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tojicide · 4 months ago

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chapter 2 ── too easy, this game.

the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb x fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, mdni

chapter summary. ┆ after you’re forced to check up on caleb, you realize that your methods of revenge can be sweeter and much more interesting than you had originally anticipated.

prev: chapter one. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter three.

“Remember that fundraiser I was telling you about?”

You lift your gaze from the sidewalk, giving Tara a sideways glance. “Yeah, I think so. What about it?”

“Well,” she sings, hugging her thick textbook tighter to her chest before nudging you with her elbow, “I was wondering if you’d like to help us out! We’re always looking for more girls, you know. The sisters of Delta Gamma can only do so much.”

You suck your teeth, tilting your head as your eyes drift to the towering oak tree at the center of the great lawn. The campus had spent the past few days drowning under gray skies and spring showers, but today, the sun had finally broken through. Its warmth pressed against your skin, so bright you had to squint just to avoid being completely blinded.

You look back at Tara. “What day is it again?”

“Next Saturday,” she says with a shrug. “2 PM, in the parking lot between the Delta Gamma house and Lambda Chi Alpha’s.” A pause, as if she was already sensing your impending rejection. “Please? Please!”

You hate when she does this. The puppy dog eyes. That hopeful little tilt of her head. The same look that had managed to drag you to one too many frat parties when you swore you wouldn’t go. Saying no made you feel like some heartless villain stomping on an ant just for the fun of it, and for a moment, you almost caved entirely.

“I’ll… think about it, but midterms are–” you start, but before you can finish, she’s already beaming.

“Yay!” Tara links her arm through yours, practically bouncing as you continue toward Grand Hall. “I’ll text you all the details, ‘kay? I so owe you one.”

You press your lips into a thin smile, debating whether to remind her that you hadn’t actually said yes. Instead, you settle for, “If I end up making it, we’ll call it even for you helping me study for chem.”

She grins. “Good luck on that, by the way. I know you’ll do great!”

The two of you stop outside the building, and Tara leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially like she’s about to tell you a scandalous secret.

“And remember, the electron cloud model—”

“—is the area around an atom’s nucleus where electrons are most likely to be found,” you finish, unable to fight a smile. “I know, I know. You trained me well.”

You squeeze her arm before unhooking yourself and stepping into the lecture hall.

“I’ll find you after class!” she calls after you.

Inside, the air is sharp with cold, and a shiver runs down your spine. The mood of the room seems different today, as if the oxygen you were all breathing in was thick with anxiety. Your seatmate, Yvonne, is already at her desk, supplies neatly arranged in front of her. You give her a silent smile before sitting down and doing the same.

Once again, you can’t help but notice that the room is quiet—eerily so. Everyone is either too tired to talk or too nervous to form a coherent sentence. Probably a mixture of both.

As the exam begins, the only sounds filling the space are the rustling of paper and the scratch of pencils against scantrons. You’re on question 21 when you realize you’ve just marked “C” four times in a row. A bead of cold sweat pricks at your temple, and you read over each question about a hundred times, praying that you’ll catch your mistake. After all, that can’t be right… can it? Your gut says yes.

An hour later, relief ripples through the room as students zip up their backpacks and shuffle toward the front to turn in their scantrons. You’re right behind them, ready to bolt for the door—until Dr. Rappaccini calls your name.

Pausing mid-step, you turn back to face her, plastering on a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah?”

She digs through her bag before pulling out a worn notebook, its cover littered with colorful tabs and sticky notes. Holding it out to you, she looks as if she couldn’t care less about the transaction.

“I believe your lab partner left this in the laboratory last class.”

Your brows furrow as you take the heavy notebook into your hands, flipping it open with a frown. Lo and behold, there it was—‘Property of Caleb Xia’ scribbled in that god-awful handwriting. Raising an eyebrow, you shake your head. “It’s his, yeah… but why are you giving it to me?”

“He didn’t show up for today’s exam, and I’ve canceled class next Monday,” she explains, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. “Since you work closely with him, I figured you’d see him before I do.”

Now that catches your attention. A sliver—no, a slap—of satisfaction rolls through you. So his sabotage in the lab had already come back to bite him? Karma was fast today. You couldn’t be happier. But unfortunately, the thought of voluntarily interacting with Caleb makes your stomach churn, so you extend the notebook back to your professor without hesitation.

“I assure you, I don’t care to see that man. It’s probably best if you return it to him.”

She glances at her watch, and you can practically see the sweat break out on her forehead. “Oh, I wish I had the time to. I’m running late!”

Gathering her belongings, she makes a beeline for the door. You’re quick to try and follow suit.

Her voice adds a swift, “Ask around! I’m sure someone can help you track him down.”

“But wait! I don’t even—”

The door slams behind Dr. Rappaccini, leaving you frozen in place with Caleb’s stupid notebook clutched to your chest.

“—know what building he lives in.”

You groan, dragging your feet toward the exit, already dreading the idea of having to track down that idiot. In fact, maybe you won’t.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Tara’s voice cuts through the air, startling you. The flicked lighter in your hand dies out before you can hold it to the bottom of Caleb’s notebook long enough for the flames to catch.

“The damn thing won’t light,” you huff, shaking your head in defeat. “Do you happen to know anyone on campus who has lighter fluid?”

Tara crouches beside you, watching with mild horror as you attempt—and fail—to ignite the corner of the notebook again. “Uh… no, not off the top of my head.” She pauses, tilting her head. “And just to be clear, you’re aware that you’re about to light your notebook on fire, right?”

You shrug. “It’s not mine.”

Her head snaps toward you so fast you worry about whiplash. “Okay, let me rephrase that. You’re aware that you’re about to commit a felony, right?”

You flick the lighter again, giving her a puzzled look. “Please, Tara, I don’t care about felonies right now. This is war, and I need to take my revenge.”

“Revenge?” she echoes, her lips tugging downward like she hadn’t considered that to be your motive. “On the notebook or the owner?”

“On Caleb fucking Xia,” you reply, punctuating each word with another flick of the lighter. Then, finally, a tiny flame flickers to life at the corner of the notebook. A wide grin spreads across your lips. “Yay! I did it! Look, I—”

Tara leans forward, blows out the flame, and snatches the lighter from your grasp. “Are you nuts? You can’t just burn his chem notebook!”

You hum, twisting your lips to the side. “You’re right. I’d totally get caught. Maybe I should pawn it off to a frat guy? Make a quick buck. They’d probably pay good money for his notes.”

“What? No! You can’t burn his notebook because that would mean stooping to his level!”

You reach for the lighter, but she stretches her arm out just far enough that you can’t reach.

“Tara! When they go low, we must go lower.”

“When they go low, we should be the bigger person,” she corrects, patting your head like a disobedient child. “How did you even get it? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, I wish. Dr. Rappaccini gave it to me to return to him. Apparently, he left it in the lab.”

Tara tilts her head. “Oh. He didn’t show up for the exam? That’s… unlike him.”

Shrugging, you brush off the singed paper flakes from the bottom of the notebook. “I guess. Can’t say I care, though. It’s what he deserves.”

She scoffs. “Geez, this whole scandal has turned you heartless. The Caleb I know would rather eat glass than miss an exam, especially the first one of the semester. I hope he’s alright.”

“In that case, maybe you should be the one to return it to him,” you suggest, holding it out. “You seem to know where he lives, and you actually care if he’s alive. That’s already two steps in the right direction.”

Tara glances at her phone, then sucks on her teeth before flashing you a wry smile. “Oh, shoot! I can’t. I have my physics exam in four minutes.” Before you can argue, she’s already bolting toward her class. “Uh, I think he’s close with Zayne! The one from our bio class!”

You toss your hands up. “Why the hell am I being sent on a manhunt?” Patting your pockets, you realize something’s missing. “Hey! You took my lighter.”

“It’s for the better!” she calls over her shoulder.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

After a deep dive through Canvas, a trip to Outlook to send Zayne a rather frantic email, and a very long walk across campus, you find yourself stalking through the halls of an unfamiliar dorm building.

Your eyes flick up from your phone every few steps, scanning the numbers on the doors to make sure you haven’t somehow wandered into oblivion. It’s been ten minutes—too long, in your opinion—and you’re beginning to feel like a headless zombie, doomed to wander these halls forever.

That is, until your eyes land on a familiar set of numbers.

Room 323.

Exhaling sharply, you raise your fist and knock three times against the door. The response is almost immediate—an audible thud, followed by an impressive string of curses.

Then, the door swings open, revealing a very panicked and very shirtless Caleb.

And you? Your brain short-circuits.

For a second—just one—you can’t help it. Your gaze drops straight to his torso, where sharp lines of muscle carve into his biceps and abdomen like a damn Michelangelo sculpture. You’re almost positive those weren’t there yesterday. Scratch that. You’re absolutely positive they weren’t.

And you would have noticed. You’re nothing if not boundlessly observant. After all, you’re just a girl. You would have noticed if your infuriating classmate had nice biceps that would have certainly softened the blow of his sudden betrayal in the lab yesterday.

Pretty privilege is alive and well, you can’t help but think.

Caleb, looking equally flustered, yanks the door halfway shut, reducing the view to just his face. His chest still heaves from whatever chaos had preceded your arrival.

“I, uh… um.” He blinks, clearly rebooting his internal system. His brain fries, and of course the first thing he can do is lean his elbow against the door frame while not-so-obviously flexing his much larger bicep in the process. “So… what’s up?”

Dragging your gaze up to meet his with only minor difficulty, you hold up the slightly charred notebook in your hands. “You left this in class. Rappaccini told me to bring it to you.”

Caleb reaches for it, and the moment his fingers graze the cover, his brows furrow. He flips it over, rubbing his thumb against the edge. A smudge of soot stains his hand.

“What… happened to it?”

You lift your shoulders, hands flying up in a gesture of pure innocence. “No clue. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Before he can properly assess the obvious fire damage, you straighten your posture. If you beat him to it, there’s a good chance that you’ll be able to walk away from this entire ordeal scot free.

Just… be civil. You can do that much.

“Are you not going to say thank you? I literally had to email your roommate to find out where you live. It was a total inconvenience.”

Or not.

Caleb presses his lips into a thin line, tossing the notebook onto his desk before giving you a barely-there nod. “Right. Thanks.”

His clipped tone does nothing to soothe your irritation. You’re actually starting to regret not letting the damn thing go up in flames. If it weren’t for Tara and her obnoxious morality complex, you would have.

“You’re welcome,” you say sweetly, pivoting to leave. But just before he can close the door, something crosses your mind. “Oh! By the way, I wrote my number in the margin.”

Caleb’s eyes widen. His grip on the door frame tightens. “What? For me?”

A beat of silence. Then, you burst into laughter, and the fact that he isn’t laughing with you makes it ten times funnier. You have to physically wipe the tears from your eyes before you can speak again.

“Oh, you’re serious?” you wheeze, still catching your breath. “God, no. It’s for Zayne.”

“For… Zayne?”

You nod. “Yup. I have biology with him.”

Caleb leans back slightly, like you’ve just personally offended his ancestors. “And? You have chem with me.”

You flash him an expression that Caleb can only assume is the most passive-aggressive smile known to mankind. “Mm-hmm. Well, maybe I want to get in kahoots with people who don’t sabotage my lab reports.”

Ouch. Caleb rubs the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “About that…”

“Save it,” you hum, turning to leave. “Just be a doll and relay the message, yeah?”

But just before you step away, your eyes flicker to his chest again—this time, with an exaggerated furrow of concern. “Wait a sec… what the hell is that? You should really get that nasty mole checked out.”

Caleb’s brows knit together. He instinctively glances down—

And just as his chin tilts, your hand smacks against it, forcing it back up. Your laughter is louder this time. Almost cruel.

“Too easy, this game,” you taunt, shaking your head.

You’re gone before he can do anything other than stand there, jaw slack, ears burning a shade of red that rivals a fire hydrant. How could you prank him with the easiest trick in the book? He rubs his chin, shaking his head in utter defeat as he nudges his door shut.

Yeah. He doesn’t like you one bit.

Before he can dwell on that fact, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): i woke up late and missed physics. can U slide me the notes for the past week? i also slept through those days too… btw Ur still coming to the frat car wash next saturday right ?? we need U bro. U brought in so many new customers

caleb: sure man :)

xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): the goat

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Sirens blare loud enough to wake you, their wailing cries bouncing off the buildings outside your window. The flashing of red and blue does little to ease your nerves—if anything, it invites the perfect storm of overthinking.

Your room is a mess. You haven’t eaten a balanced meal in days. A biology project is due next week. But above all? Midterms are rapidly approaching.

Lately, most of your days are spent holed up on the second floor of the library, tucked away in your usual corner seat. From there, you can people-watch from above and soak in just enough sunlight to keep from feeling like life is draining from you with each word you scribble down or type up. But after a while, even the comfort of routine turns into a cage.

It’s monotonous. Tiring. Far too predictable for your liking. If you don’t see at least one interesting thing each day—whether it’s someone walking their adorable dog or a person wearing a sweater so blindingly neon it makes your eyes hurt—you consider the day a waste. You still study, of course, but you need something of substance to fuel your brain. Something besides your bitter iced coffee, which barely manages to keep you conscious.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion of your second midterm season settling into your bones. Maybe it’s the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Whatever it is, it drives you to seek out a new place to study.

Is it 4 AM? Yes. Are the sirens especially loud tonight? Also yes. You can’t sleep. Sue you.

It makes perfect sense why you find yourself trudging into your university’s 24-hour café, headphones snug over your ears and meal card already in hand. Fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized hoodie hang off your frame, but if the cashier doesn’t care, neither do you. You’d be damned if you didn’t at least get your usual morning drink and a slice of banana bread to kickstart your day.

No more than an hour passes before the faint jingle of the entrance bell rings to life, prompting you to spare a glance over your shoulder, curiosity piqued.

Luck isn’t on your side. Of course it’s Caleb.

And he looks… different. Not in the way he did a few days ago—no, he looks worn. Tired. A bruise blooms across his cheek, stark even in the café’s dim lighting. You force yourself to look away before you can start ogling like a freak. Again.

But as he makes his way in your direction, you barely suppress a groan, turning back toward your laptop in a last-ditch effort to seem busy. It doesn’t work. Not when you feel the weight of his beady little amethyst stare boring into the back of your head.

You sigh, forcing a cheery tone. “Can you maybe not stand next to me looking like a decaying corpse? You’re going to attract flies.”

Caleb shrugs, managing to pick an almond off your banana bread before you slap his hand away. “You’re doing that on your own. Didn’t you hear? This café was infested with fruit flies last semester. Your perfume is basically a mating call for ‘em.”

You huff, tilting your head. “Aw. Is that your way of saying I smell nice?”

Rolling his eyes, Caleb crosses his arms over his chest. You notice a small cut on his bicep, but you do your best not to stare. You've done enough of that lately.

“No,” he flatly says. “I’m just… stating my observation.”

You turn back to your laptop, sliding your headphones over your ears. “Well, stop observing me.”

”Psh. Gladly.”

His actions are the first thing to betray his words, because he makes the executive decision to sit in the chair directly behind yours. He was sitting so damn close that you could feel the warmth of his skin through his hoodie—which you now notice is thrashed in a few places, as if he had taken scissors to the fabric and snipped away. It was odd, but you managed to look away as he shifted around to fish his own laptop out of his backpack.

Then, before you can finish typing the sentence you’d been working on before he walked in, he beats you to it. Obnoxiously so. His fingers slam against his keyboard with such force you briefly wonder if an elephant from the Linkon City Zoo has escaped and taken up tap dancing behind you.

Your teeth clench. “Can you stop typing so damn loud?”

“Oh, I’m not the loud one here.”

You glance over your shoulder, finding that he was already looking at you, “And that means what exactly?”

“It means that I could probably hear your music if I was three miles away.” With his new heightened senses, that was hardly an exaggeration. He gave you an all-too-charming smile. “Turn it down a few levels, yeah? Thanks.”

The lilt to his voice made you want to set him straight in more ways than one. “You little—”

“New Magic Wand by Tyler, The Creator at 4 AM is crazy work, by the way.”

“Boy, I’ll show you crazy—”

Suddenly, a chipper voice rings through the air. Much to your surprise, it called out your name.

Tara strides in as if you all aren’t up at the crack of dawn, looking incredibly enthusiastic about life, much like she always did. You wish you could inherit whatever will she has to live.

“Hey!” she greets with a wave. She plops down beside you, turning around in her seat so that she could face both you and Caleb at the same time. “Funny seeing you guys here. Are you talking about the fundraiser?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why would we be talking about the fundraiser?” he can’t help but question.

“Well,” Tara sings, “my girl here is going to be helping out Delta Gamma with the sorority wash! And you’re going to be helping out Lambda Chi Alpha again this year, right?”

Caleb is almost positive that his heart has just dropped to his ass.

He looks between you and Tara. “What? She can’t come.”

You let out a short, annoyed breath. “And why can’t I?”

And he knows he sounds like a petulant child when he mutters, “It’s my thing.”

“Aw,” you coo, tilting your head with a forced pout. “Is it your thing? Womp womp.”

Caleb rolls his eyes, but you don’t care to see it as you lean toward Tara, lowering your voice as if you were telling her top secret information. “Why didn’t you tell me he would be there?”

“Because if I had, you would have totally refused,” she says matter-of-factly. “And we need you! We can’t let the guys bring in more revenue than us this semester, they held it over our heads for, like… months last time! Plus, I need you to combat him. I swear, he brought in more customers than anyone ever has, it’s no wonder Xavier begged him to do it again.”

You blink. “Are you serious?”

Tara nods.

You can’t help but rub your chin. “I’m surprised anyone paid him for that.”

Caleb glances between the two of you. “I’m sitting right here.”

You glance his way. “We know.”

He lets out a harsh breath. “Look. If you don’t want to see me there, don’t come. Real easy fix.”

You tilt your head, raising a brow. “Why do I have to be the one to cancel? Why can’t you just skip it? You already had your fun last year playing chick magnet or… whatever.”

“I can’t. I already made a commitment.”

“Well, so did I.”

“Perfect!” Tara beams, clasping her hands together. “I’ll see you both there then. This is gonna be sooo much fun, guys! You can probably even get over the little feud you have going on, I swear, it’ll be…”

Caleb can’t even hear the rest of whatever Tara was saying. His mind is too busy short-circuiting over this very dreadful realization.

You’ll be there.

In a bikini top.

Covered in soap suds.

Trying to pass him up yet again.

This was going to be a damn nightmare.

series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter three.

a/n consider liking, commenting, or rb if you enjoyed :) i’m sorry this update took so long </3 i got so swamped with my uni work and wasn’t entirely satisfied with the chapter sooo i pushed it off.

i know that this is lowkey a slow start with really short chapters and there isn’t much spider-man stuff going on rn but… trust me guys. just trust me.

also ofc there’s a xavier cameo bc that’s my man soooo i had to include him somehow, even if he’s just a sleepy frat boy

edit: if you don’t know what a frat/sorority wash is just look them up on tiktok LMAO, it’s usually shirtless frat guys and sorority girls in bikini tops who wash cars to raise money for their foundations. it’s just a silly college tradition idk 😭

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post!)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

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gingerale13 · 3 months ago

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Scout visits his Ma after being missing for years !!

Once again spreading the word of amazing TF2 fanfics!!

The ~277K work, "Stolen Pieces" was finally finished by it's lovely author @milk-v3 (AKA AhChunta) after like 2 years of consistent updates yay!!

