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mr-cha-n · 2 months ago

Text

Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

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

Word Count: 18.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enter: you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, Mingyu brings it up.

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

Except.

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brain practically short-circuits at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

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

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

So, he knocks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—he takes a breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut

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mapis-putellas · 4 months ago

Text

Show off

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia challenges you to a pull-up competition.

Notes: this was fun to write. Enjoy <3

[Prompt list]

"Amor, come on!" Alexia complains as she loops her arms around your waist and rests her chin against your shoulder, peppering your face with soft kisses.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. "Ale, I've already said no. You only want to do it to prove how much stronger you are than me." You pat her hands placatingly as you step out of her arms to continue with folding the laundry.

"What? No. That is not the truth," she exclaims in mock offence as she clutches at her chest. "You have been practicing, yes? At the gym with mapi?"

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to face her. "Yes, I have. But it's been a week. How much progress do you think I would have been able to make in seven days, ale?"

Alexia shrugs as she easily lifts herself onto the counter, "I do not know. A lot?" She kicks her legs absently, ignoring the way you glare at her when her feet -clad in shoes might you add, hit the white cupboards below.

You sigh in relinquishment. "For you, maybe, but I'm very much a beginner. You, my love, are not."

"Sí, I know. But por favor, amor? For me?"

Alexia wasn't one to beg. In your three and a half year relationship, you think you’d only heard her do so a handful of times and the majority of those were in the bedroom. Otherwise, she could be very convincing when coaxing you into doing what she wants, so there was ultimately never any need for her to beg.

"Ale..." You trail off.

Alexia slides off of the counter, her feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. She makes her way over to you, large hands rising to cup your cheeks before leaning down and pressing her lips oh so tenderly against your own. You sigh on resignation as your own hands rise to rest on either side of her waist, fully aware that she had once again gotten her way.

A few moments later you pull away, eyes rolling when you were immediately met with a smirk.

"Okay. We can do a pull-up contest. But I have one condition." You warn.

Alexia nods seriously. "Sí, mi amor. Anything."

"Any teasing, smack talk or bragging, you're on the couch tonight. Understand?"

"Smack talk?" She tilts her head to the side.

You cup her face, tracing the pads of your thumbs beneath her eyes. "It's the act of criticizing another person. Which you will not do to me when you win."

Alexia immediately shakes her head as she takes your hands and places a gentle kiss to the insides of your wrist. "I will not bebé. Promise."

Prior experience has you want wanting to believe her, but figuring you would be nice and give her the benefit of the doubt, you let out a quiet sigh before begrudgingly nodding your head.

You can't help but laugh at the way her face lights up as she all but yanks you into her arms, your feet now dangling in the air as your hands clutch to the back of her shirt.

God, you were such a sucker.

"Okay, okay. When?" You breath, wiggling out of her arms before turning and placing the folded clothes into the laundry basket to be put away later. Or, well, whenever you get around to it if you were being completely honest with yourself. Probably sometime next week.

Your hand was immediately grabbed the second it was unoccupied, and you allow her to pull you out of the kitchen and towards her small home gym. There was a pull-up bar fixed to the doorframe, yoga mats and dumbbells in corner of the room along with many other pieces of equipment you’d yet to learn the names of.

"I will go first, amor," she pulls off her shirt leaving her in a black sports bra and red shorts. "You count, yes?"

Your eyes whip up from where they'd fallen down to her six pack, and you nod silently, watching as she smirks before raising her arms and grabbing onto the pull-up bar with ease. She was going before you could blink, arm muscles becoming more prominent as she lifts herself up and down like it was nothing.

Your eyes somehow seem to drift down to her six pack again on their own accord, and you decide it would probably be best to ignore her laugh so her ego didn't get any bigger than it already was.

She was back on the floor before you could even notice she was done, slightly out of breath as she rubs her hands together and makes her way over to you. Your eyes slowly climb up her body until they were staring into her own.

"Amor, did you count?" She reaches up and closes your mouth, and you flush heavily as you push her hand away and cross your arms against your chest. “You did not, did you?”

"Yes, I did." You feign your assertiveness a lot more confidently than you felt, and Alexia rolls her eyes knowingly as she nods her head in begrudging acceptance.

"How many?"

"Huh?”

“Pull-ups, bebé. How many?”

“Uhh…”

"Let's say, twenty, yes?" She grins, and you sigh dejectedly before nodding.

