#let me know if this is terrible so i can never do it again
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
xylatox · 16 hours ago
Text
Out of tune [pt1] || cbg
I am finally getting to this. Jesus. I literally have it saved in my drafts to be read exhibits A through Z below
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is insane but I wanted to read this the moment I saw it, but when it was initially published I was literally going through it through the months of March to the end of April and I always told myself I would read it but as you can see that didnt happen. BUT i am so glad Im staying up tonight and I can use that time to get through my readings (for context i have a whipping 600+ draft of fics and other things I never got to its so terrible.
Anyways enough of my yapping. I thought about this fic the other day and I am going to read it all tonight like my life depends on it. 
Before I even start again Im actually so giddy to finally read this😭Like its enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, mc and gyu being producers; like my fav things ever.
You finally peeled off your glasses and turned to him with a deadpan expression. “Do I look like I had a peaceful night?”
I already love the mc’s personality. Also from the first lines I know im going to love your writing style.
His lips quirked up slightly, but he didn’t deny it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. If there was one person in this entire company who got under your skin more than anyone else, it was Choi Beomgyu. Beomgyu, your so-called “rival.” Beomgyu, the golden boy of the production team. Beomgyu, the one person standing between you and total creative dominance.
I giggled. Workplace rivalry always makes me so giddy
Slowly, you turned to him. “I hate this company.”
I love her so much actually, this was literally me in hs and uni.
Your stomach twisted, not with nerves, not with excitement, but with that same frustrating mixture of irritation and awareness that always came with him. Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, Beomgyu had a presence. The kind that made a room feel smaller when he walked in, like he pulled all the energy toward himself without even trying.
I will always love enemies to lovers because its always so insane how your body can viscerally react to someone’s presence. I also think Beomgyu is such a perfect fit for this entire trope because as loveable as he is, I just know he can easily get under someone’s skin
Because as much as you wanted to believe you could do this on your own, you weren’t stupid. You knew your strengths, you were a producer first, a composer second. Melodies came naturally to you, the kind that could make someone feel something without even needing lyrics. But lyrics weren’t your strong suit. You could write, sure, but not the way Beomgyu could.
I actually appreciate the fact that the mc is very self aware and knows her strengths and weaknesses and even admits that Beomgyu is a good lyricist despite not really wanting to.
Also loving Yeonjun as her roommate and him being aware that Beomgyu pushes her over her limits and the fact that she needs it. I cant wait to see them interact more and the eventual break.
Beomgyu shrugged, stirring his coffee lazily. “Me. Him. This moment of pure camaraderie.”
Me laughing because why does this comment rile me up hello. Men are annoying
Also me giggling over them cooperating like
Beomgyu’s eyes flicker with something—approval, maybe, or just excitement—and he immediately scribbles something in return, adjusting the cadence of the next line to fit. Back and forth, line by line, the song starts to take shape. He throws out a melody, you refine it. You hum a transition, he finds a way to make it sharper.
Oh my god like ??? this is so cute tho
He shifts too, elbows resting on the table, so close now that you can feel the warmth of his arm next to yours. His knee bumps against yours, but neither of you moves away.
Screaming, screaming and more screaming
I love how they naturally work so well with each other ugh. I also love how effortlessly Beomgyu riles her up
You huff, leaning back against the wall. "Taehyun, I barely have time to eat, let alone go make small talk with people I don’t care about."
Did i mention how much i love her personality? Small talk? 👎👎👎Also i just really love her friendship with Taehyun, it makes me so happy
Soobin chuckles, shrugging. "Yeah. Maybe he’s not as much of a jerk as you think." He pauses, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Or maybe he’s just trying to get under your skin."
You know how some boys get extra irritating when they like someone? Thats what it feels like seeing Beomgyu interact with the mc and its kinda sweet
I did not expect Enha to clock her like that oh my god 😭thats just fowl
You sighed, stretching your arms above your head before rolling your chair back slightly. The worst part? You knew exactly what was missing.
Giggling oh my god. Also the fact that Gyu is never there on Thursday’s peaks my interest hmm
You hesitated, glancing at Taehyun, who only gave you a small shrug like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe it wasn’t. And maybe… just maybe… you were a little tired of feeling like a ghost in this industry.
This makes me so sad actually :(( shes just an antisocial bean
Beomgyu’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering back to where you stood with Yunjin and Taehyun. You looked good tonight. Too good. And it was pissing him off. Because ever since that stupid studio session where you accidentally made magic together, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.
I love getting his POV it makes me even more giddy. Hes so down bad for her in such way that I cant explain. Also loving that Soobin and Taehyun and basically one in the same when it comes to teasing Beomgyu and mc respectively.
Theyre sharing a cigarette holy fuck, thats actually p intimate in my eyes 
"Careful," he said, handing it back to you with a smirk. "If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me."
Screaming oh my god
"He called you talented and touched your arm twice," Beomgyu deadpanned. "That's textbook flirting."
You let out a sharp laugh. "Why do you even care?"
Beomgyu hesitated. "I don’t care," he said, a beat too late.
I will pass out I swear
"You were faking interest," he replied without hesitation. "You do that thing where you tilt your head slightly and nod, but your eyes are already somewhere else."
Fuck hes so into her
"She’s been sick for a while," he added, almost like he was saying it more to himself than to you. "Autoimmune thing. Thursdays are… her day."
I didnt expect us to get why he isnt there oh my god :((( Gyu
Also love hoe Beomgyu looks out for her in the industry since its p much a dog-eat-dog kind of environment 
Beomgyu’s jaw tensed almost instantly. He felt the muscle in his cheek twitch as he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "How the hell would I know?" he muttered, too quickly. "It’s not like I’m friends with her."
Im loving jealous Beomgyu
Yeonjun raised a brow. "You forget I’ve known you since forever. I know how your brain works. You groaned, pushing the door open "Y/N." You paused, turning back to him. Yeonjun leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Go make history."
Their relationship is also so sweet too :( 
Also Beomgyu using producing lingo is oddly attractive. And also loving how he so casually mention Yeonjun being her boyfriend and I just know hes relieved when he realizes it isnt true
Why the hell did I even ask that? He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Im enjoying this fic so much I swear its so funny but also has moments of seriousness to it
I am soooooooooooooo suspicious of Seungcheol oh my god
Beomgyu's gaze flickered briefly down the hallway where Seungcheol had disappeared. Then, finally, he looked back at you. "You should be careful with him," he said, voice flat.
Hes so right, i can feel it
You weren’t sure what you expected, maybe another cocky remark, another teasing jab, but instead, his eyes moved over your outfit in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. "You always wear black," he murmured, almost to himself, but his voice was just loud enough for you to catch.
The way that he notices this. The more I read the more I realize hes so in love with her. I also love how him and Yeonjun instantly click god. And I also love just Beomgyu’s personality in this context.
I DID NOT EXPECT TO SEE YUNHO HERE ??? Also Beomgyu needs to learn to hide his jealously
He smirked. Just a flash of teeth, just enough to make your stomach twist. Then he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, head spinning, caught between wanting to kill him and—
Heheh oh my god. Part 1 was so good😭it sso satisfying to finally read it!! Unto part 2 hehe
out of tune ˖ ୨ 🎙◞⋆ ☆
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: producer!beomgyu x producer!femreader part 1 // part 2 // part 3
summary: you and beomgyu have been at each other’s throats since day one at HYBE. both of you are producers, both of you are talented, and both of you absolutely refuse to lose to the other. whether it’s competing for the best demo, fighting over studio time, or bickering in team meetings, everyone knows one thing: you and beomgyu cannot stand each other so, of course, your boss decides to put you two on the same project—producing ENHYPEN’s next album. together. as in, sharing a studio, making creative decisions, and not murdering each other in the process. and suddenly, the tension isn’t just about work.
genre: enemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, angst with a good payoff // w/c: 27k // warnings: not entirely proofread, smoking (reader and beomgyu smoke), drinking, angst, jealously, overworking characters, classic enemies to lovers type of plot
author's note: GUYS. i’m finally releasing this prisoner that’s been rotting in my drafts for a million years this one’s a longer fic, so i’m splitting it into part 1 and part 2! it’s definitely a slowburn, and also my first time writing a full-length fic like this. read part 2 here!!
out of tune's playlist <3
Tumblr media
The HYBE cafeteria was unusually bright today. Or maybe that was just your headache talking.
You sat slumped at one of the corner tables, your laptop was open in front of you, but the words on the screen blurred together every time you tried to focus. Your body was in the office, but your soul was still somewhere on the dance floor from last night.
You were never drinking again.
A cup of coffee slid into your line of vision. You blinked, slowly lifting your head to see the familiar figure dropping into the seat beside you.
“Rough night?” Taehyun asked, amusement laced in his voice.
You didn’t answer, just wrapped both hands around the coffee like it was a lifeline and nodded your thanks. You took a sip, the bitter warmth cutting through the fog in your brain, and exhaled through your nose.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed.
You finally peeled off your glasses and turned to him with a deadpan expression. “Do I look like I had a peaceful night?”
Taehyun let out a soft laugh. “No. You look like someone who made a lot of bad decisions and is currently regretting all of them.”
You sighed. “That’s exactly what happened.”
Taehyun was one of the few people in this building you actually liked. As a manager for a junior HYBE group, he wasn’t directly involved in your work, but somehow, over shared coffee breaks and snarky side comments during meetings, you had become friends. He was calm, observant, and, most importantly, he never judged you when you showed up like this.
“Who dragged you out last night?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Yunjin,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple.
Taehyun whistled. “That explains it. She doesn’t just go out—she goes out.”
“Tell me about it.” You shook your head. For a few moments, you just sat there, sipping your coffee in comfortable silence. The caffeine was starting to work, clearing the fog in your brain just enough for you to remember why you had dragged yourself out of bed in the first place.
“Anyway,” Taehyun said, as if reading your mind, “you think you got it?”
You glanced at him. “Got what?”
“The ENHYPEN album. You think you landed the producer role?”
You exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against your coffee cup. “Yeah. I mean, I should. I have the best pitch. It’s mine to lose.”
Taehyun hummed, watching you carefully. “Unless…”
You groaned, already knowing where this was going. “Unless the company decides to give it to Beomgyu.”
His lips quirked up slightly, but he didn’t deny it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. If there was one person in this entire company who got under your skin more than anyone else, it was Choi Beomgyu. Beomgyu, your so-called “rival.” Beomgyu, the golden boy of the production team. Beomgyu, the one person standing between you and total creative dominance.
Since the moment you started working at HYBE, the two of you had been locked in a never-ending competition. You were both young, both talented, and both desperate to prove you were the best. Every project turned into a silent battle. Every meeting became a chance to outshine each other. Every time you thought you had the upper hand, he came back swinging with something better.
And, worst of all, he was good. As much as you hated to admit it, Beomgyu was one of the most talented producers in the company. His compositions were sharp, his sound design was clean, and when he wasn’t being an arrogant pain in your ass, he actually had an ear for what made a song great. But that didn’t make him any less infuriating.
“He’s been talking about it a lot,” Taehyun said, watching your reaction.
“Of course, he has,” you muttered. “He loves the sound of his own voice.”
Before Taehyun could press you, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your stomach flipped when you saw the email preview on your screen.
[HYBE Entertainment] Producer Assignment for ENHYPEN’s Next Album
Taehyun caught the way your shoulders tensed. “Well?”
You swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and opened it. And then, in bold letters, you saw it:
Lead Producers: Y/N & Choi Beomgyu.
You stared at the screen, unblinking.
Taehyun leaned over. “So?”
Slowly, you turned to him. “I hate this company.”
Tumblr media
You barely had time to process your misery before you were ushered into one of the production meeting rooms. The headache was still lingering, but the coffee had helped enough that you could at least pretend to be functioning.
Across the table sat Baekhyun, ENHYPEN’s main A&R manager, flipping through a thick binder filled with concepts, references, and scribbled notes. He was in his mid-thirties, sharp-eyed and always impossibly put-together, the kind of guy who could walk into any room and immediately command attention.
“You look like hell,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting.
“Good morning to you too,” you muttered, dropping into your chair.
Baekhyun smirked, but didn’t push further. Instead, he slid the binder toward you. “Alright, let’s get to it. This is going to be ENHYPEN’s biggest album yet. They’re growing like crazy, and we need something that reflects that—something bold, mature, but still fresh.”
You nodded, flipping through the pages. There were mood boards, keywords, visual concepts—deep reds, blacks, a contrast of sharp and soft. “So, a sexy vibe,” you noted.
“Sexy, but not just for the sake of being sexy,” Baekhyun clarified. “It’s not about being provocative, it’s about confidence, about knowing your worth and expressing it. It needs to feel natural, not forced.”
“Got it,” you said, scanning a page filled with song references—everything from dark R&B to stripped-back acoustic ballads. “And the sound?”
“We want duality,” Baekhyun said, leaning forward. “Something sleek, something intense, but balanced with softer, more emotional tracks. Like… a contrast between the chase and the catch.”
You smirked. “So basically, heartbreak wrapped in temptation.”
Baekhyun snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”
You nodded, your mind already racing with ideas. This was the kind of project you thrived on, creating an album that told a story, something cohesive but layered, something that felt alive.
“I can already hear it,” you murmured, flipping to a blank page and jotting down rough ideas. “We need instrumentals that hit deep, a mix of live elements and modern production. R&B basslines, warm analog synths, breathy vocals in the right places…”
Baekhyun grinned. “See? This is why I knew you were the right person for this.” Your ego swelled, but before you could respond, he casually added— “And why Beomgyu is the perfect person to work on this with you.”
Just like that, your mood soured. You shut the binder and looked up at him, unimpressed. “Really?”
Baekhyun laughed. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying—”
“You’re just saying that you don’t like him. Which, frankly, is why this is going to be so interesting.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “We have completely different styles.”
“Which is exactly why this works. You bring structure, he brings unpredictability. You focus on energy, he focuses on emotion. You push each other, even when you don’t realize it.” You groaned, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. Baekhyun leaned back, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes. “You know, if you two weren’t so busy trying to one-up each other all the time, you might actually make a great team.”
You scoffed. “Doubtful.” Baekhyun only shrugged, a knowing smile on his face. You sighed, standing up and gathering your notes. “Fine. If this album flops, I’m blaming you.”
He smirked. “Noted.”
You turned toward the door, bracing yourself for the inevitable headache that would come from working directly with Beomgyu for the next few months. But as soon as you pulled it open, you nearly walked straight into someone.
Someone tall, with long black hair falling messily over sharp eyes that gleamed with something infuriatingly smug. His features were all sharp angles and effortless confidence, full lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made your blood pressure spike before he even said a word.
Choi Beomgyu.
Dressed in an oversized black hoodie layered under a leather jacket, silver chains peeking out from the neckline, and ripped jeans that looked both expensive and carelessly thrown on, he looked every bit like the type of person who thrived in controlled chaos. Like someone who knew exactly how to get under your skin and enjoyed every second of it. And he always made it look easy.
Your stomach twisted, not with nerves, not with excitement, but with that same frustrating mixture of irritation and awareness that always came with him. Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, Beomgyu had a presence. The kind that made a room feel smaller when he walked in, like he pulled all the energy toward himself without even trying.
He was leaning casually against the doorframe, like he had been waiting for you to walk straight into him. His dark eyes flickered down at you, amused. He chuckled, stepping aside just enough for you to pass. But before you could make your escape, Baekhyun called from inside the room—
“Beomgyu, perfect timing. Y/N and I were just talking about how great you two are going to be working together.”
You clenched your jaw. Beomgyu turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“No,” you deadpanned. “We weren’t.”
Beomgyu grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Too bad, cause I think we’re going to have so much fun.”
You took a slow breath, reminding yourself that murder was illegal. Then, without another word, you pushed past him and walked out of the room. Behind you, you could hear him laugh under his breath.
This was going to be hell.
Tumblr media
By the time you finally stepped out of the HYBE building, the sky had already melted into deep shades of indigo. The day had been long, hours spent inside the studio, fine-tuning beats, layering harmonies, trying to shape the skeleton of a project that didn’t even exist yet. Your brain felt like mush, the melodies still buzzing in your head like an overplayed song on repeat.
You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, letting the cool night air wake you up a little as you made your way toward the subway. Your body ached, exhaustion settling into your bones, but your mind wouldn’t shut up.
It was annoying how easy it was to think about the project, how ideas kept forming without you even trying. Even more annoying? The realization that, in some twisted way, Beomgyu was actually a good fit for this album. You hated that it made sense.
Because as much as you wanted to believe you could do this on your own, you weren’t stupid. You knew your strengths, you were a producer first, a composer second. Melodies came naturally to you, the kind that could make someone feel something without even needing lyrics. But lyrics weren’t your strong suit. You could write, sure, but not the way Beomgyu could.
That was the problem. He was good. And he knew he was good.
His songwriting had this effortless quality, like he wasn’t just writing songs, he was telling stories. He knew how to take a concept and turn it into something that felt real. And if this album was supposed to be all about desire, longing, and the push-and-pull of emotions, then yeah, maybe he was the right person for this. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.
With a tired sigh, you pushed the thought away as your train pulled up to the station. You just needed to go home, take a hot shower, and vent to the one person who wouldn’t hesitate to call you out on your bullshit.
By the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, you could already hear the faint sound of music playing from the living room.
Yeonjun was sprawled across the couch, laptop balanced on his stomach, probably tweaking some mix for one of his own projects. He worked at SM, but somehow, despite the constant rivalry between companies, the two of you had ended up as roommates.
Not that it was surprising. You had known each other for years, long before either of you had started working in the industry. Your friendship had survived everything: late-night study sessions in college, chaotic moving days, and now, the shared struggle of being overworked producers.
When you enter your place, the smell of something warm and familiar wrapped around you instantly. “You cooked?” Your voice came out halfway between shock and suspicion.
Yeonjun, who was also eating his ramen, looked up to give you an unimpressed look. “First of all, rude.”
You let out a breathy laugh, kicking off your shoes. “I mean, last time you ‘cooked,’ we almost set off the fire alarm, so forgive me for being a little traumatized.”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he gestured toward the table, where two bowls were already set out. “Sit. Eat. You look like you just survived a war.”
You groaned, dragging yourself to a chair. “I feel like I just survived a war.”
He lifted up, and sat across from you, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you take the first bite. The warmth of the broth was immediate, soothing the tightness in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there. Yeonjun waited until you had eaten a little before speaking again, voice softer now. “Long day?”
You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. “Yeah. But…” You paused, picking at your noodles with your chopsticks. “I got it.”
Yeonjun blinked. “Got what?”
“The Enhypen album,” you said, finally looking at him. “Baekhyun gave me the project.”
For a second, he just stared at you. Then, his face lit up. “Oh, shit!” He practically lunged over the table to shake your shoulders. “Y/N, that’s huge! Why didn’t you say that first?”
You laughed, swatting his hands away. “I was getting there!”
“You deserve this,” he said, grinning as he leaned back again. “Seriously, they couldn’t have picked anyone better. I knew this was yours.”
His words sent a strange warmth through your chest, one that had nothing to do with the ramen. “Thanks,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I really wanted it.”
Yeonjun’s smile softened. “And now you have it.” Then, after a beat—“Wait, this means you’ll be locked in the studio for months. I’m never gonna see you.”
You snorted. “Please. You’ll be begging me to stop ranting about synth layers by the end of next week.”
“Okay, yeah, probably.” He smirked. “So, what’s the concept?”
You sat back, letting your head rest against the chair as you thought about it. “Sexy, but in a romantic way. Like… polished, expensive. Desire, but not in a loud way. It’s supposed to be smooth. Mature. A little dangerous, but still aching for something real.”
Yeonjun let out a low whistle. “Damn. Sounds like a dream album.”
You nodded, your fingers drumming absentmindedly against the table. “I spent all day trying to build a soundscape that fits that vibe. The melodies are coming together, but…” You hesitated. “It’s missing something.”
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “What?”
You exhaled, tapping your chopsticks against your bowl. “Lyrics.”
He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head, waiting. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Baekhyun thinks it’s the kind of album that needs a really strong lyrical identity. It has to feel intentional. Like every word matters. And… I get it. But that’s not really my strong suit, you know?”
Yeonjun nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “So… you need a songwriter.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. And that’s the problem. Because Baekhyun already assigned me one.”
Yeonjun’s lips curled at the edges. “Lemme guess.”
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Yep.”
His grin stretched wider. “Beomgyu.”
You pointed your chopsticks at him. “Don’t start.”
He just laughed, leaning back against his chair. “I mean, I get it. He’s good. And if the concept is all about longing, I hate to admit it, but that’s his thing.”
You exhaled sharply. “I know. That’s what’s pissing me off.”
Yeonjun chuckled. “So what, you guys are just gonna be stuck in a studio together for the next few months?”
You poked at your ramen. “Pretty much.”
“You gonna survive that?”
You scoffed. “I’ll manage.”
Yeonjun gave you a knowing look. “You say that now, but I know you. You’re gonna drive yourself insane over this.”
You groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
He nudged your foot under the table. “Hey. For what it’s worth, I think this is gonna be good for you.”
You frowned. “How?”
“Because,” he said simply, “Beomgyu pushes you. You hate it, but you need it. And whether you want to admit it or not, the two of you working together? It’s gonna make something insane.”
You stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, dropping your head onto the table dramatically. “Why do you have to be so right all the time?”
He laughed, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “It’s a curse.”
You swatted his hand away, but the heaviness in your chest felt a little lighter. Maybe Yeonjun was right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed. But still, if Beomgyu so much as breathed wrong, you were going to kill him.
Tumblr media
The sound of your alarm was the first thing you registered. Sharp, insistent, and entirely too aggressive for this early in the morning You groaned, rolling onto your side to slap at your phone blindly. A soft knock came from your door.
“You alive in there?” Yeonjun’s voice was muffled but amused.
“Barely,” you grumbled.
The door creaked open slightly. “You’ve got ten minutes before I leave. If you’re not ready, I’m not waiting.”
Liar. He always waited. Still, you forced yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You barely had time to throw on some semi-presentable clothes before you were slipping into Yeonjun’s car.
The drive was comfortable, filled with sleepy silence and whatever playlist Yeonjun had on shuffle. Every now and then, he’d hum along to a song or tap his fingers against the steering wheel, the familiarity of it making your exhaustion a little easier to bear.
“Big day?” he asked eventually.
You sighed. “Yeah.”
Yeonjun glanced at you. “You nervous?”
You shook your head. “No. Just… mentally preparing myself.”
He smirked. “For the album or for Beomgyu?”
You shot him a glare. “Drop me off right here. I’ll walk.”
He snorted, pulling up in front of the HYBE building. “Good luck,” he said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “Try not to freak out.”
“No promises,” you muttered, stepping out.