The AU is that Scout is a high-profile art thief, and Sniper is the agent tryin to catch him. Overall, all of the characters are just super well-built out, the plot is constantly twisting & turning, and some of the chapters made me cry 👍

I would highly suggest giving it a read, especially if you like Speeding Bullet, Engiespy, and Heavymedic sprinkled in-between. This fic is right up there with Running Blind and GTTMs for me🙏

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writesvani · 2 months ago

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dear me | 09

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual tension, emotional tension, alcohol consumption, conflicted feelings for a taken friend, stage anxiety, performance stress, emotional repression, romantic confusion, angst, unresolved feelings, subtle jealousy, explicit language

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,6k // date: 13th of May 2025

CHAPTER NINE — PLAY IT AGAIN happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey guys, it’s been 2 weeks without “dear me,” but we’re so back, baby. anyways, writing this chapter was really hard for me. like, REALLY hard. i’ve been stuck in a writer's block pit and i swear, i kept deleting and rewriting scenes (i’m pretty sure this chapter has like 8 versions in my drafts, don’t even ask). BUT i’ve finally settled with this one, so here we are.

now, time to meet some new characters. what do we think of them, huh? yay or nay? also, i gave you SO MANY easter eggs in this chapter. like, half of it is just foreshadowing or clearly hinting at something and i’m LOWKEY excited to see your comments and asks about it.

anyways, goal for this chapter is 450 because i KNOW we can hit it and also because i like having a bit more time to finish chapters. so yeah, let’s do this. love you guys, now go read and tell me everything you think.

It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly—the way Jeon Jungkook blends into a room and owns it at the same time. Like some kind of paradox. Earlier today, he looked like he belonged to the sunlight—the warm kind, the kind that makes old bookstores feel like home. Curled into his booth with an espresso and that soft, quiet stare. He looked small. Touchable.

But now?

Now he looks like a warning sign. Shoulders squared, head tilted like he knows something you don’t, lips curved in that maddening smirk of his. The neon lights of The House flicker against his sharp jaw, casting shadows that feel deliberate. Calculated. Dangerous.

You’re following behind him, mildly regretting the decision to show up early. It’s barely 9 p.m. and the place is already humming—bands tuning up, neon signs buzzing, and Alex... perched on a bar stool like he owns the air.

You’re going to need a drink. Immediately.

Jungkook walks up like it’s his goddamn stage. Alex looks up, face splitting into a grin.

“Well, shit,” he says, tossing his pen aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show, big boy.”

Jungkook shrugs, already half in a chair. “I don’t back out of dares.”

You glance at the paper Alex was scribbling on and let out a half-laugh. “Are you—are you seriously doing sudoku right now?”

Alex deadpans, “Gotta keep the brain sharp, sweetheart.”

You snort. “You’re so full of it. You not working tonight?”

“Please. I’m off-duty. I came to get drunk and take Jungkook’s money.”

“You wish,” Jungkook mutters, grinning. “So who’s behind the bar?” he asks.

Alex leans back dramatically. “New guy. But he’s decent. You might know him—same age as you two.”

You raise a brow. “Then just say his name? What is this cryptic scavenger hunt?”

“I’m setting the vibe,” Alex says. “Anyway, name’s Park Jimin.”

You blink. Jungkook goes still for half a second.

Park. Fucking. Jimin.

This is exactly why you hate small towns.

This is why you should’ve stayed away. Should’ve packed up your life, lit a match to the past, and never looked back. Because small towns come with reunions you never asked for. The kind that smell like stale beer, too-loud music, and people who were never villains—just unnecessary plot twists you never wanted to reread.

So when Park Jimin strolls out from the back closet door of The House—the one they keep the good booze in because the bar’s too damn small—you already feel your molars grinding.

You don’t hate him. But God, does his presence itch.

“Well, well,” he says, slipping a bottle of Belvedere into the fridge. His eyes lock on yours, glittering with the same mischief that used to make you roll yours in high school. “Familiar faces just follow me, huh?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins like it’s personal. “Missed me much?”

“Yeah. Like a rash.”

“Oof. Still bitter about prom?”

“I’m not bitter about prom.”

“You totally are.” He leans on the bar like he’s settling in. “Sorry again for dumping you right before, though. Heard you had to go with Yoongi. Brutal.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Alex interrupts next to you, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t slander my boy Yoongs like that. That man is class.”

Jimin ignores him. Of course he does.

“Thought your bestie would take you,” he adds, eyes still on you, “but I guess his girlfriend matched his aesthetic better.”

The blood in your ears roars. You open your mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“What’s your problem?” he says, voice low and sharp. The tension in his jaw could crack diamonds.

Jimin looks at him for the first time. Smirks. “Relax, bro. I’m just messing with my ex. No harm done.”

You’re about to fire back when he adds, casual as hell, “Heard you got engaged to your high school sweetheart though. Congrats, man. Seriously.”

And just like that, the air goes from hot to hostile. Your throat tightens.

This motherfucker always knew where to cut.

Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment. You catch it—just the twitch of his jaw, the flicker behind his eyes. You think he might say something—thank him, tell him off, maybe even laugh it off.

Instead, he shifts.

His face evens out into that lazy, cool disinterest he wears so well. Like nothing ever touches him.

“One Jack Daniels,” he says, tone smooth, eyes bored. “Two cubes of ice. And for my friend—” he gestures toward you without even looking, “One Long Island Iced Tea. Add extra lemon juice and, uh, don’t be shy with the tequila.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s stretching before a fight. “That’s our order. You do still make drinks, right? Or are you just here to be irrelevant all over again?”

You almost choke on a laugh. Almost.

Jimin wets his lips, and for a moment you see the flicker of something crack behind his eyes. But he recovers. Plasters on that wide, gleaming smile—the one you used to fall for. The one you now recognize as plastic.

“Of course,” he says, voice all sugar and sawdust. “Coming right up.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the bar top. You glance over just as the screen lights up — Nina. Of course. She and Yoongi are supposed to be showing up any minute now.

When Jungkook had called her earlier to tell her about the bet with Alex — how he was playing drums tonight — she was thrilled. Or, well, "ecstatic," in his words. You weren’t on speaker, so you couldn’t hear her exact reaction. But you can imagine it. Sweet and supportive and all the things you know Nina to be.

He’d invited her immediately, of course. And she’d dragged Yoongi into the plan too — not that you minded. You might’ve casually begged Yoongi to show up so you wouldn’t have to third-wheel your way through the night like some tragic side character.

Jungkook picks up his phone with a low grunt, muttering, “She’s gonna call me in like, two seconds.”

You nod as he stands, watching his silhouette disappear toward the front door.

Alex elbows you, hard. “So… what I’m gathering here is, Jimin is your ex?”

You sigh. “Wow. Incredible deduction, detective. Really cracked the case there.”

He snorts. “So he’s that ex? The one who bailed on you before prom?”

You shoot him a look. “What gave it away, the tension in the room or the mild death wish I had five minutes ago?”

Alex grins. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Jimin brings it out in me.”

“Sure, blame the man.”

“I am blaming the man,” you say, then pause, brow furrowing. “He’s just… irritating.”

“He was acting weird with Jungkook though. And Yoongi too, back when he was mentioned. What's his deal with them?”

You shrug. “Honestly? No clue. Even when I dated him, he’d pretend they didn’t exist in public. It was weird then, and it’s still weird now.”

Alex hums, nursing his drink. “Damn, I thought he’s cool. He gives me bad vibes now.”

“You give me bad vibes.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me,” he grins.

“Sooo… love,” Jimin drawls, and you know — you just know — he’s talking to you.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay facing Alex, but his voice is like a needle in your spine. When you glance over, he’s not even trying to hide the smug look on his face. He’s pouring white rum into a shaker like it’s the most casual thing in the world, the glint in his eyes almost daring you to respond.

You roll your eyes. God, he’s insufferable. Always was. Still, you can’t lie — black hair, pretty lips, annoyingly symmetrical face… Park Jimin has no right still looking that good.

Not that you’d ever say it aloud. Your friends would kill you on the spot.

“What?” you snap.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

He just shrugs again, shaking the cocktail like nothing’s wrong. “Touchy.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with them—hell, with me—but you’re acting like a damn parasite.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he says easily, pouring the drink. “You’re not pathetic. They are. I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“Dude,” Alex hisses, his tone sharp, “I get there's history here, but you really need to back off. She’s a customer.”

Jimin doesn’t even flinch, still focused on mixing the drinks with practiced ease. “I get it, I do,” he smirks, eyes flicking to you. “But she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She knows why we broke up, after all.”

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to snap. “Jimin, drop it. It was a high school breakup. Seriously, who cares? I got over it in two weeks.”

He leans in slightly, that dangerous edge to his smile. “You ever think I might’ve been right?”

“No,” you reply coldly, voice tight. “Because you weren’t.”

Jimin’s smile widens, but it’s all sharp edges now. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you keep your little fairytale. I’ll drop it—for now.” He slides the drink toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

When Jungkook walks back into The House, the change in him is immediate. Whatever easy charm he left with is gone — replaced by stormy eyes and a jaw so tight you’re afraid he might crack a bone or two. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell you’ve come to recognize: something went wrong.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin taunts, just as Jungkook drops into the seat next to you without a word. It’s not his usual controlled fall — it’s heavy, careless.

“Your ice melted,” Jimin adds, gesturing toward the untouched whiskey glass, voice dipped in mock concern.

Jungkook barely glances at it. “Right. Shame,” he mutters.

Alex leans forward slightly, brow creasing. “Everything cool, man?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Peachy. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do. You worry the second you see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the bar. You want to ask, but his expression shuts that down. Whatever it is, it’s not meant for public display.

So you shift gears. “When are Nina and Yoongi getting here?”

“Nina’s not coming,” he says flatly, not even looking at you.

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. She was practically bouncing off the walls earlier, excited to watch him drum again, or at least that’s what Jungkook said.

“She’s… feeling under the weather.”

A cold excuse. Paper thin.

You blink. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, then adds, too casually, “Just not in the mood to go out.”

Something’s off. Way off.

“And Yoongi?”

“He’ll be here later,” Jungkook says, voice tightening as he rubs the back of his neck — another tell.

Then, of course, Jimin can’t help himself.

“Damn,” he drawls, grinning like the devil. “Your little fiancée bailed on your big night?”

Jungkook flinches.

It’s subtle, but it’s there — a flicker of pain behind the guarded eyes.

“Jimin,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you shoot him a death glare. “Enough.”

But he’s already walking off, smug and self-satisfied, whistling like he didn’t just stick a knife into something raw.

And Jungkook?

He doesn’t say a word.

He just stares straight ahead.

A few awkward minutes pass — the silence only interrupted by the distant sound of opening bands testing mics and tuning guitars. No one dares break the uneasy stillness. Alex is hunched over a sudoku, casually sipping his beer like it’s any other night. Jungkook nurses his half-melted whiskey, the kind of lukewarm drink that probably tastes like piss by now. Even Jimin’s gone quiet, absent of any snark, polishing glasses with the focus of someone who knows he went too far.

You stare blankly at your phone, Instagram Reels flickering past without meaning. You couldn’t name a single thing you’ve watched.

Because all you can feel is him.

The tension radiating off Jungkook is impossible to ignore — like he’s one sharp breath away from detonating. But instead, he just… sits there. Bottled up. Unmoving. Unwell.

“Kook,” you whisper, soft enough that only he hears. “What happened?”

He exhales through his nose. “Nothing, really. I don’t wanna dump shit on you.”

“C’mon.” You bump your shoulder gently against his. “Spill.”

He hesitates. Then, quietly: “Nina just thinks… since I’m working tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out tonight.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound like Nina. Not from what you know.

“And?” you ask.

“And she thinks… this is an unnecessary distraction.”

You blink. “This as in what?”

“As in me drumming tonight.”

Your eyebrows knit tighter. “A distraction from what?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t get it either. She just said she needs sleep and can’t make it.”

You let that settle for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Kook. But… wasn’t she excited earlier? Like, really excited?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thinning. “But… something changed. I don’t know what. She just—changed her mind.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Kook,” you say gently, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “She’s probably just annoyed about something and taking it out on you. It’ll pass. It usually does, right?”

“Yeah… probably,” he mutters. “I just thought she’d come. I haven’t played in forever. Kinda wanted her here, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nod. Wanted her here. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. You take a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off. “But hey—Yoongi’s coming. Alex is here. I’m here.”

He glances at you, manages a small smile. It looks practiced, not real. “At least I’ll have a chill crowd when I completely bomb.”

“You wish,” you nudge him. “If you bomb, I’ll be the first one to laugh in your face.”

“You’re all heart,” he says with a light chuckle, and it feels better—easier—than anything he’s said since he walked in.

“Hey!” Jimin suddenly appears in front of you both like he’s been summoned by drama. “Not everyone here’s so supportive. I’ve got front-row seats to his downfall.”

Jungkook laughs for real this time. “Yeah, well, good thing I never valued your opinion.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.”

You roll your eyes, pointing at Jimin. “Alright, enough out of you. Go make us another round. Alex too. And fine, you can pour yourself something if it’ll keep you from eavesdropping.”

Jimin clutches his chest like you just proposed. “Wow. Buying me a drink now? And here I thought you were over me.”

You smirk. “Don’t push your luck. I’m just trying to keep the vibe from completely crashing.”

Jimin gives you a playful salute and walks off. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders drop a little. He still looks sad, but at least now he doesn’t look like he’s gonna snap in half.

When Jimin slides your drinks over, Alex actually wheezes — like, full-on wheezes — before his face turns red with excitement. “As soon as I get Jungkook’s money,” he adds dramatically, “you’re the first one I’m buying one for.”

“You could just split the money with me,” you reply, smirking over your glass.

Next to you, Jungkook groans and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god, I’m gonna die. I’m not even gonna be good. I haven’t done this in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex waves him off. “Spare us the dramatics, Kook. The kids you’ll be playing with should be here any minute.”

“The kids I’ll be—what?”

“Well, yeah,” Alex shrugs. “You’re playing drums, right? No offense, man, but I don’t think the crowd’s dying for a solo drum recital. You need a full sound. Guitar, bass, maybe even keys. You know how these things go.”

Jungkook stares at him, horrified. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that. Who am I playing with?”

“That band I told you about this morning, remember?” Alex says casually.

“Wait—don’t they already have a drummer?”

“Yeah, they do,” Alex grins. “But I talked to Jack. Asked if he’d let you jump in for a song, and he said sure. Super chill guy.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with both hands, muttering something under his breath. You can't tell if it’s relief or panic—or both.

“Hey,” you nudge him gently, “you’ll be fine. You could probably play in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll have to,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his drink.

The door of The House creaks open, and like a domino effect, all four of you—Alex, Jungkook, even Jimin, and you—snap your heads toward it, expecting to finally see the teenage band roll in.

But no. Not even close.

Instead, it’s Yoongi. He steps inside in a massive black hoodie and matching sweatpants, a bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. He pauses when he sees all your eyes locked on him, confusion already creeping into his features.

“What?” he frowns. “Did I miss it? You already played, man?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nah, not yet.” Jungkook gestures toward the bar. “Keep the whiskey flowing.”

Jimin groans under his breath, clearly annoyed—by Jungkook’s request, by Yoongi’s sudden presence, by existence in general.

Yoongi raises a brow as he takes the seat next to Alex. “Did all of you just... stare at me when I walked in?”

“Sorry, man,” Alex chuckles. “We thought the band Kook’s playing with showed up.”

“The high schoolers?” Yoongi asks, settling in.

“Yeah,” you say. “I mentioned them earlier when we texted.”

Yoongi hums. “Heard they’re good. Can I get a dirty martini?” His voice is calm until his eyes meet Jimin’s.

He stiffens. Jimin rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head.

“Why the hell not,” Jimin mutters, stomping off to make the drink.

Yoongi watches him walk away, his jaw tightening.

“What are you doing here?” he calls after him.

“Working. Thought that was obvious,” Jimin bites back, slamming the finished martini in front of him with no ceremony.

Yoongi goes quiet. You and Jungkook exchange a subtle glance.

You lean toward Yoongi, voice low. “Okay, I knew you two weren’t exactly besties, but this feels like next-level passive-aggressive.”

“He deserves it,” Yoongi grits out.

You blink. “Sure, but… I wasn’t expecting you to be more pissed than I am to see him.”

“He’s just—” Yoongi exhales, “annoying.”

“That’s something even I agree with,” Jungkook mutters, sipping his drink.

“What are you even wearing, dude?” Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and sweats like they’re a disgrace to the earth. “Who the hell comes to a club dressed like that?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “Me.”

Jimin scoffs, dramatic as ever. “Right. Is that because you’re, what—edgy? Quirky? Too cool to try?”

“No,” Yoongi says flatly. “It’s because this place isn’t a club, it’s practically a dive bar, and I literally grew up here. But hey—props to you for trying so hard. Must be tough being the new guy.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, jaw twitching just slightly. “Cute. Did you rehearse that one in the mirror or does it just come naturally when you’re being a dick?”

Yoongi smirks, unbothered. “Naturally. But thanks for noticing.”

“Well, everyone’s getting along just great,” Alex mutters, lips pressed tight around the rim of his beer.

“I’m just glad someone finally matches Jimin’s talent for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook says, spinning one of his rings absentmindedly with his thumb.

Your eyes drift to his hands. Just for a second. Just because they’re moving. But then you really look. His fingers—long, slender, tanned just enough—move with ease, like they know how to pull attention. His skin looks soft, but there’s something sharp in the way his knuckles flex. Something wicked. Something you shouldn’t be noticing.

Your stomach twists.

You blink, hard, like that'll reset your brain.

Jungkook is your friend. Your best friend. Engaged to your other friend. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You’re not supposed to be looking at his hands like this.

And worse—worse than anything—Jimin saw it. Of course he fucking did. You hear his quiet, condescending chuckle, and a wave of shame burns through your cheeks.

“Nice rings, Jungkook,” Jimin says, too casually. His eyes never leave Jungkook’s face, but you can feel the smirk meant for you. “They really suit your fingers.”

Jungkook frowns, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies smoothly, already turning on his heel as someone calls his name from across the bar.

You watch him go, teeth clenched.

Fuck you, Park Jimin.

You’d almost been grateful for his silence. But no—he just had to say something.

Finally—finally—after what feels like an eternity and three Long Islands too deep, the door creaks open and in stumble four high schoolers, breathless, disheveled, and looking like they lost half their souls on the way here.

Alex shoots up with a dramatic yell. “Here they come. My children.”

“Fucking hell, Mina, I told you we’d be late,” the tall brunette groans, dragging a black gig bag over his shoulder as he wipes sweat off his brow.

“Chill, dude. We’re not late—we’re on at eleven,” the girl—who you assume is Mina (probably because she’s the only girl)—retorts, hoisting a keyboard bag like it’s a sack of bricks but somehow not tripping over it.

“Can you two not? Just tonight, please?” the third kid huffs, his pale skin glowing under the lights, striking blue eyes shooting them both a glare.

Trailing quietly behind them is the fourth member—carrying only a pair of drumsticks. That’s Jack. Definitely Jack. His shoulders are hunched, cheeks tinged pink as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the chaos in front of him.

“Hey, Alex,” the blue-eyed boy says, grinning as he high-fives the older man.

“Yo, Dan. What’s up.”

“Sorry we’re late, bro. Mina took two hours doing her eyeliner.”

