can’t be sure that’s exactly what he says. “I don’t need a doctor, just maybe… supervision?” He offers, looking up at you from the floor and… pouting?

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused and giddy when the butterflies in your stomach start to fly around.

“I mean… If you are so worried maybe you can keep me company for the rest of the evening so I’m not alone if symptoms for a concussion occur.” Is he… is he really asking you out right now?

“Are you asking me out after getting a concussion?” You say with a tiny smile and excitement blooming inside of you.

He smirks and winks at you. “Possible concussion. And yes.” And then it feels like he gets back to himself and adds: “If you want, that’s it.”

“Yes,” you say without thinking. “But maybe… Maybe lets shower first?” You ask after feeling another drop of sweat travel down your back.

“I’ll be waiting at the front,” he says with a smirk, squeezing your shoulder as he walks to the locker room. You stare at his back, not believing what just happened.

You never showered so fast in your life. And true to his word, when you get out, he’s leaning against the wall, waiting for you in fresh gym clothes that make him look good enough to eat. He looks you over and licks his lips, making your heart skip a beat. And he only makes it worse when he extends his hand to grab yours and walks to the coffee shop next door hand in hand.

It’s the best first date, ever. So good that after an afternoon that feels as easy as breathing, joking and flirting and overall being incredibly happy with him, you aren’t ready to say goodbye. He insists on walking you home, and you allow it, wanting to spend more time with him.

But when you arrive to your building, you don’t have to think too hard before you are asking him: “Would you like to come inside?” You aren’t usually so straightforward, but you’ve never felt a connection so intense with anyone before.

“Inside of you? Hell yeah,” he jokes with a smirk. You blush as hard as ever, hitting his arm lightly as you laugh out loud nervously.

“I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.” You open the door, stepping inside and looking at him.

His smirk only grows bigger, almost predatory, when he says: “Well, I do mean it that way.” He steps inside your apartment and closes the door behind him.

You stare at him for a second, but you have to make sure. “You… You really want to?”

“To fuck you? I never wanted something so badly,” his voice gets rougher, and his hands find your waist, pulling you to him with such strength you can’t stop your body from colliding with his. “But I’m also fine if you just want to hang out for a while longer, anything you want to happen, can happen.” You nod shyly, looking down as he looks at you intently. So you are a bit unprepared when he asks: “Can I kiss you?”

You think about it for less than a second before you are nodding, unable to say anything else. He closes the distance between the two of you and your brain implodes. The kiss is everything and nothing at once. Everything you wished for and nothing you ever imagined. His lips are a bit rough, not as smooth as humans but so much more pleasurable, and they make your knees go a bit softer as he holds you tight and starts kissing down your neck.

“Can I worship you like you deserve?” He asks between kisses, your knees weak already, and your pussy so wet it’s starting to feel uncomfortable.

“I… I don’t know if I…” You stutter, all the worries coming at you like a tsunami.

He stops immediately, pulling back but not releasing his hold on you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been told I’m not that attractive,” you confess after a second of doubt. He’s been so nice all day, it’s only fair to tell him the truth.

“Who told you that? I will haunt them down.” You chuckle at the anger in his tone, but he doesn’t seem like he’s joking. “I mean it. You are gorgeous, the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He sounds sincere, and that makes your brain do crazy things.

“Aren’t I… too big? Too strong? Too heavy?” You let out a rush of questions, showing him all your insecurities because he makes you feel safe.

“And what?” You stare at him in confusion. “What if you are any of that? That doesn’t mean you can’t be the hottest woman in the room. That doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And definitely doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss every inch of your body and end up slurping your juices until my whole face is soaked.” You shiver at his words and he notices, of course he does. “Do you like that? Do you want to come all over my face, gorgeous?” He teases with the biggest smirk possible.

“Yes, please.” It’s all you have to say before guiding you to your room (it only takes two tries before he finds the correct door).

He undresses you slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin until you are a mess of desire and pleasure, and as he’s lowering your panties down your legs, kneeling in front of you, he blows your mind once again: “I’ve been waiting to taste your pussy since the first time I saw you at the gym.” You blush, not expecting him to say that. “I love the way you blush, and I’m going to enjoy it even better when your whole body is pink with exhaustion after I’m done with you.”

You groan and he smirks up at you, pushing you lightly until you are sitting at the edge of the bed and his big body is between your thighs. And then is game over for every coherent thought in your brain, your whole body shakes as his big rough tongue swipes over the wetness between your thighs until you feel like you are losing your mind.

You keep chanting his name because it makes him smile, and the feel of his stretched lips against your pussy drives you to the next level. As he eats your pussy, his hands travel up, squeezing, groping and pinching every part of your body he can, showing you with each caress how fucking amazing he thinks you are.

And it doesn’t end there, because with each swipe of his tongue, the responding groan he lets out only makes you wetter against his mouth. When his fingers join his tongue and he pushes two inside your aching cunt, you almost jump off the bed as your whole body reacts.

He chuckles against your tender flesh, and you grab his horns in retaliation, caressing the base and making him groan like a whore between your thighs. It makes you feel powerful, rubbing your pussy against his face as you ride his tongue and fingers until you are at the edge of what feels like an earth shattering orgasm.

He pulls away just enough to say: “Come for me, gorgeous,” and you do.

You grab his horns with such force you are almost worried you are going to pull them off, but his tongue only moves faster, coaching more pleasure out of your body, until you are gushing around his fingers and the sounds emanating from him are nothing but obscene.

And still he doesn’t stop, licking and sucking until you feel at the edge of another orgasm.

That never happened with anyone before, usually you are one and done, but the way he keeps feasting on your pussy like it’s his last meal is doing something for you, and then, when he gently presses his teeth over your clit, you let out a scream loud enough to be heard three towns over as you come again.

Your eyesight turns white behind your eyelids, and your ears are ringing as your body comes down from the most amazing orgasms of your life.

You open your eyes to find him staring at you with a soft expression, your hands are still holding his horns and he looks besotted with you. You smile down at him, suddenly feeling shy. He only smirks, a self-satisfied smirk that makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy as he gets up and kisses his way to your mouth.

He kisses you softly, but stops you when you reach down to grab his incredibly big and hard cock. “What about you?” You ask, confused.

“This wasn’t about me, but about my incredibly hot gym crush getting what she deserves.” You blush even harder, and he chuckles. “You have to stop being so cute and blushing when I say nice stuff or I’m going to have to fuck you real hard.” His teasing only makes you feel giddy.

You wink at him, kissing his nose before teasing back: “Who says I’d be against that?”

He grunts, groping your tit and pinching your nipple until you groan. “Don’t tempt me. We’ll have time for that.”

“We will?” You ask with the biggest smile possible. It feels like your cheeks are going to hurt if you keep smiling like that.

He smiles back, kissing all over your face, punctuating each word with a kiss: “I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon.”

“Does that mean you are staying the night?” You wonder, hopeful and shy for some reason.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a smirk, straddling your waist as he pulls his shirt over his head.

He lets his body flop down against yours, squeezing you as he lays on top and nuzzles your cheek. You laugh breathlessly as he rolls you until your head is on his pecs (very comfy pecs) and your leg is over his. You both pointedly ignore the big dick tenting his workout pants.

“If I knew a head injury would end in your bed I would have stared at your ass the first day,” he jokes as he kisses your forehead.

“You were doing what?” You ask, looking up at him as he laughs until there’s tears in his eyes.

[thydungeongal]

The reason I was thinking about calques a second ago is that Finnish really loves its compound words in a way that English simply doesn't, and a lot of the time when you calque a Finnish compound into English it comes out sounding very funny. "Airplane" is lentokone, which becomes "flying machine" and like. Yeah it sure does. "Calculus," and here I simply mean the mineralized plaque that collects on the surface of teeth and not the mathematics thing, is simply hammaskivi, or "tooth stone." And like sure, "calculus" itself comes from a Latin root meaning "limestone."

But some of them are straight up whimsical. "Skunk" is haisunäätä, or "stink weasel," which just sounds like a schoolyard insult. "Turtle" is "shield toad" (which I think is a point of similarity between Finnish and some Germanic languages). One of the names of the Indian cobra is a threefer: "eye glass snake."

[ganondoodle]

(WIP)

a rough basic idea for a centaur character i have had floating around in my head for a long time, it doesnt fit with my main OC world but wouldnt call this another project bc its literally just "what if centaurs bc centaurs kinda cool" with little story or worldbuilding other than its all centaurs lol

(the only background is really a vaguely noble couple wanting to hire a new soldier/guard after their previous one is retiring but not being able to afford any highly valued ones (build, color, training- the kind of things horses are often priced with) so they opt for the cheapest to hire they can find which is this enormous draft centaur (vaguely based on the blue roan coat type) that no one wants bc he doesnt talk and never really responds otherwise to being talked to (so he dumb haha (he isnt)- to be clear he DOES what he is told but he doesnt like, sign an ok, he just "stares" and then wordlessly does it), doesnt have any well known parents and is too big to fit comfortably in most buildings, also a little unkept (mostly just in his fur looking pretty rough, not caring much for treating scratches etc- though its not that clear in this sketch)

over time said couple both falling for him, completely seperately/not aware the other also has, bc they actually started to get to know him instead of just going with what he was "sold" as and treating him accordingly (badly)- leading to him being caught in a very awkward "triangle" he doesnt know what to do with and just goes along with everything (hes very calm and stone faced in public but privately socially awkward, always been extremely lonely/isolated and never had to deal with any sort of interest in him as a person instead of just how much he can pull/work until collapsing)

[velvetvexations]

it seems like a lot of the justifications for "theyfab" revolve around arguments that it's about people who "lean on" or "emphasize that" they're afab.

like this really does read to me like a broader way to be like "afab demigirls aren't really trans :\" which covers trans men and transmascs and broader categories of nonbinary people too.

cause i don't think i've ever seen any specification of what the hell "emphasizing being afab" actually means, outside of a general implication of things like "they look feminine" or "they don't transition"- which, just for starters, has obvious issues wrt exorsexism and transmedicalism- aka "being transphobic"

a vague phrase that covers up a transphobic core meaning specifically so that the vagueness lets them weaponise it against the maximum number of people they dislike does sound pretty in character for the "tma/tme" crowd, after all.

It's truly just this idea that non-binary people AFAB are not actually trans and are just cis women who are going to immediately fess up to being cis women the second they have a chance to falsely accuse a trans woman of rape, and dadgum if it ain't funny to see people who think they're feminists advance the idea that everyone AFAB loves making false rape accusations. That's like, literally a textbook MRA argument girliepops, what are you doing.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You don't like the art of Jade's merman card? I love the art of this card

[Referencing this post!]

No, no!! To clarify, I really like Jade’s Mermaid Fin (or Mer-Form, as it’s called in EN) SSR!! The aesthetic is totally fine.

I mean, c’mon 😭 LOOK aT GhiS gUY?????????

What I dislike is the context surrounding the card and the content it is associated with.

cbksbsjwvzkz This might be sort of a hot take, but I found Jade (both in his dream and then in Azul’s dream) mediocre at best and irritating at worse.

Cards that don’t have vignettes (like all the ones dropping for book 7) are already starting off on a bad foot with me. Furniture is not an equivalent substitution for me since I find little to no value in decorating the Guest Room. I guess we’re meant to treat each character’s dream as their respective “vignettes”?? But then therein lies my issue: the Jade dream content we got was NOT good, and therefore did not satisfy my craving to see him in the spotlight.

Jade’s dream was… inoffensive? There were definitely parts of it that I enjoyed, like the silly faces slapped onto Azul and Floyd, or how we actually got to witness the twins hissing and aggressively fighting. But those bits were few and far between. At this point in the book, I had picked up on the “pattern” for waking each character up that the narrative was establishing and was getting very sick of it. This formula made the emotional payoff a lot less… emotional for me because I could easily predict what was coming.

I know this is technically detached from Jade’s dream but I’m going to say my piece anyway because this also contributes to my dissatisfaction with him in book 7. It does not help at all that Jade also had a terrible performance immediately in Azul’s dream The other dorm members are supposed to help us wake the OB boy, aren’t they??? And Jade is supposed to be intelligent and know Azul well, right??? 😭 So tell me why Jade made so many stupid and time wasting decisions in Azul’s dream.

Why are we not intervening and telling Azul he’s bored and leaving the restaurant instead of sitting around and just casually watching us eat food and dance? Why waste time smashing up the restaurant? Why is Jade suddenly so dumb as to not immediately suspect that Azul would hide the golden contracts… IN HIS OWN BEDROOM??? Is that not the obvious place to keep personal belongings??? Why did Jade not at least suggest checking that area first??! Why are we smashing plant pots by hand instead of levitating them (which takes a small amount of magic, to my knowledge) and dropping them on the ground to speed up the process? Or at least asking everyone to help harvest each plant if you insist on doing it manually? The details here feel like they were not written with logic or characters in mind, but hastily thrown together to meet a quota and hit all the points on their checklist. (Jade has to use his UM, we have to pause and do something silly to break up the tension, etc.) It wasn’t fun or charming to read, it was exhausting and annoying 😭

Every time I look at that gorgeous Mermaid Fin SSR 💦 I associate it with my frustrations with the book 7 dreams, so I can never fully enjoy the card.