As you made your way inside, the familiar hum of the building’s early morning routine surrounded you, employees shuffling in, conversations murmuring in the background, the faint notes of music drifting from a nearby studio. Your first stop, as always, was the company café. You needed caffeine. But as you approached the counter, your mood soured instantly.
Because standing there—already engaged in conversation—was none other than Beomgyu.
And he wasn’t alone. Taehyun, of all people, was with him, the two of them deep in discussion. The sight made your stomach twist weirdly. You had always found it strange how someone as levelheaded as Taehyun could willingly spend so much time with him.
You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but the second Taehyun spotted you, his face lit up. “Morning, Y/N,” he greeted, completely oblivious to the way your eyes immediately locked onto Beomgyu.
“Morning,” you replied, forcing yourself to focus on Taehyun instead. “Didn’t know you two were having a little coffee date.”
Taehyun rolled his eyes, but Beomgyu, ever the opportunist, smirked. “Jealous?” he asked.
You scoffed. “Of what, exactly?”
Beomgyu shrugged, stirring his coffee lazily. “Me. Him. This moment of pure camaraderie.”
You gave him a deadpan look. Taehyun sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I even try.”
Before you could respond, Beomgyu leaned against the counter, regarding you with that ever-present smugness. “Baekhyun told you about the meeting, right?”
You narrowed your eyes. “What meeting?”
Beomgyu’s smirk widened. “Figures.”
You groaned. “Beomgyu.”
The songwriter just lifted his cup to his lips, clearly enjoying this. He swallowed his sip of coffee, dragging out the silence before finally saying, “Baekhyun scheduled a meeting for us. With Heeseung.”
Your brows furrowed. “Heeseung?”
“He’s co-producing some of the album,” Taehyun explained. “He’s been really hands-on with this comeback.”
You nodded slowly. You had known Heeseung was involved, but this was the first you were hearing about an actual meeting. “So when is this happening?” you asked.
Beomgyu glanced at his watch. “In about… twenty minutes.”
You inhaled sharply. “Are you serious?”
Beomgyu grinned. “What? You need more time to prepare?”
You opened your mouth, probably to say something regrettable, but Taehyun quickly stepped in. “Okay, let’s not start this before a meeting.” He shot you both a pointed look. “Try to behave, yeah?”
You exhaled sharply, turning back to the counter to grab your coffee. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” You turned on your heel, shooting him one last glare before heading for the conference room. This was going to be a long day.
The conference room is sleek, all clean lines and soundproofed walls, but the air inside feels thick with expectation. You lean against the table, arms crossed, trying not to let the weight of the situation sink in too much. Across from you, Beomgyu sits with his usual careless ease, twirling a pen between his fingers like he’s got all the time in the world.
Baekhyun flips through the binder of notes, while Heeseung sits beside him, watching everything with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his. Heeseung is a lot of things, an incredible performer, a perfectionist, and most of all, observant. Even now, you can feel him studying you and Beomgyu, picking up on things you aren’t even saying out loud.
"Alright," Baekhyun says, snapping the binder shut. "This album is going to be big, but we need it to feel cohesive. That’s why I brought you three together." He nods toward Heeseung. "Heeseung's been working on the overall creative direction with the group, so he’s got a vision for the sound. But you two—" he looks between you and Beomgyu, "—need to bring that vision to life."
Heeseung leans forward, clasping his hands together. "I have some ideas for the emotional beats of the album. I think it should feel… layered. Not just desire for the sake of desire, but something deeper. Craving, frustration, vulnerability. The kind of push-and-pull that makes people feel something."
You nod, already picturing melodies in your head. "I get that. It can’t just be surface-level. The production has to carry that duality too, something sleek but aching underneath."
Beomgyu hums beside you, finally paying attention. "I like that. But we can’t overcomplicate it. It still has to hit immediately, you know? If the production is too… pretty, it won’t land."
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn’t planning on making it ‘pretty.’"
His lips curve into a smirk. "You say that, but your demos always start out all delicate before you drown them in atmosphere."
You scoff, but before you can fire back, you remember something. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your files. "Actually, I have something. It’s just an idea, but…" You trail off as you connect to the speaker and press play.
The room fills with the soft hum of synths, a deep bassline kicking in a second later. The melody is restrained, almost hesitant, but there’s tension in it, a slow build that promises something bigger. Baekhyun leans back in his chair, nodding along, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. Heeseung listens with his head tilted slightly, his brows furrowed in thought.
But it’s Beomgyu you’re watching.
His usual air of disinterest is gone. He’s listening—actually listening—his fingers absentmindedly tapping a rhythm against the table. His lips part slightly, his head tilts, and then, without saying a word, he grabs his notebook, flips to a blank page, and starts writing.
You should be annoyed. Maybe you are. But more than that, you’re intrigued. Because you recognize this version of him, the one who isn’t just all cocky smirks and sharp remarks, but the one who gets lost in the music the same way you do. The one who doesn’t just hear songs, he feels them.
And maybe it’s because you recognize it, or maybe it’s because you can already hear something forming in your own mind, but before you even realize it, you’re reaching for a pen.
The two of you don’t speak at first. You don’t need to. Beomgyu jots something down in a messy scrawl, then taps the edge of his notebook twice before turning it toward you.
Won't you give it to me? Our secret
You stare at it for a second, then shake your head. "Too direct," you murmur, crossing out a word with your pen. You rewrite it underneath—
Won't you let me in? Our secret
Beomgyu’s eyes flicker with something—approval, maybe, or just excitement—and he immediately scribbles something in return, adjusting the cadence of the next line to fit. Back and forth, line by line, the song starts to take shape. He throws out a melody, you refine it. You hum a transition, he finds a way to make it sharper.
At some point, you pull your chair closer without thinking, angling yourself toward him as you lean over his notebook. He shifts too, elbows resting on the table, so close now that you can feel the warmth of his arm next to yours. His knee bumps against yours, but neither of you moves away.
Your phone is still connected to the speaker, and every now and then, you pause to tweak the demo, adjusting a chord, adding a reverb effect, testing how the lyrics sit against the melody. The more you work, the more the energy builds.
It’s like a high. The thrill of chasing an idea, of catching it just before it slips away. Baekhyun exhales a quiet laugh, finally breaking the silence. "Well, damn," he mutters, amused.
You glance up, only now remembering that he and Heeseung are still in the room.Heeseung is watching the two of you with his arms crossed, one brow raised like he’s witnessing something he wasn’t expecting. "Is this how you two always work?"
Beomgyu leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head like he didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes hyper-focused beside you. "We've never worked together"
Baekhyun smirks. "That's a shame."
You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop. Because the truth is, you don’t actually know how to explain it. You and Beomgyu have spent so much time trying to one-up each other that you’ve never really thought about what it feels like when you work together.
And maybe you don’t want to think about it too much now, either.
Beomgyu is watching you, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll say. You hesitate for half a second, then roll your eyes, reaching over to shut your notebook.
And maybe it’s just the adrenaline from the session, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but as you gather your things, you can’t shake the feeling that this—whatever just happened between you and Beomgyu—is something you’re going to be chasing again.
The moment you step into the hallway, you exhale, feeling the lingering buzz of the brainstorming session still thrumming under your skin. Your mind is moving too fast, melodies and lyrics weaving together even as you try to shake them off.
Before you get too far, Heeseung catches up to you, matching your pace effortlessly. "That was impressive," he says, hands tucked into his pockets.
You glance at him, eyebrows raised. "What was?"
He smiles knowingly. "Don’t play dumb. The way you and Beomgyu just… locked in like that. You guys have a really strong creative dynamic."
You scoff. "Please. It was a one-time thing."
Heeseung just hums in amusement. "Sure," he says, voice dripping with skepticism. "But seriously, I really liked what you did with the demo. That shift in the pre-chorus? That was smart."
The unexpected praise makes your steps falter slightly. You work with a lot of talented people, but compliments from someone like Heeseung, who has an ear for every small detail, actually mean something. "Thanks," you mutter. "Still needs work, though."
Heeseung nods. "Yeah, but that’s what makes it exciting. You and Beomgyu had some really solid ideas in there. I can already tell this album is gonna be something special."
There’s something in his voice, genuine, excited. It’s the same kind of excitement you feel when a song starts coming together, when you can hear the final product before it even exists.
And maybe—just maybe—that feeling is stronger now because of how easily you and Beomgyu fell into rhythm together. Not that you’re going to admit that.
Before you can respond, you hear footsteps approaching. Beomgyu slows as he reaches the two of you, glancing between you and Heeseung with mild curiosity. "What’s this? A secret meeting?"
You roll your eyes. Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, man. I was just telling Y/N how good that session was. You guys really work well together."
Beomgyu gives you a look, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he tilts his head toward Heeseung. "You heading out?"
"Yeah," Heeseung nods. "But I’ll catch up with you guys later."
With that, he gives you one last easy smile before walking off, leaving you alone with Beomgyu. Big mistake. The second Heeseung disappears down the hall, Beomgyu turns to you with a lazy grin. "So," he drawls, "what did he say about me?"
You narrow your eyes. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he says, shifting his weight against the wall. "Did he say I was a genius? A lyrical mastermind? The only reason this album is gonna be good?"
You glare. "Wow, and here I was thinking you couldn’t possibly get more unbearable."
Beomgyu just laughs, completely unfazed. "I’m serious, though. You should really start getting used to working with me. I mean, if this first session was any proof, we make a great team."
You cross your arms. "Yeah, alright"
Beomgyu tilts his head. "Anyway, I’m gonna be in my studio for a bit—working on some ideas. You know, since I’m so dedicated."
You raise an eyebrow. "And this concerns me how?"
His smirk is instant, sharp. "Because, genius, that demo we worked on still isn’t finished. And if I remember correctly, you’re kind of obsessed with making things perfect."
You exhale through your nose, already feeling the trap he’s setting. "I’ll work on it on my own."
"Sure, sure," he muses, rocking back on his heels. "Except… we both know it’s better when we do it together."
You roll your eyes. "I don’t ‘do things together’ with you, Beomgyu."
He grins, leaning in slightly. "You did today." Your fingers twitch at your sides. You hate that he’s right. You hate that, for a moment, working with him didn’t feel like a battle, it felt electric.
Beomgyu seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, because he shrugs, all casual confidence. "I mean, if you wanna waste time trying to fix it alone, be my guest. But you saw how fast we worked together. We could probably finish a whole verse in an hour—less, if you don’t get distracted staring at me."
You scoff. "Oh my god. You're unbelievable."
"You keep saying that, but you still haven’t said no."
You open your mouth to argue, but then, against all logic, you hesitate. Because he’s right. Again. For as much as you can’t stand him, the truth is undeniable: when you and Beomgyu get into that creative zone, things happen. He watches you carefully, amusement flickering in his dark eyes as you consider it. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you relent. "Fine. Maybe I’ll stop by later."
Beomgyu beams, clearly way too pleased with himself. "Knew you would."
"Don’t get cocky."
"Too late," he says, already turning to leave. But just as he starts walking away, he throws one last remark over his shoulder— "Can’t wait to see how long you last before you come running to my studio."
You swear under your breath, clenching your fists. That smug little—No. You’re not letting him get to you. You pull out your phone, ignoring the way your heartbeat is still uneven, and type out a quick text.
[you]: are you at the company?
Taehyun responds almost instantly.
[taehyun]: Just finished up. Why? [you]: meet me outside [taehyun]: …Are you about to fight someone? [you]: just fucking get there jesus
Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you reach for the crumpled pack of cigarettes in your jacket. It’s a bad habit—one you don’t let yourself fall into often—but it’s always been your go-to when you feel like you might actually explode.
You light up, inhaling deeply, letting the nicotine settle in your lungs as you lean against the wall. The city hums around you, cars passing, distant chatter from people walking by, but your head is still full of Beomgyu. His smirk, his voice, the way he gets under your skin so damn easily.
You take another slow drag. A few minutes later, footsteps approach, and then—
"You really need to quit that," Taehyun says, stepping up beside you.
You exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the night air. "Yeah, yeah."
He looks at you for a moment, then sighs. "Beomgyu?"
You shoot him a glare. "I hate how predictable that was."
Taehyun just laughs, shaking his head as he leans against the wall next to you. "Alright. Tell me what happened."
And you do. Between slow drags of your cigarette and exasperated hand gestures, you let it all out. Beomgyu’s arrogance, his teasing, the way he makes you want to strangle him and throw yourself into another session with him at the same time. Taehyun listens, nodding along, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.
When you finally finish, he exhales, running a hand through his hair. "You know," he says, "for someone who ‘hates’ working with him, you sure as hell can’t stop talking about him."
You groan, dragging a hand down your face. "I swear to god, if you say one more thing—"
"Relax," he grins, bumping his shoulder against yours. "I’m just saying. If this keeps up, this album’s gonna be fun to watch."
"Fun," you mutter, taking one last drag of your cigarette before flicking it away. "Yeah, sure. If Beomgyu doesn’t kill me first."
Taehyun snorts. "I dunno. You’re the one smoking like you’ve just seen your life flash before your eyes." You shoot him a glare, but he just grins. Taehyun shifts beside you. "So, you’re going this weekend, right?"
You frown. "Going where?"
"The HYBE party," he says, like it should be obvious. "Producers, execs, big names—basically a ‘who’s who’ of the industry."
You make a face. "Oh. That thing."
"Yes, that thing," he deadpans. "Don’t tell me you weren’t invited."
"I was."
"And?"
"And I ignored it."
Taehyun groans. "Of course you did."
You roll your eyes. "Why would I waste my time going to that? It's just a bunch of industry people getting drunk and kissing each other’s asses."
"Yeah," he says, "and that’s exactly why you should be there."
You huff, leaning back against the wall. "Taehyun, I barely have time to eat, let alone go make small talk with people I don’t care about."
He gives you a pointed look. "If you want more people to care about you, you need to start showing up to these things."
You open your mouth to argue—but then his words hit you in a way you weren’t expecting. Because you’ve heard them before. Not from him. You’re good, but no one’s ever gonna notice if you never leave this cave.
Beomgyu’s voice, unshakable, rings through your head.
It was late—too late, really, for either of you to still be in the studio—but you had been working, tweaking a demo, lost in your own world. And then he had walked in, leaning against the doorframe with that lazy smirk, watching you like he had you all figured out.
At the time, you had rolled your eyes and told him to fuck off. Now, standing here, you hate that his words come back so easily.
Taehyun must notice the shift in your expression because he nudges your shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"
You blink, shaking the thought off. "Yeah. Fine."
"Uh-huh," he says, unconvinced. "So, you’re going?"
You sigh, kicking at the pavement. "I’ll think about it."
He smirks. "That means yes."
You groan, "I hate you."
"You hate a lot of people," Taehyun teases, already stepping away. "But I’ll see you at the party, yeah?"
You don’t answer. But the thought lingers, anyway.
The walk back inside feels heavier than before. Maybe it’s the cold finally settling into your skin, or maybe it’s the fact that Taehyun’s words—and Beomgyu’s, fucking Beomgyu’s—are still bouncing around in your head.
You push the thoughts away as you step into your studio, shutting the door behind you. This is what you need. Work. Something to focus on. Something that doesn’t smirk at you like it knows you better than you know yourself.
Sitting down in front of your computer, you slip your headphones on and pull up a track you’ve been building. The beat kicks in, a deep, pulsing rhythm, crisp percussion layered underneath. You tweak a synth, adjusting the filters until it hums just right. The bass needs more weight. You push it up, listening as the sound thickens, your fingers moving without thinking.
The door swings open. You pull your headphones off, already prepared to tell whoever just barged in to knock first, but the words die on your tongue when you see who it is. Soobin.
He pauses in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, blinking at you like he wasn’t expecting to see you here either. His eyes, soft, dark, perpetually kind, widen slightly before he lets out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oh—shit. Sorry," he says. "I thought this room was empty."
You shake your head, waving a dismissive hand. "It’s fine. You’re not bothering me."
He hesitates for a second, shifting on his feet like he’s not sure if he should stay or leave. You take him in properly, his hoodie slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his wrists, his hair slightly tousled like he’s been running his hands through it all day. Soobin has always had this way about him, gentle, easygoing, warm in a way that makes people feel safe without even trying.
Soobin steps further into the room, leaning against the doorframe with that easy, almost shy smile of his. "So," he starts, his voice warm and easy, "how’s the project going?"
You lean back in your chair, giving a small shrug, trying to look casual despite the knot in your stomach. "Yeah, it’s going… well. I’m happy with how the beat is shaping up. Just need to refine a few things."
Soobin smiles, his gaze drifting to the computer screen, clearly not just focused on the music. There’s a softness in his expression, like he knows when you’re holding back, but he doesn’t push. "Beomgyu said you two were going to be working together on the new album," he says casually, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, still lingering by the door.
The mention of Beomgyu makes you stiffen for a split second, but you force yourself to remain composed. You try to play it cool, even though the words "working together" feel like they’ve got a much sharper edge to them.
"Yeah," you say, keeping your voice neutral. "Baekhyun put us both on the project. Not really my first choice, but… it is what it is."
Soobin tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a touch. "Hmm."
You raise an eyebrow, sensing that there’s something more to his reaction than he’s letting on. "What? What’s up?"
Soobin shrugs, his smile returning, but it’s a little softer now, like there’s something he wants to say but he’s not sure if he should. "I’m just surprised. Beomgyu never really talks much about the people he works with, you know?"
Your heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"
He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes flicking to the screen again before meeting yours. "I mean… he mentioned you, actually. Said your work was 'solid.' Which, for him, is practically a compliment."
You blink. Beomgyu? Complimenting you? It takes a moment for the words to fully sink in. "Wait, seriously?"
Soobin chuckles, shrugging. "Yeah. Maybe he’s not as much of a jerk as you think." He pauses, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Or maybe he’s just trying to get under your skin."
You roll your eyes, though there’s a small smile playing at the corner of your lips despite yourself. "I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the second option."
Soobin seems to think about that for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "But hey, maybe working together will surprise you."
You shoot him a skeptical look, but there’s something in Soobin’s voice, something sincere, that makes you pause. "Maybe," you say, your tone softer. "I just don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of surprise."
Soobin chuckles, stepping back toward the door. "Well, if anyone can handle Beomgyu’s ego, it’s you."
You watch him leave, his figure disappearing behind the door with that usual, casual air he carries, but his words stay with you. If anyone can handle Beomgyu’s ego, it’s you.
You take a deep breath, leaning back in your chair, eyes fixed on the blinking cursor on your screen. The beat you’ve been working on earlier suddenly feels distant, like it’s just background noise to the thoughts swirling in your mind.
You didn’t expect Soobin to say that. In fact, you didn’t expect him to even mention Beomgyu.
Beomgyu's ego. The words replay in your head, and you can't help but feel that familiar bitterness rise in your chest. He was arrogant, always so sure of himself, as if he thought he could charm his way into every room he walked into—every meeting, every collaboration, every conversation. But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was how effective it was. He was good at what he did. So good, it made you sick to admit it.
Your fingers hover over your keyboard, but you don't type anything. Instead, you let your mind wander back to the countless times you’d crossed paths with Beomgyu. From the first time you’d met him, there had always been this unspoken tension between you two. You could never quite pinpoint why, but it was always there, like a challenge, an unspoken game.
Beomgyu was never afraid to speak his mind. Never afraid to push you, challenge you, throw something in your face to see how you'd react. He wasn’t the type to back down, especially not in a field like this, where every day felt like a battle for the top spot.
And yet, in all the years you’d worked alongside him, you’d never been able to figure him out. You hated how unpredictable he was. How he’d come in with that cocky grin, take control of a room with nothing more than his presence, and leave you second-guessing everything about the project you’d just finished.
It wasn’t just his confidence that grated on you. It was the way it worked. How easy it was for him to charm clients, co-workers, everyone. You’d always been the opposite, quiet, focused, just a little too serious for the industry’s taste. But Beomgyu? He could weave his way through conversations, make jokes, make everyone like him.
You weren’t so good at that. You weren’t good at pretending things were okay when they weren’t, and you definitely weren’t good at ignoring the way Beomgyu’s presence made your heart race just a little too fast.
You pull your headphones back on, the sound of the track filling your ears, but it doesn’t help. You can’t stop thinking about him. About his stupid smile, the way he’d always act like he knew more than you, the way you’d find yourself questioning every decision you’d made just because he disagreed with it.
You stare at the screen, tapping your fingers absentmindedly on the desk. The ping of a new message from the company chat pulls you out of your thoughts. You glance at the screen, already knowing who it is before you even look. Beomgyu.
You almost groan, but instead, you open the chat without thinking too much about it. His message is short—typical Beomgyu. And, of course, he has to type in all lowercase letters, just like you do.
[beomgyu]: you coming to work with me today or nah?
You lean back in your chair, staring at the message for a second. He always had to throw in that annoying casual tone, like you were just some kind of colleague he could poke fun at. Not that you were going to let him get to you.
[you]: maybe
The typing bubble shows up immediately, and you can already tell he’s typing a response. Of course, he wouldn’t leave you hanging.
[beomgyu]: alright, i’m coming over. don’t run away this time.
You lean back in your chair, exhaling deeply. As much as you’d like to ignore him, you know that when Beomgyu’s around, the work somehow gets done. Annoying as he is, he’s good.
A few minutes later, you hear the soft sound of the door to your studio creaking open. You don’t even look up from your computer at first, but you can feel his presence in the room. It’s hard to miss, he’s got this way of filling up space with his confidence, as if he belongs in every room he enters. "That was fast," you say, still clicking through your files.
"I was already on my way," Beomgyu replies smoothly. His voice is light, teasing, but you can hear the subtle scratch of his hoodie against his skin as he moves, stepping closer.
Only then do you finally glance up. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he watches you like he’s already won something. "Thought you’d be hiding from me again," he muses.
You huff a quiet laugh, rolling your eyes. "I wasn’t hiding. Just… working. Something you should try sometime."
Beomgyu pushes off the frame, walking toward you with that effortless, too-cool confidence that somehow never looks forced. He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he nods toward your screen. "What have you been working on, then?"
You hesitate for a beat. It’s not like you don’t want to show him, it’s just that you know how this goes. He’ll have something to say, and you’re not sure if you’re in the mood to let him have an opinion today. Still, your fingers move on their own, pulling up the track. "A beat," you say, pressing play. "Something I was messing with earlier."
The studio fills with the low pulse of a kick drum, steady and clean. A deep bassline follows, smooth but weighty, the kind that makes your chest vibrate. You keep your eyes on the screen, tweaking the volume slightly, but you can feel Beomgyu’s gaze shift. He’s listening. Really listening.
When the beat fades out, you finally glance at him. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by something unreadable. He stays quiet for a moment, and just when you think he might actually be serious for once, he speaks.