“Ha! See!” the brunette jumps in. “I’m not the only one who thought it was excessive.”

“It’s called getting ready,” Mina snaps, turning on him. “Sorry I wasn’t born a man so I could just throw on a clean shirt and be socially acceptable. It’s not my fault people expect women to look like magazine covers.”

“Why do you turn everything into feminist propaganda?” Ace mutters, and you can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

They’re so deep into their bickering that they don’t even notice the rest of you at the bar—except for Jack and Dan, who gravitate toward Alex like they're clinging to stability.

“So, this is JK, guys,” Alex says, nodding toward Jungkook.

That shuts everyone up.

“The Jeon Jungkook?” the brunette—Ace, you think—says, eyes wide, posture straightening in an instant.

You nudge Jungkook’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow, Jungkook. Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “Uh… yeah?” He glances at Ace, unsure.

Mina squeals—an actual, honest-to-god squeal. Dan flushes bright red. And Jack stammers, “Whoa. You’re kind of a legend around here. Total honor to meet you, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir,” Jungkook says, flustered. “I’m not that old. And—legend?”

“Yeah, bro—I mean, sir—I mean Jungkook,” Jack stammers. “Everyone knows about you. I can’t believe I’m letting you borrow my sticks tonight.”

“Thanks for the sticks in advance, Jack,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinged pink—part whiskey, part unexpected attention. “But I’m just gonna warn you—I might disappoint you guys.”

“No way,” Jack fires back instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mina adds, shaking her head.

Jungkook laughs, easing into their energy. He falls into effortless banter with the kids, talking about their setlist, throwing out ideas, asking their opinions on which song he should play.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch him.

He finally looks relaxed, like the tension in his shoulders has melted off without anyone noticing. His face is lit up with a soft smile, his hands moving as he animatedly explains why Smells Like Teen Spirit should absolutely make the list. The kids groan dramatically, arguing that while it’s a classic, it’s way too basic for a comeback gig after ten years.

“It’s a banger!” Jungkook insists, brows raised.

“And that’s the problem!” Ace argues. “We want iconic, not expected.”

Yoongi, from his seat nearby, chimes in lazily, “Nirvana is iconic. Can’t be basic if it’s legendary.”

Mina turns to him, eyes sharp but playful. “With all due respect, Sir—we need something more iconic.”

“How is that song not the 'most' iconic?” Yoongi repeats, deadpan.

“It is,” Mina sighs, “but we need like—iconic with a twist.”

You laugh, quietly. The whole exchange is ridiculous but so full of life. Your gaze finds its way back to Jungkook—still laughing, still animated, bangs falling in his eyes, youth catching the edge of his expression.

You’re not sure what it is—the presence of the kids, the memory of what The House used to mean, or just the anticipation of playing again—but something about him tonight feels different. No—familiar.

He looks alive.

He looks like himself.

So you lean into it. You let yourself feel it. Let yourself miss him in the way that hurts but also heals.

Because this… this version of him—the one glowing with purpose and ease—this is the version you’ve missed the most.

“Don’t you guys want to drop off your instruments and have a drink?” Jimin asks from behind the bar, voice light, expression even lighter.

You stiffen, blinking twice. Park Jimin… smiling? And not the condescending, I-know-something-you-don’t smile, but a real one. It’s disorienting—like waking up in a parallel universe. For a second, you brace yourself for a backhanded comment, a jab hidden behind sugar-coated words.

But it never comes.

He actually looks like he likes the kids.

“Uh, yeah—we totally forgot,” Daniel says, still a little breathless as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

“Give us a sec, JK,” Ace calls over his shoulder, clapping Jungkook’s arm before the four teenagers vanish backstage, a trail of youthful energy and secondhand adrenaline left in their wake.

The bar quiets just enough for a breath to settle.

“Are you excited?” you ask, leaning closer to Jungkook.

His gaze lingers on the now-empty hallway where the kids disappeared. His features are soft, loose, almost vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen in years.

“Actually… yeah. I am,” he admits, lips parting in surprise at his own words. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the kids—”

“The tasteless kids,” Yoongi deadpans, slumped in his chair like a tired philosopher. “How the hell does that girl say there’s something more iconic than Nirvana?”

Alex raises his beer solemnly. “Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, used to their noise. “Anyway,” he says, “like I was saying… I think I’m genuinely looking forward to playing.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long, warm and raw. And before you even realize it, your hand is in his hair, ruffling the soft strands. His cheeks flush—alcohol or affection, you can’t tell.

“Aw, look at my bestie getting all giddy,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but something inside you aches at how happy he looks. “Seriously, Kook, that’s fucking amazing. Now I can’t wait to see you up there.”

“Don’t be too excited,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his face. “There’s still a good chance I shit my pants from nerves.”

“Wasn’t your whole goal to fail?” Yoongi asks, blinking like he’s doing mental math. “So you don’t have to give Alex the money?”

Alex waves a dismissive hand, the gold ring on his pinky flashing under the low amber lights. “No one ever plays to fail. Not in music, not in life. I, my friend, am simply operating within the mystical corridors of Jungkook’s subconscious. Planting seeds. Psychological warfare.”

“You, my friend,” you shoot back, “are drunk.”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, tipping his beer with a grin that says definitely.

“You so are,” Jungkook adds, eyes glinting.

Alex leans closer, mock-sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be sober enough to take my money when you owe it to me.”

There’s laughter again, warm and alive, and for a moment you forget the heaviness. Forget the time. Forget the past. Because Jungkook is here, sitting next to you, eyes sparkling, stomach twisting with nerves in the most beautiful, human way.

And for the first time in a long while—he wants to be seen.

The kids return in a pack—energy buzzing around them like static, cheeks flushed from the excitement and maybe just a bit of nerves. They spill into the empty bar stools like they own the place, all happy—the kind that comes with knowing tonight matters.

Ace claps his hands together, flops onto a stool, and shouts toward the bar, “Alright, Jimin! Hit me with a Coca-Cola—I’m fucking thirsty!”

Jimin, unfazed, quirks an eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, rockstar,” he says, already reaching for the glasses.

The others chime in, each echoing Ace’s order like it’s part of a ritual. Coke all around.

“When are you guys on?” you ask casually, turning to Mina as she sips from her drink. Her eyes are bright beneath the dim bar lights, and you blink. Damn, her eyeliner’s sharp enough to kill. It makes her look fierce. Electric.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says, voice calm, a soft smile curving her lips like she’s done this a thousand times before. “Jk’s opening on drums—Jack takes over after he finishes the first song.”

You nod, picturing it. Jungkook behind the kit again. The lights. The sound. The pulse of something being reborn.

“Oi, Mina!” Daniel calls from the other end of the bar, half-lounging over his stool. “Quit flirting with Jungkook’s bestie and finish your drink—we’re up soon!”

Mina groans and rolls her eyes, but her grin gives her away. “I’m not flirting,” she mutters as she raises her glass. “I’m being polite.”

You smirk, and she clinks her glass against yours anyway.

There’s a hum in the air now. Something about the way the kids shift in their seats, glance at the clock, tap their fingers to an invisible beat. A collective breath held, waiting to be released the moment they step on stage.

And through it all, Jungkook’s knee bounces beneath the table, his fingers twitching like they already hear the opening riff in his head.

The bar dims a little more, lights overhead shifting to a deep red hue. A hush rolls through the room—not complete silence, but that charged pause just before something erupts. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mina says, swinging her keyboard bag over her shoulder as she hops off the stool. The others follow, a quiet intensity settling over their faces like masks. The joking, the teasing, the sugary buzz of Coca-Cola—all of it vanishes in the electric stillness of the pre-show moment.

Jungkook gets up too, a small crease between his brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. You nudge his arm gently as he passes by.

“You’ve got this, bestie,” you whisper.

He glances back at you. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those big, dark eyes—are filled with something you haven’t seen in a while.

Fear.

But also: fire.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods.

On stage, Jack claps him on the shoulder before handing him the sticks. The kids do a final check—Mina tapping her keys, Dan tuning his bass, Ace slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. The room starts to buzz again, people murmuring, turning toward the stage, phones raised. Someone yells out a “WOOO!” and Alex, leaning against the side wall, grins like a proud dad.

Mina steps up to the mic. “Hey guys,” she says, her voice steady. “We’re The Strangers, and tonight… we’re doing something a little old school.” She glances at Jungkook. “Featuring a local legend.”

There’s light applause, a couple surprised whistles.

And then—Jungkook lifts the sticks.

He taps the hi-hat four times. It begins.

But then.

Crash.

The beat stumbles. His right hand slips, hitting the rim instead of the snare. The rhythm trips over itself, chaotic and jarring. Ace freezes mid-riff. Mina slams her palm on the keys too early. Dan completely misses the bass cue.

A mess. A beautiful, terrible mess.

A few people in the crowd gasp. One laughs. You wince.

Jungkook, mortified, pauses for half a second—half a second that feels like a lifetime—before whispering, “Shit,” under his breath.

Jack starts to step forward, like he’s ready to take over immediately.

But Jungkook throws up a hand.

“No,” he mutters to the mic, half to himself, half to the crowd. “I got it.”

And this time—he counts again. One, two, three, four—

This time, it hits. Hard. Toxicity intro comes alive—feral, gritty, raw. Ace slams into the opening riff with vengeance, Mina’s synths howling underneath, Dan’s bass like thunder rumbling through the floor. And Jungkook—Jungkook comes back. You can see it in his shoulders, in the way his hair whips around his face. There’s rage and release in every strike of the snare, redemption in the crash cymbals.

The crowd erupts.

Jungkook plays like he’s possessed now, blood rushing, all hesitation gone. His whole body moves with the rhythm, with the madness of it. His face glistens with sweat. He grins—really grins—like he’s high on the beat.

And you? You can’t look away.

This, this is the Jungkook you remember.

A little off at first. But once he finds the groove—

He becomes it.

The crowd is losing their minds.

Phones are raised, heads are banging, and even Jimin—cool, collected, snarky Jimin—is nodding behind the bar with an impressed smirk. Ace and Dan are completely synced, locking in their parts with the kind of chaotic grace that makes you feel like the song might fall apart at any moment, but never does. Mina’s eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the keys, mouth moving along to lyrics.

And Jungkook—

God.

His hair sticks to his forehead in messy strands, and there’s a flush creeping down his neck, veins flexing on his forearms every time he slams into the snare. He looks like he’s burning up—like every part of him is charged. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is soaked down the back, clinging to him like a second skin, and when he tilts his head back in rhythm, biting his lip and closing his eyes—

You feel it.

In your chest. In your throat.

Oh God.

You shouldn’t be thinking this. He’s your best friend. He’s taken. He’s Jungkook. But you’re human and he’s—he’s just so magnetic up there. Confident. Wild. Beautiful.

It rattles something in you.

You look away for a second, shaking your head as if that’ll snap you out of it. But then you hear the bridge hit—Mina’s synths wailing, Ace’s guitar almost screaming—and you glance back.

He’s looking at you.

Just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice. But long enough for you to feel your heartbeat quicken like it’s trying to keep up with the tempo of his drums.

Long enough to wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you.

And then, just as quickly, it’s over.

The final notes ring out, loud and proud, and Jungkook hammers the crash cymbals like punctuation marks. The sound reverberates through the bar, into your ribs, your skin. Everyone’s screaming and clapping and whistling. Alex is on his feet, yelling something you can’t even hear. Jimin throws a towel toward the stage.

But you?

You’re frozen.

Emotion crashes into you like a wave—unexpected, heavy, cold. It’s not about attraction anymore. It’s not even about the performance. It’s the moment. The way Jungkook looked up, eyes shining, chest heaving, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in years.

It’s the way he came back to life in front of you.

And you realize, achingly, that this is what you’ve missed all along.

Not the friendship. Not the ease. Not the safety.

You missed him. That version of him. The one who lets himself feel joy without guilt. The one who belongs somewhere.

And for some reason, that breaks your heart.

Because he’s not yours to keep.

Not really.

Jungkook jumps off the stage like he’s weightless, flushed and glowing, his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon and won. The crowd still buzzes with leftover energy, but he’s already moving toward you—wild-eyed and breathless.

Before you can react, he wraps you in a hug, tight and full-bodied, arms locking around you like you’re the one anchoring him to the ground. You barely have time to think before you’re melting into it, laughing as your arms wind around his back.

“Holy shit,” he gasps into your ear, voice cracking with joy. “Did you see that? I didn’t tank it! I came back! I actually pulled it off!”

“You did, Kook, you killed it out there.”

He pulls back just enough to grab your face between both hands, calloused palms cradling your cheeks. His eyes are shining—shining—with something raw and real and so reminiscent of the boy he used to be, your chest squeezes tight.

“I thought I was gonna choke after that first beat,” he breathes, grin splitting his face. “But then I looked at the kids. And I looked at you. And it felt like I was supposed to be right there.”

Your heart stutters. “You looked like yourself up there.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—and then his forehead drops to yours.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But it crackles.

It’s intimate and fleeting and charged, his breath brushing your lips, and your entire body locks up. You should move. You should really move. But you don’t. Neither does he.

You both just breathe.

And in that breath, something slips.

Not love.

Not lust.

But something terrifyingly in between.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with you, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Feel like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything that might break the moment. That might remind either of you that he’s not yours to lean into like this. Never was.

But then the room reminds you for you.

A cheer goes up. Someone shouts his name. Laughter rings out.

And when he opens his eyes and sees how close you are, the spell breaks.

He steps back, a breath catching like it hurts. His hands fall slowly from your face as if letting go costs something.

You say nothing.

Neither does he.

Instead, you both turn—wordlessly—and slide onto the barstools beside each other.

Jungkook drums his fingers against the wood, still jittery with leftover adrenaline, while you pretend to focus on the drink Jimin sets in front of you.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

But the silence between you is deafening.

Your chest feels too tight. Your throat too full.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what would’ve happened if you told him everything when you were younger.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you he could come back to.

But you don’t ask.

And he doesn’t offer.

So you both just sit there—shoulder to shoulder, forehead memory still warm—and pretend nothing happened at all.

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wongyuseokie · 2 months ago

Text

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 2: Cuddles and Chaos

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: 16,477 words

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: There is slight body insecurity—it’s not much, but it’s a smidgen. She just feels insecure after seeing a pretty girl, but there is nothing graphic or too triggering. some jealousy (lies) ALOT of jealousy and petty ass fighting and just alot of drama. Alcohol consumption, food consumption. drama because yn thinks he’s cheating and he’s not she just wont let him explain. very heavy on the miscommunication. LOTS OF DRAMA, BUT YES THE STORY IS FINALLY BREWING HEHEHEH. LOTS OF ANGST AND HURT.

Smut Warnings: shower sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu because duh. teasing, lots of it, mingyu is just so hot and yn is only human. facesitting because yay. very slight ass play, very slight. lots of sex ig, they're very horny. 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

The following week had flown by, and before you knew it, the evening of the housewarming party had arrived. You found yourself in Mingyu’s kitchen, sleeves rolled up, meticulously pouring in the limes into the jug as while your other hand stirred a jug of freshly made cocktail mix. The sweet and citrusy aroma filled the room, and you couldn’t help but hum to yourself as you mixed the ingredients, tasting it with a little spoon to make sure it was just right.

In the living room, Mingyu was moving furniture around, occasionally stopping to check his phone for the playlist he had put together. You glanced over at him, watching as he adjusted the position of the coffee table for what had to be the third time.

“Gyu, it’s a housewarming, not a photo shoot,” you teased, grinning when he shot you a mock glare.

“It has to look nice,” he replied, half-serious, half-amused. “I can’t have people thinking I live like a caveman. Plus, Seokmin and Cheol will literally roast me if the place doesn’t look good.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a towel before grabbing the cocktail shaker. “Trust me, no one’s going to notice the coffee table’s angle when they’re tipsy off these drinks. I’m making a batch of margaritas and something fruity for the lightweights.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a lightweight?”

You smirked. “I’ve seen you after a couple of shots. You’re definitely not the heavyweight you think you are.”

He put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “That’s a bold claim. I’ll prove you wrong tonight.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Sure, big guy. We’ll see who’s carrying who to bed later.”

Mingyu paused from his rearranging to lean against the doorway, watching you with a soft smile. “You look really cute when you’re bossing me around in my own apartment; you know that?”

You gave him a playful glare. “I’m just making sure this place doesn’t become a disaster zone. Someone has to keep you in check.”

He chuckled, walking over to help you slice the remaining fruit. “I’ll admit, I’m not the best party planner. You make it look easy.”

You shrugged, pouring the freshly mixed cocktail into a large glass dispenser. “It’s all about preparation. If you keep everyone’s glasses full, they’re happy. And if you have good snacks, they’ll never want to leave.”

Mingyu nodded, watching you expertly garnish the glasses with lime wedges and salt rims. “You’re a natural. Maybe you should be in charge of a ll our parties.”

You shot him a look. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to do any of the work.”

He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you take charge. It’s... pretty hot.”

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on not spilling the drink you were pouring. “Save that energy for later. We’ve got a party to run.”

Mingyu smirked, finally relenting and heading back to finish hanging some lights above the window. You couldn’t help but glance at him as he stretched to hook the string of fairy lights, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned skin. You shook your head, focusing back on the drinks.

After a few more minutes, Mingyu stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “Perfect. This place looks great. You think it’s good?”

You took a step back, surveying the room. The living room looked cozy yet lively, the fairy lights giving a warm glow, and the cocktail station was well-stocked. “It’s perfect. You did good.”

He looked at you, a hint of pride in his eyes. “We did good.”

You grinned, handing him a small glass of the margarita mix. “Taste test?”

He took a sip, eyes widening. “Okay, that’s dangerous. It’s way too good. People will be wasted in no time.”

“That’s the plan,” you joked, taking a small sip yourself and savouring the tangy flavour.

Mingyu took the opportunity to drape an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You know, you didn’t have to go all out. But I really appreciate it.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest for a moment. “I just wanted to make it nice. It’s your first party here, and I wanted it to feel special.”

He kissed the top of your head. “It already does. Because you’re here.”

You looked up at him, catching the fondness in his gaze. For a moment, you forgot about the party entirely, lost in the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

After making sure the cocktails were perfectly set up and the living room was finally arranged to Mingyu’s satisfaction, you stretched your arms over your head and glanced at the clock.

“Alright, I should probably go back to my place and shower, get ready,” you said, wiping your hands on the dish towel and giving Mingyu a small smile.

He looked up from where he was fiddling with a Bluetooth speaker, his brows lifting. “You’re not just gonna rock the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants look to the party?”

You snorted. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think your friends would appreciate my just-rolled-out-of-bed aesthetic.”

He smirked, eyes trailing over you for a moment longer than necessary. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you kept your cool. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

Mingyu shot you a cheeky salute. “No promises.”

You rolled your eyes and headed out the door, crossing the hall back to your own apartment. Once inside, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Being around Mingyu for too long was like standing too close to a fire — all-consuming and just a little too hot to handle. After grabbing a clean towel and some comfy clothes, you made your way to the bathroom. As the hot water poured down, you couldn’t help but replay moments from earlier. The way Mingyu had looked at you while you were making cocktails, how his touch lingered just a bit longer than usual. You bit your lip to hide the stupid smile spreading across your face.

Once you’d washed away the sweat and stress of the afternoon, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed back to your bedroom, still combing through your wet hair with your fingers. You opened your closet, glancing through your options and mumbling to yourself.