I go into more detail about my gripes with the general dream pattern + how it negatively impacts the character writing, subtlety, and suspension of disbelief in this post. Take a look if you’re curious! I would make an entire post about my gripes with every single dream (because I don't have beef with just Jade's and Azul's) but that would surely be lengthy...

[cameronsbabydoll]

can u pls do one on how puppy reader and rafe r around his family as well? i cant imagine how he’d have to tame her infront of his dad or does his dad find her cute? also!!! what about puppy reader and rafe being at her family’s bbq or something like that and she calls her real dad daddy and rafe is just annoyed in general bc her family is too much for him and that’s kind of the last straw and he punishes her maybe or says something super mean (or maybe spanks her in her childhood bedroom) and she’s all teary eyed and sad around her family after that

also!!! can i ask which reader do u like writing about the most? 🥥🥥

a/n: i luv writing for babydoll!reader and bunny!reader but puppy!reader is growing on me cuz she’s so cute!

around rafe’s family:

puppy!reader tries so hard to be good. she’s still bubbly and sweet, but definitely more on edge. she clings to rafe a lot, not out of neediness, but nerves. his house is big and quiet, his dad has that disapproving look all the time, and rose is all sharp smiles and polite judgment.

she sits very pretty at dinners. hands folded, lips glossy, answering questions sweetly even if she doesn’t quite understand them.

wags her metaphorical tail when ward chuckles and says, “this one’s like a little golden retriever, huh?”

rafe acts all annoyed about it — sighs, mumbles “yeah, she’s something,” — but secretly he likes that his dad thinks she’s sweet and harmless. he likes having her under the table with her head on his knee, or feeding her bites off his plate when rose isn’t looking.

but if she gets too talkative, or interrupts him, or says something that makes her sound dumber than he wants to admit she is — he’ll squeeze her thigh too hard, or lean down and growl, “quiet. now.” in her ear.

she always nods quick, eyes wide and wet, trying to be obedient. even if she forgets two minutes later and starts rambling about how her shoes are the same color as strawberry milk.

around her family:

this is where it really spirals.

her house is loud and full of love — cousins running around, her mom and aunts gossiping while cutting watermelon, her dad by the grill with a beer and a towel over his shoulder.

puppy!reader is glowing in this environment — wearing a frilly sundress, barefoot in the grass, squealing every time someone offers her a snack or tugs her into a hug.

and when she calls her dad “daddy” rafe is gritting his teeth every time it slips out of her mouth in that soft, sweet tone that should be for him only.

she brings rafe a lemonade like a good girl, tries to sit on his lap in a lawn chair, but he’s not having it. he’s grumpy. her brothers are all teasing him, calling her their “baby girl,” and her dad claps him on the back like he’s proud to let him date her.

that sends rafe into a quiet, simmering spiral — the way her whole family acts like he’s some safe, boring boyfriend when he’s anything but.

it all comes to a head later, in her childhood bedroom, of all places.

she’s still giggling from the BBQ, pulling him in by the hand, until he snaps — voice low and sharp:

“you let your brothers baby you like that in front of me again and see what happens.”

“you think i won’t put you over your little pink bed and spank the brat out of you right now?”

she doesn’t even talk back — just gets all misty-eyed and small, murmuring a little “i didn’t mean to,” that he doesn’t acknowledge.

and yeah. he absolutely bends her over that ruffled pink comforter, hand over her mouth so the family downstairs won’t hear, spanking her hard enough to leave little pink prints that match the bows on her panties.

after, she’s a little mess — red cheeks, sniffly, clinging to his shirt as he pulls her back together.

and when she comes downstairs again, hair mussed and eyes glassy, the family just assumes she got overwhelmed.

but rafe knows. and she knows.

and she doesn’t call anyone else “daddy” the rest of the weekend.

[elexuscal]

Welcome to the Murderbot Diaries Fandom!

Hello, hello! Our favorite anxious half robot, half-human security construct has made it to streaming, introducing it to a whole new audience! While that leaves the temptation to put on our helmets and hide in the corner, I'm putting my best foot forward to mimic Dr. Mensah and welcome you all to our hab!

My intention with this post is to give a little bit of a guide to newcomers to get them situated, and generally just say hi.

What's Murderbot?

Murderbot is the titular character of The Murderbot Diaries, a book series by Martha Wells. Book 1, All Systems Red, is currently being adapted by a new streaming series on Apple TV. The (two) series follow a rogue ‘SecurityUnit’ as it befriends humans and robots alike, steals its freedom, and does what it can against the hyper-capitalist companies that rule much of the galaxy.

Spoilers Abound!

As far as we can tell, the (presumed first) season of the Murderbot show will cover only book 1 of what is currently a six-book series (with two additional short stories, and two more entries planned).

As such, there will be spoilers lurking in the tags! This includes future events, reveals, and characters.

If you're new and don't want to be spoiled, stick to the tags #Murderbot Show and #Murderbot TV. It's also a courtesy of fans of the book series to keep TV show discussion in that tag as opposed to the book tags #Murderbot Diaries and #TMBD. (Though I'm going to be honest, there's like a bazillion tags at this point so this might be a losing battle. Oh well, we try!)

Sharing Spaces

The fundamental themes are Murderbot are about the power of kindness and compassion, and the importance of respecting those different from you. Those are ideals I hope we can continue to foster as our little fandom grows.

What does that mean?

Primarily, it means recognizing that there are going to be different perspectives, and that's okay! Some people are really excited by an adaptation of the books they love; some are skeptical. Plus, of course a whole bunch of folks who have only just been introduced to MB via TV! All are valid! Let's not be rude to those who disagree with our own perspective.

It also means respecting different interpretations of the character and stories. We don't know how much the story of books and show are going to diverge; certainly, even faithful adaptations need to make changes to take advantage of a new medium. And indeed, even when you're reading the same text, people can come away with very different perspectives. We need to make room for all those perspectives to hang out together.

Identity and Representation

The Murderbot of the books is nonbinary, using it/its pronouns. There’s heavy emphasis in the text that Murderbot is wholly uninterested in both sex and romance, and it is therefore very commonly interpreted as asexual and aromantic, not to mention touch-averse and neurodivergent. As such, you'll find many folks from these communities within the fandom. Please try to be kind and respectful of these groups!

As always, the fandom principles of 'Ship and Let Ship' and 'Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That's Okay)' applies. That said, it's a two way street, and there are ways to approach shipping that recognises why many other fans won't share your interests. Write shippy fic, draw shippy art, just tag appropriately and be respectful of ace and aro-spec identities as you do.

Respecting representation also extends to visual depictions of the characters! With a new show out, it of course follows that many people will be making fanart reflecting its cast! However, the books themselves are often very scant on physical descriptions, reflecting Murderbot's often laconic style. This leaves a bit of a blank canvas for fanart. While we're definitely going to be seeing a lot of fanart representing Skarsgard's Murderbot (as well as the rest of the show's cast), you’re also going to be seeing pieces  taking inspiration from other places, such the official book cover art by Tommy Arnold,  the voice actor of the audiobooks, Kevin R. Free, and artists’ own imagination! This means other interpretations of the characters in terms of racial background, build, and gender presentation. That's awesome! Let's keep enthusiasm for all ways of depicting this awesome universe going!

Fandom Is Fun

Above all, fandom is a place of joy, connection, and creativity. Be kind to others; block those who are bringing you down; share and emphasize the things you love!

If this is your first time finding Murderbot; welcome! I think you've got a real treat ahead of you. I'm glad you're here. 👋

[calypso-apologist]

ahem... do you also have Telemachus nsfw alphabet that you're hiding or? if not make one pwease

Telemachus NSFW Alphabet ♡

Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very cuddly. He tries to keep snacks and some wine around when he plans to have sex to make sure you can enjoy it afterwards, but usually you two just lay together, either falling asleep or just looking at the ceiling as you talk.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His? Probably his hands. He likes exploring your body, seeing how you react to his squeezing and dragging his fingertips along your body.

Yours? Your lips. Your soft, sweet, teasing lips. He loves your lips so damn much. The way they feel against his skin, the way they taste against his own... It means so damn much to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Usually a few thick blotched at first, followed by a short almost watery stream.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

On several occasions, Telemachus woke up in the middle of the night because of how intense a wet dream he had was. Of course, you were the main star of said dream. Sometimes he wakes up leaking pre-cum and he just... you know, finishes it with his hand. Sometimes he wakes up already after orgasm. He usually can't bring himself to look at you the next day, he's too embarrassed.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Absolutely none. You're his first. He has absolutely no idea what he's doing, he's just kinda trying things and observing your reactions to figure out what's good and what isn't. He's a quick learner, though.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl.

He has very little experience in general, so he relies on experimenting and trusting you. And if you take charge? If you ride him? He loses it. Completely. Don't get me wrong, he will still do his best to learn how to get good, but having you in charge just... does something to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in trying to keep you happy. He'll make jokey comments about what he's doing just to hear you giggle and see that fond eye roll you would always give him when he was acting like a dumbass. Plus, it gives him some more time to try and figure out what the hell he's supposed to be doing.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has relatively not much body hair. Don't get me wrong, he's not hairless in any way, but it's not exactly a lot, either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very. His parents are both hopeless romantics, what do you expect? Of course having sex with you is pretty much a religious experience for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not exactly often, maybe twice or thrice a month when he feels pent up but doesn't really want to bother you. He usually tries to pretend it's your hand, though.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Did they invent pegging yet?

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bed. He's a simple man.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just... flash him. Accidentally. Or on purpose. If he catches a glimpse of any more intimate areas of your body and he can feel the blood rushing both to his face and his... other head.

He'll try to calm down most of the time, since he doesn't want to make you feel overwhelmed by him getting horny in any way (in his defense, he's been forced to live with the suitors for a while now, so he kinda views most aspects of showing interest in anyone as too much because he's scared of being like them), but if you actually communicate that you'd like to do something together, he's on cloud nine.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

CNC or anything that would imply lack of consent or violence of any kind. Choking, spanking, restraints, it all goes. He wouldn't want any of it done to him and he can't bring himself to do any of it to you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's very insecure about giving oral. To the point where he will try to avoid it for the longest time. Once he does finally decide to face his fears (don't worry Telemachus, I'm scared of genitals too/j), he is so painfully innocent about it that it almost hurts.

Telemachus cannot, for the love of him, do it "properly", though. It's usually mostly kitty licks or small kisses, so at most, he just uses it as foreplay. You don't have the heart to do anything about it, it's adorable in a way.

But what about receiving? Well... he's delightful about it. Honestly, it's like it does more for him than regular sex. He gets louder, whinier, clingier... Hell, he might even tear up. This man's biggest weakness is his dick in your mouth and I think that's beautiful.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and a bit unsure the first few times. Once he gains a bit more experience, it's still rather soft and slow because he wants to make you feel as loved as possible. The only time he picks up the pace significantly is when he's getting close to orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No. He's a romantic, he believes it has to be done properly instead of just a fast one and then acting like nothing happened! There needs to be foreplay and aftercare and then you fall asleep in each other's arms! He believes sex to be meaningful, and in his eyes, quickies take away from it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not very risky. He gets too embarrassed at the idea of being caught of messing up. He'll try new things, sure, but you cannot convince him to try anything risky. He's just too pure for that. There is very little actual experimentation there. Sure, he experiments to figure out what you like, but nothing too intense.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

About two rounds, maybe three if he really tries, but he needs small breaks between each round. They're not exactly long, but not embarrassingly short, either. Though he does have a tendency to cum prematurely.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nope. No toys. Nothing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Literally incapable of being unfair. He'll try, but he's way too easy to fluster. Which means that if you tease him back, he just can't do it anymore. Also, again, since the suitors mock him a lot, he has a warped view of teasing and he's worried about going too far.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He tries to be quiet. And most of the time, he fails. He's a loud whimperer. And every once in a while, his moans get pretty loud. Not loud enough to be heard from outside the room, but loud enough to make him embarrassed.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Replacing it with a song I associate with the character for no particular reason again because I hate this letter and I never know what to put there. This one really doesn't make sense tbh, but hey, it makes me think of Telemachus.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Five inches soft, gets up to five and a half when hard. Slightly thicker than average. Not very veiny, but you can kinda see a vein on the underside when he gets hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I mean... he's not a very horny person. Sure, he likes having sex with you. A lot. But it's not a driving force in any way. In fact, he'll kind of just... scold himself internally if he catches himself thinking about you sexually for too long. Again, the suitors have really impacted how he looks at those things.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

My boy is eepy as fuck afterwards. He's awake just long enough to make sure you're okay and then to find the most comfortable position that lets him cling to you for the night. After what, he is out like a light.

[navybrat817]

Roosted

Pairing: Motocross!Steve Rogers x Motocross!Female Reader, Platonic Curtis and Female Reader

Summary: Steve falls for you more when you go off on your best friend.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Crush, longing, slight insecurities, swearing, nicknames, pissed off reader, Motocross!Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: If you read Hardpack, you know why you're popping off. Oh, these boys. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

“So. What’s up with Everett?” Bucky shook his hair out when he took his helmet off and nodded to Curtis who sat a few feet away on the ground. Dirt never bothered him. “Seems a little broodier than usual.”