"It’s… not bad," he says, dragging out the words just to be annoying.
You scoff. "Not bad?"
He shrugs, fighting a grin. "I mean, I expected worse. But yeah. It’s solid." You stare at him for a second before shaking your head. Beomgyu finally laughs, a soft, genuine sound, before nudging your chair lightly with his knee. "Come on. Let’s make it better."
You side-eye him. "Since when are you this eager to work?"
He gives you a slow smirk. "Since I found out I have to prove I’m better than you."
You scoff but don’t argue. Instead, you press play again, letting the track fill the studio once more. The beat hums through the speakers, crisp and layered, but something still feels… incomplete. It’s a skeleton, a strong foundation, but it needs something to make it breathe.
Beomgyu’s fingers drum lightly against the desk, following the rhythm. "The bass is solid, but it needs more texture," he muses, his voice slipping into something more thoughtful. "Maybe a reverb on the snare? Just enough to make it feel bigger."
You hum, considering. "That could work." Your hands move quickly, adjusting a few settings, adding the effect he suggested. When you play it back, the subtle change makes a difference. The beat hits deeper, lingers in the air.
Beomgyu tilts his head, listening. "Yeah… that’s better," he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright, now lyrics. What’s the vibe?"
You purse your lips, thinking. "Baekhyun wanted something sexy but with emotional weight. Not just a throwaway club song—something that actually sticks with people."
Beomgyu hums, tilting his head. "So, like… temptation?" You glance at him, curious. He gestures vaguely with his hands. "Something that feels like you shouldn’t be doing it, but you want to anyway. You know, that whole ‘I’m trying to stay away, but I keep coming back’ thing."
You hesitate, but that actually makes sense. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you type a few rough phrases, trying to capture that idea. "Something like…" you murmur to yourself, voice trailing off as you think.
Beomgyu shifts closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he watches your screen. "Try flipping it," he suggests. "Instead of ‘I can’t stay away,’ what if it’s more like ‘I know you don’t want me to stay away’?"
Your fingers pause. You glance at him. His eyes flicker with something unreadable, like he knows exactly what he just did. You scoff lightly, shaking your head. "You would think of it that way."
Beomgyu grins. "What can I say? I like a little push and pull."
Rolling your eyes, you type out the line anyway. And to your annoyance, it works.
From there, the writing flows easier. He throws out ideas, some ridiculous, some brilliant. You counter them, sharpen them, adjust the phrasing. He tests melodies under his breath while you tweak the instrumental to match. The push-and-pull dynamic you usually hate about him actually fuels the process, and before you know it, the bones of the song are coming together.
At some point, Beomgyu gets up and paces the room as he mumbles lyrics under his breath, testing cadences. You watch as he stops, rewinds, repeats lines to himself like he’s working out a puzzle. It’s the most serious you’ve seen him look all day.
And, annoyingly, you find yourself thinking, not for the first time, that Beomgyu is actually really good at this. You shake the thought away. No need to inflate his already massive ego.
Eventually, you both get so lost in the work that time stops mattering.
As Beomgyu stretches, his arms extending above his head, the hem of his hoodie lifts just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin. He lets out a low groan as his back pops, shaking off the hours spent hunched over the desk. You barely register it, too lost in the sound of the track looping softly in the background, but then you catch the way he suddenly stills.
His gaze flickers to the clock on the wall, and his expression shifts. "Holy shit," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s past midnight."
The words barely register at first. Your brain is still swimming in melodies, unfinished lyrics, and the lingering energy of collaboration. But then the weight of time settles in, and you finally blink, pulling yourself back into reality.
You sit up straighter, stretching out your fingers before glancing at the studio door. The hallway beyond is silent. The once-busy building has gone eerily still, the distant hum of conversations and footsteps long gone.
"Shit," you murmur, running a hand through your hair. "Didn’t even notice."
It’s not surprising. This happens sometimes, getting so lost in the process that hours slip by unnoticed. But something about tonight feels different. Maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t just work alone. That, for once, Beomgyu wasn’t just a distraction or an annoyance, but someone who helped.
Beomgyu, meanwhile, is watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Then, as if snapping back into his usual self, he lets out a small breath and leans against the edge of the desk. His smirk creeps in, lazy and familiar.
"Wanna grab a beer?"
The words are so casual, so effortless, that it takes you a second to process them. You snort, already shaking your head before he can even try to convince you. "Not even if you paid me."
Beomgyu clicks his tongue, feigning deep disappointment, like you just shattered his fragile dreams. "Tsk. Alright, alright. I get it. You’re all work, no fun."
You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, he leans in slightly. Not close enough to invade your space, but just enough that his voice drops a fraction, almost like he’s sharing a secret.
"I’ve got until the album drops to change your mind."
There’s something about the way he says it. Not teasing, not pushy, just confident, like it’s already a done deal. Like he knows you’ll give in eventually.
You scoff, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, just the tiniest flicker of a smile before you school your expression back into indifference. "Good luck with that," you mutter, standing up and stretching your arms.
Beomgyu watches you for a beat longer before pushing off the desk, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. He doesn’t say anything else, just hums in amusement as he heads for the door, his posture loose and easy.
And somehow, you already know. He won’t drop it.
Tumblr media
The dream was still vivid when you woke up. The melody, the lyrics, everything had felt so real, like the song had already existed somewhere in your mind, just waiting to be found.
You barely remembered throwing on your clothes and rushing out the door, but now you were here, practically jogging through the HYBE hallways, desperate to get the words down before they slipped away.
Your mind was a mess of half-formed ideas and lingering dream logic, but the one thing you knew for certain was that this had to be written today. The only problem? Beomgyu was nowhere to be found.
You’d expected to see him the second you walked into the studio, already lounging in his usual spot, feet up on the desk like he owned the place. But the room was empty. No bags, no coffee cups, no signs of life.
You frowned, pulling out your phone on instinct, but there were no messages. No snarky texts from him, no last-minute updates about being late. Nothing. You tried not to dwell on the fact that it unsettled you. That you were even looking for him in the first place.
Instead, you headed back into the hallway, hoping to run into someone who knew something. That someone turned out to be Taehyun, who was standing near the vending machines, scrolling on his phone. "Hey," you called, walking up to him. "Have you seen Beomgyu?"
Taehyun barely looked up, but the slight smirk on his face told you he’d heard you just fine. "You’re looking for him?"
You folded your arms. "I just need to talk to him about the album."
He hummed, finally glancing up from his phone. "Sure. About the album."
You sighed. "Taehyun—"
"I haven't seen him," he cut in, clearly enjoying this way too much. "And even if I had, I don’t think I’d tell you. This is way too entertaining."
You rolled your eyes. "Unbelievable."
"You could just text him, you know," Taehyun pointed out.
"I could," you admitted, "but I shouldn’t have to."
Taehyun just shrugged, biting back a grin. "Well, if you’re that desperate, good luck."
You groaned, turning on your heel and heading down the hall. Desperate. Right. Beomgyu wasn’t the only person you could talk to about music.
So, instead of wasting time looking for him, you made your way to a different part of the building, where you knew you’d find people who actually showed up to work. Enhypen's break room was surprisingly lively when you walked in.
Heeseung was sitting at the center table, scrolling through his laptop, while Jake and Jungwon were arguing about something (probably a game) on the couch nearby. Sunghoon and Sunoo were by the fridge, debating which energy drink was less likely to kill them, while Jay and Niki were huddled over Jay’s phone, watching a video of some kind.
The moment you stepped inside, seven pairs of eyes turned toward you. "Whoa," Jake said, blinking. "You actually left your studio?"
"She exists outside of work?" Sunoo added, looking genuinely fascinated.
"Crazy, right?" Jay smirked. "I thought she was just a myth."
You sighed, dropping into the chair across from Heeseung. "Hilarious. All of you."
Heeseung closed his laptop, leaning forward with an amused grin. "So, what brings you here?"
The others perked up, too, the room’s energy shifting as they all turned their attention to you. You hesitated for only a second before reaching for your phone, pulling up the rough voice memo you’d recorded half-asleep that morning.
"I had this dream last night," you explained. "It was kind of abstract, but there was this melody, and I woke up with the start of a lyric in my head. It’s not much yet, but—"
"Play it," Jungwon interrupted.
You did. The room fell silent as the low, dreamy hum of your voice filled the space. It was raw, just a melody over soft chords, the words barely formed, but you could already hear the potential in it.
When it ended, there was a beat of silence. "That’s sick," Niki said immediately.
"It sounds kind of nostalgic," Jake added. "Like something that pulls you back to a specific memory, even if you don’t know what memory it is."
Heeseung nodded, thoughtful. "The vocal layering could be really cool if you lean into that hazy, dreamlike feel."
You took mental notes as they spoke, their excitement feeding into your own. Collaborating like this, bouncing ideas off of people who genuinely loved music as much as you did, was one of your favorite things. For the first time that morning, you forgot about Beomgyu entirely. Almost.
Because as the conversation started winding down, you found yourself asking, "By the way… has anyone seen Beomgyu today?"
Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "He’s never here on Thursdays."
That made you pause. "What do you mean?"
"I don’t know the details," he admitted, "but every Thursday, he just… doesn’t show up. It’s like his unofficial off day or something."
You frowned. "And no one questions that?"
Jay shrugged. "He’s Beomgyu. He gets away with a lot."
That was true, but it still felt odd. Beomgyu was everywhere, all the time. It was part of his personality, the way he always had to make himself known, make his presence felt. So, why did he suddenly disappear once a week? And more importantly… Why did you care?
The glow of the computer screen was the only thing illuminating the studio now. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing at your eyes as the melody you’d been playing on loop for the past twenty minutes continued to hum faintly through the speakers.
The demo was coming together, slowly but surely. You had the skeleton of the track—the instrumental was rich, the atmosphere was there, but the lyrics still felt incomplete. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t quite find the missing piece.
You sighed, stretching your arms above your head before rolling your chair back slightly. The worst part? You knew exactly what was missing.
Beomgyu. You hated that realization.
As much as you wanted to deny it, things just worked when he was around. Ideas flowed easier, the process felt smoother—hell, even when you were annoyed at him, it still fueled the energy in the room. The back-and-forth, the push and pull, it all somehow led to better music.
And today, without him, it felt like dragging a boulder up a hill. You shook your head, refusing to dwell on it. It wasn’t like you needed him. You’d been making music for years before he ever stepped into your life.
Still, as you saved the latest version of the demo and shut your laptop, you couldn't shake the irritation bubbling in your chest. What the hell does he even do on Thursdays?
Pushing the thought away, you grabbed your jacket and slung your bag over your shoulder. You’d been here too long already, and at this point, you weren’t getting anything else done tonight. Just as you stepped out into the hallway, your phone buzzed in your pocket.
[yunjin]: we’re at hyehwa. bring your tired workaholic ass over here [yunjin]: before you ask, yes, yeonjun is here. yes, taehyun is here. and yes, hueningkai is here. no excuses
You exhaled through your nose, the corners of your lips twitching upward despite your exhaustion. Of course they were at Hyehwa, the bar that had somehow become your unofficial meeting spot over the years.
For a moment, you debated going straight home. But then you thought about how much time you’d already spent alone in the studio tonight, trapped in your own head. Maybe you needed a break after all.
The second you stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the bar wrapped around you like a worn-out leather jacket. The dim lighting, the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, it was the kind of place that always felt easy, no matter how long the day had been.
And, as expected, your friends were easy to find. Yeonjun was the first one you spotted, lounging in the booth like he had no bones in his body, one arm draped over the back of the seat. Taehyun was sitting next to him, scrolling through his phone, while Hueningkai was across from them, laughing at something Yunjin was saying. There were already a few empty beer bottles on the table, condensation still dripping from them.
You rolled your eyes as you walked over. "You guys started without me."
Hueningkai beamed. "Of course we did. You’re late."
You slid into the seat next to Yunjin, ignoring the way they were all looking at you like you were some rare specimen that had just wandered into the wild. "Yeah, yeah," you muttered, flagging down the bartender for a drink. "I was working."
"We know," Taehyun said, side-eyeing you. "You’ve been working non-stop."
Yunjin leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. "So? How’s the album going?"
You hesitated, drumming your fingers lightly against the table. "It’s… coming together."
Yeonjun squinted at you. "That doesn’t sound convincing."
You sighed. "It’s fine. Just a long day."
Taehyun raised an eyebrow. "A long day or a long day without Beomgyu?"
You froze mid-sip, the beer bottle barely touching your lips before you slowly lowered it back down to the table. "I’m not talking about him right now," you said flatly, setting the bottle down with a quiet clink against the wood. "I’m here to have a drink with my friends, not to analyze my work situation."
Taehyun smirked like he knew exactly what you were doing. Yeonjun raised his hands in surrender, but the knowing look in his eyes was still irritating. Hueningkai, ever the agent of chaos, just grinned.
"Alright, alright," Yunjin said, leaning back. "No Beomgyu talk. But, speaking of things you do need to talk about—" She fixed you with a pointed look. "You’re coming to the HYBE party, right?"
"I'm thinking about it," you corrected, crossing your arms. "I have work to do. I don’t have time to stand around making awkward small talk with industry people who don’t even know my name."
Yunjin groaned, dramatically letting her head fall against the table before snapping back up with renewed determination. "Listen. You spend every waking moment working on this album. You need to breathe. Plus, I’m going."
"And?"
"And that means you have no excuse not to."
You snorted. "That logic is flawed."
"It’s actually foolproof," she argued. "And you know who else is going? Taehyun."
You hesitated, glancing at Taehyun, who only gave you a small shrug like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe it wasn’t. And maybe… just maybe… you were a little tired of feeling like a ghost in this industry.
"…Fine," you muttered.
Yunjin’s face lit up. "Yes!"
"I’m going with you and Taehyun," you clarified. "And if it sucks, I’m leaving early."
"Deal," she grinned, clinking her beer against yours.
As the conversation moved on, you took another sip of your drink, pushing away the nagging thought that had been lingering at the back of your mind. Because you knew exactly who was going to be at that party. And whether you admitted it or not, part of you was already wondering if you'd run into him.
Tumblr media
When you woke up, sunlight was already spilling through the curtains, the golden hue casting soft shadows across your room. For a few blissful moments, you lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting yourself exist in the quiet. But the minute your mind fully registered what day it was, that peace shattered. The HYBE party.
You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. Part of you still wanted to back out. It wasn’t like anyone would really care if you didn’t show up. You weren’t the kind of person people noticed at these events. And yet… you’d already agreed to go.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you padded into the kitchen, still in your oversized sleep shirt, your hair a mess from sleep. To your surprise, Yeonjun was already up, standing by the coffee machine, scrolling through his phone. "You’re awake early," you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
He glanced up, smiling lazily. "And you look like you got hit by a truck."
You scowled, reaching for a mug. "Thanks."
Yeonjun chuckled and, before you could react, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "You looked like you needed it," he murmured against your hair.
For a second, you stiffened, but then you exhaled, letting yourself melt into him, pressing your face against his chest. He was warm, solid, and familiar. The kind of comfort that didn’t need words. "…I don’t know why I feel weird about tonight," you admitted quietly.
Yeonjun didn’t let go, just rubbed small, soothing circles against your back. "You don’t have to go if you don’t want to."
You sighed. "I know. But… maybe I should go. Maybe I need to stop avoiding these things."
He hummed in agreement, waiting a beat before asking, "Beomgyu’s gonna be there, huh?"
You groaned into his shirt. "Why are you like this?"
He laughed, finally pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "Because I know you. And I know that’s part of what’s making you overthink this."
You didn’t deny it. Because as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you was wondering—if you went, would you run into him? And if you did… then what?
The day dragged on slower than usual, each hour stretching endlessly as you fought to keep your mind occupied. You had promised Yunjin you’d go to her apartment to get ready together. As much as you had hoped the day would pass without the need to confront your nerves, the time had come. The tension in your chest flared up again, and for a split second, you wished you could back out. But you couldn’t.
When you arrived at her apartment, Yunjin was perched at her vanity, still in a robe, mascara wand frozen mid-air as she turned to look at you. "Took you long enough," she teased, a grin pulling at her lips.
On the bed, Taehyun was sprawled out, scrolling through his phone with that signature, mildly unimpressed expression he always wore. "I’ve been trapped here for thirty minutes," he deadpanned. "Save me."
You snorted, already feeling more at ease. This was exactly what you needed, the mindless chatter, the shared chaos of getting ready, and the reminder that not everything in your life had to revolve around late-night studio sessions and a certain annoying producer who lived rent-free in your head.
By the time you were all dressed and out the door, the city lights stretched out in front of you, buzzing with life. The party was already in full swing when you arrived, the familiar pulse of bass-heavy music vibrating through the ground, bodies moving under dim lights, and the haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.
Yunjin led the way, slipping effortlessly into the crowd. Taehyun trailed behind with his usual nonchalant vibe, and you… well, you were busy doing exactly what you promised yourself you wouldn’t do: scanning the room for him.
And then, you saw him.
Beomgyu stood near the corner of the room, deep in conversation with Soobin. It was the kind of effortless, laid-back energy that somehow made him stand out in a room full of people trying too hard.
He wasn’t drowning in one of those oversized hoodies he always wore in the studio. No, tonight was different. He had on a simple black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing just enough of his wrists to make you irrationally annoyed. The fabric clung to him in all the right places, and paired with black jeans and silver rings on his fingers, he looked…
You blinked, irritated at yourself. No. Absolutely not.
But your eyes betrayed you, tracing the way he casually ran a hand through his hair as he laughed at something Soobin said. He looked relaxed, like he belonged in this kind of environment, like he wasn’t the same Beomgyu who spent hours annoying the life out of you in the studio. And worse, he looked… good. But you would literally rather die than admit that out loud.
What you didn’t know was that, from across the room, Beomgyu was watching you just as intently.
He leaned against the wall, drink in hand, nodding absentmindedly as Soobin spoke, but his attention kept slipping, drawn back to the way you moved through the crowd. The way your eyes flickered around the room, pretending not to be looking for him. The way you laughed at something Yunjin said, even though you were clearly trying to hide how uncomfortable you felt being here.
It was unfair, really. How easily you occupied space in his head without even trying.
"Are you even listening to me?" Soobin’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Beomgyu blinked, tearing his gaze away from you. "Huh?"
Soobin sighed, already used to this. "I said, how’s the album coming along? Baekhyun’s been hyping your demos, but you’ve been suspiciously quiet about working with Y/N."
Beomgyu scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. "It’s… fine."
Soobin raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"
Beomgyu hesitated, rolling the glass between his fingers. "She’s annoying," he muttered. "Thinks she knows everything. Always overcomplicates the production and acts like she’s too good to work with me."
Soobin let out a quiet laugh. "Right. And that’s why you’ve been writing the best shit of your career since you two started working together."
Beomgyu shot him a look. "Shut up."
"You like working with her," Soobin said, deadpan.
"I do not," Beomgyu snapped, a little too quickly.
Soobin’s grin only widened. "No? Then why do you keep staring at her like that?"
Beomgyu’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering back to where you stood with Yunjin and Taehyun. You looked good tonight. Too good. And it was pissing him off. Because ever since that stupid studio session where you accidentally made magic together, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.
The way your mind worked. The way your fingers moved across the keyboard, tweaking melodies until they hit just right. The way you bit your lip when you were focused, completely lost in the sound.
You made him crazy. And maybe that’s exactly why the album was turning out the way it was, raw, sharp, full of tension. It wasn’t just music. It was you. Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She drives me insane."
Soobin smirked. "And here you are saying that you don't like working with her."
Beomgyu glared at him. "I swear to god, Soobin—"
"Come on," Soobin grinned. "You’re just not ready to admit that this whole ‘hating each other’ thing is actually… kind of your thing."
Beomgyu didn’t respond. Because deep down, he knew Soobin was right. And that terrified him.
Tumblr media
You weren’t exactly expecting Baekhyun to pull you aside at this party, but here you were, following him through the crowded room as he weaved between people with practiced ease. "Y/N," he started, glancing back at you with a smirk, "I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone."
You barely had time to ask who before you found yourself face to face with Choi Seungcheol, one of HYBE’s creative directors. He was taller than you expected, dressed in a sleek black suit that somehow made him look more approachable than intimidating.
"Y/N’s producing the new Enhypen album," Baekhyun introduced casually.
Seungcheol’s eyes lit up with recognition as he extended his hand toward you. "Ah, I’ve heard about you. Your demos are impressive."
You shook his hand, hiding the way your stomach flipped at the compliment. "Thank you. I’m… still figuring things out."
"You and everyone else in this company," Seungcheol chuckled. His tone was light, polite, the kind of effortless charm that only someone who’s been in the industry for years could pull off.
The conversation flowed easily from there. Seungcheol asked about your creative process, subtly throwing in references to producers you admired, showing he actually understood what you did. It felt… good. Like for once, someone saw you as more than just “the girl working with Beomgyu.”
Which was exactly when Beomgyu appeared. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever Seungcheol was saying, but you felt it. That weird shift in the air when someone’s eyes are on you.
Beomgyu stood just a few feet away. You forced yourself to ignore him, focusing back on Seungcheol, who was mid-sentence about the new creative direction HYBE was taking. But from the corner of your eye, you saw Beomgyu lingering, not quite joining the conversation, but not leaving either.
It was annoying. Typical, actually. You knew exactly what he was doing, standing there, listening, watching. Almost as if he was waiting for the right moment to insert himself. And, of course, he did.
"Y/N," Beomgyu’s voice cut in smoothly, "Baekhyun’s been looking for you."
Your eyes narrowed as you turned to face him. "Funny. I’ve been with Baekhyun for the past ten minutes."
Beomgyu’s lips twitched, but his gaze flickered, just for a second, toward Seungcheol. "Guess he forgot to mention it." There it was. That subtle edge in his voice. Not enough for anyone else to catch, but you knew him too well by now.
Seungcheol seemed unfazed, stepping back slightly as if sensing whatever weird energy was happening between you two. "I’ll let you handle that," he said, offering you a polite smile. "It was great meeting you, Y/N. I’ll keep an eye out for your work."
"Likewise," you replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. Seungcheol disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Beomgyu standing there in uncomfortable silence. You turned to him, arms crossed. "Really? What was that?"
"What was what?" Beomgyu replied, all fake innocence.
"You’re ridiculous," you muttered, already moving past him.
But before you could disappear into the crowd, you heard him mumble under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch:
"I bet he doesn’t even know what a compressor does."
You stopped dead in your tracks, spinning around to face him. "Oh my god, you’re actually jealous."
Beomgyu blinked. "What? No."
"You totally are."
"I just think," he said, with that infuriating smirk, "that some people like to talk more than they actually create."
You stared at him, half in disbelief, half wanting to strangle him. "Unbelievable," you muttered, turning away again.