“Something cute, but not too dressy... not too casual either... ugh.”

You’d barely pulled out a dress to inspect it when a knock sounded at your door. You froze for a second, heart racing. Quickly making sure the towel was secure, you called out. “One sec!”

You tiptoed over, peeking through the peephole to see Mingyu standing on the other side, looking far too relaxed in his own sweats and a plain white T-shirt. You cracked open the door, peering out. “Gyu? What are you doing here?”

He grinned, holding up a plastic bag. “I realized I have no mixers left, so I raided your fridge. Thought I’d be polite and ask first.”

You gave him a look. “You couldn’t just text me?” Mingyu just shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep or something. Plus, you left your phone on my counter.”

You glanced at his hand and sure enough, your phone was right there. You huffed a laugh, reaching out to take it. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked over you, and you suddenly remembered that you were still just in your towel. You tightened it instinctively, a little heat creeping up your neck. Mingyu didn’t seem to notice your discomfort — or if he did, he was doing a great job of hiding it.

He cleared his throat. “You, uh, smell good.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Shampoo. You should try it sometime.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Rude. I smell great.”

You leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Mingyu gave you that lopsided grin you’d come to love. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to let you know about the mixer situation. Also... you need help picking an outfit?”

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Might as well get a second opinion.”

He perked up instantly, stepping inside without hesitation. You led him to your room, keeping a grip on your robe just in case. You motioned to the dress hanging on your closet door. “What do you think of this one?”

Mingyu eyed it thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Too fancy. You’d look amazing, but it’s a bit much for a house party.”

“It’s not formal,” he said as he crossed to your closet. “Just wear whatever makes you feel hot.”

“I want to look good,” you replied, brushing past him to rifle through your wardrobe.

“You always look good,” he muttered, eyes following the sway of your robe.

You didn’t notice his stare until you let the robe drop from your shoulders and reached for your bra.

Mingyu froze. “Fuck.”

You jumped slightly, realising a second too late that you were now standing completely bare in front of him.

“Sorry—I forgot I was only wearing this.”

Mingyu stood behind you, voice low. “Let me help.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

He moved with precision, sliding your panties up your legs, guiding them gently into place. You were keenly aware of every brush of his fingers against your skin. When he reached for the dress, you muttered. “I need a bra.”

“No, you don’t,” he said without missing a beat, his hands moving up to your chest, thumbs brushing gently across your nipples.

“Right now, I definitely don’t.”

He helped you into the dress, tugging the fabric into place and smoothing it over your hips.

“Perfect,” he said, voice husky.

You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “You’re such a horndog.”

“You’re just so fucking irresistible,” he murmured, pushing you down gently onto the bed. ~~ A half hour later, after some very distracting ‘help’ with your outfit, you were at Mingyu’s apartment, helping set up the drink table and food.

“Y/N,” Seokmin greeted with a warm grin. “You look amazing.”

“She does,” Mingyu said proudly. “I helped her get dressed.”

You gave him a warning glare.

Seokmin smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t just try to get her out of it.”

You turned hid shyly behind Mingyu, who, bless him, actually looked sheepish.

“Hey, did you hear? Mia’s coming later. She just texted me.” Seokmin added.

Mingyu raised a brow, pausing mid-step. “Really? She’s back in town?”

Seokmin nodded, barely containing his excitement. “Yeah, she’s visiting for a few weeks. Said she’ll swing by tonight if she finishes up early.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course she would. It’s been ages since she’s hung out with everyone.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the name “Mia” stirred something bitter in your stomach. You glanced at Mingyu, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just seemed relaxed and happy about the news.

“Oh, right. Mia.” You forced a smile, taking another sip of your cocktail. “She’s... a friend of yours?”

Mingyu nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, we go way back. She’s pretty tight with the guys, too. Used to hang out all the time before she moved.”

You hummed noncommittally, trying not to show how that made you feel. The rational part of your brain knew that Mia was just a friend, but the way Seokmin seemed thrilled and Mingyu didn’t look the least bit uneasy was enough to twist something sharp in your chest.

“Man, Mingyu, remember that one time Mia convinced you to sing at that karaoke bar? Absolute disaster.” Seokmin burst into laughter, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a smile.

“She was the one who picked a ballad for me. She set me up for failure,” Mingyu grumbled, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but chime in, voice a little colder than you intended. “Sounds like you two were close.”

Mingyu glanced at you, noting the tightness in your tone, but Seokmin just kept laughing. “Oh, they were! Mia and Mingyu were basically inseparable at one point. He had such a crush on her, would look at her with heart eyes.”

You raised an eyebrow, the words sticking to you like burrs. You wanted to ask more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound interested. Instead, you took another long sip of your drink, pretending to focus on the music rather than the irritation bubbling up inside you.

Seokmin seemed oblivious to your change in mood, but Mingyu wasn’t. He nudged you lightly with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying it. “You sure?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s just... interesting, that’s all. Didn’t realize you had such... close friends around here.”

Mingyu blinked, clearly confused by your shift in demeanor. “Well, yeah. I mean, Mia’s been part of the group for a long time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Right,” you replied, forcing a bright smile. “Not a big deal.”

Mingyu gave you a slightly exasperated look, like he knew you were holding something back but didn’t want to push. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am not,” you said, trying to sound breezy but probably failing miserably. “I just didn’t realize you had karaoke buddies. Next time, you’ll have to take me.”

Seokmin snorted. “Oh, trust me, you don’t want that. Mingyu’s voice could probably clear a room.”

Mingyu shot him a glare. “You’re one to talk, Seok.”

But you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to laugh. Suddenly, the idea of Mia just waltzing in, sharing inside jokes and old stories, made your skin itch. You hated how petty you felt. You knew logically that Mia was probably just a friend, but the casual way Mingyu talked about her like she was some great part of his past grated on your nerves.

You didn’t want to look jealous. You didn’t want to act childish. But the frustration kept prickling under your skin, making you more and more irritable. When Mingyu reached out to brush his hand over yours, you pulled away, pretending to adjust your shirt.

Mingyu’s smile faltered. “Okay...”

You cleared your throat, glancing at Seokmin, who was still happily oblivious. “I should go check on the snacks. Make sure we’re not running out.”

Without waiting for a response, you hurried off to the kitchen, your heart pounding. You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t quite as special to Mingyu as you thought.

Back in the living room, Mingyu frowned, watching you leave. Seokmin nudged him, completely missing the tension. “You good, man?”

Mingyu sighed, eyes still on the kitchen doorway. “Yeah... I just don’t get it. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s acting like I did something wrong.”

Seokmin gave a low chuckle. “She’s jealous, you idiot.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “Jealous? Of Mia?”

Seokmin nodded sagely, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, definitely. And you’re too dumb to notice.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, but then realization dawned on his face, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his lips. “She’s jealous...”

Seokmin smirked. “Yeah, and if you want to keep your head intact, maybe go check on her before she decides to break one of your precious cocktail glasses.”

Mingyu didn’t need telling twice. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, determined to figure out exactly what was going on in your head.

You were elbow-deep in a bowl of popcorn when you heard footsteps approach from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—Mingyu’s quiet but certain walk was becoming something you could recognise even over the hum of your own sulky thoughts.

He leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching you in silence for a beat. You didn’t look up.

“Hey.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You kept your eyes trained on the bowl as you stirred. “Hey.”

“Are we gonna talk about whatever that was?” Mingyu asked, voice laced with more confusion than annoyance.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” he replied, stepping closer. “You kind of acted like I told you I still loved my ex or something.”

You dropped the popcorn scoop with a clatter,

Before the words could escalate into something sharp, the kitchen door creaked open, and in walked Joshua with a slice of pizza and a poorly timed smile. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt the brooding.”

You didn’t say anything. Mingyu gave a tired smile, barely there.

Joshua bit into his pizza. “So, uh… you two aren’t fighting about the Wonwoo thing, are you?”

The silence after that was deafening.

You blinked slowly. Mingyu’s eyes didn’t leave you. “What thing?”

Joshua’s mouth froze mid-chew. “Wait. You didn’t know?”

“Joshua,” you warned.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet. “What thing?”

Joshua grimaced. “I thought she told you. It was just… a kiss. One kiss. Before you two—” He waved the pizza vaguely.

“Joshua,” you snapped again.

“I’m just gonna… go,” Joshua said, already backing out the door. “You guys got this.”

The door clicked shut.

You turned to Mingyu slowly. “I was going to tell you.”

His brow furrowed. “And yet… you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want it to ruin things.”

“You think that’s how trust works?” He asked, his voice even. Too even. “You just edit the truth when it’s inconvenient?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” you said, stepping forward slightly. “I was scared.”

“Of what? Me?” Mingyu let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And you keep giving me the edited version of everything.”

“It was just a kiss.”

“It was a lie of omission,” he said. “Which sucks worse.”

You didn’t respond. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to cool off.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He lingered for a second, looking like he wanted to say more. But then he just turned and walked back toward the living room, slipping seamlessly into the laughter and noise of the party like nothing happened.

You stayed in the kitchen, hands braced on the counter, trying to steady your breathing.

No crying. Not here. Not now.

After a few minutes, you straightened up, smoothed your dress, and followed the hum of music back into the party.

The music had shifted to something warmer, deeper—bass-heavy and slow, perfect for the cozy, slightly overcrowded atmosphere of the living room. Fairy lights strung above cast soft amber glows, and bodies moved through the space with ease, cups in hand, voices rising in laughter and inside jokes. You were leaning against the arm of the couch, watching the party unfold with a drink balanced delicately in your hand, half-smiling at Seokmin's loud declaration that he was the “unofficial DJ of vibes.” Mingyu was across the room, perched on the arm of a chair, laughing with someone you didn't know—his expression open, relaxed, like the kitchen conversation hadn’t happened at all. Like he hadn’t looked at you two hours ago like he wanted to scream.

You were still reeling, replaying the way he’d pulled away from you when Joshua dropped that half-truth bomb in the kitchen. The way his face had shifted, gone taut with a kind of disappointment you didn’t know how to soothe. He hadn’t said much after. Just, “I need to go back out there,” before brushing past you, leaving you holding a bowl of popcorn like it had offended him personally.

You'd rejoined the party five minutes later, after touching up your makeup and trying to will your breathing back into something calm. Now, you nursed your cocktail and kept one eye on Mingyu as he drifted from conversation to conversation.

Then the front door swung open.

“Mia!” Seungcheol called from somewhere near the stereo, his voice rising with familiarity and welcome.

Your stomach tightened before you even saw her.

Mia stepped into the apartment like she belonged there, hair tucked perfectly behind one ear, wearing a burgundy two-piece that fit her like sin. She laughed as she kicked off her shoes, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Mingyu.

And he lit up.

His smile reached all the way to his eyes, soft and immediate. She crossed the room with purpose, and before you could blink, her arms were around his neck.

It wasn’t a polite hug. It wasn’t a “hey, long time” side hug. It was full-bodied, both arms thrown around him as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Mingyu hugged her back just as tightly, one hand curling behind her head, fingers slipping into her hair with practised ease.

You didn’t realise you’d stopped breathing until Seokmin’s voice startled you. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded too quickly. “Yeah, totally. Just—want a refill.”

“You haven’t finished that one.”

“Then make it stronger,” you said, shoving your cup toward him.

Seokmin raised an eyebrow but took it. “Okay, but I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just sound like you walked out of a rom-com’s dramatic midpoint.”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Mingyu and Mia finally pull apart, only for her to say something that made him laugh—a real laugh, the kind he used to make at your dumb jokes, when things were easier and fewer secrets lived between your ribs.

Then she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

And he didn’t flinch. He just grinned and nodded.

You looked away, forcing a tight smile as Seokmin handed you back your cup.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, trying to keep it light.

You didn’t take the bait. “Do you think Mia always looks like that on purpose, or is it just genetic cruelty?”

He blinked. “Wow. Okay. That’s the gin talking.”

“No, that’s me. The gin just amplifies it.” You took a long sip. “Cheers to that.”

Seokmin gave you a look, like he wanted to ask more, but someone called him over to the speakers, and he gave you a mock salute before turning away.

You glanced back toward Mingyu. He was still talking to Mia, though his eyes flicked to you for a brief second.

And you didn’t smile.

You turned on your heel, heading for the kitchen again—not because you needed anything, but because you couldn’t stand the way your chest ached when he looked like he belonged to someone else.

Or worse—like maybe he did. ~~ You didn’t move right away.

The muffled bass from the living room thrummed through the floor. Laughter and glasses clinking together floated just beneath it. The hum of the party was still alive, unaware that something in you had started to dim.

Still, you couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever.

You smoothed down your top, pressed your fingertips against your cheeks to chase away the warmth, and grabbed a drink that wasn’t yours but felt earned all the same. Steeling your nerves, you walked back into the crowd.

It didn’t take long to spot him.

Mingyu was leaning against the back of the couch, drink in hand, smiling politely while nodding along to something Mia was saying. She looked even prettier up close — black heels, glossy hair, a red lip that said I’m effortlessly bold and know it. His head tipped slightly when she laughed.

Your stomach twisted.

Then he looked up.

And saw you.

There was a beat — a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes — before he set his glass down and motioned you over. You hesitated for a second too long, and he seemed to register it. Still, he crossed the space between you with ease.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You okay?”

You nodded, pasting on a soft smile. “Fine.”

“Good.” He reached for your hand — the smallest gesture — and laced his fingers with yours before leading you back across the room. “Come meet Mia properly.”

You swallowed, your steps a little too careful as you followed him. He brought you to her like he was presenting something special, and the way he held onto your hand didn’t go unnoticed.

“Mia, this is Y/N,” he said, voice lighter now. “My... neighbour.”

You blinked. Not friend. Not girl I’ve been having sex and confusing and half-falling for. Just neighbour.

You stretched a smile across your face anyway. “Hi.”

Mia returned it with a polite one of her own, eyes flicking from you to Mingyu’s hand wrapped around yours. “Oh, the girl with the bonsai.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Word travels fast.”

Mingyu coughed. “She may or may not have almost knocked me out with it.”

“I thought it was your nose she almost broke?” Mia added helpfully. “He mentioned it.”

You fought the urge to glare.

“Well,” Mia said, her smile widening a little, “it’s nice to finally meet you. I was starting to think you were a myth.”

You tilted your head. “Nope, all real.”

Mia let out a soft laugh and sipped her drink. “Touché.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence awkward and polite and loaded.

You took a long sip of your drink after Mia drifted off to speak with someone else, your eyes trailing Mingyu across the room. He was back by the speakers now, joking with Seokmin and refilling his glass. You forced yourself to look away and joined a small group by the coffee table, feigning ease even though your shoulders hadn’t dropped since the moment Mingyu introduced you as his neighbor.

More people had arrived since you stepped away — the apartment was buzzing now, with drinks in hand and snacks being passed around. Joshua was animatedly telling a story in the corner, Wonwoo had somehow found his way to the balcony with a group of indie music lovers, and Seokmin was weaving through the crowd with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He hopped onto the armrest of the couch and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, folks,” Seokmin grinned, drink raised like a toast. “We’ve reached that point in the night. Time for a little organized chaos.”

Groans and cheers rose around the room.

“No, no — none of that,” he laughed. “We’re playing a classic. ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Drinks up, voices loud, and shame on full display.”

“I hate you,” Seungcheol said, already sinking into the beanbag chair with a resigned sigh.

Seokmin ignored him. “Circle up! Gyu, Mia, you’re not escaping either. C’mon.”

You hesitated for a beat, but found yourself being pulled by Joshua toward the quickly forming circle in the living room. Mingyu caught your eye across the room. His mouth curved into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes again.

He sat down beside Mia.

You took a spot beside Joshua.

“Alright, alright,” Seokmin said, once everyone was gathered. “House rules apply — if you have done the thing, you take a sip. If you haven’t, you survive with your dignity. Sound good?”

“Define dignity,” someone muttered, already laughing.

Mingyu took a long sip of his drink before glancing at Mia. She nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

“Fine,” Seokmin said dramatically. “I’ll start. Never have I ever… stolen someone’s underwear after a hook-up.”

A chorus of laughter broke out, along with a few gasps. Mingyu actually choked on his drink.

Joshua groaned. “Seokmin, for god’s sake.”

A few people hesitantly drank. You raised an eyebrow at Wonwoo, who kept his glass suspiciously still.

The game rolled on — the questions got bolder, the drinks stronger, the laughter louder. Then Seungcheol, already grinning like a man on a mission, leaned back in his seat.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his glass and fixing a smug look on Mingyu. “Never have I ever… written poetry for someone I had an unrequited crush on.”

A few oohs rippled around the group.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Seungcheol just grinned wider. “Gyu wrote Mia sonnets, back in sophomore year. Literal. Sonnets.”

“I did not,” Mingyu groaned.

“You so did,” Mia said, laughing as she took a sip. “One was about my eyes. And my hair. And I think my ankle?”

“Your boots!” Seungcheol snapped his fingers. “It was definitely about the boots.”

You stared at your glass.

The group erupted into laughter. Mingyu smiled sheepishly and took a drink, his cheeks slightly pink — whether from the alcohol or the attention, you couldn’t tell.

You weren’t sure if you should laugh along or disappear entirely.

The bottle of soju in the center of the coffee table had been emptied, replaced, and emptied again. Someone had switched playlists, so now lo-fi R&B hummed softly in the background as Seokmin stood in front of the TV, theatrically announcing the next round of Never Have I Ever.

“Okay, okay!” He grinned, slightly flushed from drink and laughter. “Never have I ever... hooked up with a roommate.”

Half the room burst out laughing. Someone groaned and took a sip, followed by Mia with an unapologetic smirk.

“Guilty,” she said with a shrug, nudging Seungcheol beside her. “Freshman year. We don’t talk about it.”

“Oh, we talk about it,” Seungcheol grinned. “It was chaos. She almost broke his desk chair.” You forced a smile, reaching for your drink and taking the tiniest sip just to avoid standing out. Mingyu didn’t drink on that one. You didn’t either. Still, your eyes flicked to him.

He was already looking at Mia, lips twitching in amusement.

Joshua leaned into your side, voice low. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, setting your drink down and clasping your hands together.

He didn’t believe you. You knew that. But he just nodded.

Seokmin raised a hand to quiet the giggles. “Okay, okay, next one’s mine again—because I’m hilarious. Never have I ever... been lovesick over a best friend.”

“Dude,” Mingyu groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Mia snorted. “Seriously?”

“Oh come on,” Seokmin said, practically gleaming. “Tell me that wasn’t Gyu during second year. We had to stage an intervention when he started writing shitty guitar songs.”

“Excuse me,” Mingyu said, pointing at him with mock offense. “They were sincere guitar songs.”

“Yeah, sincere trash,” Seungcheol chimed in, laughing. “You used to mope outside Mia’s studio like a dog in the rain.”

Your heart thudded unevenly.

“She had a boyfriend,” Mingyu shot back, laughing even as his ears turned red.

“You were still so in love with her,” Seokmin teased. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just rubbed the back of his neck, grinning, and took a long sip of his drink.

You blinked at the rim of your cup.

That’s fine. Of course he had history. Everyone did. It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

The way Mia smiled at him — fond, a little smug — and how comfortable she looked next to him, curled into the couch like she'd done it a hundred times. Like she'd never had to earn her spot there.

Your throat tightened.

“Y/N?” Someone called, snapping you out of it.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn,” Seokmin said.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Right.”