Steve took his helmet off, too, his brows furrowed. Curtis wasn't the chattiest racer, that honor went to Jake, but he was unusually quiet today before and after he hit the tracks. Steve would’ve thought he was angry from the scowl on his face, but his eyes told a different story. 

“He does,” Steve agreed. Did something happen at work? Was he okay? “I think he may have you and Levinson beat in the brood department.”

The brunette scoffed. “I’m not that broody, Stevie.”

“Yeah, your personality really improved once Spitfire waltzed into your life,” he half teased. Bucky was sure as hell a lot happier since he got his girl, which made him happy. “But I couldn’t tell you what’s up with Everett since he hasn’t really said a word to any of us today.”

He hit the track like he either had something to prove, or like he was trying to forget.

A knowing smirk crossed his best friend’s face. “You could always ask Daisy,” he said with as much subtlety as a brick to the face.

Clearing his throat when your beautiful face popped up in his mind, Steve did wonder if it would be worth asking. It would give him an excuse to talk to you since you were close to Curtis. His eyes narrowed and unease filled his stomach, but only for a moment. There was nothing to be jealous of since you and Curtis were just friends and Curtis said more than once you both saw each other as brother and sister.

Steve also had no reason to feel jealous since you weren't his girl. 

Well, not yet.

“Maybe,” he said, gripping his helmet tight. 

“C’mon. Just ask her.” Bucky nudged him. “And I don’t mean asking about Curtis. Bite the bullet and ask her out.”

Steve sighed. Growing up with Bucky, girls always paid attention to his best friend, and no one gave him the time of day. He was used to it until the pit lizards started throwing themselves at him, which he didn't want. You were different. He wanted you to notice him, and he wanted to take you out and treat you well. You deserved that.

Bucky nudged him again, snapping him out his thoughts. “Seriously. What have you got to lose?”

Everything.

He shook his head a little. “Maybe I can-”

“Everett, you ASSHOLE!”

Steve stiffened when he heard you yell and turned to look your way so fast, he nearly gave himself whiplash. Your beauty took his breath away, and seeing fire in your eyes had him falling for you more. It was hot enough for everyone to feel the burn. Ari had to pull Jake out of your path, both of them staring after you with a mixture of shock and concern as you stormed toward your best friend.

Bucky’s smirk slipped off his face, too, staring after you like everyone else. “Oh, she looks pissed.”

“Yeah, she does,” Steve said. You were one of the sweetest riders out there and hardly ever raised your voice. He was half tempted to stop you to see if you were okay, but he didn't when he saw the guilt written all over Curtis's face.

Whatever happened, your best friend likely deserved your wrath and Steve wasn’t about to stop you from unleashing it. 

Curtis shut his eyes once you got close enough. “Daisy…”

“Don’t you ‘Daisy’ me! Get up so I can kick your ass!” you demanded, yanking Curtis by the arm when he didn't move fast enough. 

“She sounds like Spitfire,” Bucky whispered with a wince. “I’m not kidding. I’m pretty sure she has said those exact words to me.”

“Shh,” Steve whispered back, not wanting to miss what was being said. It wasn't right to eavesdrop, wasn't right that any of them were, but he wasn't about to walk away. 

Curtis put his hands up. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and I get it,” he tried to reason with you. 

“Of course, I’m upset! What is wrong with you?! Why the hell would you go off on Princess the way you did?! She should've kicked you in the balls,” you snapped, smacking your best friend hard on the arm. The guys knew all about Princess since some of them overheard you recently teasing Curtis. His boss used to tear up the tracks until he retired. What the hell did Curtis say that had you so fired up? “I might kick you in the balls.”

Curtis instinctively covered his crotch. Steve was pretty sure half the guys watching did. “I said I was sorry.”

A bitter laugh crept from your throat. “Oh, you have not begun to say you're sorry. You are not only going to apologize again, but you are going to give her an explanation as to why you were an asshole beyond the fact that you were in a bad mood. Piss poor fucking excuse and you know it.” You poked his chest. Hard. Curtis didn't flinch, accepting every bit of your anger. “Apologize again. I'm serious. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” he said. 

As angry as you were, you seemed to deflate just as quickly. “I’m so fucking disappointed in you, and you know I’m disappointed since I’m swearing so much.” You slowly shook your head when Curtis looked at the ground. “I just don't get it. You care about her, and I know you do, so why be an asshole?”

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder when he took a step forward. He thought he heard tears in your voice, and he wanted to comfort you. Bucky was right to stop him. You needed to finish your conversation with Curtis without him trying to rescue you.

“She’s too good for me,” he muttered. 

Steve frowned. Curtis wasn't a bad guy. Far from it. He was a hard worker, too. Why would he think he wasn’t good enough?

“With how you acted, yeah, she is,” you bluntly stated, making your friend’s head snap back up. “Oh, don't you dare stare at me like I just kicked a puppy. I’m being a best friend and telling it like it is.”

Steve smirked. He couldn't help himself. It took guts to call out someone you cared about. It was also nice that you were defending Princess so fiercely. 

Curtis clenched and unclenched his fists. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did, and you better fix it,” you said, kicking a bit of dirt on his boots. “If you don't, I really will kick your ass.”

“I know you will.” Curtis swallowed hard. “Do you really think she’s too good for me?”

There was a hint of a smile on your face, looking more like your normal self. “No I don’t. The only one who thinks she’s too good for you is you. So prove yourself wrong,” you replied, kicking a bit more dirt at him. “Okay, I’m done snapping at you. For now,” you added softly.

Curtis sadly chuckled. “I deserved it and more.”

You looked around, noticing the audience for the first time. “Show’s over, boys,” you teased, your gaze landing on Steve. Your usual smile was back on your beautiful face, and it made his heart race. “Hey, Champ.”

“Hey, Daisy,” he smiled back. He felt a sense of pride since he was the only one you called out. Hell, Hal had his shirt off and you didn't spare him a glance. 

You giggled, but quickly stopped when you pointed at Curtis. “Text me after you apologize to her.”

“I will,” he promised. 

Everyone watched as you walked away, stunned silent by what they just witnessed. 

Hal was the one to finally speak up. “Need some ice for that burn, Everett?” he smiled. 

Curtis snarled, but he didn't look at all embarrassed. If anything, he looked determined after your verbal ass kicking. “Don’t you need to pose in front of a mirror, Carter?”

Hal glanced down at his washboard abs. “I’d rather pose in front of Belle’s camera.”

Laughter filled the air, the atmosphere back to normal. Steve hardly paid any attention since was still staring after you. Beautiful and sweet with a protective streak. He had it bad, and anyone with eyes could see that.

“So, when are you asking her out?” Bucky asked loud enough for Curtis to hear. 

Steve locked eyes with Curtis who had an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t think the man would stop him from asking his best friend out, but what if he did? Curtis could object all he wanted, but Steve was a determined man. He was a man who would treat you well, too.

Any worry faded when he got a nod of approval.

“I’ll ask her as soon as I see her again,” Steve promised.

Steve would hopefully get his girl, and maybe Curtis would get back in good graces with his girl, too.

These men need to get their asses in gear. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[loveforlukeynewts]

I posted some of this as a comment on a blog but wanted to share here as well.

I really wish people would cut Luke some slack. So he hasn’t shared the Polin Season anniversary posts or posted anything of his own to celebrate the day.

I honestly don’t think this man can do anything right in the eyes of many within the fandom. No matter what he does, he’s criticized.

If he doesn’t share or post for something Bridgerton related, how dare he! If he does and before Nicola, he’s overshadowing her. It’s a lose lose every damn day for him.

For those not paying attention, (as of the time of this blog at least), Luke hasn’t even liked the Netflix or Bridgerton main account posts for the 1st anniversary. To me, that shows he’s not online and hasn’t been online since just after the BAFTAs when he cleaned up his IG grid and very quickly liked Nicola’s latest posts.

Luke loves Colin, loves the cast, loves the show. If you don’t know that, you have a lot of interviews to read and watch.

He wouldn’t intentionally ignore such a big day.

Maybe there was a family emergency, maybe he is taking a break after the BAFTA stuff (you know what I’m talking about!). Do you actually know why?

No, you (and I) sure as hell don’t know.

We have no idea what’s going on, what he’s dealing with personally or professionally, and we need to stop making shit up in our heads.

I will always be a stark defender of Luke until he gives me a reason not to be, and he hasn’t done that yet. I choose to believe he is the man those closest to him know him to be, and sometimes that might mean he is someone who doesn’t come online to celebrate Polin season on the exact day it’s being celebrated by the rest of us.

Also, can we please remind ourselves of the epic BTS share Luke graced us with on Colin’s birthday?

Or the wedding blooper BTS he shared for Polin Day?

This man feeds us but it is his missteps and his inactivity online that is more often remembered.

And I will stop there. It feels like I’m definitely more in the minority these days as a Luke defender, but again, until he gives me a legitimate reason to not have his back, if I’m one of the last few standing in that regard, that’s fine by me!

🫶

For those who missed it or weren’t aware, here are the pics Luke deleted from his IG grid:

[wongyuseokie]

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 3: Fucked Up, Still Falling

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 15,457

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. 

Content Warnings: yelling, swearing, LOTS OF ANGST HOLY COW shit really hit the fan here. Mingyu is very sad and angry (rightfully so) cheol is very very mean, but its warranted, hoshi is mean but not as bad more bitchy than mean. seokmin is snippy but sunshine cant ever be truly cruel. Smut Warnings:  no smut actually, suggestive sure, but no sex mentions of anal sex its more jokey but none of it. lots of kissing, fingering (but its not y/n) dun dun.  Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 2, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

That evening, your bedroom was a mess of indecision.

Three dresses lay crumpled on the bed, all rejected for reasons that now felt trivial. Too safe. Too bold. Too pink. Too much like the last time you tried too hard.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, bare-faced and half-dressed, clutching a blouse by the hanger like it might whisper the answer to your dilemma.

“Why am I like this?” You muttered under your breath, heart already fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Tonight was a date. A real one. With Mingyu.

And you wanted it to be perfect. You needed it to be.

Your fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp of your necklace, the one Mingyu once complimented offhandedly—the one you hadn’t worn in months.

He made you feel... like maybe things could be different.

But even as you spritzed perfume along your collarbone and fluffed your freshly styled hair, the undercurrent of guilt pulsed just beneath the surface.

He didn’t know. Not yet.

About the article. About how much you’d withheld. About everything that came before the version of you he was finally getting to know.

You’d planned to tell him. You would tell him.

Just... not yet. Not tonight.

You needed this evening. One moment where things felt light again. Where the flutter in your chest was excitement and not fear. Where his gaze stayed soft and adoring and not clouded by betrayal.

You just needed one more night.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down the front of your dress and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror.

“You’ve got this,” you whispered.

And maybe, for just a few hours, you could believe it.

“Wow,” Joshua said, eyes widening as you stepped into the living room. “You clean up… shockingly well.”

You smirked, smoothing down the front of your satin dress. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“I mean it,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’ve never seen you look so—wait, is that contour?”

“Shua,” you warned, grabbing your purse.

He grinned. “Okay, okay. You look gorgeous. Just—please tell him tonight.”

Your smile faltered. “What about tomorrow? I just want to bask in tonight, it might be the last time he wants to be around me. I promise, just give me tonight and I’ll tell him.”

“You keep saying that,” he replied gently. “And the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to feel.”

You glanced down at your heels, then at the tiny clutch in your hands, where the journal—a condensed version of your article draft—was tucked beneath your lipstick and phone. “Just… let me have this night. One last perfect date.”

Joshua didn’t say anything else. He just stood up and kissed your forehead. “Then go get your perfect date, bub.”

When the knock came at the door, you inhaled sharply before opening it.

Mingyu stood there in a crisp, charcoal suit, holding a single sunflower. “Hi.”

You blinked. “You wore a suit.”

“You said fancy,” he replied, extending the flower with a sheepish smile. “And you look… beautiful.”

You took the flower and gave him a bashful smile. “You clean up alright too.”

“Alright?” He scoffed. “I wore cologne for this.”

You laughed, letting him lead you down the hallway. His fingers found yours the moment you stepped into the elevator, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, and warm.

Still, the journal in your clutch weighed heavier than ever.

“Okay, no hints?” You asked as you slipped into his car.

“None,” he said, grinning as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But I will say this—you’ve never been to this place.”

Mingyu’s car smelled like him — something warm and clean and distinctly comforting. He played music as he drove, humming along quietly.

“This song’s cute,” you said, smiling as the melody filled the space between you.

“I thought you'd like it,” he replied, sneaking a glance at you. “Do you want me to sing it to you someday?”

You grinned. “You sing?”

“Only in the shower. Or when I’m drunk. Or when I think you won’t hear.”

“Maybe I’ll catch you one day,” you teased. Then, softer, “I’d like that.”

The rest of the drive was warm and easy, and you found yourself leaning toward him even without meaning to. Everything felt so natural — his jokes, the way he opened your door, the way he pulled you close when you walked toward the restaurant.

And then you saw where he’d brought you.

“Wait. This place is—Mingyu, it’s fancy-fancy.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I said dress fancy, didn’t I?”