"Where are you going?"
"Away from you," you shot back over your shoulder.
But as you pushed through the crowd, your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the music. And somewhere behind you, Beomgyu stood there, running a hand through his hair, wondering what the hell you’d done to him.
The night pressed on, and you let yourself slip into the chaos of the party.
Yunjin dragged you to the dance floor, her hand wrapped around yours as the bass vibrated through your chest. Taehyun hovered nearby, doing his signature head-bop move with a drink in hand, pretending he was too cool to enjoy himself when, in reality, he was having the time of his life.
You allowed yourself to let go for a bit, letting the music drown out the noise in your head, the pressure of the album, and, most importantly, the fact that Beomgyu was somewhere in this room, probably still brooding after whatever weird stunt he pulled earlier.
But even as you danced, laughed with Yunjin, and stole sips from Taehyun’s drink, you felt it. That annoying awareness of him.
You caught glimpses of him through the crowd, leaning against a wall, talking to Soobin, occasionally scanning the room. And somehow, every time your eyes accidentally met, he’d hold your gaze for just a second too long before looking away, leaving something heavy and unspoken lingering in the air. It was messing with your head.
You slipped out to the smoking area, grateful for the cool night air against your skin. There were a few other people scattered around, some making out against the wall, others huddled in quiet conversations, but you found a spot in the corner, leaning against the railing as you lit a cigarette.
It was a bad habit, one you only fell back into when you were stressed. But tonight, it felt… necessary.
The first inhale burned your lungs in that oddly comforting way, and you let your head fall back, eyes closing for a moment as you exhaled. You barely heard the door creak open behind you, but the familiar voice made you tense instantly.
"Wow. Didn’t peg you as a smoker."
You opened your eyes, already irritated. "Of course, it’s you."
Beomgyu stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you with that same infuriating expression he always wore, somewhere between amused and way too pleased with himself. He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping closer until he was leaning against the railing beside you.
"I’m not stalking you," he muttered, eyes flickering to your cigarette. "I just needed air."
"Right," you replied, taking another drag. The silence between you stretched for a moment, surprisingly comfortable. The muffled music from inside bled through the walls, mixed with the distant sounds of traffic from the streets below.
"I didn’t know you smoked," Beomgyu said quietly.
"I don’t," you replied. "Only when I’m overthinking."
He glanced at you. "What are you overthinking about?"
You hesitated, unsure why you were even entertaining this conversation. "The album," you finally said. "And… other things."
Beomgyu hummed, eyes fixed ahead. "Same."
That surprised you. For some reason, you always assumed Beomgyu was immune to self-doubt, that everything came easy to him. But now, standing here under the dim light, he looked tired. Almost like he was carrying the same weight you were.
He grinned, and for a moment, the tension between you softened into something else. Something unfamiliar. You took another drag of your cigarette before handing it to him without a word.
Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You’re sharing with the enemy now?"
"Take it or leave it," you muttered.
He hesitated for half a second before accepting it, bringing it to his lips and inhaling slowly. You hated how attractive that looked. And of course, Beomgyu caught you staring.
"Careful," he said, handing it back to you with a smirk. "If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me."
"God, I regret this already," you groaned, turning away.
But Beomgyu just chuckled, leaning closer until his shoulder brushed against yours. "Too late," he murmured. "You let me in."
You took the cigarette back from Beomgyu, bringing it to your lips again as the cold air pressed against your skin. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The music from inside thumped faintly in the background, but out here, it felt like you were in a completely different world, one that was quieter, slower.
"So," Beomgyu started, breaking the silence, "have you thought more about track five?"
You nearly choked on the smoke. "Are you seriously talking about the album right now?" You turned to him, disbelief written all over your face. "We're at a party."
Beomgyu shrugged. "What, you think I know how to do small talk?" You huffed, half amused, half annoyed. "You were literally talking about work with Seungcheol earlier," he quipped, stealing it from your hand again.
You let him, watching as he took another slow drag before handing it back. You groaned, already regretting letting him stay out here. "Oh my God. Don’t."
"I’m just saying," Beomgyu muttered, gaze fixed on the ground. "He was totally flirting with you."
You rolled your eyes. "He was being polite."
"He called you talented and touched your arm twice," Beomgyu deadpanned. "That's textbook flirting."
You let out a sharp laugh. "Why do you even care?"
Beomgyu hesitated. "I don’t care," he said, a beat too late.
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure." Your breath hitched slightly, but you masked it by taking another drag of the cigarette. Beomgyu shifted beside you, leaning his weight against the railing. "You know," you started, voice low, "for someone who allegedly doesn't care, you spend an awful lot of time ruining my conversations."
Beomgyu let out a soft scoff, eyes fixed somewhere ahead. "You looked bored."
"I wasn’t bored."
"You were faking interest," he replied without hesitation. "You do that thing where you tilt your head slightly and nod, but your eyes are already somewhere else."
You blinked, caught off guard. "Didn’t know you analyzed me that much," you muttered.
"I don’t," Beomgyu replied too quickly.
You just hummed in response, taking another slow drag. The distant hum of the party buzzed faintly behind you, but out here, it felt like you’d slipped into some strange, quieter version of reality.
Your eyes flickered to him again, noticing the subtle tension in his posture, the way his fingers tapped against his rings, the same nervous habit you’d seen in the studio when he thought no one was looking.
You hesitated before speaking again. "Why don’t you work on Thursdays?"
Beomgyu stilled. You almost regretted asking, but he didn’t look at you, didn’t deflect like you expected him to. Instead, he let out a slow breath through his nose.
"I visit my mom," he said quietly.
Your breath caught in your throat. "What do you mean?"
"She’s been sick for a while," he added, almost like he was saying it more to himself than to you. "Autoimmune thing. Thursdays are… her day."
Your grip on the cigarette faltered slightly. You hadn’t expected honesty. You turned to him, but his gaze remained fixed ahead, like saying it out loud would make it heavier. "I didn’t know," you said softly.
"Yeah," he replied, almost like he was amused by your reaction. "Why would you?"
You wanted to say something, but words felt too fragile for whatever this was. So you didn’t. You just stood there, feeling that strange shift in the air, the one where he felt less like your annoying rival and more like… You weren’t sure what.
Beomgyu glanced at you then, catching the way you were looking at him. "What?" he asked, almost defensive.
"Nothing," you replied, turning away.
But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything you’d never noticed about him until now. You pressed the cigarette against the railing, watching the ember die out. The air outside felt heavier than usual, but maybe that was just the way Beomgyu’s presence filled every empty space.
"I should head back," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
Beomgyu didn’t look at you. He stayed leaning against the railing, gaze fixed on some distant point in the city, jaw tight like he was holding something back.
"Do yourself a favor," he said suddenly, voice low. "Be careful with who you let think they know you."
You frowned, turning to him. "What?"
Beomgyu exhaled slowly, like he already regretted speaking. "These people," he gestured vaguely toward the noise inside. "They’ll act like they want you around. Like they see potential in you. But they don’t actually care. They just want something to say they discovered first."
You blinked, caught off guard. "You think that’s what Seungcheol was doing?"
Beomgyu scoffed, eyes flickering to yours. "I think you’re too naive to notice when people are looking at you for the wrong reasons."
You stared at him, searching for whatever this was, this strange tension that always seemed to surface when the two of you were left alone. But before you could step inside, Beomgyu spoke again.
"I’m serious, Y/N." His voice softened slightly. "You're new to this. You think people in this industry want you to win, but they don't. They want you to be grateful. They want you to be quiet. And the second you stop being useful to them, they’ll move on."
You hesitated, hand hovering over the door handle. "And you?" you asked quietly. "What do you want from me, Beomgyu?"
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, barely above a whisper:
"Nothing."
You turned back, but he was already looking away, like he hadn’t just said something that would stay stuck in your head for weeks. You lingered for half a second before slipping back inside, the noise of the party swallowing you whole.
But somehow, you could still feel him. And that scared you more than anything.
The party felt louder when you stepped back inside, but maybe that was just the ringing in your ears from whatever the hell that conversation with Beomgyu was. You pushed through the crowd, head spinning, eyes searching for familiar faces. Yunjin and Taehyun were by the bar, Yunjin holding a half-finished drink and Taehyun looking like he was ready to disappear from this place an hour ago.
"I’m heading out," you told them.
Yunjin pouted. "Already?"
"I’m… tired." You offered her a weak smile, not really in the mood to explain why your chest felt weird or why Beomgyu’s words kept looping in your head.
Taehyun raised a brow but didn’t question it. "Get home safe."
You nodded, squeezing Yunjin’s arm lightly before slipping away. As you stepped outside, the night air hit you harder than you expected. You pulled out your phone and hesitated for a moment before typing:
[you]: where r u?
It didn’t take Yeonjun long to reply.
[yeonjun]: me and kai just found a sketchy fried chicken place that’s probably violating health codes. u want in?
You smiled.
[you]: can u come pick me up? [yeonjun]: omw.
You waited by the curb, the distant hum of the city filling the silence Beomgyu had left in your head.
When Yeonjun’s car pulled up a few minutes later, you moved toward it, already feeling the tension ease at the thought of greasy food and whatever chaos he and Kai were on tonight. But as you reached for the door handle, your eyes flickered to the side.
There, a few feet away, Beomgyu stood near the entrance, Soobin beside him, waiting for their own ride. You weren’t sure if he saw you first or if he was already looking, but when your eyes met, something heavy passed between you.
His gaze shifted to Yeonjun in the driver’s seat. Then back to you. You stepped into the car, shutting the door behind you.
"Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?" Yeonjun asked as you buckled your seatbelt.
"Nothing," you muttered.
Through the glass, you caught one last glimpse of Beomgyu, standing there with Soobin, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze still following you as the car pulled away. Something about the way he looked at you sat uncomfortably in your stomach, like he was trying to figure something out but refused to admit he cared enough to.
You turned away, resting your head against the seat.
Beomgyu watched the car disappear down the street, jaw tightening.
Soobin, who’d been standing quietly next to him this whole time, finally spoke, breaking whatever strange daze Beomgyu had fallen into. "So… that guy in the car," he nodded toward the street where Yeonjun’s car had disappeared, "is that her boyfriend?"
Beomgyu’s jaw tensed almost instantly. He felt the muscle in his cheek twitch as he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "How the hell would I know?" he muttered, too quickly. "It’s not like I’m friends with her."
Soobin let out a short laugh, "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "That’s definitely something someone who doesn’t care would say."
Beomgyu didn’t respond. Mostly because he couldn’t. Because Soobin was right. And that fact made something burn in his chest in a way he didn’t know how to handle.
It wasn’t like he cared who you left with. So instead of acknowledging whatever the hell this feeling was, Beomgyu just scoffed, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans. "Whatever," he muttered. "She’s not that interesting anyway."
Soobin snorted. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."
Beomgyu shot him a glare, but Soobin just grinned, already knowing exactly what was happening. Because it was obvious to everyone but Beomgyu. He wasn’t just annoyed with you. He was already losing. And worse, he didn’t even realize he was playing.
Tumblr media
The weekend passed in a blur of chaotic laughter and burnt virtual pizzas. You'd spent most of it holed up in your apartment, playing Overcooked with Yeonjun and Kai. Between screaming at each other in the kitchen and ordering way too much takeout, you actually felt… okay.
It was easy to forget about Beomgyu when you were surrounded by Yeonjun’s easy energy and Kai’s ridiculous commentary. Easy to forget how weird you’d felt after that conversation outside the party. How something about the way Beomgyu looked at you that night had stuck to your skin, refusing to leave.
But now, Monday morning had arrived, dragging you back to reality.
Yeonjun’s car rolled through the streets of Seoul, the city still half-asleep as the sun painted soft light across the buildings. You stared out the window, anxiety already bubbling in your chest at the thought of stepping into that studio again.
"You’re spiraling," Yeonjun said, breaking the silence.
You turned to him with a frown. "I’m not spiraling."
"You are," he replied easily, eyes still on the road. "You always do this before big projects. You convince yourself you're not good enough, overwork yourself to the point of insanity, and then act surprised when you have a breakdown in the bathroom."
"That happened one time," you muttered. Yeonjun shot you a look "Okay, twice," you admitted.
He sighed, softening. "You’re too hard on yourself, Y/N. You’re one of the most talented people I know. You just… need to stop letting other people’s opinions get in your head." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, not fully convinced but too tired to argue. When Yeonjun pulled up in front of the HYBE building, he shifted in his seat to face you. "Don’t let him get to you," he said, like he could read your mind.
Your stomach twisted. "Who said this is about him?"
Yeonjun raised a brow. "You forget I’ve known you since forever. I know how your brain works. You groaned, pushing the door open "Y/N." You paused, turning back to him. Yeonjun leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Go make history."
You smiled despite yourself. "You’re so cringe."
"And you love it."
You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind you.
As Yeonjun drove off, you turned toward the entrance, and immediately froze. Beomgyu stood a few feet away, leaning against the building’s brick wall, cigarette balanced between his fingers. He was watching you, eyes slightly narrowed, hair messy like he’d been here for a while.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Since when do you smoke?" you asked, voice laced with confusion.
Beomgyu brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly before replying, "Felt like it."
His voice was flat, uninterested, but his eyes lingered on you a second too long. You didn’t know what you were expecting, maybe some cocky remark, some teasing jab about how you were already looking for him first thing in the morning, but this wasn’t that.
Your eyes flickered over him. Messy hair, dark hoodie slightly wrinkled, the usual sharpness in his gaze dulled by something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if it was exhaustion or irritation or something else entirely, but the longer you looked at him, the more uneasy you felt.
You glanced at the cigarette between his fingers, then back at him. "You know," you started carefully, "when I offered you one at the party, it wasn’t supposed to be, like, an invitation to pick up a habit."
Beomgyu finally looked back at you then, eyes dark, unreadable. "And yet," he said, taking another drag, "here we are."
You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "Beomgyu."
"What?" he muttered, flicking ash onto the pavement.
You hesitated. You didn’t know what you wanted to say, really. That he looked like shit? That something about him felt off, wrong, like a version of him you weren’t used to seeing? That, for some reason, it actually bothered you?
Instead, what came out was: "You shouldn’t."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "You shouldn’t either." You opened your mouth, then shut it. He wasn’t wrong.
A heavy silence settled between you. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, watching the embers at the tip of his cigarette burn down, before he finally crushed it under his shoe.
"You’re gonna be late," he muttered, nodding toward the entrance.
You studied him for a beat longer, but whatever was going on with him, he clearly wasn’t going to tell you. And you weren’t about to push. So, you simply nodded and stepped past him, heading toward the doors.
Beomgyu watched as you stepped inside without another word, your expression unreadable. Something about it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He clicked his lighter open and closed absentmindedly, the metallic snick breaking the early morning quiet. His fingers itched to pull out another cigarette, but he hesitated, staring at the crushed remains of the last one under his shoe.
This wasn’t supposed to bother him. None of this was supposed to bother him.
His eyes drifted toward the spot where Yeonjun’s car had been parked just minutes ago.
He knew who Yeonjun was—everyone did. One of the youngest producers at SM, annoyingly talented, the kind of guy whose name always came up in conversations about industry golden boys. Beomgyu had seen his work before, even respected it in a distant, objective way. But what he hadn’t known was that you and Yeonjun were close.
Beomgyu had never cared to pay attention to your life outside of work. As far as he was concerned, you existed within the walls of HYBE, always one step ahead of him, always in his way. That was just how things were. But now, his brain kept circling back to the sight of you stepping out of Yeonjun’s car, back to the way Yeonjun had leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead like it was second nature.
His grip on the lighter tightened. He didn’t understand it.
It wasn’t like you didn’t have a life outside of the studio. It wasn’t like he expected you to just… exist in the same orbit as him, only crossing paths when necessary. It wasn’t like it bothered him.
Beomgyu scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. What does it matter? It doesn’t. It’s none of my business.
He reached for another cigarette, but before he could light it, his fingers hesitated over the lighter. Instead, with a sharp exhale, he shoved both back into his pocket and pushed himself off the wall. There was work to do.
Tumblr media
The pre-chorus had been frustrating you for days, and as much as you hated to admit it, Beomgyu had an ear for this kind of thing, he always knew how to make a build-up feel effortless, how to land the right emotional weight in just a few bars. You could spend another three hours trying to figure it out yourself, or you could go straight to the person who could fix it in ten minutes.
You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. The last thing you wanted to do was go to his studio. But you weren’t about to let your own stubbornness slow this project down. So, before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed your notebook and pushed yourself up from your chair.
When you knocked on the door, there was no immediate response. You hesitated before pushing it open anyway, Beomgyu never cared about formalities, and you weren’t in the mood to wait around.
The room was dimly lit, monitors casting a faint glow against the walls, soundproofing panels muting the outside world. Beomgyu was at his desk, hoodie draped loosely over his frame, fingers tapping absentmindedly against the surface as he stared at his screen.
He didn’t look up when you walked in. "You busy?" you asked.
There was a pause before he finally sighed, dragging his gaze away from the monitor. "What do you want?"
You frowned at his tone, disinterested, distant. "I need a second opinion on the pre-chorus," you said simply. "Something’s off, but I can’t figure out what."
He nodded once, pushing his chair back and gesturing lazily at the extra seat beside him. "Fine. Play it."
You sat down, plugging in your USB and pulling up the track. The moment the instrumental filled the room, you forgot about everything else. Your frustration, his mood, it all faded into the background as you focused on the music.
Beomgyu listened in silence, his expression blank as the pre-chorus built up, then crashed into the chorus. When it ended, he rolled his chair slightly forward, resting his elbow on the desk.
"The chord progression in the build-up is too predictable," he muttered. "You need more tension before the drop, otherwise it just falls flat."
You nodded, adjusting some of the notes. "Like this?"
Beomgyu leaned in slightly, watching the screen. "Move that second chord up a half step. And stretch the last measure—make it drag just a little longer before the hit."
You followed his instructions, layering in the adjustments before playing it back. This time, the build-up carried more weight, pulling in a tension that hadn’t been there before.
You turned to him, and for the first time since you walked in, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes, satisfaction, maybe. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "Better," he said simply.
You studied him for a beat, something about his demeanor still nagging at you. Normally, Beomgyu would’ve had more to say—some kind of sarcastic comment about how he had to fix your mess again, or at least a self-satisfied smirk. But instead, he just leaned back in his chair, looking tired.
You debated saying something, asking something, but before you could, he spoke again. "That all?"
It wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t warm either. Just neutral. And for some reason, that made your stomach twist. "…Yeah," you muttered. "That’s all."
You unplugged your USB, pushing your chair back. Beomgyu didn’t say anything else, just turned toward his screen like you had never been there in the first place.
Then, without another word, you turned and walked out. The door shut behind you with a quiet click, leaving Beomgyu alone in the dim glow of his studio, the silence stretching longer than it should have.
Tumblr media
You had been in the studio for hours.
The kind of hours that made your back ache from sitting too long, that made the glow of the screen start to blur, that made every melody sound wrong no matter how many times you tweaked it. It just wasn’t clicking today.
You had gone through four different versions of the same verse, rearranged the chord progression twice, even scrapped an entire section just to start over, only to end up in the same place, frustrated and stuck.
You hated this feeling. It wasn’t the kind of creative block where nothing came to you. It was worse. The kind where everything came to you, but nothing sounded right. Nothing felt like it was enough.
By the time you checked the clock, it was already late. Later than you realized. With a heavy sigh, you shut your laptop and rubbed at your temples, willing the tension headache forming behind your eyes to go away. You weren’t going to get anything done like this.
So, you grabbed your bag, checked your phone, and sent Yeonjun a quick text.
[you]: can you pick me up? i’m done for today. [yeonjun]: omw. 10 min.
You exhaled, pocketing your phone before stepping out of the building.
The night air hit you immediately, crisp and cool against your skin. The city was quieter at this hour, the usual rush of people and traffic subdued into a low hum. You stood near the curb, crossing your arms as you waited, letting yourself breathe for what felt like the first time today.
And then, of course, you spotted Beomgyu. You hesitated before walking over, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, curling around the dim glow of the streetlights.
You stared at him, momentarily taken aback. "You shouldn't keep smoking," you said, your tone quieter now.
His fingers twitched slightly around the cigarette, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he brought it back to his lips, inhaling like he was trying to make a point, though you weren’t sure if it was to you or to himself. "Look who's talking" he muttered.
You watched him carefully, the way his jaw tensed, the way his shoulders sat just a little heavier than usual. This wasn’t the same Beomgyu who spent half his time annoying you, smirking like he had the whole world figured out.
You hesitated before speaking again. "It wasn’t a good day."
Beomgyu let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You exhaled. "I couldn’t get anything to sound right. I swear, the harder I tried, the worse it got."
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, the faint glow of the cigarette flickering between his fingers. "You’re too hard on yourself."
You blinked, turning to him. "What?"
Beomgyu flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, his expression unreadable. "You think too much. You want everything to be perfect on the first try."
Your brows furrowed slightly. "That’s how it works, though. If it’s not good enough, then I have to keep going until it is."
His lips curled slightly, not a smirk, not a frown. Something in between. "And what if you’re the only one who thinks it’s not good enough?"
You didn’t have an answer to that. Beomgyu didn’t wait for one. He took another slow drag, then exhaled, watching the smoke disappear into the air. You glanced down at your phone, checking the time. Yeonjun would be here soon. Beomgyu, ever observant, noticed.
His voice was colder when he spoke next. "Waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up?"
You blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"
Beomgyu gestured lazily with his cigarette, his expression unreadable. "That guy. The one who dropped you off this morning."
You stared at him for a second, processing. And then, a laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected and breathy. "Yeonjun?" Beomgyu didn’t react. Just stared at you, like he was waiting for an answer. You shook your head, still half-amused. "He’s not my boyfriend."
Something flickered in his expression, too quick for you to catch. But before you could think too hard about it, a familiar car pulled up to the curb.
Yeonjun honked the horn once, rolling down the window. "Let’s go, loser."
You pushed off the railing, turning back to Beomgyu. "See you tomorrow."
He only nodded, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. And as you walked toward the car, you didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you a second too long.
Beomgyu's drive home felt longer than usual. Maybe it was because the city was too quiet at this hour, the usual rush of people and traffic reduced to distant hums. Maybe it was because his thoughts had been too loud all day, refusing to settle even now.
Or maybe it was because of you.
Beomgyu clenched his jaw, fingers tightening slightly around the steering wheel. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like the way you lingered in his mind long after you had already left. The way your voice still echoed in his ears, the way your laugh, short, breathy, surprised, had caught him off guard when you realized he thought Yeonjun was your boyfriend.
Why the hell did I even ask that? He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Tumblr media
In the week that followed, something had shifted.