Your fingers curled around your cup.

Don’t be obvious. Don’t be petty. Don’t make it worse.

You offered a bright smile. “Never have I ever... been serenaded in public.”

A few people groaned. Seokmin drank. Joshua drank. So did Seungcheol.

Mingyu didn't. “Not even once?” You asked, your tone light.

Mingyu shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Nope. Not my thing.”

Mia tilted her head. “You almost did it for me once.”

“Keyword being almost,” he said, flashing her a small grin.

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You laughed again — a little too high, too quick — and took a big sip of your drink just for something to do.

Joshua leaned closer. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” you replied, your voice bright and brittle.

“Because you’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

He gave you a look. “The thing where you pretend you’re having fun but your fingers are clenched so hard you’re about to snap the glass.”

You blinked down at your cup.

“Oh,” you said, loosening your grip. “Didn’t realize.”

Joshua sighed and draped an arm over the back of the couch behind you. Protective. Anchoring.

“Gyu,” he called casually, “can you pass the bottle?”

Mingyu did — eyes flicking to you for half a second before you looked away — and conversation resumed around the circle.

But the ache in your chest stayed.

And even though you kept smiling, kept playing, kept sipping your drink...

You couldn’t help but notice that Mingyu never once looked your way again during the game.

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol said with a mischievous grin, slouched sideways in the beanbag, already halfway into his next drink. “Here’s one for the romantics. Never have I ever started falling for someone and totally denied it to everyone around me, even though it was obvious as hell.”

The room broke into oohs and laughter.

“Oof, Cheol’s feeling messy tonight,” Seokmin said, raising his eyebrows.

“God, that’s specific,” someone added.

Joshua chuckled and reached for his drink with a murmur of “we’ve all been there.” A few others followed suit.

But your eyes went straight to Mingyu.

He didn’t reach for his glass. He just froze.

His hand hovered near the bottle, indecisive.

It wasn’t just you who noticed.

“Gyu,” Seungcheol said, voice full of amusement. “C’mon, you’re not drinking? We all had front row seats, dude.”

There was a ripple of chuckles.

You felt the air still. Your pulse fluttered in your throat.

Mingyu’s lips twitched — not in amusement, but like he was chewing something back.

“Maybe I just don’t want to play along,” he said evenly, setting his drink down instead.

The teasing shifted quickly into silence.

And for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the music and the fizz of a nearby seltzer can being cracked open.

You forced out a light laugh. “Okay, this just got intense. Time-out. I’m getting snacks.”

You stood a little too fast.

“Need help?” Joshua asked quietly.

You shook your head, smiling. “All good. I just need to… stretch my legs.”

You slipped into the kitchen, your hand curling tighter around your glass with each step. The second you were out of view, you leaned against the counter, taking a breath.

That was stupid. You weren’t supposed to care, not like this, it was still too soon.

You weren’t supposed to react.

But hearing it phrased that way — having it exposed like some public game clue for everyone to dissect — had felt like someone reaching inside your chest and yanking something raw to the surface.

You busied your hands with a snack bowl. Pretzels. Chips. Something crunchy and loud enough to mask how unsettled you felt.

Behind you, you didn’t hear footsteps.

But you still knew he was there.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he spoke.

“You didn’t have to leave.”

You didn’t turn around.

“I needed a break,” you said, gently tipping pretzels into a bowl. “Thought the snacks were looking lonely.”

“Y/N…”

You sighed and looked over your shoulder. “It’s fine, Mingyu.”

His brows pulled together, the crease between them deeper than before. “It’s clearly not.”

You shrugged and turned back to the cabinet.

“I’m not mad,” you said softly. “I’m just… tired of feeling like the punchline.”

He hesitated, hands curling at his sides. “You’re not.”

You gave a hollow laugh and finally turned to face him. “Aren’t I? Because it kind of feels like that’s the bit I’m playing in this group. The clueless one. The girl you’re maybe into when it’s convenient.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is the fact that Seungcheol talks about you being in love with Mia, and you just… sit there and let it land like it means nothing.”

“I didn’t ask him to say that,” Mingyu shot back.

“But you didn’t correct him either.”

There was a silence. Tight. Frayed at the edges.

You softened just enough to look at him clearly. “I know we haven’t figured us out yet. And I’m trying to be okay with that. I really am. But sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside of something I’m supposed to be part of.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to say something — maybe reach for you, maybe apologize.

But instead, he just nodded.

And you turned away again, just munching on the pretzels.

You lingered in the kitchen for ten full minutes — ten long, dragging minutes of quietly crunching chips, sipping a flat drink, and trying to calm the thrum beneath your ribs.

Eventually, with a deep breath and a plastered-on smile, you picked up your glass and slipped back out.

The living room had only gotten louder.

Someone had turned the music up, bodies now shifting to the beat while others hovered around the island with their half-filled cups. The drinking game had dissolved into a mix of laughter and scattered stories. You scanned the room for a familiar anchor — Joshua. Maybe he’d be ready to head out with you.

You spotted him near the hallway, surrounded by three people who were talking animatedly, hands flying with every sentence. Joshua was grinning wide, nodding along, clearly invested. You thought about cutting in — but the words caught somewhere in your throat.

He looked happy.

And you didn’t want to ruin that.

So you turned away, gaze sweeping the room once more.

And then you saw them.

Wonwoo.

And Mia.

Out on the balcony.

You hadn’t even noticed the sliding door open. The light from inside spilled faintly onto the patio, casting just enough glow to make out their silhouettes. Both had drinks in hand — hers a wine glass, his something darker in a tumbler. They were standing close, too close. She was laughing at something he’d said, one hand reaching out to lightly smack his arm. He smirked in response, leaning in to murmur something else.

Your stomach dropped.

You shouldn’t care. Not really.

But the sight made something tighten sharply in your chest.

The memory of that one kiss you and Wonwoo had shared flickered across your mind like static — stupid, harmless, forgettable. That’s what you’d both said. That’s how you’d justified it.

But it didn’t feel so harmless now.

Especially not when he was standing out there laughing with the same girl who had already been a minefield in your night.

You shifted back half a step, heart thudding in your ears.

You didn’t know what you felt. Jealousy? Guilt? Resentment? All of it layered over itself until it buzzed under your skin.

You turned quickly, almost bumping into someone as you ducked away toward the hallway.

Maybe fresh air.

Or maybe your coat.

You needed out — even if just for a few minutes.

You turned the corner in the hallway, heart set on grabbing your coat and slipping out before anyone noticed. But just as you reached the entryway, you stopped short.

Mingyu was there, leaning against the wall with a half-empty drink in his hand. His eyes flicked up the second he saw you. His expression was unreadable — but his jaw was tight.

“Leaving?” He asked coolly.

You hesitated. “Just getting some air.”

“Right.” He took a slow sip from his cup. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mingyu gave a half-laugh, dry and low. “It means every time things get even a little bit uncomfortable, you vanish. Kitchen. Couch. Front door. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I’m not vanishing,” you shot back. “I just—I needed a break.”

“From what? A party?” He said sharply. “From people asking questions or making jokes? You think I wasn’t uncomfortable when Seungcheol decided to talk about Mia like we were some old married couple?”

You blinked at him. “That’s not what this is about.”

Mingyu stepped forward. “Isn’t it?”

The hallway suddenly felt much narrower.

“You keep acting like I’m the one who’s keeping things from you,” he said, voice low but simmering. “Like I’m the one still playing games. But you know what? You hid the fact you kissed Wonwoo from me.”

Your breath caught.

Mingyu shook his head, eyes dark. “You say you want something real, and then the second things feel hard or messy, you bolt. You run, Y/N. Every time.”

You flinched. That hit too close.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”

Silence. Thick and heavy.

You looked away, pressing your lips together as you struggled to push down the swirl in your chest.

“I just need a minute,” you finally muttered, reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu didn’t stop you. He just watched, his knuckles whitening around his glass, and said quietly,

“Of course you do.”

And then he turned back toward the living room.

Leaving you standing alone in the hallway — your coat in one hand, and your heart doing laps in your chest.

~~ It wasn’t until you were halfway down the block that the weight of your choice hit. You had no destination, no real plan — just anger and bitterness and a vague urge to walk it out. Your phone was in your pocket, but you didn’t want to use it. You didn’t want to call anyone. You just… needed to be alone.

Except, the further you walked, the more lost you became.

Every rustle, every crack of twigs made you twitch. You kept moving, kept walking faster, willing yourself not to break down. Eventually, miraculously, you spotted a familiar street name, which gave you just enough hope to return to your building.

You exhaled sharply when the elevator doors closed behind you. Safe. ~~ You reached your door and slid your keys out of your purse, hand halfway to the lock—when a voice stopped you cold.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers paused mid-turn.

Mingyu was standing in front of his own apartment, hoodie half-zipped, hands in his pockets, his eyes already on you. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d just run a hand through it too many times.

You gave a tired smile, trying to defuse the awkwardness lingering between you both. “Hey.”

But Mingyu didn’t smile back. “You might not want to go in right now.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “Just… wait a bit.”

You frowned, still gripping your keys. “Mingyu, I live here.”

“I know,” he said, gaze heavy. “But Wonwoo and Mia… they came back.”

Your heart stuttered. You let out a breathy laugh, trying to play it cool. “So? They’re friends, right?”

Mingyu tilted his head, the edge of frustration flickering in his expression. “Friends don’t usually come back from a party like that. And definitely not when he comes knocking on my door five minutes later asking for a condom.”

The words hit you like a gut punch.

You froze.

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” Mingyu added after a beat. “I just figured you’d rather hear it from me than… find out when you walked in.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh and leaned back against your door, suddenly feeling like the floor had shifted beneath you.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” you said, voice thin.

Mingyu nodded, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in. I just—didn’t want you to walk in and feel blindsided.”

You took a seat on the floor, back against your door, arms hugged around your knees like they were the only thing holding you together. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint muffled bass still pulsing from someone’s party playlist. You blinked slowly, trying not to think about anything. Especially not about what was happening behind that door.

Mingyu shifted from where he was standing. “Hey…” he said softly, crouching down in front of you.

You looked up, eyes heavy.

“Come inside.”

You blinked. “Gyu…”

“No,” he cut you off gently, voice low. “No expectations, no talking if you don’t want to. I just… You’re freezing.” His brows knit together. “At least let me make you tea. Or take a hot shower, or… hell, just sit on my couch wrapped in a blanket until you don’t feel like the world’s kicked you in the teeth.”

You stared at him for a long beat, and when you didn’t respond, he added—

“You can even crash in my bed. I’ll take the couch, seriously. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. You were too tired to argue, too wrung out to pretend. And the quiet sincerity in his face—no teasing, no passive digs—just soft concern and that familiar, maddeningly warm steadiness—it unraveled whatever was left of your resistance.

“…Okay.”

He nodded once, slow and quiet, like he was making a promise not to ask for more.

Mingyu stood and reached out a hand.

You took it.

And when he gently pulled you to your feet and guided you across the hall into the soft, familiar glow of his apartment, you exhaled your first real breath in hours.

His apartment was warm, too clean — clearly a sign of restlessness that he felt, and in order to quell it, he decided to clean up after the party ended.

“Go shower, you can take any one of my shirts in my room.”

You nodded and made your way to his bedroom, hands still shaking from the cold and the spiral in your head.

You stood by the bathroom doorway, fingers fidgeting with the hem of Mingyu’s oversized hoodie. You weren’t sure why your chest still felt tight, why the ache hadn’t eased yet—maybe because you still hadn’t said anything. Or maybe because you were waiting for him to.

Mingyu was folding a blanket over the couch when he paused, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Before you go in…”

You looked up.

“I wanted to clear something up. About… Mia.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“She and I never… We weren’t a thing,” he said, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a stupid crush on her during our first year at uni. Thought she was cool. Pretty. Funny. I followed her around like a lovesick idiot for a bit.”

You gave a tiny nod, waiting.

“But that thing Seungcheol said? About the desk?” He winced. “That wasn’t me and her. It was Seokmin and his ex. In the shared flat. I was literally in the next room, trying not to vomit from the noise.”

You couldn’t help the small, awkward laugh that escaped.

Mingyu smiled faintly, then looked down at his hands. “I just… I know tonight made you feel small. And that’s on me too. I should’ve shut that conversation down. I should’ve said something instead of letting you sit there feeling like a joke.”

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it.

“And I shouldn’t have lost it earlier about Wonwoo. It caught me off guard, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping closer, heart thudding. “You were right to be upset. I should’ve told you. I was just… scared. It was before anything with us even started but I still felt stupid, and messy, and—”

“Hey.” He stepped forward gently, and before you could spiral further, he cupped your face in both hands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw. “You don’t have to say everything perfectly all the time. You just have to tell me when something matters.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, not for your lips, but for your forehead—pressing a kiss there so soft it made your eyes sting.

When he pulled back, he gave you the smallest smile. “Go shower, okay? Take your time.”

You nodded, heart a little lighter.

It had been a half hour, and you were in the bathroom, not yet showered, simply looking at your appearance and wondering what Mia had that you didn’t. She got Mingyu’s attention once, and now Wonwoo, and you just looked at the mirror wondering what you lacked.

The bathroom mirror was cruel.

You stood there, picking yourself apart — everything you weren’t, everything she was.

“Y/N?” Mingyu called out now worried because you had been gone for so long.

You didn’t respond.

Mingyu stepped in slowly, a towel in hand. “Hey. Stop that.”

“I just… wanted to see what I was missing.”

He sighed and gently helped you onto the counter, wetting the towel and wiping your face with steady hands.

“She’s pretty.”

“Stop. Do not tear yourself apart.”

“She has a great body.”

“Y/N look at me.”

You blinked at him.

“Can you shower? Or do you need help?”

“I don’t know. She got your attention and his, what does she have that I don’t?”

“Don’t do this, don’t tear yourself apart.”

You leaned into him. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not.”

His hands moved to your waist, slow, deliberate. “Nothing about this is pity.”

And then, he kissed you — soft, grounding, nothing like the others.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Mingyu murmured as he brushed his fingers gently against your jaw. “Can you manage to shower on your own, or do you need me to help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pressed yourself into his chest. “I need you.”

Mingyu nodded wordlessly and began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” he said softly, “you are so fucking beautiful.” You looked down, unsure of how to respond. Mingyu stepped forward, tilting your chin up. “And I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

He guided you into the shower, and the minute the warm water hit your skin, you sighed. It was like the tension had been waiting to melt off your shoulders. Mingyu reached for the shampoo and ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp so gently it almost made you tear up. He didn’t rush. He just took care of you. And for once, you let someone do that.

You were about to step out when Mingyu turned you gently and pressed your back to the tile wall.

His lips landed on your forehead first, then trailed down to your lips—soft, slow, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about heat. It was about holding you there, steady, wanted. You kissed him back, curling your fingers into his hair, and he leaned into it.

His lips brushed along your jaw, then down your neck. He was leaving faint marks—reminders. “Just so you know you’re real,” he murmured, almost like he could read your thoughts. His hands moved up to your breasts, careful and reverent, making you gasp when he tugged at your nipple just right.

Mingyu dropped to his knees without a word, and you held your breath.

The way he licked you—patient, intentional—it wasn’t just about getting you off. It was like he wanted to remind you of what it meant to feel good in your body again. Your hands tangled in his soaked hair as his tongue moved through your folds, dipping into you, then teasing your clit with expert flicks.

Your orgasm crept up on you slowly, and when it hit, it rolled through you like a wave. Mingyu didn’t let go of you—if anything, he held tighter, anchoring you in place as you trembled through it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous when you fall apart,” he whispered, lips against your thigh. “Like this? This is mine.”

You whimpered at his words, your legs trembling. “Turn around, face the wall,” he said gently. “Can I—?”

“Please,” you breathed.

Mingyu pulled you into another kiss, your lips barely able to keep up with the emotion. Before you realised it, he was lifting you up, your legs around his waist, aligning himself with you.

“Is this okay?” He asked again, and the softness in his voice made your heart stutter.

You nodded.

The first push of him inside you made you gasp, and Mingyu held you steady, his forehead pressed against yours. “So tight,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”

He rocked into you with more power than speed, and you felt your fourth orgasm build until you were practically sobbing into his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “I’ve got you.”

“Cum inside me,” you whispered.

He nodded, kissed you hard, and thrust deeper, grunting as he spilled inside you. Your body quaked again, your walls clenching around him.

Even after he pulled out and gently set you down, Mingyu didn’t step away. He held your shaking body close, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and slid a hand down your stomach.

“One more,” he said, his voice almost a question.

You nodded.

He slid his fingers into you again, and it was too much, but in the best way. You came instantly, collapsing into him.

Mingyu held you up, whispering soft words in your ear as he washed you down carefully, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed.

He towelled your hair dry, slid a clean shirt over your head, and tucked you into bed with him, wrapping his arms around you like a safety net.

You laid your head on his chest and mumbled, “cuddly.”

“Always,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

You hesitated. “Fucked out. But safe. And wanted.”

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he answered. “Good. That’s all I ever want you to feel with me.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the intimacy, but just as you started to drift off, you heard him whisper something against your hair.

“I’ll always only want you.”

A couple of days later, you groaned, dragging yourself onto the couch and curling into a tight ball. “God, why does it feel like my uterus is trying to kill me,” you muttered, clutching a hot water bottle to your stomach.

“I swear to god, fucking stupid moron,” you continued to swear, as every movement felt like punishment from your uterus.

“Okay, I just got here, so I know I didn’t piss you off,” Joshua said as he walked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

You glared at him. “You offering to help?”

“Not if you’re gonna bite me,” he quipped, stepping around you and grabbing the kettle. “Sit. You look like you’re two cramps away from burning down the building.”

You groaned and shuffled to the couch, burying yourself in blankets. “Ugh, I hate this. Everything hurts.”

Joshua soon joined you with a mug in hand. “Put in honey too. You're welcome.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re the best.”

“Obviously,” he replied. Then he glanced at his phone. “I wish I could stay, but I’m meeting Jihoon. He’s letting me preview his next drop.”

You gave him a weak thumbs up. “Rub it in.”

Joshua gave you a pointed look. “Also—friendly poke—but have you spoken to Wonwoo since the party?”

You groaned. “Ask me when I’m not bleeding like a stuck pig, okay?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair. You’re terrifying. Anyway, I’ll be back later.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “And if I’m not, Mingyu can take care of you.”

At the mention of his name, you peeked over the top of your blanket… just in time to see Mingyu walking through your apartment door like it was scripted.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, flopping back down and hiding again.

Mingyu laughed as he crouched in front of you. “Why am I apparently your designated caretaker?”

You sighed dramatically. “Because my uterus is revolting, and I’m slowly dying.”

“Right. Your monthly ‘not pregnant’ reminder.” Mingyu softened his tone.

“Do you want a pillow?” He asked

You smirked. “You offering to be a body pillow now?”

“Absolutely. Way comfier.” Without waiting, he scooped you up and settled onto the couch with you draped across him, his leg propping up your back. “Better?”

You nodded against his chest. “So much better.”

For a while, it was quiet, his fingers lazily carding through your hair.

“Gyu?” You murmured, your voice drowsy.

“Yeah?”

“You must have been a solid ex-boyfriend, because this is top-tier boyfriend behaviour.”

He paused, then answered softly. “It did serve me lots of brownie points with my ex.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Sorry, we don’t have to discuss it if it’s a sore subject.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “It’s part of the story, you know? I thought she was the one, for a while.”