“You also said you weren’t trying to impress me.”

“I lied.” He held the door open with a dramatic bow. “I’m trying to impress the hell out of you.”

Your heart swelled. And cracked.

Over candlelight and wine, you let yourself enjoy the night. Mingyu was in his element — charming, attentive, funny. You kept catching yourself staring, forgetting the food in front of you entirely.

“So,” he said between bites of risotto, “on a scale of one to ten… how good of a date am I?”

You choked a little, caught off guard. “What?”

Mingyu smirked. “Come on. You’re a journalist. I’m sure you rate everything.”

You forced a laugh. “Please, I only rate movies and bad exes.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What if I want to be rated?”

You tilted your head. “Dangerous request.”

“Hit me with it.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Everything in you wanted to say ten. But your throat tightened and the number stuck in your chest like a stone.

“Solid… nine,” you managed, lifting your wine glass to cover your mouth.

He gasped. “Nine? What the hell do I have to do for a ten?”

You laughed. “You’ll figure it out. You’re annoyingly good at that.”

Mingyu grinned and leaned over the table. “I’ll earn it. Just wait.”

You smiled back, but the weight of your secret pulled a little heavier.

~~

You spent the weekend scribbling in your journal like it was a secret lab notebook. Bullet points. Observations. Emotional barometers. You even rated the dates, which—when said out loud—sounded ridiculous. But somehow, it helped. Date one: a six. Sweet, funny, respectful. He kissed you. You left out the part where his hands were on your hips for half the movie and your thigh was slotted between his.

You were trying to be scientific about it. But there was no method for what was happening to your heart.

And the worst part? He still didn’t know.

“How’s the story going?” Keira peeked over your shoulder, her iced coffee in hand and her voice low. 

“Is that a hickey?”

You slammed your laptop shut with a yelp. “Keira.”

She grinned. “Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re going over to his place today, maybe wear a scarf. Or concealer. Or both.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

“He gave you that hickey?”

You didn’t answer. Keira smirked. “His lips do look soft.”

You laughed nervously. “They are.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Use protection, Hemingway.” ~~

Later that evening, you flung your arms around Mingyu’s neck as he lifted you off the ground with a grunt.

“Koala mode activated,” he teased, carrying you inside.

“Mingyu what time do you need me at the gallery tomorrow? You said you needed help moving some stuff right around right for your showcase?” 

Mingyu pondered for a second, “maybe around 4?” 

“Cool, anyway, you lovebirds, keep it PG,” Seungcheol muttered as he passed by, smirking over his bowl of pasta.

You giggled and buried your face in Mingyu’s shoulder. The scent of him, faintly earthy and warm, made your stomach flip. Mingyu carried you straight to his room, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in leaving it.

The door to Mingyu’s room barely clicked shut before you were on each other.

His hands cupped your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss—hot, urgent, toe-curling. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, one hand already sliding beneath the hem of your dress.

“You’re sure?” he asked against your lips, his voice already thick with want.

You nodded, tugging his shirt up in answer. “Off. Now.”

He chuckled softly, but obeyed, yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was warm against your palms, all firm lines and soft skin, and you couldn’t stop your hands from roaming.

“God, you’re unreal,” you muttered.

“Right back at you,” he said, already working on the zipper of your dress.

Clothes came off in between kisses and breathless laughter, piece by piece—your dress hitting the floor, his jeans half-kicked off before he stepped out of them entirely. By the time you tumbled onto his bed, you were down to just your bra and panties, and he was in nothing but his boxers, hovering over you with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.

And still kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.

“You never told me you had a showcase,” you murmured later as you lay on his chest, slightly breathless from the makeout session your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of his biceps.

He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d want to come.”

You looked up at him. “I’d love to. You know I’d love to.”

His ears pinked at your earnestness. “It’s not much. Just a small gallery set-up. Some portraits, mostly candid stuff. I’ve been working on this series of people mid-laugh.”

“That’s adorable,” you whispered and meant it.

Mingyu ran his hand down your back, fingertips grazing the base of your spine. “You have a very nice butt,” he said, dropping a kiss on your shoulder.

You turned, smirking. “Do you plan to fuck it?”

His face went crimson. “Hey! That’s unfair.”

“Why? I’m merely asking questions.”

“You’re mean.”

You rolled onto your back, stretching. “Do you remember that night in the shower? After the party, when you touched me there…it felt so fucking good.”

Mingyu groaned and immediately rolled away from you. “Nope. No. We’re not doing this.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stood, pulling on his sweatpants like it was armour. “I already broke the rule once. We said no sex until we’re ready, and I want to do this right.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realise all I’m wearing is my bra and panties?”

He winced. “You’re killing me.”

You sat up. “So what? You just want me to deal with it? Touch myself and journal about it later?”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, and Mingyu’s head jerked toward you.

Oh no. You hated the way it sounded. You could feel it—the guilt slowly bubbling under your ribs like carbonated dread.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just… I really like you, okay?”

You softened. “Let’s make a new rule: no more dates at anyone’s house until we’re ready to break all the rules.”

He smiled and tugged you back to bed. “Deal.”

You curled into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And yet, your mind was elsewhere. On your laptop, your notes, the dates you were documenting. You wondered if he would’ve ever agreed to be part of your “research” if he had known.

You were halfway to falling for him. And he didn’t even know he was being measured.

~~

“Have you told him yet?” Joshua asked you the next morning, watching you poke at your cereal like it had personally wronged you.

You didn’t look up. “No.”

“How many dates has it been?”

You mumbled, “Ten.”

“Y/N.”

“I know. I know, okay?” You sighed, “I’m telling him. Just… not tonight. He is preparing for his showcase. I don’t want to mess with his head.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes but let it go—for now. ~~

The gallery was empty, but you could see Mingyu inside preparing for his showcase at the end of the week. Minimalist lighting, deep charcoal walls, the soft hum of polite conversation. You stood in front of one of Mingyu’s photographs, a candid of an older couple laughing over a chessboard. It made your chest ache.

“You came,” Mingyu whispered, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I’m almost done here, just ensuring the lights and all are set for the showcase, at the end of the week.”

You turned to smile at him, but his tie was crooked and his hair was slightly damp—like he’d been nervously running his fingers through it all evening.

“You look like someone’s proud boyfriend,” you teased.

He blinked. “Am I?”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer.

You were walking home, your heels in your hand, when Mingyu tugged you under a streetlamp.

“I didn’t want to ask you like this,” he said, his voice unsteady, “but I’ve known for a while now… I like you, and we’ve been through so much, but I like you. A lot. You make me nervous in the best way. You make me want to be better. So—” he swallowed, “—will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him. You should’ve said it right then. About the article. The dates. The reason you were writing everything down.

But you didn’t.

You just said yes. And kissed him so he couldn’t hear your guilt screaming in your throat.

“You said yes,” Mingyu whispered into your hair, almost in disbelief. You could feel the grin on his face as his hands slid around your waist and pulled you into a deeper hug. His voice was low, warm, and giddy. “I have a girlfriend.”

You laughed softly into his chest, but guilt bloomed like ink in water.

“I was going to ask you another day, actually on the day of my showcase, well after it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “I had this whole plan. Photos of you projected behind me, a cheesy slideshow. But tonight felt… right.”

Your stomach twisted. Photos of you?

“You’re serious?” You asked, half smiling. Mingyu nodded, almost shyly. “I’ve been taking candids whenever you weren’t looking,” he admitted. “I know, creepy boyfriend behaviour. But they’re… they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. I wanted to capture how you make me feel when I look at you.”

You didn’t know what to say. A part of you wanted to cry — from the sweetness, and the shame.

“That’s really… thoughtful,” you said, trying not to choke on the words. Your smile faltered. “I can’t wait to see it.”

But you could barely look him in the eye.

That night, after Mingyu walked you home and kissed you with all the sweetness in the world, you sat on your bed with your journal open on your lap. You hadn’t written anything since the first few dates. The number six still stared back at you, innocent and clinical. You hadn’t added the last four dates. You didn’t know how to write about the way he made you laugh when you were angry. Or how he told you he dreamed of printing photos in black and white because that’s how he saw the world when you weren’t in it. Or how his lips felt against your forehead after he sang on stage like he was made of stardust.

You crossed out the six and wrote nine.

Then stared at it for a long time.

You closed the notebook and shoved it into your work bag. 

You’d tell him. You had to. But not tonight. Not when he was smiling so brightly. Not when he called you his girlfriend like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.

You curled into bed, burying your face into your pillow, guilt prickling at the edges of your happiness.

Soon, you told yourself. You’d tell him soon.

~~

The next few days blurred into a montage of camera flashes, coffee dates, and late-night phone calls where Mingyu would talk about lighting setups and lens choices like he was describing magic.

“I’m thinking of opening with black and whites,” he said over the phone one night, his voice sleepy. “The ones I took of you. You know, that photo from the coffee shop? You were laughing at something dumb I said.”

You clutched the phone tighter. “You took a photo of that?”

“I take photos of everything,” he said. “But that one… that one’s my favourite.”

You didn’t know whether to melt or cry. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in a gallery,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

“You’re not just in the gallery,” he chuckled. “You’re the inspiration.”

You could hear the grin in his voice. And you wished you could deserve it.

By Thursday, Mingyu was knee-deep in final edits. You stopped by his place with snacks and coffee, trying not to let your nerves get the better of you.

Seungcheol glanced up from the couch. “Hey, muse,” he teased. “He hasn’t stopped pacing for two hours.”

You smiled awkwardly. “I brought croissants.”

Mingyu looked up from his laptop like he hadn’t noticed you come in. “You’re here,” he breathed, and suddenly all the tension in his body melted. “Come see.”

He beckoned you over, pulling you gently into his chair as he stood behind you. Dozens of thumbnails filled the screen — shots of city streets, shadows cast on faces, hands mid-gesture — and scattered among them were photos of you.

One of you reading in the park. One with your hair messy and your lips parted in laughter. One where you were looking directly at the camera, unaware he’d even lifted it.

“Gyu,” you said softly. “These are…”

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “You always say you don’t know how you look when you’re not trying,” he murmured. “I do.”

You didn’t trust your voice. You turned toward him, and he kissed your cheek gently.

And all you could think about was the notebook in your work bag and the words “latest article” scribbled across the first page.

Later that night, curled up together on his couch as he scrolled through playlists for the showcase. 

“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

He hesitated. The words perched on his lips like a bird on a wire.

“I’m just nervous,” he said instead. “Big night coming up.”

You squeezed his hand. “You’ll be amazing.”

You almost laughed at the irony. Instead, you smiled and leaned into him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your heart had started to race.

~~

You stood outside the gallery, trying to convince yourself your knees weren’t trembling. The venue was elegant — all high ceilings, exposed brick, and warm ambient lighting. Mingyu’s name was printed in glossy serif font across the entrance: Kim Mingyu: Through My Lens.

You took a breath. Then another.

“Are you going to walk in?” Joshua whispered behind you, “or just stare at the door until the exhibit’s over?”

You shot him a glare but let him loop his arm through yours.

“I can’t tell if I’m nervous for him,” you muttered, “or just a horrible person.”

“You’re not a horrible person,” Joshua replied easily. “Just… an occasionally dumb one.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he added as you stepped through the door.

The second you entered, it was as if the air changed. Soft music played overhead, the scent of white wine and something citrusy floating in the space. People lingered over photographs mounted on pristine white walls, murmuring appreciatively. You spotted Seokmin and Keira by the drinks table, and Wonwoo near the back corner with Mia.

And then your eyes landed on him.

Mingyu was in black slacks, a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled up, the camera still slung around his neck even though tonight wasn’t about taking photos — it was about showing them.

When he saw you, his smile was so instant and so sincere it nearly shattered you.

“Y/N,” he said, slipping his hand into yours as you approached. “You came.”

“You asked me to,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t miss this.”

His hand lingered at your waist as he leaned down. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered.

You smiled, kissed him quickly before you lost your nerve. “So do you, artist boy.”

Mingyu turned you toward the display. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You followed him through the crowd, weaving past strangers and small talk until you reached the far wall — a quiet corner lit by a single spotlight.

There were three frames there.

The first was a cityscape at sunrise. The second was a candid of Seungcheol asleep on the couch with a book covering his face. And the third was you.

The photo was simple: you, sitting at a window, eyes closed, sunlight brushing against your cheeks like a secret. It looked like peace. Like love.

Your breath caught.

“I call it Falling,” Mingyu said softly.

You swallowed. “That’s…”

He smiled down at you. “I took it three weeks after we met, when we were hanging out in the park, that’s when I realized I was in trouble.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice barely audible over the soft clinks of wine glasses and distant chatter. “I knew you were going to wreck me, and I didn’t care.”

You could feel your heart cave in on itself.

“Gyu,” you whispered, and he turned to you, expectant.

But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t ruin this night.

So instead you leaned up and kissed him, slow and soft. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Let’s celebrate later. After this, it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, your smile shaky. “I’d like that.”

But the words stayed trapped in your throat like a secret begging to be released.