"Sure. Twenty." There was no way in hell you were going to be able to beat that. Seemingly having more confidence in you than you did in yourself, Alexia coaxes you over to the bar with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

"Ready?" She braces a hand on either side of your waist, and you take a deep breath before nodding and reaching up your arms. She lifts you with ease, making sure you had a good hold before rounding your body and standing a little in front of you.

Ignoring the fact your hands were beginning to burn already, you use all your strength and pull your chin up and over the bar with a quiet grunt.

"Sí. Muy bien bebé." Alexia praises, and you smile slightly as you once again pull yourself up and over the bar. You mange to repeat this three more times before your arms start to burn. Feeling a little pathetic at only being able to complete five pull-ups in comparison to Alexia’s

twenty, you grit your teeth and somehow manage to pull yourself up two before times before sending Alexia a look that says get me down.

Alexia steps forward and loops her dams beneath your behind immediately, and you let out a sigh of relief as you let go of the bar and rub your sore hands together.

Supporting your body with ease, Alexia looks up at you with a proud smile on her face. You can't help but mimic it as you circle your arms around her shoulders.

"Buena chica," she praises, leaning forward and kissing your chest. You flush just slightly. "I did not think you could do that many."

"It was only seven." You shrug.

"No no." Alexia shakes her head as she bounces you up slightly to get a better grip, your legs now hooked around her bare waist. "How many could you do before?"

"One, I think?" you struggle to recall the specific number due to Mapi yelling at you. Carry on chica. You got this! Use those chicken arms! You’d been quite offended honestly.

“Maybe two?" You doubt yourself.

"Exactamente! And you did seven today. That is five more, no? You are getting strong." She grasps your bicep between her hand and gives it a squeeze, making you laugh quietly as your own hands tangle through the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

"Soon I'll be stronger than you." You muse, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

"No, amor," Alexia states seriously, and you tilt your head to the side. "No one is as strong as me."

"Oh, is that so?" You laugh, and Alexia grins smugly as she makes her way back over to the pull-up bar. You stare at her in confusion, aware she was up to something but not knowing what.

"Hold on tight." Is all she says in place of an explanation, and you can't help but yelp when she lets you go and reaches for the bar above you both.

Complying and wrapping your body completely around her own as tight as you physically could, you stare gobsmacked as she begins doing pulls-up with the same ease as before.

"Show off." You grumble, Alexia's laugh echoing around the room.

Tags:

@simp4panos @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @codiemarin

#alexia putellas x reader #soft alexia putellas #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #@lots of pockets > @mapis putellas

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toxycodone · 7 months ago

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IM A WEIRDO SORRY but anyways imagine beastkin reader having that one spot on their back they can never reach that drives them up the wall with how itchy and uncomfortable it can get. they've tried all the suggestions and tips in the book, but every "solution" is either A) too weird and humiliating or B) requires an extra set of hands, but they'd honestly rather die than ask anyone for help with it...

until one night, while he's on night watch duty and reader is sleeping right next to him on their back, of course Laios can't help but reach out a little helping hand. rewarded by a low, pleased groan, he takes that as an invitation to press harder, bit by bit, and really gets into it. Soon, he's even got two hands working on their back and he's surprised no one's woken up with how much noise they're making.

when reader wakes up a little bit later, tail wagging/purring up a storm, their brain's just too foggy with all kinds of happy chemicals to even consider swatting away his hand. from then on, reader decides that maybe it's not an entirely bad idea to ask him for help sometimes, as long as no one else sees...

(ALSO IMAGINE LETTNG HIM STROKE AND SCRITCH THE BASE OF YOUR TAIL....... laying across his lap chastising him like "DO NOT press too hard. DO NOT abuse it. DO NOT-" but you just melt in a puddle as soon he starts off gently rubbing a thumb against it. the way you sigh in pleasure, whimpering for a break when it gets a little too much... can you really blame him for getting hard???)

HAD TO POST THIS ONE IMMEDIATELY BC. WHEW….

God Laios is so…with a beastkin reader, he just lacks boundaries and tact interacting with them. His excitement to meet you and interact with you trumps anything that may be in the back of his mind telling him to reel it in (or even his fellow party members).

If you lay on him it’s OVER. It doesn’t matter how much you tell him not to toy and tease with you he’s doing it anyways because “he knows best”.

He knows animals. And he’s learning monsters. He’s fixated on them since he was a kid. You’re no exception.

He’s putting all the same moves he used to do on his dogs in his childhood and it WORKS. He’s petting you and massaging in all the right places. And when you purr or sigh in pleasure a WAVE of pride hits him. You didn’t have to warn him, he knows just where to touch you.