It wasn’t obvious at first, just small things. A missed comment here, a glance avoided there. But as the days passed, it became impossible to ignore. Beomgyu was different.
You had spent so much time fighting him for space, rolling your eyes at his smug remarks, bracing yourself for whatever new way he’d find to get under your skin. And now, suddenly, there was nothing.
No teasing. No playful jabs. No sarcastic smirks across the studio. It wasn’t that he was rude. If anything, he was polite, too polite. The kind of detached professionalism that you had never associated with Beomgyu before. It was driving you insane.
You barely saw him on Tuesday. Which wasn’t uncommon, sometimes, you worked separately, each focused on different aspects of the album. But usually, even on those days, you’d cross paths in the break room, or he’d pop into your studio just to complain about how much better his demos were than yours.
Beomgyu was already in the studio when you arrived on Wednesday morning, sitting at the mixing console with his headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever track he was working on.
You hesitated in the doorway for a second, waiting for him to acknowledge you. He didn’t. Not until you cleared your throat and said, "Morning."
Only then did he glance up, giving you a small nod. "Morning."
That was it. No comment about how tired you looked, no sarcastic Wow, you actually showed up on time?—just morning. You forced yourself to ignore the weird weight in your chest as you sat down and pulled up your own files.
On Thursday, when you arrived at the HYBE building that morning, something about the usual rhythm of your day felt… off.
And then it hit you. Beomgyu wasn’t here. Beomgyu never worked on Thursdays.
The hours passed, your progress slower than usual. By lunchtime, you gave up and went to the break room, hoping food would help clear your head.
Enhypen was already there, sprawled across the couches and chairs like they lived in this building. You slid into a seat next to Jake, barely registering the conversation around you as you scrolled through your phone.
"You good?" Jungwon asked, eyeing you over his drink.
You blinked. "What?"
"You just seem distracted," he said. "More than usual."
You shrugged. "Just a slow day."
Jake nudged your arm. "Maybe you just need to get out of the studio for a bit. Reset your brain."
"Maybe," you muttered.
A pause. Then, before you could stop yourself— "Did Beomgyu eat before he left yesterday?"
The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, and immediately, you regretted it. Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"No reason," you said quickly, looking down at your phone. "I just… I know he forgets to eat when he’s working."
Heeseung hummed. "Honestly? I have no idea."
Sunghoon glanced up from his drink. "You could just text him and ask, you know."
You scoffed. "Like I care that much."
Jungwon smirked. "Uh-huh." You ignored them, tapping your fingers against your cup. It wasn’t a big deal. Beomgyu could take care of himself. That’s why, on Friday, you gave up.
If Beomgyu wanted to be distant, then fine. Let him be distant. You weren’t going to sit here and try to figure out why he had suddenly decided to act like you were nothing more than a coworker.
At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. But when you walked into the studio that morning, the first thing you noticed was that his bag was already there. You weren’t sure why that made your shoulders relax slightly.
You ignored the thought as you set your things down, pulling up the demo you had been struggling with all week. Your goal was simple: work, focus, and not let whatever this was with Beomgyu get in your head.
But apparently, he had other plans. Because suddenly, after an entire week of acting like you barely existed, he was everywhere.
The first time he appeared in your studio, you barely reacted. "Hey," he said casually, leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. "Can you listen to something real quick?"
You gave a short nod, sliding your headphones down to your neck as he walked in. He played a section of the track he had been working on, something stripped down, mostly just melody and chords. "It feels empty," he muttered, frowning slightly. "I don’t know if it needs more layering or if I should just change the chord progression entirely."
You listened, trying to focus on the music instead of the fact that this was the most he had spoken to you all week. "It’s fine," you said, keeping your tone neutral. "Just needs a little more texture."
Beomgyu nodded, thoughtful. "You wanna add something?"
You hesitated, fingers hovering over your keyboard. "You don’t need my help."
He shrugged, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, but you’re good at this part."
You blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. But instead of responding, you just reached for your mouse and started tweaking the mix, ignoring the way he stood behind you, watching.
By lunchtime, you had stopped keeping track of how many times he had walked into your studio.
"Hey, quick question—" "Hey, do you have the latest version of—" "Hey, can I borrow—"
It was endless. At first, you had answered him normally, keeping things short, professional. But the more he did it, the more irritated you became. Not because he was being annoying. But because why now? Why spend an entire week pretending you didn’t exist only to suddenly act like everything was normal? You weren’t going to play along.
So, by the fourth time he showed up at your door, you barely even looked up. "I’m busy," you muttered, clicking through your project files.
Beomgyu blinked. "I didn’t even say anything yet."
"You were going to."
He hesitated, then let out a small chuckle. "Damn. Am I that predictable?"
You didn’t answer, just continued working. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift slightly, like he was about to say something.
But instead, he just exhaled and muttered, "Never mind," before walking away. You ignored the strange twist in your stomach and forced yourself to focus on the screen.
You had just finished saving your project when you decided to take a break, stretching your sore muscles before stepping out into the hallway. You weren’t planning on running into anyone, but as soon as you turned the corner, you nearly walked straight into Seungcheol.
"Oh," you said, stepping back slightly. "Sorry."
He smiled, easy and confident. "No need to apologize."
You already knew him, Baekhyun had introduced you two at the HYBE party last week. And while your first meeting had been brief (and rudely interrupted by Beomgyu), you remembered how intently he had listened when you talked about your work.
"You’ve been keeping busy," he mused, crossing his arms. "Baekhyun showed me some of the demos from your sessions. I was impressed."
Something warm settled in your chest. "Really?"
Seungcheol nodded. "You have a good ear. I meant to follow up after the party, but you disappeared before I could."
You huffed a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry about that."
Seungcheol’s gaze stayed steady. "If you ever want to share more of your work, my office is always open. I’d like to hear what else you’re capable of."
It wasn’t an empty offer, you could tell. This was an opportunity. And you weren’t about to waste it. "I’d love that," you said sincerely.
Seungcheol smiled, lingering for just a second longer than necessary before nodding. "I’ll be waiting, then."
And with that, he walked past you, disappearing down the hall.
You barely had a second to process before you felt it, that shift in the air. A presence behind you. You turned slightly, and there he was. Beomgyu was standing just a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, expression unreadable. Your breath hitched slightly, but you forced yourself to act normal.
Beomgyu's gaze flickered briefly down the hallway where Seungcheol had disappeared. Then, finally, he looked back at you. "You should be careful with him," he said, voice flat.
You frowned. "What?"
Beomgyu tilted his head slightly. "Seungcheol. He doesn’t offer that kind of thing just to anyone."
There was something in his tone, something that wasn’t quite neutral. You crossed your arms. "I know that. He’s creative director. It’s literally his job to look for talent."
Beomgyu scoffed, gaze dark. "Right. Sure."
Your frown deepened. "What’s your problem?"
"Nothing," he muttered, already turning away. "Forget it."
And just like that, he walked past you, heading back to his studio without another word. You stood there, confusion and irritation swirling in your chest. What the hell was that?
So, after that, you had spent the entire day locked in your studio.
It wasn’t intentional at first, you had just wanted to get some uninterrupted work done, to make up for how frustrating this week had been. But one track turned into another, one minor adjustment turned into an hour of tweaking, and before you knew it, the sun had set and most of the building had emptied out.
You barely noticed. At some point, Taehyun had texted asking if you wanted to grab dinner, and you had ignored it, too caught up in your work to even think about food.
It was only when your screen blurred in front of you, exhaustion pressing against your temples, that you finally admitted defeat. You packed up slowly, rubbing at your tired eyes as you stood. The quiet hum of the studio, once comforting, now felt suffocating after being inside for so long. You needed air.
When you opened the door, ready to leave, you nearly tripped over something. A cup. An iced americano, sitting neatly in front of your studio, condensation beading against the plastic.
You stared at it, confused, before noticing the small note taped to the lid. Your brows furrowed as you peeled it off, unfolding the paper between your fingers. The handwriting was messy, slanted, but familiar.
don’t pass out in there
Your lips parted slightly. There was no signature, no indication of who it was from. But you knew. Of course you knew, it was Beomgyu's handwriting.
Your fingers tightened around the note as your heart did something stupid in your chest, something warm, something soft, something you did not want to acknowledge.
Because what the hell was he doing? He had spent the entire week keeping his distance, barely speaking to you, only to suddenly spend the whole day in your space asking for your help. And now this?
You exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the strange feeling settling in your stomach. Maybe this was just some weird attempt at making up for how weird he had been all week. Or maybe he was just screwing with you again, playing some long game you didn’t understand. Or maybe… maybe he just noticed.
Noticed how hard you were working. Noticed that you hadn’t taken a break all day. Noticed you.
You clenched the note tightly before shoving it into your pocket. Your confusion hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse. But as you picked up the coffee, taking a slow sip, you realized something else. For the first time all week, Beomgyu had made you smile.
Tumblr media
When Saturday morning arrived, you forced yourself to push work aside. No checking mixes, no tweaking arrangements, no thinking about deadlines. Instead, you spent most of the day in the apartment, lounging on the couch while Yeonjun flopped down beside you, mindlessly flipping through TV channels.
"Are you actually not working today?" he asked, stretching his arms above his head.
"I told you I’d take a break," you muttered, though even as you said it, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your email.
Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, but you suck at taking breaks."
You rolled your eyes. "I’m trying."
"You better be," he said, nudging your leg with his foot. "We have a big night ahead."
Ah. Right. The party. You had promised Yunjin and the others that you’d actually go out tonight, no bailing at the last minute, no pretending you were too busy with work.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like going out. It was just that sometimes, after spending all week drained from work, the last thing you wanted was to force yourself to be social.
But tonight, you needed it. So when evening rolled around, you found yourself in front of your closet, sifting through outfits while Yeonjun lounged on your bed, watching with an amused expression.
When you were finally ready, Yeonjun whistled. "Damn. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you actually wanted to impress someone tonight."
You scoffed. "I just want to have fun."
Yeonjun smirked, but thankfully, he didn’t push it. Instead, he just slung an arm around your shoulders as you both headed out.
The place was already packed when you arrived, the bass from the music thrumming through the floors as bodies filled the space. You spotted Yunjin first, standing near the bar with Hueningkai, Taehyun, and a few other familiar faces. She waved excitedly when she saw you, immediately pulling you into a hug.
Yeonjun handed you a drink, and you gladly took it, letting the warmth of alcohol relax your shoulders as you settled into the atmosphere. For the first hour, it was easy. You danced with Yunjin, laughed at Taehyun’s terrible attempts at flirting with someone near the bar, took ridiculous selfies with Hueningkai.
It felt normal. And then, as you were making your way back from the bar with a fresh drink in hand, you saw him.
Beomgyu.
Your steps faltered for half a second before you recovered, eyes flickering over the scene in front of you. He wasn’t alone, he was with Soobin, Heeseung, and Jungwon, all of them gathered near a booth in the corner.
But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that he was here. It was the fact that he was already drunk. You could tell immediately, the way his smile was looser than usual, the way he leaned slightly against Soobin as he talked, the way his gaze was just a little too unfocused.
And then, as if he could feel you looking, his eyes found yours. For a second, neither of you moved. Then—
A slow, lazy grin spread across his lips. You barely had time to process before he was pushing off the booth, making his way toward you. You braced yourself.
"Look who it is," he drawled, stopping in front of you. His voice was warm, teasing, the opposite of how he had been all week. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."
You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think I’d see you here either."
Beomgyu let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head slightly. "Why? You think I just sit in the studio all day?"
You crossed your arms. "You literally do."
"Fair point." He took a sip of whatever drink he was holding before glancing over your shoulder, his gaze flickering toward the group of people you had been with. "You come with Yeonjun?"
You blinked at the question, caught off guard. "Yeah?"
He hummed, expression unreadable. Before you could say anything else, Soobin and Heeseung appeared beside him, greeting you easily. "Hey," Heeseung said, flashing his usual friendly smile. "Didn’t expect to run into you tonight."
You shrugged. "Trying to be social for once."
Soobin chuckled. "That’s new."
Jungwon, who had been hanging back slightly, smirked. "Are you guys gonna fight here, too, or do you save that for work?"
You rolled your eyes. "We don’t fight."
Beomgyu snorted. "Oh, we definitely fight."
The group laughed, and despite yourself, you felt your shoulders relax slightly. This was weird. You weren’t used to seeing Beomgyu like this, loose, relaxed, actually enjoying himself instead of glaring at a screen for hours. For a second, you let yourself take him in.
Beomgyu looked… different. Not in a drastic way, but enough for you to notice. He wasn’t in his usual oversized hoodie or the comfortable, slightly-wrinkled clothes he practically lived in at the studio. Instead, he was wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the fabric slightly unbuttoned at the top, showing just enough skin to be annoying. His silver jewelry caught the dim lighting of the room, glinting slightly as he shifted his drink from one hand to the other.
It suited him way too well. You hated that you noticed that. And then, just as you were about to shake the thought away, his gaze flickered over you.
You weren’t sure what you expected, maybe another cocky remark, another teasing jab, but instead, his eyes moved over your outfit in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. "You always wear black," he murmured, almost to himself, but his voice was just loud enough for you to catch.
You raised an eyebrow. "What?"
He took another sip of his drink, tilting his head slightly. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear color."
It wasn’t true, not entirely, but the fact that he had even noticed made something twist in your stomach. "You don’t exactly pay attention to what I wear, Beomgyu," you shot back, crossing your arms.
Beomgyu hummed, his eyes still on you, dark and unreadable. "You think I don’t?"
There was something about the way he said it, something that made your throat go dry. You refused to acknowledge it. Instead, you forced a scoff, shaking your head. "You’re drunk."
"So?" He took another sip, then smirked. "Still got eyes, don’t I?"
And then, just as quickly as it appeared, Beomgyu leaned back, shifting the energy entirely. "Anyway," he drawled, glancing over at the people you had been with earlier, "are you gonna introduce me to your little friend group, or are you scared they’ll like me more than you?"
You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change. "What?"
He gestured vaguely with his drink. "I don’t know half the people you hang out with. Thought I’d be polite and say hi."
You narrowed your eyes. "Since when are you polite?"
Beomgyu tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to figure something out. His smirk wasn’t as sharp now, still there, still insufferable, but softer around the edges, like he was letting himself enjoy this. "Come on," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "Introduce me."
You scoffed. "Why do you even care?"
"Maybe I just wanna see how you talk about me when I’m not around." He grinned, slow and teasing. "Bet you make me sound like a villain."
"You are a villain," you shot back.
"And yet," he mused, taking another sip of his drink, "here you are, still standing here with me instead of running back to your actual friends."
You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, a voice cut in.
"So," Yeonjun mused, stepping up beside you, eyes flickering toward Beomgyu. "You’re the Beomgyu, huh?"
Beomgyu didn’t miss a beat. "And you’re the Yeonjun."
Your stomach dropped. This was not happening.
They stared at each other for a moment, taking the other in. Yeonjun looked relaxed, but his sharp gaze held a flicker of curiosity, like he was trying to decide if Beomgyu was worth his time. Beomgyu, for his part, seemed perfectly at ease, his usual smirk still playing at his lips, shoulders loose, like he found this whole thing amusing.
And then, to your horror, they both grinned. "I’ve heard a lot about you," Yeonjun said, crossing his arms.
"Same," Beomgyu replied. "Didn’t think we’d actually meet like this."
You narrowed your eyes. "You two know each other?"
"Not personally," Yeonjun said, shrugging. "But come on. We work in the same industry. I know his work. He’s good."
Beomgyu smiled, tilting his head. "I know your work too, by the way. Not bad."
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Not bad?"
Beomgyu grinned. "I’d say pretty good, but I don’t wanna inflate your ego this early in the conversation."
Yeonjun laughed. "Fair enough."
You looked between them, deeply suspicious. "Why does it feel like you two are getting along?"
Beomgyu glanced at you. "Why? You want us to fight?"
Yeonjun rolled his eyes. "Relax, Y/N. Not everything has to be a battle."
You huffed, taking another sip of your drink. "So," Beomgyu mused, eyes flickering between you and Yeonjun, "how do you two know each other anyway?"
Yeonjun barely hesitated before answering. "College," he said with a small grin. "We met during our first year and just… clicked. Ended up being inseparable after that. And now, we live together."
Beomgyu’s brows lifted slightly, his expression shifting, not in surprise, not in jealousy, but something closer to genuine interest. "Oh, that’s cool," he said, nodding. "Didn’t expect that, but it makes sense."
You glanced at him, skeptical. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Beomgyu shrugged, looking at you. "I don’t know, I just didn’t really picture you as the roommate type. I figured you’d be one of those people who hates sharing a space with someone."
Yeonjun snorted. "Oh, she definitely does."
You shot him a glare. "I do not."
"Sure," Yeonjun said, amused. "That’s why you leave your headphones on all the time and act like I don’t exist when you’re in work mode."
Beomgyu laughed. "Yeah, that checks out."
You rolled your eyes. "Are you two bonding over making fun of me?"
"Absolutely," Beomgyu said easily.
Yeonjun grinned. "It’s kind of fun."
You groaned, rubbing your temples. Beomgyu ignored you, still focused on Yeonjun. "So what’s it like living with her?"
Yeonjun hummed, considering. "Honestly? Not bad. We’ve got our system. We both get busy with work, so we give each other space, but it’s nice having someone around who actually gets it, you know? Plus, she’s a decent cook."
You scoffed. "Now that is a lie."
"It’s not!" Yeonjun defended. "She has, like, three solid recipes."
Beomgyu laughed. "Okay, now I really need to know what these are."
Yeonjun counted on his fingers. "Kimchi fried rice, pasta, and… something that she refuses to name, but it’s actually good."
Beomgyu turned to you, intrigued. "What’s the mystery dish?"
You crossed your arms. "I’m not telling you."
Yeonjun smirked. "She’s embarrassed because it started as a ‘let’s throw random shit together and see what happens’ meal, but it accidentally turned out good."
Beomgyu grinned. "That’s kind of impressive."
You sighed, shaking your head. "Why are we even talking about this?"
"Because I’m curious," Beomgyu said simply.
You didn’t really have a response to that.
Something about the way he said it, not teasing, not smug, just genuinely interested, made you feel a little off balance. You were used to bickering with him, used to sharp words and playful jabs. But this? Him actually wanting to know about your life? That was new.
And for some reason, it made your stomach flip.
Yeonjun glanced over his shoulder toward the bar, then let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, as fun as this has been, I gotta go. Yunjin’s waiting on her drink, and if I take too long, she’s gonna start a manhunt."
With a final chuckle, Yeonjun clapped a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, shot you a look that was somewhere between good luck and I’m enjoying this way too much, and disappeared into the crowd.
You exhaled, already bracing yourself for whatever Beomgyu was about to say now that you were alone. But instead, "So," he said, turning to you, eyes practically shining. "Did you like the coffee?"
You stilled. You had known it was him the second you saw it, left outside your studio door Friday night, your exact order scribbled on the side of the cup in handwriting you recognized immediately. He hadn’t signed his name, hadn’t said anything, just left it there like some anonymous act of kindness.
You sighed. "It was fine."
"Fine?" he repeated, looking personally offended. "That was good coffee."
You narrowed your eyes. "Why did you even do that?"
He blinked. "Huh?"
"The coffee," you said, crossing your arms. "Why’d you leave it?"
He scoffed, like the answer was obvious. "You were working too much."
You frowned. "And?"
"And," he said, dragging the word out, "I saw you in there, looking half-dead, and figured you needed it." Your lips parted slightly. It was such a simple explanation. No teasing, no ulterior motive, just that. Beomgyu, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered by your confusion. "I mean, I could’ve let you pass out on your keyboard, but I’m a good person," he said, grinning.
You scoffed. "Sure. That’s why you did it."
"Obviously," he said. Then, with zero hesitation—"Hey, you smoke, right?"
You blinked at the sudden shift. "What?"
"If you wanna go outside for a bit, I’ll come with."
Your brows furrowed. "Why?"
He shrugged, still smiling. "Why not?"
You stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell his angle was here. This was strange. All of this was strange. Beomgyu wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t teasing you just to get under your skin. He wasn’t smirking like he had some grand plan to annoy you. He was just… talking. Open. Chatty. And worst of all, nice. You didn’t trust it one bit. But still, for some reason, you found yourself nodding.
"Fine," you said, already turning toward the exit.
And as the two of you stepped outside, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just agreed to something far more complicated than a smoke break.
The night air was crisp as you stepped outside, the cool breeze biting at your skin. The distant hum of the city filled the silence, car headlights flashing by, conversations drifting from people walking past. Beomgyu fell into step beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, his presence oddly easy despite how complicated he made everything feel.
The two of you had been in sync somehow. You weren’t used to that. With Beomgyu, everything was usually sharp edges and competition, but tonight had been… easy. And now, out here, with no studio walls between you, no music to drown out the noise in your head, you felt like you should say something.
You were still trying to figure out what the hell was up with him tonight when a voice called your name.
“Y/N?”
You turned toward the sound, and your stomach immediately flipped.
Yunho.
The last person you expected to run into tonight.
He was leaning against the railing near the edge of the building, dressed in a fitted black turtleneck and an open wool coat, the kind of outfit that made it impossible to forget just how unfairly good-looking he was.
You two used to hook up a while ago, and you hadn’t seen him in months. Hadn’t spoken since things had fizzled out, no big falling out, no dramatic ending, just… a slow, mutual silence.
You barely had time to react before he was stepping closer, wrapping his arms around you in an easy, confident embrace.
“Been a while,” he murmured, voice warm against your ear.
The hug lingered. A little longer than it should have. Beomgyu hadn’t said a word, but you could feel him there. Standing just a few feet away, watching.
When Yunho finally pulled back, his hands slid down your arms before he let go completely. His gaze flicked past you, landing on Beomgyu, curiosity sparking behind his eyes. He waited, expectant.
You hesitated. Just for a second. “This is Beomgyu,” you said, forcing your voice to stay even. “He's my… coworker.”
The second the word left your mouth, you knew it was the wrong one. You didn’t have to look at Beomgyu to know he heard it loud and clear.
Yunho’s expression didn’t change, if anything, his amusement deepened as he extended a hand toward Beomgyu. “Nice to meet you, man.”
Beomgyu took it, but the shake was brief, impersonal. “Yeah,” he said flatly.
The energy shifted, thickening with something unreadable. You could feel it brewing, creeping into the air like a storm about to break, but Yunho didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Instead, he turned back to you, eyes glinting with something playful. “I was actually heading out, but if I’d known you were here, I would’ve stuck around longer,” he mused, tilting his head. “Maybe next time.”
The words were casual, but the way he said them? Not so much. And Beomgyu caught it. You saw it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers curled slightly in his pocket, the way his shoulders squared just a fraction.