“You’re a romantic,” you whispered.

Mingyu smiled. “Guilty. I like the idea of something that makes you feel so seen, so loved… something that sticks.”

You let out a soft breath. “I used to be like that. But every time I like someone, they like someone else. So... what’s the point?”

“Do you not believe in love anymore?”

“I do,” you admitted. “Just not for me.”

“Why? You don’t think you’ll find it, or you don’t think you deserve it?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Some people get it. Some people don’t. I think I’m the latter. Can we change the topic? Discussing this on my period is a bad idea.”

“You brought it up,” he said gently.

“And now I’m regretting it,” you muttered, making him laugh.

He adjusted slightly, his hand resting over yours. “Should I go?”

You pulled back to look at him. “You’re leaving because I don’t want to dissect my emotional trauma?”

“I’m leaving because I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells around you. One minute we’re laughing, the next you’re distant. It’s hard to keep up.”

You turned your face away. “Now you get why I don’t believe in this fairytale crap. Love is supposed to be this all-forgiving, unconditional thing. If I can’t even be friends with someone because of my moods, then what hope do I have?”

He was quiet for a beat, then gently pulled you into his arms again. “Okay. What if we just hang out for a week? Just friends. No sex. We get drunk, eat junk food, watch movies—see if we even like each other without the orgasms.”

You snorted. “That sounds kinda fun. After the period from hell, though.”

He smiled down at you. “Of course.”

“Gyu?” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Nope. Couch is comfy. I’m lazy. And you’re warm.”

You smiled and snuggled into his chest, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Because you’re a sweetheart.” ~~ You woke up groggy, face buried against something firm and warm.

“Gyu,” you mumbled sleepily, blinking at the early morning light creeping through your curtains.

“Hm?” He muttered, voice raspy and barely awake.

“Can you get up?”

“Why?” Mingyu mumbled sleepily, arms still wrapped around you. “M’comfy.”

You shifted slightly, your forehead creased. “Because… Wonwoo could walk in and see us like this, and you two haven’t gotten off to the best start.”

Mingyu blinked his eyes open at that, head lifting slowly from the pillow. “Oh,” he said softly. “Right.”

You frowned when he didn’t move, when his arms didn’t immediately pull away. “Gyu?”

He took a breath and looked at you—not annoyed, not defensive. Just thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded slowly.

“How do you feel? About him. About… everything that happened with Mia.”

Your stomach twisted. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Mingyu didn’t speak, giving you the space to figure it out. You could feel the weight of his gaze though, and something about that steadiness made the words come easier.

“I think… I think part of me was always holding on to this idea of him. The possibility of it. But then I saw him with her—saw how easy it was for him to move on and smile like it never meant anything.”

Mingyu stayed quiet, his hand brushing over your knuckles gently.

“And I felt stupid,” you whispered. “For believing it ever meant anything. For hoping.” He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I want to,” you said, turning to look at him. “Because I don’t want you to think that I’m still stuck on him. I’m not. It just… it still stings a little.”

“Of course it does,” Mingyu said quietly. “You cared.”

Silence hung between you for a beat. Then he reached over and tugged the blanket over your knees.

“I’m not trying to replace anything, Y/N,” he said, voice gentle. “But I need to know that I’m not a rebound. Or someone you lean on because you’re lonely.”

“You’re not,” you said without hesitation, sitting up a little. “You’re… kind, and patient, and safe. And I’m scared because I don’t want to screw this up.”

Mingyu gave you a tired, crooked smile. “We already did the screwing up part, remember?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes. “Right.”

He reached for your hand again. “Then let’s just try. Slowly, if we have to.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat softening.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Now, can I hold you again without the threat of a third-party walk-in ruining the moment?”

You chuckled and pulled the blanket tighter around you. “Okay. Just don’t squeeze my stomach too hard. I’m still cramping.”

He smiled, already settling back down beside you, warm and close and quiet.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, tucking you closer. “Always.”

And for the first time in a long while, you believed it.

~~ About an hour later, once you’d both recovered enough to joke about heating pads and your questionable snack choices, Mingyu stretched with a sleepy grin, tugged on his hoodie, and ruffled your hair. “Alright, nurse Gyu’s off the clock, I need to actually attend a meeting,” he teased.

“Text me if you need anything, okay?” You nodded, smiling as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading to the door with one last wave. Just as the warmth between you and Mingyu settled into something quiet and safe, the front door creaked open, and in walked Wonwoo, fingers laced effortlessly with Mia’s.

“Oh,” Wonwoo said awkwardly, holding hands with Mia. “Didn’t know you were home.”

You stared at him. “I live here.”

Mia glanced down at her feet. “I’ll be in your room,” she said softly.

You watched her walk away, then turned to Wonwoo with a blank stare.

“Why did I see Mingyu leave just now?” He asked.

You scoffed. “Why do you care?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look… Mia and I… we connect. In a way, I just couldn’t with you.”

You blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

Wonwoo paused. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete and utter dick.”

“Too late.”

He winced. “You told Joshua you liked me. Loudly. I heard you. And since then, I guess I’ve been trying to like you back. But… I couldn’t.”

You swallowed. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

“I thought something must be wrong with me if I couldn’t like someone like you. So I tried. We’re great as friends, but I wanted to see if maybe something more would grow. I thought… maybe if I kissed you, maybe if we got closer, it’d click. But it didn’t.”

You sat down. Your body was numb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “I know I still did. I’m sorry.”

You nodded. “Does she make you happy?”

Wonwoo smiled, slowly and real. “Yeah. She does.”

“Then I’m happy for you. Or I will be. Eventually.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

As he turned to leave, you spotted something tossed over the back of the couch—Mingyu’s leather jacket.

“Does he make you happy?” Wonwoo asked, following your gaze.

You hesitated. “He’s… good in bed.”

Wonwoo gave you a look. “Y/N.”

You groaned. “Fine. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s too soon.”

“Then find out. You deserve to feel the kind of happiness you’re wishing me.”

You stared at him—and suddenly your brain clicked into gear. “Holy shit, you just gave me an idea.”

Wonwoo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.” You were already darting to your bedroom, mind racing. “And I’ll be nice to Mia. Promise!”

He stood in the hallway, looking vaguely concerned, as you disappeared with your laptop.

~~ The cursor blinked back at you as you deleted the title of your current draft.

“What is a Type?”Gone.

You typed quickly:

“How Many Dates Until You Know?”

You hit send on the pitch, and within minutes, your editor responded:

Approved. Run with it.

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, your fingers didn’t hesitate.

And the first person you wanted to write this with—the only person who had stuck around long enough to earn that role—was Mingyu.

~~ “So Keira,” you began, twirling your pen between your fingers, “I’m basically going to go out with him today. It’s not a date, but somewhere during the hangouts, I’ll bring up the idea of a date. I’ll essentially make him take me on one and see how long it takes for me to fall.”

Keira narrowed her eyes. “You’re using your hot neighbour for an investigative romance piece.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“Y/N,” she said, voice half-worried, half-exasperated, “while I love this chaotic plan, let’s keep it confidential. I don’t want him getting hurt and then suing us.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “He won’t! Okay, it’s six—I gotta go meet him for our ‘friendly’ workout.”

“Use protection!” Keira called as you walked out of her office.

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Not that kind of workout…”

And maybe you’d forgotten to mention that you’d already slept with him. Repeatedly. But that wasn’t important. This wasn’t about sex anymore—it was about connection, chemistry, and curiosity. This was research.

For journalism. Obviously.

“You wore heels to a workout?” Mingyu asked, raising a brow as you walked up to him outside your office.

“Relax,” you said, spinning slightly on your toes. “I’ve got my workout gear in my bag; I just needed to look cute for work.”

“You always look cute.”

You blinked. “Okay, that’s not helpful.”

“What?” Mingyu asked, smirking. “You looked at me like I was the dessert tray.”

You glared. “You’re literally sex on legs, and you know it.”

“Flattery will get you in the car faster.” He gestured to his sleek black Mercedes.

You paused. “Not to be that person, but… nice wheels.”

Mingyu stiffened slightly. “It was a gift. From my ex.”

You blinked. “A car?”

“Yeah,” he said, starting the engine.

“We dated through high school. Her family was loaded. When I told her I wanted to become a photographer, she freaked. She said it didn’t fit her image; she expected that when it was appropriate, I’d marry her and we’d run her family business.”

“Oh, that’s not fair, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She bought me shit like this to keep me around. Said if I failed, I could sell the gifts. Thought I’d be her trophy husband.”

Your hand found its way to his thigh. “Damn. Well, with you’ve been through with her, it’s impressive that you still believe in love.”

“I didn’t. Not for a long time. But then I found dance again. Music. Something that loved me back. And it taught me how to love myself, too.”

You were quiet for a second.

Then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re such a softie.”

“Oh, also, I’m taking you rock climbing, so buckle up.”

You didn’t expect the receptionist to be so… pretty.

And smiley.

And touchy.

Your stomach twisted when Mingyu greeted her like an old friend. “Nice to see you again.”

“You brought a friend this time,” she said, giving you a pointed once-over.

“I am the friend,” you said, deadpan.

She asked for your shoe size and handed you climbing shoes. You followed Mingyu into the locker room, already irritated.

“You good?” he asked, eyes watching you closely.

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Then why were you glaring at her?”

“Yuri?”

You scoffed. “Yeah Yuri, Pretty receptionist with perfect tits? No reason.”

“I didn’t notice her tits,” he muttered. “But thanks for pointing it out. Should I go admire them up close?”

You glared. “Why are you trying to piss me off?”

“Are you jealous?”

You blinked. “No!”

He tilted his head. “Okay. Then change and meet me outside.”

~~Ten minutes later, you nearly choked when you found Mingyu shirtless by the climbing wall.

“Put your shirt back on,” you said immediately.

“Why? You don’t care who I talk to or what I do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Show me how this works before I commit murder.”

Mingyu smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He scaled the wall effortlessly, muscles flexing in all the right places.

You hated how hot he looked.

Also, you slipped on your third attempt and scraped your knee.

“Fuck—Y/N!” Mingyu was by your side instantly, kneeling next to you.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, wincing.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scratch.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re cute when you’re worried.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes but helped you up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

~~ You changed back into your dress, only to find him chatting—again—with Yuri at the desk.

Laughing. Like, she was the funniest person alive.

Your blood boiled for no reason. Rationally, you knew this. Emotionally, you wanted to hurl your climbing shoes at his head.

“Hey,” he said, noticing you. “Have you been waiting long?”

You shrugged. “Was Yuri too distracting?”

Mingyu’s expression dropped. “You know what? I’m tired of this.”

Your arms folded automatically.

“I can’t talk to anyone without you jumping to conclusions. You keep saying you want to be friends—but if I have to tiptoe around your feelings and mine just to keep you from blowing up, then what’s the point?”

You blinked. “I… I care. Okay? Maybe too much. But I do care.”

Mingyu softened, reaching up to hold your face. “Then tell me that. Don’t shut down. Don’t make it weird.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Back at his place, you were both sprawled on the bed, slurping noodles and giggling through Ratatouille.

Somewhere around your fourth glass of wine, you tried to get up.

“I should head home.”

Mingyu caught your wrist. “Or stay. You’re comfy to cuddle.”

You turned, eyes locking with his.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t have to.

Because in that moment, the line between friendship and something else blurred again—and this time, neither of you pulled away.

“How’s your knee?” Mingyu asked quietly a little later, his hand tracing soft circles along your lower back. You were curled into him, trying to relax, but your body was tense. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice low. Then he moved his thigh slightly, and you gasped.

“Shit—did I hurt you?” He said instantly, sitting up slightly in concern, his expression soft and serious.

“No—no,” you rushed to reassure him, shaking your head. “You didn’t. It’s just… the way you’re moving your thigh—um—it’s kind of… turning me on.”

Mingyu blinked, then cracked a small, surprised smile. “Yeah? Like this?” He flexed again, watching you melt into his chest with a tiny groan. “God,” you whispered.

“Get up,” he said, and you obeyed without even thinking, legs already trembling. Mingyu sat up and glanced down at his sweats. “Look at this,” he said with a soft huff, gesturing at the wet patch. “You’ve been sitting here, all innocent, no underwear under your oversized shirt?”

You gave him a shy nod. “Didn’t think it’d matter.”

Mingyu ran a hand down his face, eyes raking over you. “Is that why you took forever in the shower earlier? Were you thinking about me?” His voice was low, teasing—but the vulnerability behind it was clear. He wanted the truth. And you gave it to him.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly.

That single word was all he needed. He reached out gently, pulling you back into his arms. “Lie down with me.” His tone had softened. “Do you have work early?”

“No, I start at ten.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Then just stay. Let’s just… be here.”

There was a pause. “Okay, don’t freak out, but I don’t really sleep with clothes on,” he whispered into your ear, like it was some confession. “I can wear boxers if it makes you uncomfortable—”

“No,” you said softly. “I think I might take this off too.” You tugged at the hem of your shirt.

He watched you, his eyes warm, not predatory. “That’s okay. We can just hold each other. You don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

But the warmth building between your bodies said otherwise. You were curled up in bed, bare skin on bare skin, when you started to squirm. Mingyu’s arms tightened instinctively around you. “Stop moving, baby,” he groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You keep this up and I won’t be able to think straight.” You pushed back into him, feeling how hard he was. Your voice was low, almost shy, but certain. “Then… maybe do something about it.”

He chuckled, but his gaze turned tender. “Only if you want me to.”

“I want you.”

That was all it took. Mingyu gently bit your shoulder, then pulled the duvet off your legs. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Come sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“C’mere,” he murmured, guiding you up. You positioned yourself above him, heart pounding, thighs trembling slightly from nerves. But Mingyu was nothing but reverent, his hands supporting you gently as he looked up with nothing short of adoration. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

The first touch of his mouth had you gasping. He didn’t rush—he never did. Every flick of his tongue was patient, slow, deliberate, like he wanted you to feel cherished, not just desired. Your hands found his hair and tangled there as you let your head fall back.

He pulled you down for a kiss, then whispered, “hands and knees.” You obeyed shakily, still breathless. Mingyu slid into you slowly, almost carefully, groaning as he filled you. “You feel so good… I’ll go slow, baby.”

But it didn’t stay slow for long. Your body welcomed him like it was made for this, and soon he was pounding into you, every stroke sending shivers down your spine. He kept murmuring soft praise in your ear between kisses on your shoulder, telling you how perfect you felt, how beautiful you looked.

When you whimpered that you wanted to taste him, he stilled and pulled out, letting you turn around. You wrapped your lips around him, taking your time, and he groaned, one hand tangled in your hair, the other resting gently on your back like an anchor.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me—” His breath caught as he came, and you swallowed him down, still licking softly until he whimpered. “God, you’re unreal.”

He didn’t even let you sit up before scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the shower. “You made me beg,” he teased with a breathless laugh. “Now it’s my turn.”

You didn’t remember how long you were in there. Mingyu kissed and licked and touched you like it was his sole purpose in life. He whispered soft encouragement, asked if it felt okay, and held you steady when your legs gave out. And when you squirted for the fourth time, he kissed your temple and whispered, “There she is. My perfect girl.”

Back in bed, you were a puddle of emotion and sensation. He dried you off with the softest towel, pulled his shirt over your body, and crawled in beside you. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you buried your face into his chest.

“Cuddly,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled softly. “How do you feel?”

“Fucked out. But…amazing.”

Mingyu held you tighter, resting his chin on your head. “I’m glad.”

And just before sleep pulled you under, you thought you heard him murmur against your hair. You didn’t ask, but you felt him smile into your hair. ~~

“You’re comfy to cuddle,” Mingyu said again, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers curled softly around your wrist.

You raised an eyebrow. “You said no sex while we’re hanging out.”

“I did,” he replied. “But cuddling isn’t sex.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “With you, cuddling is basically foreplay.”

He chuckled, tugging you gently back down until your head was resting on his chest again. “Then I’ll behave.”

You sighed as you curled into him, feeling the warm rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers returned to threading through your hair, slow and rhythmic. You hated how much you liked it. How right it felt.

“Mingyu?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever wondered why we do this? Sleep together, fight, make up, but still act like we’re not… anything?”

Mingyu didn’t answer right away.

Then—“All the time.”

Your eyes lifted to his, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, like he was trying to hold something back.

“I don’t know,” he added softly. “Maybe it’s because every time I think it could mean something, you push me away.”

You winced. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He finally looked at you. “The moment I get close, you panic. The moment I pull away, you come running.”

“Mingyu…”

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not wrong either. I’m probably addicted to the way you confuse me.”

You sat up, suddenly too warm, too vulnerable.

“I’m not trying to confuse you,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he said, sitting up too, face inches from yours. “I think we’re both just… scared.”

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe you leaned in, maybe he did. All you knew was that the air between you cracked with tension, and then—

Your lips were on his.

Slow. Soft. Cautious.

And then not cautious at all.

Mingyu’s hands tangled in your hair, yours clutched the front of his shirt, and the kiss deepened into something familiar, something dangerous. You were already straddling his lap before you realised what was happening, the promise of “no sex” evaporating like steam off a kettle.

He pulled away, panting, forehead resting against yours.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered.

“Yep,” you whispered back.

Neither of you moved.

His thumb traced along your jaw. Your nails curled against his chest.

“Mingyu…” you said, voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

You swallowed. “We’re fucked.”

He smiled.

And kissed you again anyway.

~~ The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the city through the window and the sound of Mingyu’s breathing—slow, steady, grounding. His arm was draped over your waist, anchoring you to the warmth of his body, skin still slick with the afterglow. You lay there tangled in sheets and each other, your cheek pressed into his chest, fingers lazily tracing the dip between his ribs.

“You okay?” Mingyu murmured into your hair, his voice husky from both exhaustion and softness.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. You?”

“Mm.” He shifted slightly, just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. “More than okay.”

You smiled at that, closing your eyes for a moment. But even in the comfort of his arms, that familiar unease stirred in your chest. The intimacy didn’t scare you—not exactly. But what it might lead to did. You could feel the questions hanging between you, heavy like unsaid words always were.

Mingyu sensed it too.

“I know this wasn’t... nothing,” he started, his voice careful, like he didn’t want to break the calm. “But I also know you don’t like labels. Or expectations.”

You sighed, biting your lip. “It’s not that I don’t like them,” you said slowly. “It’s just... whenever things get serious, I panic. I start convincing myself I’m not ready, or that I’ll mess it up.”

Mingyu nodded. “That’s fair.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more with you. But I also know what it’s like to feel like you’re sprinting when everyone else is just learning how to walk.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” Mingyu said. “And I don’t want to pressure you. I like this. I like you. And if this—us—is just a maybe for now... I’m okay with that.”

You swallowed, then nodded. “So we’re not... together.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Not exclusive.”

“Nope.”

“But we like each other.”

Mingyu gave you a lazy grin. “A lot.”

You smiled at that, something warm and relieved blooming in your chest. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed, tightening his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “So we just… keep doing what we’re doing?”

“For now,” you said softly. “We take it slow. No pressure. No promises.”

“Cool,” Mingyu said. “Though I reserve the right to make you breakfast.”

“And I reserve the right to avoid your protein pancakes.”

He gasped in mock offense, and you both burst into quiet laughter, limbs still tangled beneath the sheets. Maybe it wasn’t a fairytale. Maybe it wasn’t official.

But it felt real.

And, for now, that was enough.