(And when you whimper and such…Laios can’t help but get a little into it. Are you sure you need a break? Surely you can tough out a little more so he can keep trailing his fingers over your soft fur and tell you how good you are, right?)

Sometimes he’ll pet you in front of others and usually you’d smack his hands away but once he knows your spots….you just melt into him and it’s SO embarrassing.

#laios touden #laios x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #suck my ask #dungeon meshi #dungeon food

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blackkwidowed · 11 months ago

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Imagine kissing Nats bruises and scars after a mission and just being soft and showing her so much love.

I just wanna give Nat a hug tbh

just the entire concept of nat finding it so hard to be vulnerable around anyone but you is both heartbreaking yet the softest most adorable shit ever. here's a little drabble. some darker themes here as well i guess. also, best friend bucky? you got a taste of that here as well. also haven't proofread so sorry

•

When the few team mates arrive back off a mission, there's a dark, almost sad, atmosphere among them. Natasha, Bucky, and Clint had gone together for a few days to track something down. They'd come back early, empty handed, bruised, beaten down and overall, unsuccessful.

Natasha had looked the most upset. She hadn't been crying or anything, she just looked glum. She looked like she'd seen something no one wants to see.

Immediately you say your hellos to everyone, glad that they made it back safely and in once piece- albeit a few bruises and minor injuries. Something had happened out there.

You pull Natasha into your arms and there's something about the way she relaxes and sinks against you that makes your concern skyrocket. Fingers running through her hair, you cup the base of her skull in your hand and bring the other to her cheek for her to look at you. "What happened, my love?"

She sighs, the kind of sigh that speaks for itself.

"We found a group of kids. They'd all been locked up by these asshole guys we were trying to find. They'd been brainwashed. Beaten. Taken from their families and forced into whatever the hell kind of project that's been lined up for them."

You flinch, closing your eyes and repeating Natasha's sigh from before. You understand now.

"Got jumped by some security who've had training from God knows where. Good enough to get some hits in, put it that way." She cranes her neck a little, moves her hair out the way, enough to show the budding purple mark under her ear that's making it way across her jaw. "Powerful bunch, these guys. We're gonna need some more planning before we go back in there."

You nod in agreement, tracing your finger gently across the mark and pressing a soft, barely there kiss to the skin.

"Are you okay?" It comes as a whisper, gentle and only just loud enough for her to hear it. "I mean, I know you're not okay as such just. What do you need?"

She smiles gently at you, pushing herself closer to you again and resting her nose in the crook of your neck. "This is good."

You press a kiss to the side of her head, looking up at the guys who're now sat at the breakfast bar of the kitchen, also looking on like they've seen a ghost. You can't help but feel sorry for whatever they've seen, it takes a lot to have them left feeling like this.

You send Nat to your room, telling her you'll be up there in a moment and to get changed out of her suit. Quickly, you make your way over to the boys and rest a hand on each of their shoulders. "You need anything you know where I am, alright?"

They thank you thoroughly, Bucky even slinging an arm around your waist and squeezing lightly as a thank you. "Take care of her, yeah? I think, maybe, she's reminded of everything she went through. It's hit her, this one. Just take care of her."

Bucky's smile is laced with pain, heartache. You don't see him like this often either. You nod at him. "Of course."

What you find in your room is enough to make you angry. Nat's got a fair few bruises, and it makes you want to track down the bastard(s) that managed to leave such a mark on her soul.

She's sat on the end of the bed, glancing over the hand shaped mark on her arm where she'd been grabbed and thrown just hours earlier. She's not even mad that she let her guard down. Normally she'd be upset with herself, but she can't think about it.

You perch at the head of the bed against the pillows, beckoning her over in a gentle tone. She settles into your side and curls an arm around you tightly, as if she's frightened you'll leave. It only makes you grip her tighter.

Peppering gentle kisses to the side of her face, she sighs in relief and sinks somehow deeper into you, nuzzling into your neck. You're warm, familiar, comforting, you're everything she needs in a time of need.

"Thank you," she whispers against your skin.

"For what, baby?"

"Being here when I need you."

You smile softly, raising a hand to her face and brushing your fingers across her cheek. You kiss her softly, slowly, so gentle she has to pull you even closer so you'll kiss her firmer. Your lips move against hers and it might just be the highlight of Natasha's day, feeling you like this.

"You don't ever have to thank me. You know that's what I'm here for." You continue stroking her cheek, down her neck, and back up. Touches like this are her favourite. It warms her heart when she remembers the bruise on the side of her face, and the fact that your touch is so gentle against her skin that the contact with the bruise doesn't bother her even a little bit. "I love you."