Yunho shot you one last lingering glance before stepping away. “See you around, Y/N.” He turned around, and silence settled between you and Beomgyu, thick and suffocating.
You let out a slow breath, bracing yourself for—what? A sarcastic comment? A joke? Some passive-aggressive remark about your taste in men? Something. Anything.
But Beomgyu just pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say a thing. You frowned, watching as he took a slow drag, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold air.
“Hey,” you said finally, tilting your head at him. “You okay?”
Beomgyu exhaled another lazy puff of smoke, gaze still fixed somewhere off in the distance. “What do you mean?”
Your frown deepened. “You’re suddenly being quiet.”
He let out a humorless chuckle. “And?”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”
“No problem,” he murmured. “Just enjoying my smoke break.”
Something inside you twisted. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your patience. “Beomgyu—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know.” He finally glanced at you then, dark eyes half-lidded, his expression unreadable. “That guy,” he said simply. “You don’t have to explain anything about him.”
The words shouldn’t have bothered you. But they did. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good,” he said. And just like that, he looked away again, as if that was the end of the conversation. As if he didn’t care.
And that—finally, finally—pushed you over the edge.
You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re fucking unbelievable.” Beomgyu didn’t react. Just took another slow drag of his cigarette. That only pissed you off more. “You keep doing this shit,” you snapped, voice rising. “One second you’re nice to me, then you’re cold again. Then you’re pushing my buttons just to get a reaction—what the fuck do you want from me?”
Silence. Beomgyu’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on the cigarette tightened just slightly.
You shook your head, letting out a sharp breath. “I swear, I don’t get you. You act like you hate me, but then you do shit like leave me coffee. You act like you don’t care, and then you get all weird and broody all of the sudden. You make no fucking sense.”
Beomgyu took one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground, grinding it out with his shoe. “I never said I hated you.”
Your breath hitched. It was quiet. Just five words. But something about the way he said them, low and deliberate, made your pulse stutter. His gaze was steady, fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. And suddenly, you realized, this was the first time either of you had ever really talked about it. About whatever this was.
Beomgyu shifted, hands slipping back into his pockets. His voice dropped just slightly, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. “But you’re right about one thing.”
You swallowed hard. “What?”
He took a step closer. Not much, but enough that you could smell the faint trace of smoke on his clothes, feel the warmth of him even in the cold. “I do like pushing your buttons.” His lips twitched—just barely, just enough to let you know he wasn’t done. He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “It’s fun watching you try so hard to pretend you don’t like it.”
And just when you thought that was it, that he was done messing with your head for the night, he added: “But don’t worry.” His voice was light, almost casual. “I don’t care either way. After all, like you said… I’m just your coworker.”
He smirked. Just a flash of teeth, just enough to make your stomach twist. Then he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, head spinning, caught between wanting to kill him and—
No.
You weren’t even gonna finish that thought.
Tumblr media
my masterlist | previous fic | READ PART 2 HERE
author's note: ok so i KNOW this fic got way longer than i originally planned but here we are lmaoo. part 2 is out and really hope you like it!! also, i wanted to have this done in time for beomgyu’s birthday but yeah… that didn’t happen lol. anyway, hope y’all enjoy <3
1K notes · View notes
taetebebe · 3 days ago
Text
NAMES
Tumblr media
Pairing: Sunoo x afab!reader
Synopsis: Two strangers, a mailbox mistake, never sharing names - only thoughts, confessions, and quiet longings.
Word Count: 2.1k
Author note: Something different. I would love some feedback pls!
Enhypen Bookshelf [[]
Tumblr media
Letter One: 
Dear Whoever You Are,
I’m not even sure this will reach anyone. Honestly, I meant to send this to my landlord to ask, no, beg him to fix the leaky ceiling above my bed before I drown in my sleep. But when I sealed the envelope, I realized I copied the address wrong. Again.
I was going to toss this in the bin, but then I thought… maybe a stranger could use a little story. Or maybe you’ll laugh at how dramatic I sound. Maybe you won’t read this at all. That’s fine too. But on the off chance you do - hi.
I don’t usually write to strangers. Or talk to them. Or let them see the messy parts of my life. Or much of it really. But maybe that’s what makes this safe. There’s no context, no pressure, no expectations.
Just… ink on a page.
The ceiling still leaks, by the way.
Sincerely, Not Your Landlord :(
𖤐 
Letter Two:
Dear Not My Landlord,
You had me at “drown in my sleep.”
Your letter arrived in a pile of boring bills and takeaway flyers, and I almost missed it. But something about the handwriting made me open it. Not neat, not messy - just… a person.
I don’t know your name, or why I feel like I should reply, but here I am. Writing on the back of a bookstore receipt because I ran out of paper. I’d say I’m not usually this impulsive, but that would be a lie.
There’s a coffee ring on the corner of your envelope, like you hesitated before dropping it in. 
For what it’s worth, I hope your ceiling stops trying to murder you.
Sincerely,
 The Stranger at 4B
𖤐 
Letter Three: 
Dear Stranger at 4B,
It’s probably against every good decision I’ve ever made to keep this going, but something about your reply felt like a window cracked open in a stuffy room.
I’m not sure why you replied, and I’m not going to ask. But I will ask this: 
If you had to write something, anything, just for the sake of writing it, what would it be about?
Tell me about the book. I want to know what kind of stories find you.
My ceiling is still leaking, by the way. I’ve named the drip. His name is Harold. He’s punctual, if nothing else.
Still nameless,
 Harold’s Roomate
𖤐 
Letter Four: 
Dear Harold’s Roomate,
Funny you should ask about the book. It’s an old edition of The Secret Garden, the kind with pages that smell like attic corners and warm dust. I didn’t mean to buy it, I was looking for something else. But it practically fell into my hands.
Inside the front cover, someone had written “Return to her when the gate is open.” No name. No context. That kind of thing stays with you.
I read the first chapter sitting on the windowsill. I forgot how much I missed silence, not the lonely kind, but the kind that lets a sentence echo for a while before you move on.
I don’t think I realised how noisy I’ve been until I started reading your letters.
Harold sounds like he keeps you company. Let me know if he starts talking back.
Still just me,
 The Stranger at 4B
𖤐
Letter Five:
Dear Stranger,
That note in your book - it’s haunting, in a lovely way. “Return to her when the gate is open.” Sounds like something from a dream.
I keep imagining who “her” is. A girl who planted something and waited. Someone who left and promised to come back. A woman who locked the garden because the person she built it for never came.
Sometimes I do that, get lost in stories that don’t belong to me. Maybe that’s why writing to you feels so easy. I don’t have to be the version of myself everyone else knows or expects.
I’m writing this on my kitchen floor. There’s a towel catching Harold’s rhythm, but I can still hear him. I wonder if you’d find that annoying or poetic.
Your windowsill. I imagine ivy curling around the edge. Or maybe pigeons. Or a terrible view made better because you sit by it.
~ Still Nameless
P.S. I might have accidentally sent my actual rent check to your address this time. If you get it, buy yourself a croissant.
𖤐
Letter Six:
Dear Still Nameless,
I do have pigeons. And a view - though “view” is generous. It’s mostly bricks and fire escapes and a crooked chimney that leans like it’s tired of holding itself up.
But it’s mine, I guess. I sit there when the world feels too sharp. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I stare at the chipped paint on the sill and wonder who lived here before me, and whether they sat here too, thinking everything felt impossible.
Your letter made me pause today. I read it slowly. Twice.
I like how you think in stories. I do too.
And I like that you haven’t asked who I am yet. No name, no expectations. Just this.
If Harold ever drowns you, I’ll steal that towel and bury it with full honors.
With bricks and birds, The Stranger at 4B
𖤐
Letter Seven:
Dear Stranger,
I’ve started looking forward to your handwriting. It’s uneven in places, like you don’t always know what you’re going to say until the words spill out. That makes two of us.
You said this view is yours, even though it’s made of crooked things and pigeons. I admire that. Most people only claim what’s beautiful.
There’s something comforting in the fact that we’re just… here. Two people orbiting the same city, writing like it matters.
I won’t ask your name. I won’t ask what you look like, or what you do, or why you write back. Not now.
But I will ask: What would you say to yourself five years ago?
~ Your Unknown
𖤐
Letter Eight: 
Dear Unknown,
Five years ago, I thought the worst thing that could happen was being left behind.
I was wrong. The worst thing was realizing I’d been standing still, waiting for someone who never said they’d come back. And that I was the one who left parts of myself behind, every time I stayed quiet when I wanted to scream.
So what would I say to that version of me?
I’d say: It’s okay to want something soft. It’s okay to leave before someone else does. And it’s okay to begin again, even if all you have is a brick wall, a tired chimney, and a stranger who writes back.
Your turn. If that’s not too much to ask.
With care, Your Stranger
𖤐
Letter Nine:
Dear Stranger Of Mine,
Your letter stayed in my jacket pocket all day. I kept rereading one line: “It’s okay to want something soft.” I didn’t realise I needed permission.
Five years ago, I would’ve told myself to stop apologising for being quiet. To stop letting people measure my worth by how much space I took up. I was always the easy one. The one who didn’t ask for more.
But even easy people break.
This, writing to you, feels like breathing without trying too hard. I didn’t know it could be like this.
I’m still not ready to sign a name. But this time, I’ll draw you something instead.
 (Taped to the letter is a small pencil sketch: two pigeons sitting side by side on a slanted chimney, beneath a crooked moon.)
Until next time, Your Nameless One
𖤐
Letter Ten:
Dear Pigeon Artist,
I taped your drawing above the sill. They make the chimney look less tired. Or maybe just less alone.
I used to think connection came with pressure. Like love only counted if it made your heart race or your bones ache. But I think this, the soft unfolding of it—feels more real than anything that’s ever left me breathless.
I’m not asking your name. Not yet. But if you ever feel ready, I won’t run.
Do you ever imagine us passing each other on the street? I do. I think we already have.
From the window with a view, Still Your Stranger
𖤐
Letter Eleven: 
Dear You,
I almost signed my name this time. Almost.
But instead I’ll say this: You remind me what trust feels like. Not the loud kind. The kind you build by accident, through folded paper and pigeons and the drip of Harold on the kitchen floor.
I used to believe people left eventually. That no matter how warm they were, they’d cool, drift, disappear.
But here you are. Still writing. Still choosing this.
So I’m choosing it too.
Same hands. Same heart. Still nameless (but not for long)
𖤐
Letter Twelve: 
Dear My Nameless,
It rained last night. The kind that taps the window like it’s trying to be let in. I stayed by the sill and thought about you.
Not your face. Not your voice. Just… you. The way you see the world. The way you pause before asking questions. The way you said “easy people break.” I haven’t stopped thinking about that.
If you ever stopped writing, I’d let you go. But I’d reread every letter until the paper gave out.
There’s no pressure. No expectation. But I think I’d recognize your silence now, too.
~ The Stranger You Keep Choosing
𖤐
Letter Thirteen: 
Dear Choice,
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to knock on your door. Not to say anything. Just to know if I was right - if I’d feel it, standing there.
But I think this, right here, is a door too. One we’ve both opened. Carefully. Consistently.
So I’m not knocking. Not yet.
But I will tell you something I’ve never written to anyone else.
When I was ten, I mailed myself a letter and waited three weeks for it to arrive. I signed it “Love, Someone You Haven’t Met Yet.”
I think I was always waiting for a reply.
Turns out, I just had the wrong address.
Still yours, Still not signed
𖤐
Letter Fourteen: 
Dear Someone I’ve Almost Met,
I’ve read your letters more times than I can admit. They live in a shoebox beneath my bed now. Next to a flashlight, a scarf I never wear, and a polaroid of my parents holding hands at a train station.
This isn’t a confession. It’s a thanks. For showing up. For staying.
I’m still afraid of names. Because names change things.
But I also think… names anchor things.
When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Window open. Gate unlocked.
With every brick and bird, Your Wrong Address
𖤐
Letter Fifteen:
Dear You,
I do need you to know this: Every time I write to you, it feels like planting something and knowing it will grow.
I think you’ve changed how I see the world.
Yours, The Gate
Letter Sixteen: 
Dear Her,
The gate is open.
I walked past your building yesterday. I didn’t mean to. I just… did. I didn’t knock. I didn’t leave anything behind. But I looked up and wondered if you were sitting there, by the pigeons, with your name still tucked behind your teeth.
So here. Let me go first.
My name is Sunoo.
I don’t know what happens next. But I hope it still includes pigeons. And Harold. And letters, even when we no longer need paper to speak.
Yours Finally, Sunoo
𖤐
Letter Seventeen: 
Dear Sunoo,
You were right. The mailbox wasn’t a mistake.
And neither were you.
Here’s to gardens reopening, and stories we didn’t know we were brave enough to write.
You can knock now, if you want. Or keep writing. I’ll answer either way.
With all my softness,   YN
𖤐
One Last Letter (Unsent):
Dear Sunoo,
I haven’t written to you in weeks. Not because I’ve had nothing to say, but because so much of what I want to say can now be said out loud.
You were always just beyond the page. A flicker in the corner of a sentence. A warmth folded into the crease of an envelope. But now, you’re here - in the chair across from mine, in the space beside me on the train, in the way I reach for two mugs instead of one.
Sometimes I reread your first letter. You called my handwriting a person, human. I didn’t understand it then. I think I do now.
You made me feel like I was allowed to be soft and real and unfinished.
There are still pigeons on the fire escape. The bricks are still crooked. Harold retired once the landlord finally fixed the ceiling. But the window still opens. The gate is still unlocked.
And I’m still choosing this - choosing you. Not with mystery or metaphor. But with certainty.
This letter? I won’t send it.
You’re already home.
Love, Me
𖤐
© taetebebe 2025
68 notes · View notes
wh0reforoldmen · 2 days ago
Note
Can I ask for a Vergil or Dante X PTSD/SA Survivor! Reader?
Maybe a certain way of being caressed sets them off or if a movement went by their head too quick it triggered them?
Like Angst/Spicy? Instead of staying rough, its rough to understanding to gentle? 🥹
Thank you! Love your writing!
Horrendous remembrance
Tumblr media
Pairings: Dante X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, angst, (attempted fluff idk),unprotected sex, P in V, (attempted) dirty talk, memories of sexual assault, MDNI, tell me if I missed anything
Word count: 1.91K
A/N: My first ask (*^▽^)/★*☆♪ Sorry it took so long, I was struggling with this one, I can't lie. It is a sensitive topic, and so I hope that I handled it well. Also, I stayed up till 6AM writing this, proofread it with 4 hours sleep, sorry if i missed any mistakes (forgive me)
Long one I know, but this is my first smut I have posted onto Tumblr, I have no idea what I'm doing in all honesty and don't expect some amazing smut. You can find more on my AO3, however. Enjoy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Over the last few days, you've been… off. At work, you've been distracted, to say the least. You've found yourself doing something you don't remember starting, looking over your shoulder constantly, headaches, stomachaches. Just achy everywhere. And your sleep is another issue, trying to get to sleep is a nightmare as you just can't close your eyes and rest. Paranoia setting in, your brain thinking there are people in your room coming to harm you. You turn the light on and see nothing, so you turn it off, go back to bed and it happens again. It's an endless cycle that you don't know how to break.
But today, your boyfriend, Dante, came back from his job, and you were both so happy to see each other. You were always better when he was around, his gentle words, how he speaks to you and you appreciate just everything Dante does for you. 
He came back an hour ago, and you were bent over your bed, feet firmly on the floor and your hands on the bed as Dante stood behind you, driving his cock relentlessly into your pussy. Your moans and wails mixed with the obscene sounds of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, exploding pleasure vibrated through your body as his cock abused your sweet spot. Each wave of pleasure felt like a tsunami as he drove his cock into you ruthlessly.. 
Dante’s rough grunts and breathless moans came from behind you, his hands digging into your waist as he guided your hips to meet with his. He loved this angle, he can watch your ass and thighs ripple with each violent thrust, and give the flesh the occasional slap. He could never get enough of your body, it was gorgeous. A goddess that he never knew existed. Dante was hopelessly addicted.
Admiring the dip of your back, he slid his hands up your back before planting them firmly on your shoulders. The tips of his fingers digging into your skin without him realising, he was too caught up in the pleasure and his own greed to notice how tight he was holding onto you. Dante continued to drive relentlessly into you, mixing that stinging pain with pleasure. Your legs trembled as they grew weaker by the second. 
“Shit, sweetheart.” He groaned out as he felt your walls pulse around him. “Grippin’ onto me” A sudden slap to your ass made you hiss and moan in twisted pleasure, but as he placed his hand onto your shoulder, you tugged your hair hard. 
You let out a small cry, not of pleasure, but of fear. Your brain no longer has that foggy, lustful atmosphere, but that scared, helpless kind. One where you were taken back to your old apartment, his dirty hands all over you as you tried to push him off, the one where he grabbed your hair so tight he ripped chunks out of your scalp. Instantly, Dante stopped what he was doing, hearing the cry of pain from you as panic set in his chest. “Shit, baby. You alright? Did I hit too hard?” He asked, guilt lacing his voice as well as worry. He does sometimes hit your ass a bit too hard when he’s caught up, and he feels terrible every time, but then that's when he notices the strands of hair he's holding onto. 
You made it clear from the beginning that you didn’t like your hair to be touched, and he didn’t question it, he respected that boundary. He knew what happened to you and your past relationship, and so he was careful when it came to sex, making sure you were 100% comfortable and making sure he didn’t set you off, but he’s just done that and he feels like shit. 
“Shit, shit- uh, okay. Angel, are you still with me?” Dante felt scared and didn't know what to do. He’s never dealt with a situation like this before. You didn’t respond. Everything felt like you were underwater, and the feeling of filth, disgust and shame only consumed you as his hands were everywhere. You could barely hear Dante speak, too consumed in your own mind. 
You were so caught up in those memories, time slowed for you while Dante was in real time. He easily pulled out of you without a reaction, manoeuvring you onto your back and trying to get you to come back to the present, the panic in his voice very much there as he spoke to you about anything and everything. He was being gentle with you, not touching you to make sure that he didn't set you off on a breakdown, he definitely wouldn’t know what to do then. 
As he talked, you became more present. Your head coming to the surface and once you were free from those haunted memories, it was like taking a desperate gasp of air before you drowned. Your eyes looked over at Dante, shooting up as you saw how worried he was for you. “I.. I’m sorry.” You murmur out. Sure, it wasn’t your fault, but you ruined the mood, and you just felt like shit in general about everything. 
“Hey, Angel. Look at me.” He spoke with such softness and care that it caught you off guard. His rough hands gently cupped your cheeks as he made you look at him. “It’s okay. That was on me, I didn’t realise I had caught your hair.” 
Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and your throat tightened up, like someone had wrapped barbed wire around your throat and pulled every time you swallowed. You didn’t let them fall, or else they wouldn’t stop, but you leaned into Dante, inhaling his musky scent. A sheer layer of sweat covered both of you, and you both were not unsure of what to do next. You both were a little calmer now, both sexually and mentally, but that ache, need and want was still there. 
“We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to, sweetheart.” Dante began, having his arms around you and keeping his hands and arms away from your hair and around your waist. “It’s up to you.” The way he was always so considerate about you, something that you rarely got from your past partners. It made your heart swell with love and slight anguish. 
“Can we continue?” You ask, your timid voice that annoys you, but there was nothing you could do. Dante looked down at you and nodded with a soft smile. He planted a kiss on your forehead and gently laid you down on your back on the edge of the bed, making sure to keep your hair out of the way. He would usually make jokes and make this as fun as possible, but with how desperate he was to cum and what had just happened, no jokes were popping into his head at this moment in time. 
You held your legs open for him, your gliding cunt making him groan, his cock twitching and leaking pre cum at its swollen, red tip. His cock gently slid against your folds, your juices covering him with each thrust before gently protruding your entrance, pushing himself in. You softly gasped as he pushed himself further and further in before he bottomed out inside you. 
He leaned forward, his hands firmly planted either side of your shoulders, your face so close to his. His silver hair tickling your face ever so slightly, it was so soft, unlike when he first came back when it was so greasy, and his stubble littered his jaw, just making him so much more… handsome. His blue eyes stared into yours, watching out for any discomfort or worry. Him being this close always made your heart skip a beat and your walls clench around his cock. His breath hitched as you clenched, a smile coming to his face before he slowly grinds his hips against yours. 
Dante watched as your eyes closed, and your head lolled back, a soft moan escaping your lips. Fuck, he could feel his cock twitch inside you, he felt like a sailor being drawn in by a siren, alluring singing drawing him nearer, ignoring the danger. Your arms soon go to your side and your legs stay in that L shape, your body gently jolting with each grind of Dante's hips, your breasts jerking with you. 
“Fuck, your pussy’s so good baby,” he panted, his face contorts in pleasure. He was always so pretty when his face twists, his features become more relaxed, eyes closed, his slightly chapped lips slightly part, hot breath hitting your face. His brows either relax or tense up, depending how close he is to cumming, and it was so hot to watch. “Can never get enough-fuck, too fuckin’ good” His voice lowers an octave as well, and that just turns you on even more, the sound of your cunt mixed with the lewd noises your two made.
He opened his eyes to look at you, and what he saw could have made him cum right there and then, your messy hair sprawled out on the bed, lips parted as sweet moans escaped while your cheeks were dusted crimson, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. Dante held off his orgasm as he moved his hand to your clit, his fingertips dancing around the bundle of nerves while his cock hit a spongy spot inside you, making you keen. You gripped his biceps, getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure. “Dante!” You mewled, your legs trembled as a tight knot formed in your stomach. 
Dante let out a shaky chuckle, watching you tremble under him, the sight was to die for. “You gonna cum f’me, Angel?” He asked between groans, your walls pulsing around him. You nodded your head while your toes curled. “Fuck, come on, baby. Cum f’me, make a mess, yeah? I know you can do it- Holy shit, I'm gonna cum.” 
You chanted his name like a damn prayer as the knot grew tighter and tighter before you came undone, incoherent words spilled from your mouth. Dante continued to thrust into you, his hips stuttering before he slammed into you, gasping something about how pretty you looked when you cum. He coated your walls white as his cock throbbed, his head hung low, close to your ear as you heard his soft groans. 
Your arms slowly wrapped around his neck and pulled him down to your chest, his head comfortably staying there, as you both panted, gasping for air. “Jesus Christ, Dante…” You spoke first after gathering enough air. You’ve heard him ramble like that before an orgasm, but like that? That was new. It was filthy, and you liked it.
71 notes · View notes
a-bad-case-of-the-stephs · 2 days ago
Text
Said it b4 I’ll say it again I will forever be grateful and thanking my lucky stars for Batgirl 2009 and Steph being allowed to move ON. However. You must understand. The idea of bitter, jaded, never-got-over-it-and-is-vocal-about-it Stephanie Brown holds a dark power over my psyche.