~~

The showcase wrapped up to rounds of applause, handshakes, and endless praise. You watched from the sidelines as Mingyu basked in the limelight — cheeks flushed with pride, hair slightly tousled, still laughing from something Seungcheol said. He looked like he belonged in a painting, and for a moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the room.

But also, the most deceitful.

He found you again before you could spiral too far. “Come on,” he whispered, curling his fingers around yours. “My place. Just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you out of the crowd, out of the venue, out of the guilt temporarily.

Mingyu's apartment smelled like him. Warm, slightly musky, with a hint of cologne and something sweet — the remnants of a scented candle from weeks ago. You curled up on his sofa while he kicked off his shoes and brought over two glasses of wine.

“To you,” he said, raising his glass.

You blinked. “Me?”

“For showing up. For holding my hand through all this. For being the reason I made half those pieces.”

You stared at him, heart in your throat. “Mingyu…”

He leaned closer. “Can I say something stupid?”

You nodded.

“I think you’re it for me.”

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t breathe. The wine turned to acid in your stomach.

“I mean, we haven’t even been together properly that long, but every time I see you, it feels like everything falls into place.” He laughed softly, bashfully. “Sorry. That was probably too much.”

“No,” you choked, voice barely holding steady. “It’s not. I just…”

You paused, fingers tightening around your wine glass.

Say it. Tell him. Just say it.

“I’m really lucky,” you said instead, forcing the words out like poison disguised as honey. “Lucky to have you.”

Mingyu smiled at you like you’d handed him the world. He reached for you and pulled you into his lap. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You know that?”

You nodded against his chest, burying your face in his shirt. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t deserve to.

His fingers stroked lazily up your spine. “I’m happy,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You swallowed the truth. You kissed him instead.

The guilt didn’t disappear. It just burrowed deeper.

And as his lips brushed against your collarbone, his arms wrapping tighter around you like you were everything he’d ever wanted—you promised yourself, next time. Next time, you'd tell him.

You had to.

~~

“Y/N, do you have a hair tie? I’m trying to see how I’ll look with a ponytail,” Mingyu called out to you one evening later from the living room, his voice light.

You smiled, “yeah, in my bag!” You called back, tugging your blanket tighter around you. You didn’t think twice—Mingyu had gone through your bag a dozen times before, always fishing for snacks or stealing your lip balm. You only grew concerned when the silence stretched a little too long.

“Gyu?” You asked, walking out of the bedroom.

And then your heart stopped.

Mingyu stood completely still in the middle of your living room, your journal clutched in his hands like it had scalded him. His brows were furrowed, lips parted in disbelief, and you could tell he had been flipping through it for a while. You followed his gaze to the open page. Your handwriting. His name.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck is this?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

You blinked. “Mingyu—”

“Are you seriously rating me?” He said, louder now, shaking the journal for emphasis. “Is this what this was to you? A fucking science experiment?”

You took a step toward him, arms up as if approaching a wild animal. “Gyu, I can explain—”

“No. Don’t. Because right now my brain is running in circles trying to understand how the hell I could be so fucking stupid.” He threw the journal on the couch like it physically burned him. “I thought I was in something real with you, Y/N. I thought this meant something.”

“It does,” you whispered.

“Does it?” He snapped. “Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it. You wrote down bullet points like I was some test subject. You kept track of our dates like I was a fucking checklist.”

You flinched, guilt crushing your chest. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?” His laugh was sharp, humourless. “After you published it? After you hit ten dates and figured out whether I made the cut or not?”

“No! God, no. I just… I didn’t expect to actually fall for you.”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make this better.”

“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” you continued, helpless now. “It started as an idea, a pitch for a column. But then we kept going out, and it stopped feeling like research. I started liking you. A lot. I still do.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. And then he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “So the night you said yes to being my girlfriend… you still wrote about me?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Mingyu let out a strangled laugh, blinking rapidly. “Cool. So the moment I thought I’d finally found someone who actually gave a shit about me, I was just another subject in your notebook.”

“No, Mingyu, please don’t say that—”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” He shouted. “You let me fall for you while you kept notes behind my back. You smiled at me, kissed me, touched me—and you were always thinking about your next paragraph.”

You took a shaky breath, reaching for him, but he recoiled like you’d burned him. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t touch me.”

You felt your throat tighten. “Gyu, please. I know I should have told you, I just—I was scared. Scared it would ruin what we had.”

“Well, it’s ruined now,” he said coldly. “So congratulations.”

“Mingyu—”

He brushed past you, but paused at the door. “You know what hurts the most? I told you things I’ve never said out loud. I let you in.” His voice cracked then, just a little. “And all the while, you were writing me down like I was disposable.”

And then he left.

You sank onto the floor, the weight of everything collapsing on top of you. The journal sat on the couch, open and damning. You couldn’t even look at it.

You had wanted to fall for him.

Now you weren’t sure you’d ever stop. ~~

You woke up the following morning to silence. No hum of Mingyu’s heater, no soft snores beside you, no faint scent of his cologne in the air. Just your own bedroom, dim and cold.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, heavy, as if even they didn’t want to face the light. The moment you tried to sit up, a dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, the aftermath of hours spent crying into your pillow.

You reached for your phone automatically, more out of habit than hope. No new messages. You hadn’t expected one… but some small part of you still wanted it. Still wanted him.

You groaned softly, dragging your blanket over your head like it might shield you from your own thoughts. But it couldn’t. Not from the way he’d looked at you. Like he didn’t recognize you. Like something in him had cracked—and you had no idea if it would ever be whole again.

You got up eventually, padding into the bathroom. Your reflection startled you: eyes puffy and red, lips chapped, skin blotchy from salt and regret. You splashed your face with cold water, trying to erase the damage, but the guilt clung stubbornly beneath your skin.

The kitchen was too quiet, too neat. You set a pot of water to boil, more for the comfort of routine than any real desire to eat.

As you leaned against the counter, your phone buzzed again.

Still no messages from Mingyu.

Just a calendar reminder. Dinner with Gyu — 7PM ❤️

You deleted it. And still, your chest ached like you'd just done something irreversible.

You whispered into the silence, “I’m sorry.”

But no one was there to hear it. It was just you sat in the living room, feeling awful. 

The front door creaked open sometime late afternoon, followed by the shuffle of sneakers and the low hum of conversation.

“Should we pick up more oat milk next time?” Joshua’s voice drifted down the hall.

“I’m not the one finishing it in two days,” Wonwoo replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You didn’t move from where you sat, curled into the far corner of the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, your oversized hoodie practically swallowing you whole. The television was on, playing a random episode of a show you weren’t watching. A forgotten cup of tea sat cold on the coffee table.

Joshua was the first to see you. “Y/N?” His voice softened instantly. “Hey... what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo paused behind him, his eyes immediately taking in the puffiness around your eyes, the slumped shoulders, the blank stare.

“Y/N?” Joshua’s voice shifted instantly. You hadn’t even realized your face had crumpled until you saw the way both their heads snapped up. “What happened?” He asked again, this time standing up, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the way your shoulders shook.

“He knows, he found out.” 

Joshua was beside you in a second, arms wrapping around you as you sank into him. You didn’t even bother holding it together anymore. You let yourself sob, the ugly kind, the kind that made your throat burn and your chest ache. Joshua whispered something softly—comforting, aimless sounds—and rubbed your back.

Wonwoo stood silently, his jaw tight as he looked down at the journal, then back up at you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you finally whispered after a while. “I really didn’t.”

Joshua pulled back just enough to see your face. “What happened?”

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He found it. The journal. The whole damn thing. I think he was looking for a hair tie or something, and it just… fell out.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“He thought it’d be cute or romantic or something,” you said, your voice hollow. “You know, me scribbling little lovestruck notes. But instead, he found ratings. Fucking ratings. Breakdown charts. He read them all. And then he looked at me like I was the worst person he’d ever met.”

“What did you say?” Joshua asked gently.

“That it was for an article. That I had this stupid idea—this dumb, terrible idea—and that I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” You looked down at your hands. “But it did. I fell for him, and I never told him the truth, and now he thinks everything I said was a lie.”

Neither of them said anything.

“He stormed out. Thinks I’m a liar. Asked if I had to force myself on dates with him just to see how long it would take to fall for someone like him. Like he wasn’t enough on his own.”

Joshua sighed and sat back down, rubbing his temple.

“I begged him to listen. Told him I didn’t mean to hurt him. That I’d planned to tell him. But he just—he didn’t believe a word of it.”

“And now?” Wonwoo finally asked, voice flat.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I don’t think there is a now.”

~~

You hadn’t planned on coming by. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing until your knuckles rapped twice against the door to Mingyu’s apartment. There was a half-second where you considered turning around, pretending like you’d never shown up. But the door swung open before you could.

“Y/N?” Seokmin blinked at you in surprise. “Hey, wow. Uh—Mingyu didn’t say you were coming by?”

You offered him a small, nervous smile. “I just... wanted to talk to him. Is he in?”

Seokmin hesitated. “Yeah, he's around... sure, come in.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to walk through. You did, clutching your bag a little tighter to your side. You didn’t know what you were hoping for. A moment. A conversation. A sliver of the version of Mingyu who used to laugh when you messed up the coffee order.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Then, Mingyu stepped out of the hallway, stopping dead when he saw you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t raised yet, but it landed like a slap. 

Cold.

Sharp.

You flinched. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent weeks documenting me like a lab rat.”

“Mingyu, please—”

“No. Don’t ‘please’ me.” He was walking toward you now, slow and deliberate. “Do you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t find out eventually? You thought you could just scribble notes behind my back, rate my kisses out of ten, and I’d what—fall even harder for you?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu was already shaking his head.

“Seokmin, why the hell did you let her in?” Mingyu snapped.

Seokmin looked between the two of you, piecing together what he had clearly walked into the middle of. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she—”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” Mingyu’s gaze flicked back to you, burning. “Did you come back to take more notes? See what heartbreak looks like up close?”

“Gyu, I just needed to explain,” you said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” He asked bitterly. “You chose to keep lying. You chose to keep writing.”

“I was going to stop,” you said quietly.

“But you didn’t,” he bit back. “You kept going. Even after I told you how I felt. Even after I asked you to be mine. You rated the date that same night, didn’t you? What was it—an eight? A nine? Was it good content at least?”

Your throat closed up.

“I was falling for you,” you whispered. “I still am.”

He laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Too late. You already wrote the ending.”

You took a step forward, and he took one back.

“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re the one who’s heartbroken. You wrote this story, Y/N. You chose the arc. And now you get to live with the ending,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, and for a second, just a second, you saw it. The pain. The betrayal buried under all that rage. The way his eyes shone—not with hate, but heartbreak.

With all the noise you noticed that Seungcheol had stepped out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about. 

You wanted to reach for him.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You saw how they all looked at you–their expressions cold, unreadable, like they didn’t even recognize you anymore. You bent down slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on your spine, and collected your scattered things. 

“Mingyu…” you whispered, one last attempt.

But it was Seungcheol who answered, you didn’t even know when he left his room to join the commotion he heard outside.  his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Leave. For your own good, leave.”

You nodded. Numb. Ashamed. You turned without another word and closed the door behind you.

The second it clicked shut, the tears came fast and merciless. You barely made it down the hallway before they overwhelmed you, hot and humiliating. By the time you stumbled into your own apartment, your face was blotchy, your breaths short and uneven.

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t.

“Well?” Joshua asked softly.

“He’s done with me,” you choked, “and please, if you can spare me the I told you so lecture—” But the rest of the sentence never made it out. It dissolved into broken sobs as you crumpled into Joshua’s chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you without hesitation, while Wonwoo just let out a sigh of disappointment. 

They didn’t say much that night. There wasn’t much to say.

You were silent through dinner. Silent through the movie Joshua tried to put on to distract you. Silent even when you crawled into bed hours later, the covers pulled over your head like they could shield you from the reality you’d created.

It had only been a day since it happened, but already the weight of it sat on your chest like a brick.

~~

The next afternoon, as you walked home from work — eyes bleary and head pounding — you spotted Seokmin across the street. He didn’t wave. Just kept walking. You jogged across to meet him.

“Seokmin,” you called, a little breathless. “Please, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Seokmin turned, slow and stiff. His face was unreadable at first, then slowly twisted into something sharper. “Just go back to pretending you never knew us, yeah?” he muttered. “You’ve done enough damage.”

You swallowed hard, heart lurching. “Will he ever forgive me?”

Seokmin’s jaw tightened. “Who knows. You don’t deserve it. But if you’re lucky… he’ll forget you.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes. But Seokmin didn’t wait for your response. He shook his head in disgust, walked up the steps to their apartment, and slammed the door in your face.

You stood there for a long time. Just breathing. Just trying not to fall apart again.

~~

You hadn’t expected anyone at your door that afternoon, so when you opened it and were met with a stranger, you were already bracing to explain you weren’t in the mood for conversation. But then she smiled politely and said. “Hi, oh shit you’re not Mingyu, I must have the wrong apartment. ”

You blinked, as a beautiful woman with soft curls, glossy lips, familiar doe-eyed charm greeted you outside your door. 

“You’re looking for Mingyu?” You asked, your voice flatter than intended.

“Yup!” She said, eyes lighting up. 

You nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. The doors look the same.” 