Natasha hums softly, moving to lay on top of you now. She kisses you again, whispering against your mouth. "I love you."

You hold her close, hands running across her hips, fingers trailing up her back. She lays on you, nuzzled in and as close as possible. You don't ever want either of you to move, this is where you're content. This is your happy place.

She's relaxed now, happier, and you know today's at the back of her mind still but for a moment, she can forget about it. She feels safe now, comforted. You're her happy place, her everything, her lifeline. To her, you make it worth it.

"Get some sleep for me okay?" You murmur into her hair.

You feel her nod against where she lays on your chest. "Only if i can stay here."

You give a soft laugh, rubbing a hand up her back and tangling into red hair. "Always."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #avengers x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff drabble #natasha romanoff angst

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rainydayathogwarts · 8 months ago

Text

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

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lyneira · 2 years ago

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♡ forced to share a bed ♡

-> when you're forced to share a bed with them, how do the twst boys sleep?

fluff/mainly crack

lyneira's 1.2k milestone event

The type that sleeps far away but wakes up clinging to you

Azul, Rollo, Sebek, Epel, Deuce

They'll make it a point to sleep the farthest distance from you, not because he doesn't like you, but be because this situation makes him nervous. He finally to sleep next to his crush? Lord, somebody go save him from the overwhelming excitement and nervousness he's feeling right now

When he wakes up, he'll realize he's feeling all warm and snug as he's clinging onto something that soothes him. That, being you, which he'll realize after noticing your arm atop of his as they were wrapped around your waist and his face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

I can see this going two ways. He'll either decide to stay there, albeit feeling both flustered and ecstatic as if he won the lottery. With your arm resting on top of his, did you like this too? Did you want him to hold you? The hope of this would keep him clinging on.

OR they'll end up retracting their arms and turning away immediately out of nervousness, embarrassment, and an 'OH MY GOSH' running through their head. They might also end up accidentally pushing you off the bed in the process LOL

Can't sleep at all

Idia, Malleus, Riddle, Rook

I see Riddle and Idia not being able to sleep also because they're nervous and feel a bit awkward having to be in the situation too. It's just so...intimate. They can hear your breathing, they can sense the warmth radiating from your skin, and when they turn over, they can see your lovely face. Wasn't this the type of thing he'd be able to experience if he woke up with everyday? He didn't know if he had the right to experience all of this, he wasn't your lover just yet, after all. But oh, how he dearly wanted to be.

In Malleus' and Rook's case, they wouldn't ne able to sleep because they'd spend the whole night staring at your sleeping face, take this wonderful opportunity to observe and admire it all the want. I hope you don't wake up facing him, otherwise, you'll wake up to see his eyes wide open, looking deeply into your soul *insert "AWOOP- JUMPSCARE" tiktok sound*

they'll even hit you with a "good morning, sleepyhead" even though clearly, they were the ones who were sleepy with dark circles around their eyes from having stayed up all night. They'd think it was all worth it tho

Sleeps, no problem

Ace, Leona, Vil

They frankly don't really care if you're sleeping next to them, they'd sleep pretty soundly. They'll probably only have a problem if you move a lot in your sleep or snore loudly lol.

Also sleeps soundly

Cater, Lilia, Neige

They'll be able to sleep easily, but before they do, they'll be full of happiness and excitement in being able to sleep next to you. They'll inch their bodies closer to you, but won't get so close that they touch you, not without your permission anyway. It's just that they want to hug you so badly. They want to hold you in their sleep. If you happen to flip over and lay a limb on them, they'd honestly be happy with that too.

Moves around a lot

Floyd, Che'nya, Kalim, Ruggie

Good luck sleeping next to them because these boys are moving around nearly every minute as they sleep. They're gonna have their bodies splayed out one second, then be clinging to you the next. Will probably have a leg or an arm on you through 80% of the night. It may all be unintentional or intentional, who really knows? They might snore too, and I see them snoring LOUDLY. Rip

For Floyd, I can see him extending his leg too far out that it both hits you and quite literally kicks you out of the bed LOL. You'll be pissed but he'll be sleeping without a care in the world, not realizing what he's done

Insists on sleeping separately

Jack, Jamil, Silver

I see them wanting to sleep separately from you, even sleeping on the floor if they have to. They want a peaceful night's rest with little to no disturbances, and he believes he'll find that if he sleeps alone. They want you to have a good sleep too, and so he thinks this would be the best option to take.