Not ever what I’d ever want from canon to be clear (unless it was like an elseworlds or Smthing and me and my trusted genius mutuals were at the helm, and even then not rly) but it still captivates my soul.
Washed up, never recovered (mentally or physically or both pick your poison) enough to fully return to being a vigilante post war games Steph who gives it up instead of becoming Batgirl. (In my mind the events towards the end of Robin ‘93 probably still occur but there’s leeway.) Steph who is nonetheless is too entrenched in this mess to fully separate herself out while she stays in Gotham, but who stays in Gotham anyway. She’s either not going to Gotham U, or if she is, failing classes, half-assing her work. She tries to be normal, but she doesn’t think she ever was, and trying now feels more than futile, it feels embarrassing and obvious.
She keeps her head down mostly. Babs is more than a genius but even then there’s only so much she can do. She can bury recordings and social media posts but it’s not like she can erase memories. So every so often Steph gets someone squinting at her (a bank teller, an elderly woman at the dog park, the odd customer or two at her job) asking if she’s the same Stephanie Brown on all those news channels a year or so ago, the one who died tragically, the one who was fighting crime with The Batman. Steph denies it every time, obviously, but it still feels terrible. She goes home and stays very very still afterwards and tries not to think or feel. The stiller she is the better.
Her relationship with Crystal has never been better. In a weird way, Steph feels like she finally understands her mom in a way she never did before. When she was a child, young and angry, Steph used to balk at her weakness, her softness, Crystals tired complacency in the face of Arthur, and in the face her addictions. How does someone let that happen to themself? How does someone lie to themself so throughly? Just give up like that? Steph gets it more now. They spend time together and don’t talk about everything too often because whenever they do Steph feels guilty and Crystal feels guilty and they both feel weak and they both feel guilty.
When Steph gets the rare urge to put back on a costume (which wouldn’t fit her right anymore), she remembers Crystal and the wrinkles which have been steadily making themselves known across her face. The thinness of her skin. The way her body slumps after a shift. Steph has worried her so much for so long. Steph abandoned her mom for a year. Crystal doesn’t ever try to guilt trip Steph about it, though Steph thinks she probably should, but Steph knows she relapsed. Crystal got back on the wagon, shes okay now, but the fact remains, Steph did that. Could Crystal take another scare? Could Steph let her mom mourn her twice? It’s these thoughts that serve as a first impediment to any lingering inklings of going back to being a vigilante, even if just for one night. It’s not the only reason, by far, but it is the first to come to mind, nowadays.
40 notes · View notes
hellfirebarnes · 2 days ago
Text
Slow-Burns Part 11
Tumblr media
@crowleythesexydemon
PREVIOUS NEXT
I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?
Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.
Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.
Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader
2k Words
Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?
You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.
Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.
Otherwise, enjoy :)
Bucky wasn’t a sentimental guy. He didn’t keep keepsakes. Never had. Not before HYDRA. Not during. And definitely not after. Not until you.
He’d told himself the polaroid wasn’t a big deal. That he only kept it tucked in the box because he didn’t want Bob stealing it out of weird jealousy. That it didn’t mean anything. He told himself a lot of things.
But now, staring at the empty space where the photo should’ve been - the quiet, obvious absence - his heart was in his throat.
Gone. The polaroid was gone.
Bucky checked the floor. The drawer. Under the bed. Behind the nightstand. Inside the journals. Nothing.
It wasn’t just a picture. It was that picture. The one from the housewarming night. You'd looked so happy. And he… well. He’d looked like a man falling.
And now it was gone.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to spiral. But the panic wouldn’t go. Because deep down, it wasn’t about the photo.
It was about the fact that it was the only version of him he’d let himself keep. The one time he wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or silence. The one time you leaned into him like you belonged there.
And now it was gone. Like maybe he’d never get another chance to feel that way again.
Team drinks were in full swing.
Bob had made cocktails for everyone, John was halfway to starting an unsolicited karaoke set, and Yelena was arguing with the speaker system. It was loud, chaotic, and somehow still comfortable - the kind of storm where the Thunderbolts thrived.
Bucky was in his usual corner. Drink in hand. Not drinking it. Watching you.
You sat on the armrest of the couch, laughing at something Bob had said, the camera placed neatly in your lap. You’d taken maybe a dozen photos already - team selfies, candid chaos, a snap of John falling off a bean bag that was definitely going on the fridge.
And then it happened.
Ava, who never took pictures, suddenly lifted the camera from your lap and snapped a photo of you and Bob mid-laugh.
You were close. His arm was behind you on the couch. Your head tilted toward him, mid-laugh, that easy, sunbeam kind of smile Bucky had memorized by now. And for a second - just a second - it looked like more.
Bucky felt it like a punch in the chest. He looked away before anyone could see the ache in his eyes. And promptly stalked into the kitchen.
“I need your help.”
Alexei blinked. “I thought you said that was a terrible idea.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you here, looking like you just stepped on your own heart?”
Bucky sighed, leaned against the counter, and rubbed the back of his neck. “The photo. The one from the housewarming night. It’s gone.”
“Gone?” Alexei gasped like someone had just told him vodka was extinct.
“I don’t know where it is, but… it meant something.”
Alexei immediately clasped both hands over his heart. “You are a poet.”
“Stop.”
“Do you want me to write you a ballad? Something tragic? Forbidden love, misplaced photo-”
“I want a new one.”
“A ballad?”
“A picture, Alexei.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, very slowly, Alexei leaned forward. “You want… me… to get you a new picture with Sunshine.”
Bucky regretted every life choice that brought him to this moment. “Yes.”
“You trust me with this?”
“No.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because Bob looked like he was about to propose, and I need a new one. Something that’s ...mine.”
Alexei lit up like a Soviet Christmas tree.
“Comrade,” he whispered, gripping Bucky’s shoulders. “This will be the finest photo ever taken. It will be warrior meets muse. It will radiate yearning. It will whisper: ’We are in love but have not admitted it due to mutual emotional constipation.’”
“Please don’t make this worse.”
“I would never.”
Alexei had a plan.
Unfortunately, that plan included turning off half the lights to create “moody, romantic ambiance.” Loudly shouting, “NOW! STAND CLOSE, YOU TWO, CLOSER!” like a deranged wedding photographer. Physically dragging you away from a game of darts mid-laugh and planting you next to Bucky like you were about to reenact a prom photo.
You blinked up at Bucky, cheeks flushed from laughing. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Bucky mumbled, mortified.
“DON’T MOVE,” Alexei barked, camera in hand. “LOOK INTO EACH OTHER’S EYES. LONGINGLY. LIKE YOU JUST ESCAPED CERTAIN DEATH AND NOW REALIZE LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO BE ALONE-”
John nearly spat out his drink. “What the hell is happening?”
Bob floated closer, peering at the scene. “Are they- Should we clap?”
“Alexei-” Bucky hissed.
“SILENCE! Passion is fragile!”
You, trying not to laugh, glanced up at Bucky again. “Should we… just pose?”
Bucky didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded once, jaw tight, and stood there, stiff as stone while you moved to stand beside him. Your shoulder brushed his. It burned.
You smiled. “Hey. Relax. It’s just a picture.”
He looked down at you. At the curve of your smile. At the way your eyes crinkled when you looked up at him like you meant it. Like you saw him. And he wanted to kiss you so badly it almost broke him.
Alexei snapped the photo. Then immediately took six more.
Bucky didn’t move. Because for just a moment, in the soft light, in the quiet after the chaos, it felt like maybe - maybe - he’d have a chance to make this photo mean even more than the last one.
“Could be worse,” You said, voice echoing off cold concrete. “We’ve got light. No broken bones. Only minimal blood loss.”
Bucky raised a brow. “You’re bleeding?”
“Not me,” you grinned. “You.”
He looked down. Shrapnel graze. Right shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed. “Looks worse than it is,” he muttered, brushing it off - or trying to.
The room wasn’t big. Maybe ten by ten feet. No windows. No comms. Just you. And him. And silence. Thick, stretched silence.
You’d gotten separated from the team when the building’s auto-lockdown tripped, slamming steel doors between you and the others.
Extraction ETA: unknown. Options: limited.
You sat down on a crate, one knee drawn up casually. You didn’t look nervous. He, on the other hand, felt like every molecule in the room was conspiring to break his self-control.
You were too close. Not technically touching distance - but close enough that he could hear the soft shift of fabric when you exhaled. Close enough that your perfume threaded through the air and stayed there. Close enough that when your eyes flicked up and met his, it did something dangerous to his ribcage.
“I know that face,” you said suddenly.
He blinked. “What face?”
“The broody one you wear when you think too loud.”
“I’m not-”
“You are.”
You tilted your head, smiling just enough to kill him slowly. “You always get like this after missions.”
“I just - like to decompress.”
You chuckled. “You like to brood in corners. There’s a difference.'' A long pause stretched between you. And then, softly, “You’ve been weird since the last team night.”
His heart stuttered. “I’m not-”
“Bucky.”
He looked over. Your expression was unreadable - something between amused and gentle and fond. It hit like a sucker punch.
“I took it,” you said. A bit rushed.
His throat closed. “Took what?”
“The photo. The polaroid from the housewarming night.” You glanced down. “I… saw it when I was trying to borrow something.'' He couldn’t speak. “I wasn’t gonna,” you rushed out. “I just- picked it up. And then I couldn’t put it down. It was just-” You hesitated. “It was ours. And I didn’t want to share it.”
That shattered something inside him.
You met his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
He stepped forward. Just once. Enough to close half the distance. Your breath caught. “You kept it?” he asked, voice low.
You nodded. “I put it on my wall. Top center. Looks like it belongs there.”
God.
He moved again. Another step. Only inches between you now. The kind of distance that begged to be closed. That dared him to bridge it. He looked at you - at your mouth, your eyes, the way you watched him like you were waiting for something. Letting him.
“I wanted to kiss you that night,” he said, barely a whisper.
You swallowed. “I know.”
His heart was thunder.
And then-
BOOM.
The door exploded inward.
Smoke. Shouting. Alexei’s voice echoing: “I TOLD YOU I’D FIND YOU, LOVEBIRDS!”
John hissed from somewhere behind him, “Jesus Christ, were you two about to make out in a storage closet?!”
Bob flew in after. “Is everyone okay? You didn’t kiss yet, did you? I’ll be devastated if I missed it.”
You moved back quickly. Bucky froze. Everything snapped back to chaos.
And just like that, the moment was gone - ripped away by noise and fire and Alexei’s tragic sense of timing. But your eyes met his as you were ushered out. And something stayed behind in the quiet you’d almost made into something more.
Bucky hadn’t slept properly since the mission.
He was fine, obviously. Totally functional. Did a 10K run, fixed the punching bag Yelena had kicked off its chain, cleaned his gun twice. Normal things. Soldier things.
He hadn’t been thinking about how close your face had been to his. Or how your lips had parted just slightly. Or how your hand had twitched, like you’d almost reached for him. And he absolutely hadn’t been replaying your voice on a loop in his head.
“I didn’t want to share it.”
He wasn’t spiraling. Not even when he’d passed you in the hallway earlier and you smiled at him like nothing had happened. No tension, no unresolved moment, no explosion of feelings that had nearly gone off like a landmine in a locked room. You were cool. Friendly. Even joked with him about John nearly getting singed during the extraction.
Like you hadn’t almost kissed him.
And Bucky? He just nodded. Smiled back. Managed to say “he had it coming” without sounding like he was actively combusting.
Because he wasn’t combusting.
He was fine.
John walked into the gym. “You’re hitting that dummy like it owes you money.”
“It might.”
“You sure it’s not about that almost-kiss you didn’t get?”
The dummy’s head flew off clean.
“Whoa, okay,” John said, eyebrows up. “So we are talking about it.”
“We’re not.”
“You’ve been doing pushups like someone called your dog ugly, man.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
John smirked. “That’s exactly the kind of weird reply someone gives when they almost kiss someone and then don’t and now think she doesn’t care.”
Bucky glared.
John held up his hands. “Look, just saying - I saw the look on your face when Alexei blew the door open. You looked like someone shot your Christmas tree.”
Bob sighed. “I just think if people love each other they should say it.”
“No one said anything about love, Bob.” You mockingly sighed back.
“But you almost kissed. That’s like a contract, emotionally.”
You laughed, pouring yourself tea. “You’re very invested in this.”
Bob shrugged. “You’re my favorite. And he’s… well, he’s broody and tragic. It’s romantic. It’s, like, the foundation of all fanfiction.”
You snorted into your mug. “Oh my god.”
“I’m serious! The almost-kiss is everything. Now the next step is ‘intense pining while pretending nothing happened.’”
“…That’s oddly specific.”
Bob just beamed.
The team was scattered around couches, watching some terrible action movie John had insisted on. You dropped onto the seat nearest Ava, laughing at something Yelena said. Bucky took the spot across the room - far enough to not seem obvious, close enough that he could watch you without really meaning to.
And you looked at ease. Like always. Like your world hadn’t shifted.
He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe awkwardness. Maybe a follow-up. A nudge. A conversation in the hallway where you’d say, “Hey, about the mission…”
But you hadn’t. And it was killing him. Because now he didn’t know if you’d been about to kiss him too, or if you’d been letting him and regretted it. He didn’t know if you’d only taken the photo because it made a good memory, not because you wanted him.
So he stayed quiet. Sat still. Waited. Watched you throw popcorn at John and laugh. And pretended he wasn’t picturing you standing close, eyes soft, you voice low:
“It was ours.”
32 notes · View notes
camellcat · 3 days ago
Text
y'all I used to be normal about xander harris. I used to go yeah y'know I like him he's just a totally normal guy. I think he's really sweet actually, but hey I completely understand why some people may not like him
but the way the fandom treats him has pushed me SO far into defense it's like rewired my brain or something. actually he's done nothing wrong ever. I don't even care anymore. I take back every critique I've ever made of him. you don't Get Him like I do. he's written as terribly inconceivably ooc sometimes and you're all treating it like it's NORMAL!!!! when other characters are NOT subject to the same bullshit even when they're sometimes written even worse. we can wave away SO much shit for others, but xander? no, no, no. and when he IS in character, does ANYONE care to perhaps I dunno EXAMINE WHY HE'S ACTING LIKE THAT? oh? no? we're just gonna take it at face value, when we would not do that for any other character??? when he's written off and sometimes even intentionally off, then that's perfectly in line and just Who He Is Actually
I need to talk about the pack specifically because I have GRIEVANCES with the fandom here. what in the actual hell is going on. why are we acting like the possession was who he really is deep down??? it's clear that the hyena spirit is simply taking him at his base sort of thoughts I suppose (e.g., him having a hard crush on buffy, being jealous of angel, secretly knowing about willow but not requiting) and amplifying them to be HORRIBLE. at the end, he's visibly guilty over what he's done despite it being out of his control. he doesn't say anything because how COULD he? what would he even say? these are the most important people in his life, and he was forced to hurt them. and they obviously forgive him and don't blame him for what happened, because he's not exactly subtle about remembering, and I sincerely doubt they'd just let what he did slide if they thought he truly was responsible. these guys are all with the silent communication, and it's not always good, but it's how they roll. also, GUYS. THINK OF SPIKE'S MOTHER!!!! THIS IS AN INCREDIBLY SIMILAR SITUATION!!!!! he has never in the entire time we've known him actively go out of his way to hurt people the way he does in this episode. because that's not who he is or who he ever wants to be
I also want to talk about how brave he is. I keep seeing people calling him a coward and it genuinely baffles me. are we watching the same show? what are you ON about?? even the show points it out: he's completely and utterly human, and standing up to fight evil on the front lines with everyone else anyways. there two absolute standout moments I especially adore and want to point out. and there ARE more moments, but these are my favourite. the first is when xander decides that if no one else will, he'll go help buffy fight the master, and alone if he has to. and he saves buffy, because he TRIED. I honestly don't think anyone else would've tried to save her once they saw she'd died like they were all told she would, but he did. because that's who he is. and the second is one my friend pointed out to me that is just so good, where xander stands up to angelus in the hospital. angelus could snap him in half within a blink of an eye, and xander tells him to leave. he's terrified, because he KNOWS if angelus wanted to then he'd be dead without being able to fight back, but he guards buffy like a little dog facing up against a lion. he wouldn't win, but maybe he could buy her just a little more time, maybe someone would notice and help her, maybe angelus will decide it's too much effort and leave like he desperately hopes, maybe maybe maybe. he's gambling with his life here, just like before by walking into the master's nest, and he'd do it again without a second thought to protect his loved ones. he DOES do it, again and again and again over the course of the show
this isn't to say xander doesn't have his flaws. he's not the best boyfriend for sure, and while those are mostly out of his own insecurities and trauma, it's still not a great. I don't give any of the other characters that excuse to let bad relationship behaviour slide and I won't give him it either, but it is at the least an explanation. that is just a real flaw that he struggles with throughout the whole show outside of anything else. he can also be very snippy and mean when he's feeling defensive, and he's got a bit of a possessive, jealous streak that isn't fantastic, but he's the heart for a reason. in fact I honestly think those traits work really well as cons for the heart
the xander we see in the show is someone who wants to be good and do good. he cares so, so immensely for everyone. EVERYONE who sticks around in this show, does xander latch onto to as one of his own people to look out for. he tries and tries and tries to do the right thing, to protect and take care of the ones he loves in any way he can, and he kind of sucks at it sometimes. he makes the wrong choices even when he means well, and sometimes when he doesn't. but god is he trying harder than almost anyone else on that show to just be A Good Friend. I'm going to go so far as to say I think he is actually a better person than almost every other character on this show (other than buffy and tara of course)
why isn't he enough when there are other characters who are SO much worse than him in this show?
30 notes · View notes
jinftranda · 6 hours ago
Text
Words I Wasn’t Able To Tell You ✧⁠*⁠。
Tumblr media
CHAPTER 4
Synopsis: You were transported to another universe along with Ekko and Heimerdinger. Let’s just say that you didn’t expect Sevika to be your close friend in this universe, especially after she betrayed you.
Content: mu!Reader x au!Sevika, self insert : p, friends to lovers, sfw (i’ll just edit this shit if i forget something) 1st au so plz be nice 🙏
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter ??
Tumblr media
“You think you can recreate the anomaly with these?” Heimerdinger says while he inspects the leftover pieces of hextech crystals.
“That’s the theory.”
“Inconceivable”
“So you’d help us?” you ask Heimerdinger while chewing on your food.
“I meant that quite literally, I don’t believe this can be done.”
Ekko scoots forward in his seat and looks at Powder.
Powder sees him in her peripheral vision and also looks back at him.
Ekko smiles at her.
She looks away angrily.
Ekko’s left alone with disappointment painted on his face.
“Tampering with the arcane never ends well, lad.”
“Is there a way for us to make this work?” you pointed with your fork at the bits of hextech crystals.
“Let’s.. do more attempts later, when Ekko finally apologizes to Miss Powder.” Heimerdinger jokes and taps Ekko lightly. Ekko looks at him with a horrified face.
“H-how’d you know?” Ekko stops moving and questions Heimerdinger.
“I know the look of a wasted lad,” Heimerdinger said with a wink and looked more into the crystals.
You laugh and hit Ekko lightly on his shoulder, “Now, what did you do?” you ask Ekko, emphasizing the last word. You eat the last piece of your food and drink the whole cup of water.
“Pissed her off.” Ekko looks down and plays with the cup in his hand.
“Sheesh pissed mine off too,” you say sarcastically.
“Vi’s dead.” Ekko states dreadfully.
You are curious about Vi in this universe, but you never expected a bombshell of a news about her.
“WHAT?” you ask loudly, you grab the attention of the other customers and you apologize to them.
You lower your voice to a whisper and you ask Ekko again, “How?”
“I thought Ji— Powder killed Vi, but it’s all because of the tip I gave them.” you nod your head slowly while listening to Ekko.
“The explosion, remember that?”
“Oh, the apartment at Topside? Yeah, I remember that. Vi died because of the explosion?”
“Yeah, that.”
You hum quietly while nodding slowly, the mood immediately shifted when Vi’s death was mentioned on the table. But Ekko breaks the shift in mood.
“Well, how about you?”
“Me?”
“You said you pissed off Sevika, why?”
You ‘tsk’ and look away in a different direction. “It’s too embarrassing to share.” you cross your arms while trying to look unbothered.
“Just spit it out.”
You put your hands on the table, finally explaining, “Okay, well— uh, she asked me to fix her stove ’cause.. apparently I’m the only one who knows the way around it. But I don’t know how to fix shit.”
“And?”
“I— came up with dumb excuses...”
“And?”
“Ugh, my excuses pissed her off!”
You see Ekko and Heimerdinger holding themselves back from laughing. You roll back your eyes and scoff.
“You can laugh.”
They finally let out the laughs they were holding in. “And you laughed when Powder didn’t smile back at me? This is more terrible!” Ekko laughs hysterically and slaps his legs while doing so.
You were about to roll your eyes back again when someone entered the bar.
It’s Sevika
You fix your posture and face your back towards Sevika’s direction. Ekko and Heimerdinger notice the sudden change in your demeanor, they give you a concerned look.
Sevika approaches the bar front and engages in a conversation with Powder.
“What’s she doing?” you ask Ekko discreetly.
“She’s talking to Powder..?”
“Okay good enough.” You face Sevika’s direction just for you to see that she’s already looking at you. It caught you off guard and you returned to your position earlier.
“Just apologize, lad” Heimerdinger suggests.
“I wish it was that easy, ugh!” you leaned on the table way too hard, causing your forehead to hit the wooden table. It creates a noise and almost everyone in the bar looks at the direction of the noise, but they turn back, minding their own business.
“Ouch..” you whine silently while touching your forehead, you bring out a mirror from your bag and you inspect your forehead.
“I’d love to help, but I’m afraid it’d be too impossible.” Heimerdinger puts down the crystals and removes his glasses, he uses the fabric of his clothes to wipe off any specks of dust on it.
You snort, “That’s what I told Sevika before pissing her off!” you chuckle and hit Ekko lightly using your elbows.
“The risk is far too great.”
“You said I was your pupil, I need a professor.” Ekko dismisses Heimerdinger’s conclusion.
“Better yet— a partner.” Ekko smiles at Heimerdinger, giving him a persuasive look.
Heimerdinger seems to give in to Ekko’s words. He sighs before speaking, “Oh, blast nozzles. How could I forsake a brilliant lad in need?” Heimerdinger smiles back at Ekko.
“So, let’s start?” you put back the mirror in your bag and you turn your face towards the two.
You sigh when both of them nod to your question. You don’t know anything about building and technology— and that’s what you’re about to do.