Before she could respond, the door across the hall swung open. “Hey, baby,” Mingyu’s voice floated out, smooth and warm like nothing had happened. “Sorry, I disturbed your neighbor. All the doors look the same.”

The girl giggled and practically leapt into his arms.

“Missed me?” She asked.

Mingyu smirked at her, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second. That smile you once thought was just for you felt like a blade this time. “Let me show you how much,” he said, pulling her into his apartment.

“Mingyu, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not knowing why you did. Reflex, maybe. Hope, maybe.

He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, the door slamming shut before you could get another word out.

You closed your own door gently, like the sound might shatter you if it echoed too loud.

“Y/N?” You turned to find Wonwoo entering the living room. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you.

“He has a girl over. He’s moving on. And I...” Your voice cracked before you could finish. The lump in your throat grew too big, too fast.

Wonwoo stepped closer, placing the groceries down and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned in, too exhausted to pretend you weren’t breaking anymore.

“I need to fix this,” you whispered into his sweater.

Wonwoo let out a slow sigh as he pulled back. “Or you could just let it go,” he said gently. “Mia wasn’t impressed by it either.”

You stepped away from him, frustration bubbling up beneath your grief. “Who told you to tell her?”

“I didn’t,” Wonwoo replied, his tone calm but stern. “She asked. And you think she wouldn’t have heard it from the others? I told her what happened, and yeah—she got mad. Not just at you. At me too. She’s upset you hurt someone like him.”

You closed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just—I wanted to fall for him. I wanted to try. And I did.”

“Then let him heal,” Wonwoo said quietly. “Maybe he’ll come back to you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then maybe it means he’s not supposed to.”

You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest pulsing harder. ~~

You had been chased out of your apartment by Joshua, something about you moping and crying killed aura, and plus he said you needed to get out. So while you where in the grocery store, you didn’t expect to see Mingyu. You certainly didn’t expect him to catch you staring at a magazine with the poster from the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. ​​Because that was you. You were Andie Anderson, and you’d lost him. Not in ten days, but close enough. You reached out for the magazine, maybe just to laugh at the irony.

“That’s rich.” The familiar voice hit you like a slap. You turned to find Mingyu standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Looking for more inspiration to screw someone over?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the aisle like a whip.

You turned slowly, heart already sinking. “No. I wasn’t.”

He glanced pointedly at the magazine. “Actually, the funny thing is—you didn’t even need ten days.”

You didn’t answer, just grabbed a basket and kept moving. Mingyu stayed behind for a moment, then stepped up beside you. “You tried to see how long it’d take for you to like me. You lost me instead. Ironic, huh?”

You flinched, but didn’t stop. You just grabbed your milk, turned toward the cashier.

By the time you paid, rain had started pouring outside like some kind of melodramatic movie set. Your umbrella was sitting back at your apartment. Of course.

“Fuck,” you muttered, arms full of groceries, glaring at the downpour like you could will it away.

“Need a ride?”

You turned around slowly. Mingyu. Hands in pockets, shoulders tense.

You shook your head. “I’ll wait.”

“It’s going to pour for hours. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Mingyu grabbed the bags from your arms anyway. “This is not an inconvenience, you dating me for an article and breaking my heart? That was an inconvenience.”

You followed him out in silence, too tired to fight.

The drive was quiet, tense. The rain drummed on the roof like it was keeping time with your heartbeat.

“I’m not writing the article anymore,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Mingyu didn’t look at you. “Because you didn’t get enough content?”

You looked down at your hands. “Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t care if you write it or not,” he muttered. “I don’t care about anything that involves you anymore.”

You nodded, throat burning.

“I didn’t mean to let it go that far,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Mingyu said, his voice suddenly small. “Just don’t.”

You shrank into your seat.

“She’s pretty,” you said after a moment. “That girl. She seems light. Happy, and pretty.”

Mingyu said nothing, eyes fixed on the road. But he tightened his grip on the wheel.

You glanced down, feeling foolish, and reached out to rest a hand over his. He flinched.

You pulled away instantly.

“I can carry my bags,” you said.

“I know,” Mingyu replied. But he still walked you all the way to your apartment and didn’t say another word.

~~The elevator ride was agonizingly silent, save for the soft hum of movement and the rhythmic buzz of the floor numbers lighting up. You didn’t dare look at Mingyu, not when your reflection in the metallic doors already looked wrecked enough. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on a spot just above your head like if he made eye contact, he’d combust.

The ding of your floor felt more like a punch to the gut. You stepped out, expecting him to turn around and go, but he didn’t. He followed you.

“Mingyu?” You asked softly, turning to look at him as you unlocked your door. His arms were full of your groceries, but it wasn’t the gesture that threw you. It was the fact that he looked more exhausted than angry now—like he'd screamed himself hoarse in silence, and only ashes were left.

He didn’t answer. Just walked past you once the door opened and placed the bags gently on the kitchen counter. You watched him, unsure what to do. Unsure how much space to give someone who already felt galaxies away.

“Oh uh you-,” you said after a beat, trying to sound firm but it came out smaller than intended.

“Save it, I’m just dropping this off,” Mingyu replied without looking at you. “I’m just dropping this off.”

He lingered by the door, hands in his jacket pockets now, as if grounding himself. “Do you… want anything?” You asked, and it felt like asking a stranger if they needed water before they left your home forever.

He looked up at you then, and for a second, you saw something. Sadness? Regret? Longing? You weren’t sure. It flickered across his face and disappeared before you could name it.

“I wanted to hate you, you know?” He said, voice low. “That night, I really thought I could. But then I remembered everything else. The way you’d smile at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way you’d write things down when you were nervous. The way your voice always cracked just a little when you were excited. You didn’t make it easy.”

You swallowed hard, tears already welling again. “So you don’t hate me?”

Mingyu shook his head. “No. I think that’s what makes this worse.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what now?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I still can’t look at you without remembering that I was just another chapter in a story you were writing. Whether or not it became real for you, I’ll never stop wondering if it ever started that way.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Every word felt like another nail into your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was guilt or grief that made your throat ache more.

“I should go,” he said quietly, already stepping backward toward the door. “But for what it’s worth, I hope the story was worth it.”

“Mingyu, wait—” you called out as he turned the doorknob, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Determined to show how much you cared for him, you still continued to speak. “I really hope that she makes you happy; you deserve it. I’m so sorry.”

Mingyu looked at you then—really looked. But there was no softness in his gaze, no flicker of the man who once spooned you in his sleep just to be closer.

He stepped away from your reach, disgust curling on his face like it physically hurt him to see you cry.

“I hope that you never find love, Y/N.”

 He said it low, like a curse.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

The door clicked shut with all the finality of a goodbye you weren’t ready to accept.

You stood in your kitchen, surrounded by your groceries, heart pounding in your ears and chest aching. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until the sound of your own sob cracked through the silence.

Then he was gone. The door slammed shut before you could blink, and you stood there, a hand still reaching out for him like some pathetic remnant of a memory. The sob left your throat before you could stop it, and this time you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

You didn’t deserve to.

~~

The next morning, your eyes were puffy, your voice hoarse, and your heart too hollow to carry the weight of your body properly. You dragged yourself into the office anyway, needing the distraction, needing something to hold onto.

Keira spotted you before you could slip past her.

“Y/N, can I speak to you?”

You stopped, wincing. God, you weren’t ready for another confrontation.

“Hey,” you muttered as you stepped into her office.

“Can you shut the door behind you?” She asked gently.

Your stomach dropped. “Please don’t fire me,” you said with a half-laugh, though it came out far more desperate than funny.

Keira softened. “Honey, I’m not going to fire you. I’m calling you in because I’m concerned. You look like you haven’t slept in days. And you scrapped the article?”

You sank into the chair across from her, shoulders folding inward like you were bracing for impact.

“It’s a long story.”

Keira studied you for a moment, then reached for her purse.

“Okay, how’s this? We skip the desks and head to the bar across the street. You tell me everything over a very strong drink. My treat.”

You blinked at her. That small gesture—kindness without demand—was enough to make your throat tighten.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d really like that.”

And for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of something that almost resembled relief.

~~

“So,” Keira said, finishing off her drink and eyeing your fourth glass like it personally offended her. “Do you like him?”

You didn’t even hesitate. You nodded, your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass as though the condensation might cool down the burn behind your eyes. “Yeah,” you said quietly, “I do.”

Keira leaned her chin into her palm, her eyes narrowing as she watched you. “Then go get him.”

You laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “He told me I don’t deserve love.” You stared down into your drink. “And maybe he’s not wrong. I hurt him.”

“Sweetheart,” Keira said, straightening her spine, “you did a stupid thing. A spectacularly dumb thing. But that boy likes you, and he’s bleeding all over you because he’s hurt, not because he doesn’t care.” She reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t give up on him just because he’s angry.”

But her words barely reached you. Your mind was elsewhere—caught in the sound of his laughter, in the way he used to absentmindedly brush your hair behind your ear, the warmth in his voice when he called you by your name like it meant something.

You blinked, and suddenly you were crying.

“Hey, no tears tonight,” Keira said quickly, passing you a tissue from her purse. “Drinks first, tears later.”

It was a promise you failed to keep.

Two more drinks in, and you were barely standing. Keira kissed your cheek and called you a cab, but you insisted on taking the bus. Said something about needing to “feel things.” You weren’t sure what that meant now. By the time you reached your apartment building, you were too drunk to even recognize your floor. You stumbled into the elevator and prayed to whatever higher power existed that your key would match the door.

You cursed under your breath as your keys jangled uselessly in the lock. “Why won’t you open?” you muttered, knees buckling as you reached forward again—and missed. Your balance tipped, your body about to crash into the floor when strong arms caught you mid-fall.

Your head lolled against a familiar chest.

“Y/N,” Mingyu said, sighing. “You’re trying to break into my apartment.”

You blinked up at him, all wide eyes and bright smile. “This isn’t mine?”

“No it’s not,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

“I’m allowed to be drunk,” you mumbled stubbornly.

“It’s literally seven p.m.”

You beamed. “Then I’m very early.”

Mingyu didn’t laugh. He groaned, lifting you with ease and carrying you into his apartment. “You’re lucky Seokmin and Seungcheol aren’t home,” he muttered. “They’d kill you for this.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder. “They’d have to catch me first.”

He sat you down on his bed and fetched a glass of water. “Drink. Please.”

You did as told, the cold water clearing your throat but not your thoughts. The alcohol had cracked your walls open, and guilt was spilling out in waves. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“No kidding,” he replied, but his voice was gentler than his words.

“I don’t deserve you, or your kindness, or your stupid soft hoodies.”

Mingyu knelt in front of you, jaw tightening as he watched your face crumble.

“Your eyes are really sparkly,” you said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched—just slightly—and the movement sliced right through you.

“I should go,” you whispered, making a shaky attempt to stand. You wobbled, and his hands shot out instinctively to steady you.

“Okay, let’s just get you lying down before you face-plant.”

You groaned. “I need to shower. I’ll just sleep naked. It’s fine.”

“You are absolutely not sleeping naked in my apartment,” he muttered, ears turning red.

You grinned, delighted by his discomfort. “You used to love when I was naked.”

“And now I just want you clothed and far away from my fragile self-respect.”

Eventually, he helped you to the bathroom. You showered—sloppily, messily, shampoo probably still in your hair. But you got through it. You managed to step out, towel clutched around you, and found him waiting exactly where he said he’d be—on the edge of your bed.

“See?” You mumbled. “Didn’t die.”

But the joke didn’t land. Not when you looked at him and remembered everything. The notebook. His shattered expression. The sound of his voice when he told you to leave.

“Mingyu?” You whispered, voice suddenly small.

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

There it was. The truth. Raw and exposed and echoing through the air like an apology too late to be heard.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Seokmin said you’d never earn my forgiveness. But maybe, with enough luck, I’d forget you.”

You swallowed thickly. “Can you?”

“No,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I’ll never forget you. But forgive you?” He shook his head. “That’s something I don’t think I have in me.”

You nodded, and even as he stood and walked to the door, even as he didn’t look back, you whispered a soft. “I get it.”

Mingyu didn’t see the tears that fell the second the door closed behind him. But he heard the sound of your sob breaking the silence, and it tore him apart to keep walking.

~~“Oh, Y/N,” Keira sighed, tapping her mug against yours as the two of you sat in the quiet corner booth of your favorite café on a dreary Monday morning. “You’ve got it bad for him.”

You gave her a wry smile as you swirled your tea. “Yeah, well… that makes two of us, apparently.”

Keira raised an eyebrow, already sensing the storm brewing in your voice. “I have some news that’s probably going to ruin your morning.” You glanced up sharply. “Do not freak out,” she warned, glancing toward the main entrance of your office.

“What?” You asked, heartbeat stuttering. You turned—and froze.

Mingyu.

He walked in like he belonged there, tall and calm in his oversized hoodie, camera bag slung over his shoulder. Your stomach twisted into a knot.

“What the fuck,” you whispered under your breath.

Keira quickly stood and put on her most professional smile. “Mingyu, welcome! This is my main feature writer; I believe you’ve read her work?”

He nodded, eyes on you. “Yeah. Sandy Beaches.” His lips twitched at the name, and you wanted to murder Joshua for convincing you to use a beach pun as your pen name.