“Walk of shame at eight in the morning, nice,” Joshua commented, glancing over the rim of his coffee mug as you tried to sneak past him unnoticed. “Seriously, is he that good in bed? Because, girl, you’re limping.”

You shot him a withering glare, cheeks flaming. “He’s amazing, okay?”

Joshua grinned, the kind of grin that said I told you so without saying a word. “Oh my god, you’re smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Do you like him?”

You shook your head a little too quickly. “No… I mean… I’m just… seeing if I could?”

Joshua blinked at you, setting his mug down. “What?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “So… my next article? It’s going to be titled How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love.”

Joshua raised a brow. “Okay, that’s kinda cute. And honestly, kinda cool that Mingyu’s down to be your guinea pig.”

You froze. “He… doesn’t know.”

Joshua just sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how bad that looks? You’re literally using him for a story.”

You folded your arms. “Not if I end up liking him. Then it’s a romance arc.”

“Y/N, you can’t—”

“If I fall for him, it’ll be adorable!” You cut in, and then quickly added under your breath, “and journalistic.”

He groaned. “I hope your gravestone says, ‘killed by stupid decisions.’”

Before you could retort, Wonwoo strolled into the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch. “Okay, what’s going on? What dumb shit has she done now?”

“She’s writing an article called How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love,” Joshua muttered.

“And she’s using Mingyu to figure it out,” Joshua added before you could stop him.

“Oh, and she hasn’t told him,” Joshua finished, arms crossed.

Wonwoo gave you the slowest blink known to man. “You will tell him, right?”

You offered a shrug and a weak smile.

“Y/N!” They both yelled, startling you into a small jump.

“Okay, okay!” you snapped. “It’s not like I’m trying to ruin his life. If I fall for him, it’s mutual happiness!”

Wonwoo scoffed. “And if you don’t? Then what, you get a byline and he gets heartbreak?”

You groaned. “Fine, I’ll tell him. Eventually.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Don’t wait for him to find out, Y/N. Please.”

You gave a tiny, guilty nod and quickly grabbed your bag. “Okay, well. Work calls!”

~~At the office, Keira looked up as you handed her your notepad. “So? How was the date?”

“It was good. Just… a hangout. Some flirting. A lot of chemistry.”

Keira arched a brow. “Ooh. Promising.”

You grinned. “We ended up watching a movie at his place.”

You left out the part where Mingyu had practically rearranged your internal organs. No need for those notes on file.

Keira smirked. “Is he at least hot?”

You winced, cheeks heating again. “Very. Tall. Gorgeous. Kind. Built like a Greek statue sculpted from sunshine.”

“Aw, a muse,” she teased. “Wouldn’t it be funny if this article landed you a boyfriend?”

You laughed quietly, mostly to yourself. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

Later that evening, you decided on a spontaneous plan: two bottles of soju, your favourite snacks, and Monsters Inc. You wanted a comfort movie, and for some insane reason, you wanted Mingyu there beside you.

You knocked on his apartment door, only to be greeted by Seokmin. “Hey Y/N, ooh movie night?”

“Did we make plans?” He asked, smiling.

“No, but I brought soju and a Pixar classic. Just thought…” Your voice trailed off as another figure appeared from behind him.

She was wearing his shirt.

Your shirt.

The same oversized hoodie Mingyu once slipped over your shoulders when you complained about the chill in his car. The one that still faintly smelled like his cologne days later, when you returned it.

The girl stood in the entryway of his apartment, tugging the sleeves over her hands, barefoot and blinking blearily. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t know anyone was coming by,” she said, startled as her eyes landed on you.

She didn’t sound smug. Just surprised.

Still, it sent your stomach plummeting.

Your gaze darted to Mingyu standing a few feet behind her, hair slightly rumpled, holding a coffee mug. He looked as caught off guard as she did.

But he didn’t say anything.

No rushed explanation. No, hey, it’s not what it looks like.

Just silence.

You nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”

Mingyu took a step forward. “Y/N—”

“No need to explain,” you said, your voice light, falsely bright. “We’re not anything.”

You weren’t angry. Not yet. Just hollow.

He opened his mouth again, but the words didn’t come fast enough. You were already backing up.

“Enjoy your evening,” you added, and turned around before he could try again.

—

Your hands were trembling by the time you made it to your door. You fumbled with your keys, hating yourself for it. You shouldn’t feel this way. You didn’t even know what the two of you were. You weren’t together. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

But it still felt like something in your chest had been kicked open.

“Y/N?”

Seokmin, who had followed you out, asked, his voice was soft, concerned. He’d seen you bolt past. Of course, he had.

You didn’t turn around. “Yeah?” You managed.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded, but your voice betrayed you. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Seokmin stepped closer. “That girl, she actually–?”

You shrugged. “Don’t I don’t want to kno,w okay?”

He hesitated. “But, Y/N, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I doubt it, thank you for checking on me, but I just need some space okay?” You glanced at him, your smile watery. He looked at you like he understood — and didn’t.

“If you need anything,” he offered gently, “just knock.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump as you slipped into your apartment.

A knock rattled your front door.

You didn’t move.

You already knew who it was.

The knock came again, quieter this time. More hesitant.

“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice filtered through. “Please. Just let me explain.”

You exhaled sharply, your eyes still fixed on the flickering screen in front of you.

Another pause. Then the door creaked open.

You’d left it unlocked. Stupid.

Mingyu stepped inside, still in the same clothes from earlier. His hoodie—the one now burned into your memory—was gone, replaced by a tight, uncomfortable silence.

You didn’t look at him.

“I saw your face,” he said quietly. “Please believe me when I tell you, nothing happened.”

You finally turned toward him, face unreadable. “She was wearing your shirt, the same one you let me wear.”

“I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Her name’s Jiwoo. She’s my assistant. We’ve been pulling extra hours for this new gallery thing and—” He sighed. “This morning, I spilled a full glass of orange juice on her shirt while we were working in the kitchen. I offered her something dry. It just happened to be that hoodie.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

“I get how it looked, but it wasn’t—” He took a step forward. “Y/N, it wasn’t anything.”

You tilted your head, your voice calm but cold. “And you couldn’t say that when I was standing there? When she walked out like that, and you just stood there like I caught you red-handed?”

Mingyu flinched. “I froze. You looked… devastated.”

“I was,” you said, standing now, arms crossed. “Because I trusted you.”

“You said we weren’t exclusive.”

“I said we weren’t ready for labels,” you shot back, “not that I wanted to see you playing dress-up with another girl five minutes after I left your bed.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice tightening. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just don’t want to be the fool again.”

Mingyu’s expression faltered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You shrugged. “And yet.”

Silence filled the space between you.

He stepped back, the fight draining from his shoulders. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve said what I came here to say.”

You nodded once, keeping your voice steady. “Thanks for the explanation.”

He hesitated. “If you ever want to talk—”

“I’ll let you know,” you interrupted, already turning away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the ache didn’t leave with him.

It stayed. Quiet. Heavy. Unanswered.

~~ Later, curled into your couch, hair damp from a too-hot shower, you stared blankly at the muted credits of a movie you hadn’t really watched. The hoodie you had tossed into the laundry still sat in the basket, crumpled and untouched.

You weren’t mad.

You were hurt. Quietly. Deeply.

Because it was one thing to say “we’re not a thing.”

It was another time to be reminded of it in a hallway you used to share with him.

And it was something else entirely to realise you wanted to be one.

You crumpled where you stood, body folding inwards as the tears spilled freely.

Time blurred after that. You didn’t remember curling up on the couch, but that’s where Joshua found you hours later, wrapped in a blanket with a half-finished glass of wine on the table.

“Y/N, honey. Wake up.” His voice was soft as he knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

Your eyes blinked open, dazed. “Shua?”

“You’ve been asleep for hours,” he murmured, voice tender. “Thought I’d bring you back to your bed. Come on, bubs.”

He helped you up slowly, one arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you into your room. You didn’t fight him. You barely said a word.

“Y/N, what happened?” He asked gently once you were sitting on the edge of your bed.

You gave a hollow laugh. “Guess my article’s gone to shit.”

Joshua didn’t react. Just waited.

“Mingyu didn’t take it well?” He finally asked.

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know.” Your voice cracked. “I went over… and there was another girl, wearing his shirt, he claims it’s his assistant, and only wearing his shirt because”

Joshua sat down beside you, jaw clenched. “God.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like Wonwoo all over again. I tried so hard with him… and when he found the right person, he just knew.”

You glanced up at him. “You think he’s found the right person?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua said honestly. “But I know you’re not okay.”

You nodded. “It’s just better if I stay away. Every time I’m around him, we end up tangled up in each other, and I can’t keep doing that. I just end up hurt.”

“So… you’re going to ghost him?”

You shook your head. “No. Just… not bother anymore. I’ll be polite. Distant.”

Joshua nodded slowly, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Men are idiots.”

You laughed weakly. “Amen to that.”

Joshua smiled and blew you a kiss as he stood. “I’ll give you space tonight, yeah? Just text me if you need anything.”

You nodded, curling up on your bed as the door closed gently behind him. ~~

The next few days blurred together. You managed to avoid Mingyu, though not exactly gracefully. You’d duck around corners, fake a phone call, or pretend you didn’t hear him when he called your name. Childish, maybe, but the alternative was worse.

You thought about scrapping the article altogether. Maybe turning it into something more generic—interviewing couples about when they fell in love, turning it into a cute, breezy column. Something that didn’t rip your heart out with every paragraph.

It was Friday evening, and you were halfway through a MasterChef marathon when you heard your bedroom door creak open.

“Y/N?”

You turned and saw Mingyu poking his head in, doe eyes wide and sheepish.

Your stomach dropped. “How did you get in?”

“Um. Joshua hyung let me in. Said something about my ‘big pitiful puppy energy.’”

You groaned and sat up, folding your arms. “What do you want?”

Mingyu stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“You have,” he said quietly. “I told you she was my assistant, nothing happened between us.”

You sighed and admitted. “I know it just hurt to see you with her.”

He gave you a soft smile, “I understand, but you do not need to worry, I like you too much to screw it up.”

Your eyes widened. “I should have just listened, I screwed up–”

Mingyu cut you off with a kiss.

It was soft. Hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Like he didn’t want to scare you away.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said when he pulled back. “But I know I want more. I only want to be around you, only kiss you, hell even when we went climbing, even though we’d argued, I couldn’t stop smiling. The way you furrow your brows when you’re focused, the way you yell at me for being annoying… It’s like I’m drawn to you, even when you make me want to throw things.”

You laughed, and he smiled.

He sat down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“I don’t know exactly what I feel,” he whispered, “but I know that when you walked out of my apartment crying, I wanted to run after you and kiss every tear away.”

Your heart was pounding.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Tell me to go, and I will. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this goes…”

You didn’t let him finish. You leaned forward and kissed him again.

Mingyu kissed you back with the kind of softness that felt like a second chance—warm, hesitant, laced with something unspoken. You pulled away first, letting your forehead rest against his, catching your breath.

“You always say the sweetest things right before emotionally confusing me,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice light.

He laughed quietly. “What can I say? I’m a man of duality. I’ve got layers.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move from his lap. His arms were still around your waist, steady and grounding, like if he let go, one of you might float away.

“So,” you murmured, “what now?”

His hands moved in slow, absentminded circles on your lower back. “I don’t know. But I know I want to keep seeing you.”

“Even if I’m kind of a mess?”

“Especially because you’re a mess,” he teased gently.

You laughed, but it wobbled. “Gyu… I’m scared.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “Me too.”

The quiet stretched out again. You could hear the hum of the building's heating system and the faint sound of a neighbor’s TV. But inside this room, inside this little bubble the two of you created—things felt still. Tentative. Hopeful.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “How about a real date? Something simple. New. Clean slate.”

You lifted a brow. “You’re asking me out, Kim Mingyu?”

He grinned, his ears slightly pink. “I guess I am.”

“And will there be a warning if you plan on kissing me again? I need emotional prep time now, apparently.”

“Nope.” He smirked. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

You groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He beamed at that, but then paused. “Friday?”

“Friday,” you echoed.

“Fancy?”

“How fancy are we talking?”

“Fancy enough to make you feel like you’re the only girl in the room.”

Goddamn him.

Your stomach flipped. You tried to play it cool, but your smile gave you away. “I’m going to wear heels, and I’m suing you if I trip.”

“I’ll catch you,” he said, standing up and helping you to your feet. “I always do.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek—a featherlight promise—and stepped toward the door.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he said, pausing at the threshold. “Try not to ghost me before then.”

You gave him a mock salute. “No promises.”

Mingyu laughed and disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there like an idiot, grinning at the closed door.

And then your eyes landed on your desk.

On the black leather-bound notebook you hadn’t touched in days.

You walked over, hesitating as you opened it to the last page. The column you’d created—How Close Am I to Falling for Him?—mocked you in perfect, even handwriting. You stared at the number you’d written after your first date. A six.

You flipped the page and wrote one line at the top.

Date three: A ten. I’m so completely fucked.

Then, you closed the journal and shoved it into the drawer, burying it under a stack of abandoned notebooks. You weren’t ready to destroy it—but you didn’t want to look at it either.

Not tonight.

Not when you still hadn’t told him the truth.

Not when everything suddenly felt too close to something real.

You stared at the drawer for a second longer, then turned away and crawled back into bed.

This time, you let yourself smile as you pulled the blanket over your head.

Because whatever happened next—you’d deal with it.

After Friday.

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omorithedreamermod · 22 days ago

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JUNE DEVLOG

June DEVLOG time for OMORI THE DREAMER and...some big things have happened.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

In even more contrast to prior optimism, it seems the entire DREAMER release timeline will be overhauled. Due to the size of the story, the assets that relies on other's to complete, and the large amount of new assets far outweighing the amount in the PRELUDE...

From now on, we will be following a "CHAPTER BY CHAPTER", or in accordance to DREAMER's naming conventions, a "BOOK BY BOOK" release schedule. So, instead of waiting for the entire game to come out and getting overloaded with way too much content, books will be released in this sequence; BOOK 1 - KEL BOOK 2 - AUBREY BOOK 3 - HERO BOOK 4 & 5 - BASIL + ???

The final release of Book 4 & 5 will be the entire game. Each new release will include the chapters before, and save files will carry over. I believe this will be better overall for development, and for you guys to experience the story without being overwhelmed. The current plan is for BOOK 1 to release in the fall, and for BOOK 2 to release before the end of the year. I want this project completed in 2026, and with the additional time, hopefully everything will be at a higher quality. The narrative was already built in this book by book format, so nothing is actually changing besides release dates!

I'm sorry if this is frustrating to hear, but I'm confident this is better overall for both players and definitely for the team. We are not in development hell–people just have actual lives and are not being paid to work on this, so it can't be a priority. Still, the goal is a timely release schedule, with each book getting its own release trailer. I hope you can still look forward to the releases ^^

PROGRESS (BOOK ONE):

Due to the time of the year and a certain game releasing, a lot of the team was busy. Progress significantly slowed, but will hopefully pick back up again. Unfortunately, I cannot help with tile-set creation as it's outside of my wheelhouse (though I'll do my best to learn in the future!) so that team has a lot of pressure on them to handle SECTION TWO tile-sets on their own. Hopefully in the future I can help carry the burden. For now, it'll take as long as it needs to to avoid stress, but hopefully the internal deadlines can still be met!

Music is coming along amazing, and once again, there is going to be a large soundtrack coming with the chapter. Lots to see and lots to hear!

As of now, I'm making as much art and surrounding assets as I can while waiting for SECTION TWO to be ready for programming and writing. Progress is steady but certainly not at the breakneck pace it used to be. I got severely burnt out after continuing to work on THE DREAMER right after PRELUDE release and churning out SECTION ONE...but I am recovering! I'll bounce back passionately soon enough! I'm learning more and more how to rely on others and be patient with myself.

Battling is in the process of being overhauled and fixed up, and that will be available for the Book 1 release still!

For SECTION THREE, progress is also steady, though similarly significantly slowed. Still, nearly all maps are actively being mad, so it's looking very promising. Bug fixing still needs to happen for SECTION ONE, though...

CONCLUSION:

Wish us luck. A lot of luck. And for more pixel artists to sign up. This mod is on the right track and will certainly be completed! Just...at a more steady pace than originally assumed. On the bright side, that means you guys don't have to wait as long for more of THE DREAMER! Yay!

#omori #omori mod #omori game #mod #devlog #omori fanart

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kroosluvr · 11 months ago

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present day

if every day will be like this from now on, i'll look forward to every single one.

ok. Sits down. help meeee i tried using csp's comic tools for once (and also gradient maps + coloring w monochrome) to save time bUT I ENDED UP SPENDING THE USUAL AMT ANYWAY SO. . erm. WELL IT WAS FUN ANYWAYS

hiiiiiiiii i wrote this script 4 months ago nd finally did it (had this on the backburner for 20 million yrs bc i wanted to get out other angst bullshit first)

the parallels of goro's back (x3) on the first 2 pgs are kinda not 1:1 as i'd like but REGARDLESS i still like them. goro, who had utmost control over his life, running it like a machine, regardless of how he feels or if he's tired or if he wants to give up.......he was in control. knowing, of course, that his life is on the line at every waking moment, but since he was always on edge, always alert, he was still in control.

but now, surviving the long winter and coming out to the other side, he's lost that control AND that edge. now what is he left with? what is there left?

very speficially in the 2nd page.... i think its so <3 YAY <3 that goro, now, doesn't feel the need to take such spic-and-span clean-cut care of his appearance.., guy who rolls out of bed and throws on a shirt to go hangout w akira and sumire. he decides to tie up his hair and forgoes his gloves... feels more "comfortable" to change his apperance, to let down his guard a little. <- was the rough symbolism JKDSHKFS

sumire getting the choco croissant but letting goro have the first bite YEAHHHH WHATEVER

4th page symbolism is also rough i didnt think abt it too hard LMAO. 3rdsem goro watching his detective prince self leave. he knows acutely well that chapter of his life is over - whether he survives the long winter or dies in it. all that he knew - even though it was miserable and awful and frustrating and dangerous - is gone.

and now there's just this: the present day. whatever that means.

i think something important to me abt royal trio is just the idea of Learning To Just Exist: no need for a "purpose" or a "calling" or some overarching "goal". they just learn to exist.

and of course none of them really have a benchmark for "wow i like this i want to live like this" so they just roll with the punches, as they always have, but yknow. finally getting to live their honest student life as they always deserved

edit: and most importantly for goro, i think, is learning to cut himself some slack. "despite everything" he says, despite all the shit he's endured AND all the shit he's done, he feels like this is "right." whatever that means, he's ready to take it day by day to figure it out. AND THATS THE WHOLE THING Punches wall really hard

edit: I ALSO FORGOT. i think the sentiment of "being waited for" for goro means a lot. since he had to do everything by himself, fight for himself, decide everything for himself frm such a young age, the idea of akira and sumire waiting for him, inviting him out simply for him to be there -> is really meaningful to him, more than they could know.

edit AGAIN: also goro sleeping in means a lot to me. i imagine that guy has pretty terrible insomnia. ALSO HE HAS A BEDFRAME! i like the thought of his apartment being so /r/malelivingspaces throughout the game. he doesn’t deserve a bedframe. BUT HE HAS ONE NOW!

goros expressions in the last page gve me a hard time. sparkly....

also im SO freaking sorry if his voice isnt too well-written... i had a crisis over the wording while draiwng htis so much DSKHASKDASJK AND THE PANELING AND WHATEVERRR IDEK WHAT IM DOINGGG but it was fun!!!! exploratory..... regardless i will keep workign to do him and royaltrio justice. THUMBSUP EMOJI.