The two seemed to notice the expression on your face. “Is there something that you’re not telling us, my dear?” Heimerdinger asks while going up to you.
“I-I don’t think I’d be a great help at recreating the anomaly..”
Ekko turns to look at you and his eyebrows furrow, “Well, the person I am in this place might be one of the greatest inventors of all time, but there’s no way I’m also good at that.”
“It’s like, we’re the same person but different.” you touch the back of your neck while explaining to the two of them. “After all, that is the reason why I’m not with Sevika.”
“Hey, we’re in this together.” Ekko pats your shoulder, and you smile softly at the act. “There is no way we’re gonna pull this off without you, ever since you became a firelight, you also became a family to me, to us.” Ekko points at himself and Heimerdinger.
You can’t help but smile at what Ekko said, it warms your heart.
“Very well my boy.” Heimerdinger got on his feet and picked up the container with crystals inside. “Let’s get right into it!” Heimerdinger exclaims with excitement.
You and Ekko give each other a nod of agreement, the two of you are about to gather yourselves up— until Heimerdinger stops the both of you.
“I think the two of you should start by apologizing to Miss Powder and Miss Sevika, my lads.” you pause at what Heimerdinger said.
“I already have something prepared for her,” Ekko says, referring to Powder.
“I don’t have any.” you look down at the ground with a frown on your face.
“Just say you’re sorry and never mention that you aren’t from this universe!” Heimerdinger lifted his index finger upon his suggestion to you.
“I’ll try Professor, but no promises.”
“We do need a place to recreate the anomaly.” he turns to Ekko, he’s probably referring to Powder’s place.
“And another set of hands to help us with the materials.” he then turns to you, referring to Sevika’s help.
You sigh before leaving the bar. The other two went in different directions, they insisted that you should apologize to Sevika before joining them. Ekko already has something for Powder, but you? You have nothing to give Sevika.
Though it isn’t totally required to bring anything to her, it’d be too rude if you show up empty-handed.
You stroll around the Underground and Piltover for a while, and you walk up unintentionally at a recognizable place. That’s where you find yourself standing up in the middle of the shipping docks.
You have no memories of getting here, but you look around, it’s not like they’re not allowing you to go here. As long as you don’t touch or steal anything.
You walk up to a familiar spot at the docks and stand there. You tilt your head, trying to recall something in your mind.
And that’s when you realize that you’re standing at the exact spot where Sevika found out you’re a firelight.
An image of her face pops up in your mind.
You remember her face vividly.
Your surroundings change, the blue sky going orange. The colors slowly turn down.
The smoke surrounding you and Sevika from the fire going down. Fire cracking is the only sound that fills up the area.
You were interrupted when a man bumped into you.
You jump back to reality when you turn to see the person who bumped into you, he apologizes and flees away. You also apologize to the man, saying sorry under your breath.
The man slightly moved you from where you were standing a few seconds ago. You bite your bottom lip and walk away from the area, without looking back.
It still hurts.
It took you an hour before finally finding Sevika. You found her in her home. How did you know she was in there? Not that you were following her, it’s because Sevika’s shoes are outside of her home.
And she never wears her outside shoes inside.
You sigh before contemplating if you should actually knock. Your hands are beginning to sweat and Sevika’s probable reactions fill your mind.
‘What if she closes the door on me before I could even speak?’
‘What if she doesn’t even open the door?’
‘What if she—
“Are you just gonna stand there and do nothing?” the door opens, almost hitting your face.
You jump back, almost stumbling. “Y-You scared me!” you say to her almost breathless.
“You’re the one who’s scared?” Sevika exclaims.
“Well, I.. uh.”
“Well?” Sevika leans on the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. You hate to admit it but she looks attractive, especially when she does that. But you remember the reason why you’re standing in front of her looking like an idiot.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for.. being a jerk and I lied about forgetting how to fix your stove..” you look down on the ground, shame is slowly eating you alive whenever you try to follow up your words. You're fidgeting with the strap of your bag while thinking of what to say next.
Just apologize to her, and don’t mention that you’re actually not from here.
“I—”
“It’s alright.”
“What?”
“Any complaints?”
“Uh, no?”
“So why did you come to me, do you need any help?” your eyes shoot up when Sevika unintentionally guesses the reason why you are here. “Because I wanted to say sorry, and that..?” you chuckle under your breath. Oh gosh, this is so embarrassing.
“With what exactly? I need a clear and brief description.” Sevika moves slightly towards you, there’s still a good amount of distance between you two, but it isn’t enough to hide your cheeks flushing.
‘Is she teasing me now?’
“With.. another project, I’m working with Ekko and Professor Heimerdinger this time.” Sevika slightly tilts her head and she positions her hand under her chin.
“It’s a really cool project! We just need help with the materials..”
“Mhm, I’ll think about it.” Sevika nods her head while tapping her chin.
“Please?”
“Fine.”
That was quick.
You jump out of joy while squealing. “Thank you so much!” your excitement causes you to almost hug Sevika, you immediately put your arms behind you and smile at her awkwardly.
“But what about your stove?” you suddenly remember the reason why you and Sevika aren’t on good terms, that fucking stove. “Oh, Powder fixed it for me. I owe her a lot, y’know?” she leans even closer as she speaks.
“Oh? I mean at least it’s fixed now. But what about your arm, does it hurt?” you point at Sevika’s left forearm, which is still covered with bandages. “This? It’ll be a day or two and this thing will disappear, and no. Doesn’t hurt at all.”
Both you and Sevika stood in silence after that. It took you a few minutes (thinking of what to say) before finally speaking to her.
“So, we’re even?” you scratch the back of your head when you ask her. Sevika chuckles, “Would I help with your project if we aren’t?” she asks sarcastically.
“Eh..”
”No?”
“Exactly.”
Tumblr media
sorry for leaving everyone hanging 😭 i’ve been busy these past few days since school is about to start next week, i’ll finish this before school starts. (this fic will be 5-6 chapters long!) It’s pretty hard having to insert yourself into an already established story. 😞
likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated : 3
24 notes · View notes
cornelianlute · 1 day ago
Text
Tumblr media
she lets out a laugh before taking a drink. even if they had only be apart for not that long, sarah seems to have forgotten just how outgoing her younger sister truly was. speaking of lindblum, it would also be good for her too - not just because she'd be able to see eiko more, but it meant that she could finally relax. though she appreciated traveling the world over and performing all the time, it would be nice to catch her breath. maybe, just maybe, she'd also be able to catch up on her reading as well. there was a particular story she had found at an old bookstore about a tale of heartbreak and a beautiful princess being rescued by her knight in shining armor that had captivated her instantly. something about it seemed so familiar... "alright, you can tell him first. i had a feeling you were going to ask me or rather tell me that anyways. with the performance being here as well, we can spend more time together. i know you have your royal duties and all, but i was hoping we'd both be able to sweet talk the regent into letting you have more free time with me in town." reaching into her bag, she grabs a rough rolled up piece of parchment and then proceeds to slap it down on the table. "and with this, i don't think he'll be able to say no! they're schematics to an old machine of some sort. zidane was able to... smooth talk it off some noble when ruby and i caught him." sarah dismisses her sister's puppy dog eyes knowing full well that eiko just wanted to see more of her monkey man anyways. he was probably somewhere in town if she had to guess.
with eyes downcast, she doesn't say anything and only gives eiko a very small smile. she doubts the little girl is able to see it, but even so... looking up into her sister's eyes she says, "okay. i'm sorry, eiko. i hope you'll forgive me. i'm glad that you are not lonely now." that time was terrible. thinking about it still brought back horrible nightmares associated with those equally horrible memories. first her kidnapping then the loss of their home and nearly everyone in it. who knows what would've happened to the two girls if the moogles had not come to look over and after them. she thanked their lucky stars and whoever was watching over them for the fluffy creatures. "y-yes, boys... you know so much more than me, right? b-but-!" she flushes again. "b-back to our friends!! yes, they're all doing well. i'm still hoping that they are able to come out to lindblum and visit. i know they miss you so and i think it would be a great opportunity too with the play."
Tumblr media
"yes, i think zidane would prefer your brains over anything." some of the girls sarah had encountered on her travels were quite vapid. it was not something she wanted her sister to fall prey to especially when it came to the thought of boys and zidane was one who hit on pretty women. though with a solid scolding from herself, ruby, and garnet perhaps he would think twice before doing the same to any of them. she knew him well enough to know that he'd never do something like that to eiko, but even just a warning should be good enough. "it's a good thing i brought this blueprint along then. we can look at it together and go over it before we give it to the regent." her eyes sparkle. "just imagine how surprised he'd be if we were able to surpass his deductions when it came to this old machine! maybe we could even get it to work before him!" 
Tumblr media
after their journey to save the world was over, eiko remembers attending a few tantalus plays here and there with her sister. each tantalus member was quirky / all vivid and bright and unique, which is best demonstrated by how well they all unite together for a performance on the big stage. it fascinated her, how they’re all so different, yet so similar when they gather. their passion shines through no matter the location and type of play, and that’s what she enjoys the most, so eiko merrily replies, ❝  in lindblum? great, that means i don’t even have to make a trip then! i can let papa know so that we can welcome you all properly.  ❞ a pause, then a grin. ❝  well, you have to let me know first to tell him, of course——and then i can try to secure a good place for your performance!  ❞ obviously by sweet-talking with the theatre folks, which also counts for her princess duty of networking, so this counts as killing two birds with one stone, really. it’s all gonna work out. yep, yep! ❝  alexandria’s a pretty place, but it’s good to give lindblum some attention too! i love garnet and all, but it’d be nice if you guys came here for a change, all right?  ❞ she pouts, purposely pulling out the puppy-dog eyes. ( because if they came here to lindblum more, that also means zidane will come to lindblum more too. win-win for eiko!!! ) 
❝  you’re not a burden!!  ❞ she immediately replies, frowning out of disapproval at such words. her sister being a burden? eiko will not let that slide! ❝  you’re always there having my back. when grandpa and mog were gone, i could tough it out because i still had you, sarah. so don’t say that again, okay? not even as a joke.  ❞ zidane taught her that you’re not truly alone as long as you still have the people around you / being the younger one, eiko often clung onto sarah for a support system. on the day she lost mog, eiko still found strength to continue on because her sister was there to keep her afloat. she wanted to get that across somehow / that sarah is anything but a burden. she is eiko’s pillar. with that said, she’s now sobering up, blinking when sarah leans across the table to whisper about … ❝  boys … ?  ❞ eiko widens her eyes dramatically. is she hearing right? her sister … wants to talk about boys … ? not that eiko minds, but sarah rarely ever wants to talk about boys whenever eiko’s not yapping to her about her monkey-tailed crush. which boy has interested her sister? eiko is definitely going to ask later during the sleepover. there will be no escape. ❝  they’re all still doing good and are happy, right?  ❞ she asks, grinning. ❝  that’s all i need to know. i miss them a lot too, so i want to visit them, but if they’re gonna visit me, i’m definitely not going to complain. i just want to see them again, y’know?  ❞
Tumblr media
swinging her legs as she sits on her chair, she gives a cheeky smile after swallowing another piece of her cake. ❝  just get blank to do it. he and ruby are always butting heads, so maybe it’ll help them grow closer or something.  ❞ ideally, marcus would’ve been a better choice because he’s so calm and rational, but eiko thinks this idea is more fun. fun is fun! ❝  besides, blank is really quick on his feet, so i think he’d be a good bodyguard for her.  ❞
she makes a disgusted face, nose scrunching——but before she can retort something for the remark, her sister just had to mention zidane’s name, which makes eiko pause. does she become a greasemonkey just for his affections, or does she not and risk warding him further away from her? oh, to be a princess with nothing to worry about … but it’s not like she wasn’t already so obvious to begin with. ❝  … i guess i should brush up on my machinery knowledge before he visits us. papa has some books.  ❞ she exhales determinedly. ❝  brains are more attractive, so maybe i’ll go for it that way!  ❞
15 notes · View notes
ohbo-ohno · 2 years ago
Note
Hi!!! This is my first ever ask so sorry if it’s weird lol. Out of all the 141 boys, who’d you think would be most likely to sneak lactation pills into readers food in hopes of reader coming to them for help??? I can’t stop thinking about it and I need to know your thoughts too
no worries at all!!!!! i did not realize lactation pills were a thing though omg this is wild to me
here's my ranking from most to least likely: price, ghost, soap, gaz
i'll be honest, i only put soap below ghost because when i did some googling the Internet said lactation inducing medicine can take several months to work and soap does not have the patience for that lmfao
anyways price is the most likely culprit for this (imo) because that man is the walking definition of a Breeding Kink. he wants you knocked up and pregnant the moment he decides he even wants you. it's his first fucking priority. he'll start slipping you lactation supplements concerningly early in your relationship (because of the aforementioned several months) and masks the way he feels you up in the shower as horniness instead of medical curiosity lmao
also i personally don't see the appeal in drinking breast milk but John Price sure does. that man is drinking you dry, and tbh it's lowkey better if you don't actually have a baby to feed because he gets to keep all your milk for himself
ghost would do this and like 10 other things to keep you as reliant on him as possible. he just wants you to come to him for everything, and he's far from above manufacturing a reason for you to need him. and with breast milk drinking, it's just another way for him to consume you, another part of you he can literally drink down. of course he's into it. that man starts salivating the first time you complain about your tits being sore
(also ghost is totally a dominant freak but tbh there are certain versions of that man that i think have a very deeply buried mommy kink)
soap would do it just because he's a fucking freak. he sees like a singular porno with breast milk drinking and is like "I Need That Now" and starts slipping you the lactation pills. tbh he probably just gets into a routine of doing and forgets about it after a while, by the time you actually start lactating he's like "oh hell yeah" because he just completely forgot
gaz would probably suggest that you take them while you're pregnant, and he just ends up being fucking obsessed with the milk you produce. before the baby's come, it's got to go somewhere and he deems it an insult to just pump and throw it away :/ he'll lay on your chest for as long as you'll let him lmao (and maybe keep slipping the medicine to you post-baby and post-baby-being-weened)
277 notes · View notes
skys-archive · 2 months ago
Text
It makes me really sad when I see people who are making videos or podcasts or just posting on social media feel horrible when they stop or slow down content creation. Like no, you don't owe us anything at all. Work at your own pace. Focus on yourself when you can. We're here for you once you're ready. It's okay.
5 notes · View notes
pollen · 8 months ago
Text
i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like
Tumblr media Tumblr media
#idk he knows me more than anyone bc i can't hide the parts i'm ashamed of from him#last night he was like. yeah EYE think you have adhd but i'm just some guy#idk i'm excited about this not because i want to be Quirky for internet reasons. yknow. but bc i've felt like an impostor of a human being#and i have no sense of self and i can't get myself to do basic tasks and the thought of doing something i don't want to do#genuinely makes me want to throw up/my brain shuts down/i can't think or talk or function to the point where i can't work.#so i can't support myself. so i feel terrible about myself. and i've been in and out of therapy for 20 years and have numerous diagnoses#that have never really felt like they fully encapsulate what's going on. and like. i've kinda just internalized that i'm not as good at#being a person as everyone else because i struggle so so much. like yeah i did well in school but i had to sacrifice literally everything#else to do that. idk how everyone else is managing to have a job and hobbies and friends#i get to pick like. one now. i used to be able to juggle everything to some degree although i felt like i was being careless in all areas#except school. i'm so scared of making mistakes or starting anything or talking to new people or trying new hobbies#because i know it won't interest me more than a couple weeks MAX and i'll feel listless and restless again#and i've come to understand this as part of who i am at my core. i'm just someone who can't commit and isn't reliable or a good friend#i just want so badly for that not to be the case because i want so badly to not be stuck like this#idk im going home to talk to my dad this weekend and just rest because i'm really really not doing well#which is why i'm scrambling to try to figure out what's going on with me because idk how much longer i feasibly can do this#and i might be moving back to the pnw bc therapists in pa don't work with medicaid#and no psychiatrists near me are taking new patients. and i can't work to get on private insurance. but therapists in or do work w medicaid#so idk. again if youre diagnosed w adhd and this sounds not like someone who is consuming social media brain rot content about adhd#but rather someone whose experiences you identify with. please let me know. please please#i am reaching out to professionals also but things move slowly and i'm trying to compile evidence so i don't sound like i'm making it up
9 notes · View notes
crowlore · 1 year ago
Text
no, dragon age 2 is not the best dragon age game. but it’s also not the worst. and most importantly, it is my favorite.
#sorry for continuing to obsess over the cast of da2 13 years later. i just adore them#they’re messy and terrible but god do they compel me. the thing about da2 is that a surprising about of the bad writing CAN enhance it#if you really lean into it and make it work. it makes the characters worse people yes. it makes them very contradictory people#but the longer i sit on it the more i can make it work. the ending choice is still bad and lacking and doesn’t allow for genuine roleplay#and i lament that the world states don’t let me properly convey that my hawke THOUGHT they ‘did the wrong thing for the right reasons’#and that you can’t really play as the kind of selfish coward my hawke is to me you know. someone who pays lip service but doesn’t follow up#whose allegiances come with conditions and at the end of the day always looks out for individuals rather than entire demographics#i think that’s why i love varric so much too bc that’s how he is! he loves merrill and anders (tho he won’t admit it) BUT#he doesn’t really ‘get’ mage stuff. he wants them to give it up. anders even more so. varric doesn’t believe#there’s a gap of lived understanding between them he NEVER really tries to breech and that’s why his love is conditional#for as much as varric went to bat for anders year after year and would never have sold him out during their time in kirkwall…#he still resents anders in inquisition. bc anders had goals and ambition and wouldn’t settle for varric’s friendship#such a conditional allegiance would never satisfy anders. he wasn’t the type to forsake all mages just to live comfortably hidden by others#oh my god i need to play dragon age 2 again
9 notes · View notes
mintincubus · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
the party in-game btw :^)
3 notes · View notes
chuchayucca · 1 year ago
Text
Discussions of implied fictional CSA & SA
I recently been wondering if there’s a chance Richard thinks Roy’s aggressive and distant behavior is normal and not a sign of CSA because he acted similarly to Roy when he was younger
Reasonings in the tags
#Again TW for discussion/mentions of CSA/SA#I believe Richard was repeatedly SA by his brother throughout his childhood and early teenage years#He never realized it was SA because no one told him and pre-existing misinformation and harmful beliefs about SA#He unknowingly developed bad behaviors and coping mechanism from his CSA in his teenage years but nothing was really done#The school thought he was a rowdy troublemaker. His parents didn’t do jack to help him even after discovering the abuse because they-#worried more their reputations. And his friends didn’t know about the abuse either so they thought he was a rowdy kid and sometimes#Feed into his bad behaviors because they were dumb teenagers looking to have fun in the stupidest ways possible and not thinking of the-#consequences or why a kid like Richard was so mean and aggressive in the first place#I know this is a very sensitive topic and the fandom has all right to be hesitant about seeing how Roy’s truama was treated and#certain individuals approaching it terribly#However I don’t think the majority of the fandom understands how Roy’s SA is an integral part of his character. not only because it’s an-#canon explantation for his behavior but also being SA impacts EVERYTHING. how you look at the world. behaviors. relationships. etc#imo it’s feels weird to ignore it even if the original source treated it questionable#I am interested and do want to explore Roy’s story and the probable story of Richard too#Not only is it an integral part of Roy’s character that should be acknowledge more but also there’s an interesting story to tell about-#CSA/SA. how it affects everybody. and the different interpretations that can be written from it#I’m really interested in seeing a fanfic where Roy and Richard addressed their truama together. learn to heal. and become closer by the end#That being said I want to make it clear that when discussing these topics I still want to be respectful#If I ever handle it wrong or go to far. let me know. and if you have criticism for me regarding this. let me know too!#Again this is a very sensitive topic and I don’t want to contribute to the harm#spooky month#spooky month roy#spooky month richard#tw csa mention#tw csa#tw sa mention#tw sa implied#tw csa implied#tw sa#ChuchaYucca.text
4 notes · View notes
koalemoslepus · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
//Warning I have a tendency to accidentally hide my true vents in the tags by total accident
-----
I just saw an AI bot meant to give you the AI prompts to write AI image generations like at what point do we literally just get to revoke brain if you're not going to do it like literally we don't need you to copy and paste the machines could do that quite easily with a script and frankly I vote we pay them instead of you because shit maybe we could get some deflation in here if the money starts disappearing and it's not like you're fucking doing a damn thing for it also in my like in my warped verision of reality I cling to maybe?? If we let everyone go down this rabbit hole of the tech we have at present being sentient we could somehow crackpot loop our way back around them being regulated more than a worker maybe we'd help curb the cash incentives cause I know they'd get more protections / freedoms than a woman would in my lifetime FUCK anyway
#vent post#also I love you my fellow nd babies but dont correct me on stuff thats wildly inaccurate in this post#i know this is me 100% letting me go off the deep end#ironic Im using a ghibli gif after just having ranted about everyone using Miyazki as their weird anti ai art grand daddy#when like the profit incentive of art is the issue plus the politics but like#among other reasons its weird to use him for this but like#only that gif really emcompassed the actual feeling in my soul#and like much to both sides vehement like always Im not even anti anything#i feel like I have measured takes on AI#but with evidence generative AI has been provable to be theft as outlined by copyright yada yada whatever it also just has its fucking#problems right theres a lot about it thats fucked up because of the way it was built and is used inseparably from certain aspects#of capitalism#but even so I do think a lot of people take the outright hate and disgust to far to the point it doesnt help the arguement more importantly#lead to any solutions or actionable change that fill in the gaps AI is purposefully coming in for while our world is being dismantled#basically a lot of people are bitching about people being Lazy for Using AI instead of examining the purposeful new flaws crammed#in our faces that would cattle shoot large swaths of people into doing so that cant be summarized as pure laziness and it is pure hypocrisy#to do so and shame doesnt get us anyway again something we've studied and researched and also all you art bitches love to write and draw#religious traumas but never actually dissect it maybe#but even I can agree with all my endless what abouts that this this is a step too far and this we can just call lazy cause what the fuck#except even then fuck I came back into the tags for this#even then I sort of get it even if I hate it right like a villian you fucking hate but you understand the pyschology cause we said it we#keep repeating it#profit incentives#its like when I see those horrendous youtube videos of horrible mean awful pranks and Im disgusted but I know why they do it#because our world is terrible and awful and cruel and money feels like the only way to carve out a place of peace in it and money is evil#you must make some level of moral trade off for it somewhere and some people literally are more morally bankrupt because they are scared#right they are exchanging themselves for a false sense of freedom#but its all deals with the devils and its not these romantic verisions of them where youre clever or the devil sets you free in the end or#giving up parts of yourself is...worse than we could ever put into metaphor I dunno#content warning
0 notes