Mingyu turned to you, his voice clipped. “So, neighbor. You ready to do the artist spotlight on up-and-coming photographers?”

Keira let out a nervous laugh, clearly sensing the tension. “Okay, I’ll leave you two to it.” She bolted.

You led Mingyu to your office, conscious of every footstep behind you. The second the door closed, you rounded on him.

“What the hell is this?” you hissed.

He leaned casually against the wall. “Before you get mad, I was contacted the day of my showcase about doing a feature. I thought it’d be... ironic, you know? My girlfriend writing about me.”

“You know I can reassign this—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in coldly. “You write well. It’s just a profile. I figured I could survive your presence for an hour.”

You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I’ll need to see your work.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “You already have. Remember the night you agreed to be my girlfriend? That was me, in my element.”

You said nothing. Guilt chewed away at your insides.

“Anyway,” Mingyu continued, “you know more about me than anyone else on staff. Do a decent job. Unless you’re planning to spin this into a tragic tale of the stupid boy who thought he was worth something.”

“Mingyu,” you sighed. “I didn’t lie.”

“No?” he snapped, pushing off the wall. “Then what do you call it?”

You didn’t answer.

“I came in as a formality for your boss,” he continued. “Not for you. You know enough—write your fluff piece, send it off, and we’ll both pretend it’s the end.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

~~

You were exhausted from the day’s emotional whiplash and stayed late at the office to avoid running into anyone. By the time you arrived home, it was well past midnight.

The elevator doors creaked open and you stepped out, only to be met with the sound of moaning echoing down the hallway. You frowned, pausing mid-step.

“Harder,” someone panted.

Your stomach dropped.

Your eyes followed the sound—and there she was. That same girl from who knocked on your door by mistake, the girl Mingyu was moving on with, pressed against the hallway wall, legs wrapped around Mingyu’s waist. His back was to you, hands gripping her thighs. Her head lolled back in bliss.

“Gyu, stop. Someone’s here,” she giggled.

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “She’s nobody.”

You blinked. And then you ran—into your apartment, slamming the door shut before the tears could fall. “Oh hi guys,” you greeted Joshua and Jihoon once you entered your apartment, and Jihoon simply stared at–correction–through you.  

Joshua looked up from his laptop. “You okay?”

You tried to smile. It cracked at the corners. “I guess being forgotten feels worse than being hated.”

Jihoon sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because you hurt someone and now you have to watch them move on?”

“Jihoon,” Joshua warned quietly.

“No, I’m serious,” Jihoon snapped. “You don’t get to stomp on someone and then cry when they refuse to crawl back to you.”

You clenched your jaw, the shame burning under your skin. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Well, you’re getting one,” Jihoon stood. “Mingyu is like a little brother to me. I didn’t say anything because Joshua begged me not to. Said you were a good person. But I don’t see it.”

That was enough.

You turned without another word and left your apartment, ignoring Joshua’s calls. The hallway was empty—thank god. You slipped out the building and found the nearest bar.

By your second glass of wine, the edges had dulled just enough to stop shaking.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out.

You turned. Soonyoung, another one of Mingyu’s friend.

The only time you’d spoken was at the party months ago.

“Or should I say... heartless?” He said with a crooked grin.

You exhaled. “Hi, Soonyoung.”

He slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry, I just needed to get that out of the way. You don’t look great.”

“I’m not.”

He eyed your wine glass. “You drinking alone?”

“Apparently, that’s all I’m good for.”

Soonyoung watched you, head tilting. “Why did you do it? Why write about love like it’s a science experiment?”

You shrugged. “I guess I was scared. Falling for someone the normal way felt… too easy. Too vulnerable.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well. You broke the rules. And now you’re stuck trying to rewrite an ending that was already perfect.”

You blinked down at your glass, throat tight.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said quietly.

“Okay, and why didn’t you tell him that? Like say something like hey I think I sort of have some feelings for you, but I want to go on a few dates to solidify them?” You sighed, dragging your finger around the rim of your empty glass. “Hindsight is clearly not my friend.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “So why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Well, I saw Mingyu with his fingers deep inside another girl, and he acted like I wasn’t even there. Then Jihoon, I guess, said what he wanted to.”

Soonyoung winced. “Yikes.”

“Why are you here?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“Just wanted to use their restrooms, and I saw you, so I decided to come by and grill you,” he replied, lips quirking. “Look, before I go—what you did was really fucked. But did you like him?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“I still do.”

Soonyoung sighed and leaned forward. “Then tell him. Be creative. Tell him until he acknowledges it. I’m not saying he’ll forgive you, but he’ll feel less like an idiot.”

You stared at the condensation slipping down your glass. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m trying to help my buddy find some comfort in knowing that he’s someone worth loving, and not just a catchy headline.” Soonyoung sighed and then spoke again. “Y/N, just don’t wait too long if you really do like him. Before someone else writes the ending for you. Anyways, I think the staff here can tell I’m not a patron, so I’ll see you around, I guess. Take care!”

You watched him go, and when the door shut behind him, you realized just how quiet the bar had gotten. And how late it was. You’d lost track of time—again.

The chill in the air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, and it sank in just how far from home you really were. You turned a corner, tried to retrace your steps, but your stomach dropped when none of the streets looked familiar.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

You fumbled for your phone and called the one person you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” “Mingyu.” Your voice was small, unsure. “Hi, I know you hate me, but I… I’m lost.”

A groan crackled through the speaker. “You—”

“No, never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you,” you blurted, ending the call before he could say anything else.

Your screen dimmed before the app you opened for a taxi could even load. Your phone powered off completely in your hands.

“Fucking wonderful.”

You sat down on a nearby bench, staring into the dark, unsure if you should wait it out until morning or hope that someone—anyone—might pass by.

Just as your thoughts started spiraling and panic bloomed in your chest, a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey.”

You turned with a jolt, nearly jumping to your feet. But there they were—Mingyu’s familiar doe eyes, breath visible in the cold air. “So you hung up, and it was a real struggle to find you and I…” Mingyu trailed off, startled when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.

“You okay?” He asked softly. His arms didn’t move to return the hug.

You stepped back, cheeks flushing. “How did you find me?”

“I assumed you’d gone drinking,” Mingyu said, his voice low, careful. “Soonyoung-hyung texted me, said he saw you at that bar. I just traced my steps.”

You nodded, brushing the back of your hand across your eyes.

“Come on, let’s go back,” he murmured, guiding you toward his car. The silence between you was heavy, but not hostile.

When you reached the car, he hesitated before opening the passenger door for you.

“Hey, um… nothing happened, right? Like, no one tried to hurt you?” He asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

Mingyu nodded. “I’m sorry for what you saw earlier.”

You bit your lip. “No… I mean. We aren’t together. And I hurt you. So, it’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone turned sharp. “That’s fucking toxic, and I’m sorry. We were just caught up in the moment. I didn’t even realise until I saw your face.”

You looked out the window. “Do you like her?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think I’ve been on enough dates yet.”

You winced. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated. “I just meant… it’s too soon to tell with her.”

You took a breath. “I knew. With you.”

Mingyu froze. His hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled over.

“What?” You turned to him, your heart thudding. “I knew I felt something for you. I knew it when I saw Mia and I got jealous. I got jealous of the rock climbing receptionist and then that girl you’re dating now. No one gets jealous unless they care.”

Mingyu’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

You sighed. “Because I should’ve said it when it mattered. Because I miss you. And I hate that I ruined it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the crack in his silence was louder than any words.

~~

The ride back to the apartment was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid. When Mingyu pulled into the lot, the car barely came to a full stop before you unbuckled and got out. You didn’t wait for him, didn’t speak—just walked briskly toward the front of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement like punctuation to every aching beat of your heart.

You didn’t expect him to follow. But when you reached the elevator and hit the button, you caught a brief glance over your shoulder—and there he was. Mingyu, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face unreadable. For a second, your eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but something passed between you—an unspoken permission, a quiet nudge.

You took it as a sign and stepped into the elevator. When he joined you seconds later, the air between you thickened, pressing against your chest like gravity.

The elevator ride was short, but the silence felt infinite.

Neither of you said a word as you reached the hallway. Mingyu unlocked his door, then paused—just for a breath—before stepping inside. He left it open. You followed.

His apartment looked the same, but everything felt different.

Mingyu didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I need you to know that every single emotion I felt with you was real,” he said softly, his back still to you. “Every time you kissed me, it felt like fireworks. Every time you hugged me, I felt safe. And every time we—” He paused, his voice catching. “It wasn’t just sex. It felt like a journey. You made me feel special every time I was with you.”

You swallowed. “Mingyu, I made a stupid mistake. But I wanted to fall for you… because I knew there was something there. I just—I went about it the wrong way. I was scared. But you? You’re someone worth loving. Not just… someone worth writing about.”

He turned around at that, slowly. His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for the lie.

“Are you just pushing me into forgiving you?” He asked, but there was more pain than malice in his voice.

You shook your head. “No. I just don’t want what I did to affect how you see yourself. What I did was on me, not on you.”

For a flicker of a second, you saw something shift in him—like your words hit somewhere tender. But then he stepped forward, and the moment shattered.

“Oh, really?” Mingyu scoffed. “Me? Affected? I’m the one getting laid. Not you.” His words came out harsher than intended, bitterness rising. “Fuck, has anyone ever even wanted you? Approached you? Your ex cheated on you,  even Wonwoo Hyung avoided you—he warned me, you know? He knew you were a ticking time bomb.”

You flinched. Your stomach twisted.

“And I still fucking fell for you,” Mingyu said, voice rising. “Ten dates. Don’t worry I’m over i, clearly, I don’t care, because not too long ago, my fingers were inside another girl.” He said it like a weapon, wielded cruelly, “She was tight. Fuck. Her body was—”

“Enough,” you said, barely a whisper, but Mingyu stopped. Like he finally heard himself.

You turned away and made a move to leave his apartment. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mingyu asked, eyes wide.

You didn’t answer, just tried to get out of his apartment. 

“Y/N! Fucking stop.”

You froze as Mingyu walked up behind. “Y/N,” he said again, softer now, “look at me.”

You didn’t move.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You slowly turned your face toward him. His expression was crumbling.

“I know I crossed a line. What I just said… it was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. As toxic as it is, I just wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me, but I went too far.”

You held your hand out to stop him. “I fucked up, Mingyu. I know that what I did is unforgivable. I want to thank you for tonight. I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll have your artist profile written and sent to you for your kind perusal in a week.”

“Y/N—”

You smiled, and Mingyu could see the tears threatening to fall. “Goodnight, Mingyu,” you whispered, leaving his apartment, walking across the hall and entering your own apartment, and closing the door behind you. 

He stood there long after the door closed, your words hanging in the air like smoke.

~~

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor,” Joshua called out, poking his head into your bedroom the next morning. You were freshly showered, curled up in your robe, sipping on kombucha when you caught sight of a familiar figure hovering behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked. Mingyu.

“Can he stay, or do we not like him today?” Joshua asked, squinting at Mingyu like he was trying to summon a glare.

“He can stay,” you replied, quietly.

Joshua nodded. “Alright. But if I hear her cry, I’m calling Wonwoo Hyung to hurt you.”

“Why not you?” Mingyu asked, brow lifting.

Joshua shrugged. “Your stupid golden retriever face makes it hard to stay mad. I can’t hit a puppy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shua.”

“I’m going. Holler if you need me.” He winked, disappearing into the hallway.

You gestured toward the bed. “You can sit. I won’t bite.”

“You seem better,” Mingyu said, stepping inside and cautiously sitting down beside you. His eyes scanned your face, your posture—like he was trying to read how much of your recovery was real.

“Getting there,” you lied, sipping your drink. “You gave me closure last night, so I guess now I just… learn and heal.”

That lie tasted bitter. You weren’t over him. You weren’t even close.

“Really?” Mingyu asked, his expression tightening. “You got over me so quickly?”

You shook your head, voice soft. “No. I just… I’m leaving you alone.”

He looked down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look I’m so fucking sorry for what I said, I was being spiteful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said about her. Or… you.”

You gave him a small nod. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Silence stretched between you until Mingyu glanced around the room and started to get up. “Okay. I guess I should go?”

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a hesitant step toward you and knelt on the edge of your bed. His hand brushed your cheek—light as a whisper—and you froze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Truly.”

Then, just like that, he was gone. His hand pulled away. His body retreated. And he rushed out of your room like a man on fire, leaving you stunned, confused, and just a little less miserable.

~~

The following evening, you were sprawled on the couch in your favorite hoodie, arms crossed stubbornly as House Hunters played in the background at low volume. The sunlight had long since dipped behind the skyline, casting a moody blue over the apartment. You hadn’t moved in hours — not since Mia’s party invite had come through the group chat.

“You’re going,” Wonwoo said, nudging your foot with his knee as he walked past holding a bowl of popcorn.

You didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not.”

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. “Come on.”

“I’d rather attend my own funeral,” you muttered.

“Dramatic,” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “It’s not her wedding, it’s a party. Mingyu will be there. Your friends will be there.”