#4am again no problem. chokes #goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #akira kurusu #persona 5 royal #royal trio #shuakesumi #cele draws #long winter #<- technically but its also good w canonverse #cele comics

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a-sweeter-solarsystem · 7 months ago

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A Tangled Web Chapter 1: Sparky and the Scrivener Drawn for the Ishtar Illustrated zine

YAY!!! YIPPE!!! THE ZINE IS FINALLY OUT!!! I'm so happy that I got my first pick for this zine cause I absolutely adore this lorebook so much!! ヽ(´▽｀)ノ

This was a really fun piece to work on and I'm so happy with how it turned out. Everyone did such an amazing job on this zine please go check it out when you get a chance!!!!

Image ID under the keep reading for folks that need it!

[Image ID: A three page comic illustrating a lore entry from destiny 2: A tangled Web Chapter 1: Sparky and the Scrivener. Each page has a bottom border with the name of the lore entry of the left and the artist's blog handle on the right (a-sweeter-solarsystem). Crow is wearing the outfit he was first revived in: a brown cloak over his scale armor. Glint is a small red ghost with fins that look faintly like leaves. The two are talking in a dimly lit, rocky area that is illuminated by a campfire.

On the first page, Glint asks Crow, "Purely as a hypothetical exercise, what would you name me?" Crow looks thoughtfully down and replies, "Hm…You Are…A Light in the darkness." The second panel has Glint is in the center of the page that is popping out over the other panels. He is surrounded by white light and faint, motivational text ("Don't Worry! I'm right behind you!" / "I've got you, guardian!" / "One step at a time!"). Crow continues, "And thus, I name thee Sparky." Glint is drawn in monochrome with a shocked expression. The background pattern resembles a lightning strike.

On the second page Crow looks at Glint playfully and says, "I'm sensing some reluctance, Sparky." Glint is floating downward. There is wobbly text describing his disapproval following him. His eye has a tear in it. He drops onto the ground with a small dust cloud. He stays there for a moment then flops onto his back so that he can look back up at Crow. He looks annoyed and replies, "It's terrible." Crow watches the display and says, "Picky. Very well. I can do better."

On the third page Glint is thinking over Crow's suggestions. Crow says, "How do you feel about Gleam? Flash? Or maybe Glint?" Glint lights up and expands his shell. His eye is now rainbow in color as he is delighted by the suggestion. He says, "Ohhh! I like Glint!" Glint is now back in the air. Crow is shaking Glint's fin in the same way someone shakes hands in greeting. He says, "Then it is an honor to meet you, Master Glint."

End ID]

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eclipseberrycake · 5 months ago

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Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 9.5*

AN: The poll isn't over juuussst yet but I'm pretty sure of what is gonna win, so here we are <3 I do appreciate those voting for Roo's choice! Kissing your foreheads so softly rn /platonic So I kind of split the diff, you know? This was my choice was this part right here. Bc it makes me laugh. We get more MBC too, since I'm also going to start Part 10! Yay! Then I'll get back to requests! So, you'll get this today, then maybe part 10 either later tonight (Probably Tomorrow), then on Thursday I'll start requests again since Wednesday is my rest day!

ALSO also, people are figuring out my little clues and like I'm so proud of all of us. We're killing it, y'all are great at picking up the small nuances, Kissing you so gently on the forehead right now.

ALSO ALSO, also, I think the general consensus was that it's okay to give Reader a tail? I might hold off just for now to see if any objections come from it, but if there are none come part 11, I'll add it permanently! For this chapter, it's just a trial run! It's totally okay too if thats not something you guys want too, let me preface! If it turns out you guys try it, hate it, and want it gone I can come back and edit this part! Hence the "*" in the title!

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine

Warnings: None, really, except for some of my personal ships. I don't wanna see any debate about them, this is mostly my preferences.

☁ He's watching you.

☁ He's watching you and you know it. You're momentarily ignoring it as you're elbow deep in the cookie jar, newly filed nails just barely brushing against a cookie at the very bottom. It makes you huff in annoyance at it before you're moving to kneel on the counter, hoping to reach further into the frankly too-larger-to-be-normal cookie jar. It just evades you're hand once more, and your tail gives a whip in annoyance.

☁ You would use the additional limb, but you've gotten in trouble more times than you could count with using your tail in the kitchen. Something about it getting too close to the Twisteds for it to be sanitary at all. You rolled your eyes at that, but since returning from your time as a Twisted, for a second time, you obeyed where you could.

☁ All while he's watching you struggle, hiding a poorly concealed snicker behind his blanket. It makes you huff once more before finally getting a finger on the cookie, making you grin. You hook it to the side, gently dragging it up so you can grab it, only for it to crumble.

☁ You let out a cry, retracting your cookie-less hand to stare in the jar, bewildered at the absolute audacity.

☁ This time he can't stop the laugh that spills out of him, making you glare at him. "You could've helped."

☁ "I could've." Astro agrees, standing from his chair, where he has a glass of milk and his own trio of cookies on a plate in front of him. "But where's the fun in that?"

☁ He walks over to the cookie jaw and reaches a longer arm in, making your tail wag behind you as you watch him grab one of the larger chunks of your broken treat. You quickly grab your set aside plate and hold it out for him to set the piece on the plate. One by one, every piece is set on the plate before he's pulling his arm back and putting the lid back on. It's flipped upside down so the top of the jar is facing the inside, signifying it's empty.

☁ With so many toons living in one area, it was easy for small things like an empty cookie jar to make tensions rise, so small things like that just made everything flow so much easier.

☁ You thank Astro with a happy little kiss, making him hum contentedly at your actions before you're both returning to the table. You have your own cup of milk as well, both of you picking up the tradition of a pre-bedtime snack a few months back. Or so you thought that's when it started.

☁ For Astro, this had always been the two of you's thing. Sprout and Cosmo baked, himself and Sprout went through old episodes together and the other handler rooms, even Cosmo and himself had scary movie nights. Everyone had their thing with each other, and cookies in the kitchen late at night was yours and his. This was the first place you told him about the Teagan and Rodger tension, which had grown exponentially. And as much as he tried to pretend he wasn't, he was a huge gossip.

☁ The familiar action of just you and him talking about everything going on, debriefing if one would, was something he held so dear and close to his chest, and he's sure you knew it too as you would never let more than three days pass before shaking him awake with a cheeky grin, nodding to the doorway.

☁ It reminded him of when he came back in all honesty. Never would that Astro ever have thought he would've been where he is now, with you and Cosmo and Sprout and Blu and everyone back, but as he is now, he would rather turn into a twisted again then give it up.

☁ His own tail gave a wag as he slid one of his cookies onto your plate, giving you The Look when you tried giving it back. You took it with a humored rool of your eyes, before rewrapping yourself in your own blanket, crossing your legs on your chair as you settled in.

☁ The lights were down low and gave your cheeks the softest orange tint and your eyes the softest of amber highlights. It made his tail wag at the sight of it, the silly thing giving away all of his emotions before he even had the chance to stop it.

☁ "So," You begin, folding your hands in front of you like it's a business meeting. "Check-in. How is Mr. Novalite doing?"

☁ He guffaws at the drop of his name, but copies your seated postion anyway with one pair of hands holding his blanket while the other twists with his tail to stop it from wagging like a lunatic. "I'm...content. Honestly. Sprout and I found some more sealed documents in Delilah's old room and are planning on looking through those soon. Cosmo and I have plans to watch that new Heretic movie that just came out. You and I are having our own date night. Plus, I know we all have a big date night coming up. Did you and Cosmo decide on what you wanted to do?"

☁ You nod, grinning happily as your own tail gives a wag. "Spa treatments then a movie night! We have it all planned out and ready to go, with a few special treats ordered for the night!"

☁ Your excitement is palpable and contagious, so much so Astro has to tighten his hold on his own tail, even if the moon at the end continues to move regardless. "That sounds perfect." He gives a sappy grin. "Other than that, myself and Shelly started a new book Brightney recommended to us, so we've been doing that to reconnect. And I think...that's really it from my end."

☁ You soften at the new information, leaning on one of your hands as your elbow settles on the table. "You sound happy."

☁ "I am. Immensely." He returns, reaching a hand. You give your free one eagerly, letting him hold it and trace his thumb over the knuckles of your hand. "Now, what about you? You've been busy."

☁ You nod, watching his thumb before thinking back to what you've been doing lately. "Well, Cosmo and I have started getting into art lately. We spent last night painting with music in the background, and it was nice. We got to talk without really thinking about it-oh, by the way, we decided you would be the boot in monopoly."

☁"...The boot." He has to take a second, mentally going through the pieces before realizing he never cared enough to know them all.

☁ "Yeah, we originally thought thimble because it sounds like thumb and you have the most thumbs, but it was way funnier if you went with the boot." You explain as if any of that made any sense whatsoever. "Also, did you know he wants like eight kids? Not happening." You scrunch your features before shaking his head. "Like, don't get me wrong, I liked the kids when Gardenview was in it's prime, but eight? All the time?!" You grimace, making him chuckle before your shaking your head.

☁ "Anyway, Sprout and I, what have we been doing?" You think for a second, before perking right up. "A few things! We've been playing games a lot! It started with Mario Kart, and then we found mini-gold clubs on one of the runs and now we set up increasingly difficult holes. It's great! I kick his ass!" You beam. Astro's sure half the problem for Sprout is that the mini-golf clubs made for children are much too short for him, but he doesn't bring that up.

☁ "And with friends, Goob's going through something- which I'll tell you in a second-, but Glisten and I have gotten closer lately. He joined our tag runs recently and he actually kills it! Especially with his teleporting? I don't think he's been tagged once." You explain, raising your head so you could use that hand to gesture as you speak. "We're thinking of doing some sort of Geo-caching too, but it's hard because we can't really leave Gardenview. That's okay though. As for now, I'm here with you, moonshine."

☁ His cheeks dust navy at the compliment, squeezing your hand tighter. "Do you remember the first time we did this?"

☁ You hum, thinking back before nodding. "I think I do. It was before we started dating. I think I remember being pissy because people kept saying Cosmo and I were dating but we weren't. But it wasn't because people were saying it, but because I had a huge stinkin' crush on him at the time and he could not pick up the hint."

☁ He chuckles. "Yeah. I was a little relieved at that you know. I had a 'huge stinkin' crush' on this cute distractor that had come to visit me. Imagine how crushed i would've been." He teases and you stick your tongue out. "Please. You were just as bad. I was doing the same goofy moves to you and Sprout literally within the same week and you didn't pick up on it either."

☁ "Neither of you picked up on anything, don't you fool yourselves." A new voice startles you both, making you look over at the doorway. Sprout is there, raising a brow at you both. Cosmo is hanging off his side, looking like he's seconds away from collapsing, eyes bleary and slowly blinking. Both of you wave at them, even if Sprout's eyes dart to the cookie jar and he gives an exasperated groan. "Again?"

☁ "In our defense, most of this batch were eaten by Goob. He's going through some stuff." You wince, watching as Astro pulls a chair to his side with his foot, close enough they make a soft clink when they hit, opening his blanket the duo. Cosmo takes the invitation, slumping forward as he practically crawls on the chair and burrows into the celestial, who wraps his arms around the cake roll, covering him in his cloak-blanket. At this point, you aren't even sure which it is.

☁ Sprout raises a brow at you, grabbing an apron off the hook and quickly slipping it on as he steps towards the cabinets. "What do you mean? Goob is the last person I'd expect."

☁ "Me too!" You exclaim, gently easing your hand from Astro's so you can turn to the side, making talking to both Sprout and Astro (and Cosmo by extension) easier. "But- Pause. Rewind. What do you know of the Teagan and Rodger drama? I know Astro is caught up because I told him and Cosmo knows because he's been here since it started, but I don't know if any of us have caught you or the other mains up."

☁ "Not much." Sprout responds, pulling out the butter and sugar in practiced motions as you bite into your cookie, nodding as if this was the answer you expected. "What kind of cookies do we want this time?"

☁ "Double chocolate. There's a new cocoa powder-" Cosmo suddenly pipes up, even if his eyes stay shut, interrupting himself with a yawn. "That I ordered specifically for that recipe we were looking at."

☁ Sprout nods at this, preheating the oven as he passes to grab the larger electric mixer. He measures out the butter and two types of sugar before letting them mix, going back to the pantry for the powdered ingredients. "Okay, so what is the reason? Like I know obviously the other day in the elevator there was a nerve hit."

☁ "Yeah," You dip a piece of your broken cookie in your glass of milk. "So I'll start from the beginning. When we first recovered Teagan, her and Rodger were like...inseparable. I mean, they had Toodles, so like we kinda assumed they'd be. Toodles was ecstatic to have them both back too, so we were all like 'great, perfect.' It was not in fact great or perfect." You throw the piece into your mouth as Sprout sifted said cocoa powder, flour and a few other things into a separate bowl.

☁ "It was fine for the first little bit and then we started recovering more and more people, then they began fighting, like a lot. Like more than I would classify as normal for...any couple really. It was silly, small, petty things too like Rodger didn't say good morning to her first." You continued. "He normally said good morning to Toodles first, but he was far from perfect either. I remember once, he like lost his shit because she picked up a research capsule."

☁ "He called her all sorts of names, didn't he?" Cosmo piped in, poking open an eye. You nodded at this. "I wasn't convinced they weren't gonna get physical that run. They were so loud I had to work double time to keep the twisteds occupied as Cosmo had to do twice as many machines."

☁ This made both Sprout and Astro grimace, the latter rubbing the cake roll's shoulder in sympathy even if this was long in the past.

☁ You're thinking momentarily, trying to decipher when it truly turned to shit when it hits you. "It was when Glisten came back that they broke up. Rodger made it this whole thing too in the middle of the run. I don't really blame Glisten as he was unaware of Toodles like...being their kid, we hadn't had the chance to fill him in. He was spending a lot of time with Rodger though, so we just expected him to fill Glisten in. Turns out, he didn't. In retaliation, Teagan started seeing Shrimpo."

☁ Sprout is gaping behind you as he pauses where he's adding an egg to the mixer. He recovers quickly, throwing out the shell before adding vanilla to the mix as well. He turns down the mixing speed before turning to you. "Shimpo? And Teagan?"

☁ You nod, watching Cosmo take one of Astro's cookies, making the Celestial huff at this even if his newly freed tail wags behind him. You grin before turning back to Sprout. "Yeah, trust, we weren't expecting it either. They were also about as explosive as you'd expect. If Teagan and Shrimpo weren't fighting, it was him and Rodger or her and Rodger or all three of them depending on the day. At this point, Glisten was aware he was in a little too deep, but he had fallen hard and fast and didn't know what to do."

☁ "What did he do? I can't expect him to do much in that situation." Astro pipes in, mindlessly handing Cosmo his glass- which the cake roll was reaching for. "And what happened to Toodles?"

☁ "That's what Glisten did." Cosmo steps in, dipping his stolen treat. "He would take Toodles the second this started up and would come to either mine or Y/N's room. His was still being put together and if nothing else, he knew he could trust us to step in if they tried bringing the fight to him. Which they did. It seemed if they were fighting, everyone needed to fight."

☁ "You're joking." Sprout spits, putting down the bowl with the flour mixture he was adding to the mixer. "That's so ridiculous."

☁ "I wish we were." You shrug. "But no. Which is kind of why they hate our relationship so much because we don't fight, and our arguments are often just a matter of temporary disagreement then true hostility." Your tail gives a whip behind you. "It only got physical during this period once. Once was all that was needed though. Shrimpo and Rodger had gotten into it with Teagan instigating, like pouring gas on an electric fire, and Shrimpo snapped, throwing a fist. Toodles saw and Glisten stepped in then while Scraps took Toodles. He was already on the brink, but they didn't break up during that."

☁ "How did they break up?" Sprout asks, now thoroughly entwined in this story. "They aren't together now, as far as I'm aware." He turns back to adding the powdered ingredients and you let him finish before answering.

☁ "Shrimpo and Glisten walked in on Rodger and Teagan." You explain and the bowl is nearly dropped in time with Sprout's jaw. Astro hums at this, having a similar expression when he first heard it. You nod before continuing. "They broke up with them then and there. They didn't take it well and it was this huge thing once more. Runs were absolute agony for the a little while. Glisten, in his defense, absolutely refused to interact with them though. Refused to look at them, talk to them, and I'm pretty sure for a while refused to do runs with them."

☁ The mixer is stopped and scraped as a few cookies sheets are pulled out and prepped, Sprout moving to roll the dough balls out, adding chocolate chips as he does. "When was all this?"

☁ "Right before we got Astro back was when the peak hit. It slowly got better when we got you back, and it's remained a little stagnant. Until recently." You give a devious smirk, knowing all three are hooked onto the information you're about to share. "Let me preface this with saying, everything I tell you I have permission to do so. Goob knows I'm doing this-"

☁ "Goob's involved?!" Cosmo whines, now looking wide awake.

☁ "Not in the way you think!" You quickly remedy. "No, he's involved in a different way. Because him and I work really well together, we do a lot of runs together, which duh, you guys know, but Glisten has wanted to get away from...you know...So he's started hanging with us a lot more. Anyway, they do their own thing, we do ours, but Goob came up to me the other day, and you wanna know what he said?"

☁ "Is that even a question?" Astro snorts. "What do you get from teasing us like this?"

☁ "Satisfaction, especially when I tell you that Goob has a big ol' stinkin' crush on GLISTEN." You share, and all three gape at the new piece of information. "Scraps won't have it, she's literally fuming because, and I quote, why would he want to get involve in all that drama. Goob literally refused to let her say anything about it further, going to war. I had never seen Goob so upset with his sister before."

☁ "Was this during that run we did a couple days ago? The one where tripped over a can of pop and smoked his face against a machine?" Cosmo eagerly asks, sitting up with his hands slamming on the table. "And Glisten was the first to run over and oh my god-?!"

☁ You nod excitedly. "It was! Goob literally has not stopped talking about it since. He even asked how we got together."

☁ "And you had to tell him all about how I was the one to do it?" Sprout smirked, sliding the first batch into the over. You excitement paused as you turned to stare at him, scoffing in his direction. "It was a group effort."

☁ "Nope. All me. Sprout is the greatest. C'mon. Admit it." His spotted cheeks upturn in time with his catlike grin and you continue to scoff.

☁ "Over my dead body maybe." You cross your arms, turning away from him as he comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your shoulders anyway as he nuzzles into your cheek, blowing a raspberry against it and making you squirm against him. You let out a yell at the action, even if he tightens his hold so you can't get out.

☁ The other two simply watch, remaining ignorant to your cries at them for help.

☁ While this has started as just something between you and Astro, watching you and Sprout, with Cosmo returning to burrow in his side, Astro lets his tail wag this time. His heart practically bursts at the full feeling it has and how lucky he considers himself to be a part of this.

☁ You and him will have more date nights, just the two of you, but these moments with all four of you have a way of just making him feel so special.

☁ Almost to the point he feels bad for the others as he knows they'll never feel the same happiness he feels with you guys.

☁ He hopes the past version of himself can rest easy now, knowing he's happy and content, and wouldn't change it for the world.

Also: The Cookie Recipe Sprout is making -> Here!