“Only you and Shua, no one else wants me there.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “You can’t avoid everything that makes you uncomfortable.” “Mia does,” Wonwoo tried to lie. 

You rolled your eyes at him “that’s because she’s dating you and she cares about you.” 

“I’m not avoiding,” you snapped. “I’m choosing peace.”

“That’s funny, because you look like a woman actively losing her mind in a hoodie cocoon.”

You finally sat up, scowling. “I’m just not ready to go to a party where everyone knows I screwed up.”

Wonwoo gave you a pointed look. “Everyone screws up. But only some people decide to marinate in guilt like a mopey rotisserie chicken.”

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” you muttered.

“Still worked.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a throw pillow to hug. “Wonwoo, what if he’s there and just—ignores me? What if Mia says something? What if I cry into someone’s jungle juice?”

“Then you cry. But at least you’re not crying alone on a couch watching reruns of sad real estate couples.” He leaned forward, voice softer. “You’re allowed to show up for yourself. Even if it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.”

You stared at him, torn. “Ugh. Why are you good at pep talks?”

“Because I know you,” he said with a small smile. “And you hate feeling left out more than you hate confrontation.”

“God, I hate when you’re right.”

“And yet you listen every time.”

You took his hand. “I’m blaming you if this ends in disaster.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” ~~

Later that evening you were in full panic mode. 

“Wonwoo, I can’t do this. Everyone there hates me,” you groaned as he paced around your living room.

“Oh also, plans changed, Mia needs help so you need to go yourself,” Wonwoo said sheepishly 

“What the hell, no I’ll be walking into a lions den!” 

He shrugged. “Jihoon and Joshua are already there setting up. Mia’s with me. So yeah, it’s just you. Good luck.” And with that, he ducked out the door before you could protest.

You knew you’d have to face the crowd, you decided to suck it up and get dressed. 

You chose your silk blue dress—short, elegant, and dangerous. The kind that hugged all the right curves. You were slipping on your heels when someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” you called out.

“Hey. Oh—wow,” Mingyu muttered, stepping inside. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and you instantly felt your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze.

You cleared your throat. “Uh hi?”

He smiled faintly. “Mia’s party. Seokmin and Cheol are already there setting up. I figured… maybe we could share a ride?”

You hesitated. “Isn’t your date going with you?”

He shook his head. “Yeah… she’s not really relevant anymore. Turns out I was just the decoy to make her ex jealous. She got him back.”

He let out a short laugh. “Guess I’ve got that ‘easy to fuck over’ vibe.”

You didn’t say anything, but your silence was loud.

Mingyu glanced at you. “Anyway. I called us a cab. You ready?”

You nodded.

~~

The cab ride to the party was quieter than expected. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet. Mingyu sat beside you, elbow on the window, tapping a soft rhythm against the glass. You stared ahead, feeling the buzz of anticipation, dread, and god-knows-what else coiling in your stomach like a tightened spring.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

He smiled at the floor of the car, like he didn’t quite know what to do with your voice.

When you both arrived, the apartment was already buzzing. The bass of the music thumped low through the walls, and there was a faint glow from the string lights Seokmin had insisted on. You could hear laughter, someone singing off-key, and the gentle hum of people who weren’t thinking about you at all.

“Ready?” Mingyu asked, already stepping out and circling to open your door.

You paused. “Not even a little.”

He chuckled. “Same.”

The second you stepped in, all heads turned. Not because of you—no, definitely not just you—but because of you and Mingyu, together. He was in all black, stupidly tall and maddeningly handsome, and you were in a dress that had already gotten three glances and a whisper before you’d made it past the entryway.

You felt the pressure of every gaze crawling up your spine. Your hand brushed Mingyu’s by accident. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t reach back either.

“Hey!” Seokmin grinned, running over, arms already halfway to a hug before he remembered. “Right, hi.”

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.

“Come on Mingyu, party’s started,” Seokmin said guiding Mingyu, and reluctantly you to the bar.

Mingyu gave him a nod before grabbing a drink from the bar and handing you one without asking.

“I thought you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, muttering, “God, yes.”

The night unfolded in slow motion.

Joshua and Jihoon were manning the playlist and playing hype-men near the drinks table. Mia was radiant, bouncing around in a sequin dress, glowing like a mirrorball. Wonwoo hovered at her side like a quiet shadow, until he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.

You raised your glass in a silent toast.

Mingyu disappeared midway through the night, and you let him. You weren’t sure if you were meant to follow, but you didn’t want to look like you were chasing him. You ended up nursing your drink on the balcony, alone with the music and the pulse of memories.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Joshua step out beside you, two drinks in hand.

“Not sure,” you admitted.

He handed you one of the glasses and stared ahead into the city lights. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

“Only mildly crumbling.”

“Progress.”

You both sipped quietly.

Back inside, you caught sight of Mingyu again—laughing at something Seungcheol said, his head thrown back. That laugh used to belong to you. That laugh used to be something you could earn, like a reward. And now it was just… public domain.

You turned away, heart thudding like a warning.

You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until you heard the voice.

“Hey, pretty thing. You’re that girl, right? The one Mingyu dated?”

You turned to face a stranger, his breath laced with tequila and whatever cologne he’d bathed in.

“Excuse me?” You asked flatly.

He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, he clearly upgraded. You should see the new one.”

Before you could reply, you felt someone step between you and the guy.

“Walk away,” Mingyu said, low and lethal.

The guy held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Touchy.”

He slinked off, and for a moment it was just you and Mingyu. Again.

“Thanks,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s jaw was tight. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m getting used to it,” you admitted. “Not being liked very much.”

Mingyu looked at you, really looked at you. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

You didn’t know what possessed you in that moment—maybe the warmth from the drink, or the weight of his words—but you reached for his hand and found he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he gave it the smallest squeeze.

Just once.

Mingyu didn’t let go of your hand.

He hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place, but when you slipped beside him in that quiet moment by the balcony doors, your fingers brushed his—and he didn’t move. And neither did you.

From inside, the party carried on. Someone shouted about food. The lights shifted warmer. The bassline of an old familiar track pulsed through the floor. But here, in this sliver of quiet between the hallway and the chaos, everything stood still.

Your hand was still in his.

And he was still staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like if he looked at you now, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I should go and get some food,” you said finally, barely above a whisper.

But he still didn’t let go.

“I miss you.” The words dropped like a weight between you. Unprepared. Raw.

You turned your head sharply, breath catching in your throat.

“Mingyu—”

“I shouldn’t,” he cut in, eyes still fixed ahead. “I shouldn’t say that. But I do. I fucking miss you.”

Silence.

You looked down at your joined hands, his thumb just barely brushing your knuckle. It felt like fire.

“I never stopped missing you,” you murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering down to the floor. “That makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“I see you, Y/N. At the café, in the elevator, even when you don’t look at me. I still feel like I’m watching the version of you I used to have… and I don’t know how to unsee her.”

You blinked fast, swallowing around the lump rising in your throat. “I’m still her. Just... more broken.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, softer this time. “And I don’t know what it says about me that part of me still wants to.”

That hurt.

But you nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just needed you to know... that none of it was fake. Not a single second.”

Mingyu finally turned his head to look at you. And when he did, the full weight of the ache between you crashed like a wave. The room behind you could’ve gone silent or exploded into flames—you wouldn’t have noticed.

“You made me feel like I was everything,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And then you made me feel like I was nothing.”

You didn’t even realize your hands had tightened together until he pulled away.

“I need air,” he muttered. “There’s food inside.”

And just like that, the warmth of his touch vanished.

You stood still, heart racing, fingers burning in the space where his had just been.

Inside, Mia was mid-toast, giggling through champagne bubbles and surrounded by friends. “To a great group of friends, lets have a great night and make regrettable choices!” She shouted, and the crowd cheered.

You laughed weakly, even as your eyes found him again—across the room now, leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, nodding along to something Wonwoo was saying. He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

But his foot tapped restlessly on the floor.

And you knew he felt it too—the storm, the crack, the pull that hadn’t gone away, no matter how much damage you’d done.

You took a step forward.

Then stopped.

Somewhere between the beat of the music and the hum of the laughter, you realized: this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

And you… you weren’t sure if your heart could take another hit just yet.

So you turned, smiled at Mia, and raised your glass instead.

But still, in every reflective surface—windows, wine glasses, the shine of the fridge—you kept catching glimpses of him.

And you knew he saw you, too.

~~

You had found a quiet corner near the bar, nestled just far enough from the dance floor to avoid being dragged into conversation, but close enough to still look like you were trying. You sipped your drink slowly, hoping that the low lighting and loud music would blur you into the background.

That hope lasted all of ten minutes.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Look who showed up like she was invited.”

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Seungcheol. You tensed, your hand tightening around your glass.

“I was invited,” you replied coolly. “Mia said—”

“Mia invited you because Wonwoo wouldn’t stop pushing for it,” Seungcheol cut in, stepping in front of you. “And even then, we all said it was a bad idea.”

You glanced over his shoulder and caught Seokmin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression wasn’t hostile—just cold. Closed off in a way that hurt more than yelling ever could.

“You think just showing up fixes what you did?” Seungcheol asked, voice low enough that no one else around you could hear, but sharp enough to slice. “You think looking pretty and keeping your head down makes it all okay?”

“I didn’t come here to start anything,” you said, eyes flicking down to your drink. “I just wanted to show up for Mia. That’s all.”

“Then show up somewhere else,” Seokmin said finally, stepping forward. “Anywhere but here.”

You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but it was getting harder with every second they kept looking at you like you were a stain on the floor.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Seungcheol added, not quite as kind as his words claimed. “Mostly for Gyu’s sake. But if you’re still here in the next hour, I’m not going to hold back. Got it?”

You gave a small nod, lips pressed together so tightly you could taste the metallic bite of blood from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t wait for them to say anything else.

You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowd, each step heavier than the last.

And then you were outside—air crisp, music muffled behind the walls, and your breath fogging out in short, shallow bursts. You rubbed your hands along your arms, trying to breathe, trying to forget the way Seokmin wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

That’s when you felt it—a hand around your wrist.

You yelped, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu.

“Y/N?” He said, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why did you leave?”

You exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome,” you muttered, pulling your wrist gently from his hold.

Mingyu blinked. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, suddenly so tired your bones ached. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Mingyu stepped closer, voice gentler now. “Wait—Y/N, it’s freezing. You didn’t bring a coat?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get a cab.”

Mingyu frowned, glancing around. “There’s a diner around the corner. Let’s get food? I’ll make sure you get home safe after, I promise.”

You hesitated. “Gyu, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to.”

~~

The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed quietly above you, a stark contrast to the bass-heavy chaos of the club. The booths were faded vinyl, the menus laminated and slightly sticky, and the warmth inside made you realize just how cold your skin had gone. You were still clutching your arms like a shield, and Mingyu noticed.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “It’s quieter.”

You slid into the seat without argument. Mingyu sat across from you, tapping his fingers nervously against the salt shaker before picking up a menu he didn’t bother reading.

The hostess from earlier walked over with a soft smile. “What can I get you two? Drinks to start?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu beat you to it. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream, if you’ve got it.”

Your eyes flicked to him, startled.

He offered a small shrug. “You always get hot chocolate when you’re sad.”

You blinked, the lump forming in your throat again. “And for you?” the hostess asked, turning toward him. “Coffee. Black.�� He paused, glancing at you. “Unless you want to split something.”

“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, looking down at the menu without seeing any of it.

“We’ll share the fries,” he told the waitress softly. “Thanks.”

When she walked away, the silence pressed in between you again, dense and tight. You stared at the table, tracing the ring of condensation left by a glass long since cleared.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mingyu asked eventually.

You hesitated, your voice low. “Seungcheol and Seokmin. They cornered me. Said I wasn’t welcome. That they were being nice for your sake, but if I stayed… it’d get ugly.”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, jaw tense. “They had no right.”

“They were defending you,” you murmured. “You were hurt. I get it.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Can you?”

That made him pause. He looked tired suddenly, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know they said that to you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you admitted. “Because I already knew. I knew I didn’t belong there. Not anymore.”

The waitress returned with the hot chocolate and coffee. You wrapped your fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into your hands.

“You know,” Mingyu said, eyes on his cup, “for a long time, I hated myself for still caring.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I’d see you around and I’d want to yell, or kiss you, or run in the opposite direction. Sometimes all three in the same minute.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s... fair.”

“But tonight, when I saw you outside?” His voice dipped. “You looked so lost. And I didn’t think. I just ran.”

You stared down at your mug, unsure what to say. So instead, you took a sip. Whipped cream clung to your lip, and Mingyu leaned forward, gently swiping it away with his thumb. Your eyes locked for a breath too long.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“So why are you?”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever stopped hoping you’d surprise me.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“Are you still angry?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “But less than I was yesterday.”

Your lips curved upward slightly. “Progress.”

He nodded, then signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll get this. And I’ll put you in a cab, like I promised.”

You stood together, walking toward the door in silence. But just before you stepped out into the cold again, Mingyu turned toward you.

“Don’t listen to Seungcheol,” he said. “You weren’t unwanted.”

With that, he opened the door, walked you up to your apartment like a gentleman, and bid you goodnight.

You could only hope that tonight was the start of healing for you both.