Sleeps very still

Trey, Jade

These dudes are by far the most peaceful to sleep with. They're very quiet and they don't move around a lot, if at all. It'll be as if they weren't even there, haha. They're considerate of you too, ensuring that you have enough of the blanket and that you have enough comfortable space to sleep. You're in luck if you're able to sleep with them.

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shirakow · 9 months ago

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˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; you accidentally summoned a demon , and he can't leave without doing something for you: either kill someone, or... Fuck you.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Devil!Rody Lamoree x FTM!Reader .

. . . words ; 3.5k+

EXTRA ! porn with plot , also request box is open for people who want more studio investigrave related fics !

Summoning demons wasn't really in your bucket list for this year, but somehow, you were pushed to the breaking point. You never thought they'd go this far for an april fools prank.

Sure you've always known they held a small hate for you—actually, small was a bit of an understatement but it's whatever, your anger was far deeper than the dislike they had for you anyway—but you never thought they'd decide to bring you to an abandoned warehouse, topped with a summoning circle drawn on the ground with what you hoped was ketchup, and proceeded to leave.

You never took them for the cultist types, then again, they always did sacrifice you on multiple occasions (those sacrifices being leaving you to take the blame while they ran from the cops for trespassing on private property and a bunch of other things).

A sigh escaped past your lips as you recalled all the times they've done you wrong, and decided that once you're out of this place, you're dropping them for good. "I'm going home." You whispered as you stared at the red pentagram on the dirty cement floor, decorated with a lit candle on each end of the star. You then proceeded to turn around and jumped out of your skin when a rat appeared in front of you.

You gasped and stumbled backwards, only to trip over a stick that was conveniently placed right behind your heel, and fell back on the ground; laying inside the pentagram your friends had drawn. A loud groan erupted from your throat as you tried to scramble away from the rat—which had long since disappeared—and accidentally cut yourself on the broken cement.

With a hiss, you looked at your finger and watched as a trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. You sighed and wiped it away on your shirt while you stood up, "Fuck this, fuck them—" you were gonna run to their house, and slap every single one of their fucking faces.

As the thought passed through your head, a sudden gust of wind blew through you, and the once lit candles were put out. You paused and looked around you with unease. It was creepy enough that you were alone in an abandoned building, but to have a large gust of wind blow through your body in a confined space was even creepier. You gulped thickly and backed away, trying to reach for your phone in your pocket when you suddenly felt something breathing down your neck.

Your eyes widened, and your body immediately shut down. Not even a few seconds later, a loud growl eminated from the creature behind you, and then a whisper, "... You gonna move off my foot or what?" You practically screamed and instinctively ran forward— and let me tell you, it was a real bad idea, because you Immediately hit a wall.

The creature—which you assumed was a demon or a squatter or a fucking werewolf—whistled as it watched you fall back on the ground. "That's gotta hurt..." You groaned and covered your face, "No shit it hurt!" You yelled at it, and reached for your phone in your pocket and turned the flashlight on.

Only to be faced with a tan man with hair a dirty orange, and curious green eyes that stared down at you while you kept laying on the floor. You dropped your phone on your face in shock. But the one thing that stood out about him were the pair of black horns that sat on his head. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"What? Is being scared a weird reaction now, dipshit?!" You yelled as you rubbed your nose. The demon raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "Says the human who summoned me." He defended himself in a nonchalant demeanor. You sat up and scrunched your face at him, "I did not summon you. I didn't even think the pentagram worked."

"It's a pentagram, how would it not work." He rose a brow while his tail swung around, "It's not like it was made of ketchup or anything." You couldn't bring yourself to tell him that you did think it was made out of ketchup. He'd probably laugh at you. Instead, you eyed him up and down with the light you had, before you spoke, "So... You gonna grant me three wishes or something?"

"I'm a demon, not a genie. The only three things I can give you is my name, age, and occupation." He murmured blankly, "So how 'bout it? I need to get paid too."

"Then give me those three things." You replied, "My name's Rody, I'm 382 years old, I think. I stopped counting after 380, and obviously I'm a demon." Rody introduced himself with a smile, almost a purr to his voice as he did. "Cool. You can go away now." You said as you shooed him away and tried to walk off, only to be stopped when he pulled you back by your shirt.

"Wait no—you can't just leave!" Rody said with what appeared to be a small pout, "Demons like me just can't go away without fulfilling a certain job for the human who summoned them. So it's either you ask me to kill someone for you, or..." He trailed off and blushed at the thought. "... You use me for your own p-pleasure..."

You stared at him blankly as he fumbled with his black vest, "What are you? Some teenage boy?" he took offense to this and immediately shook his head, "I am not a teenage boy!"

"And I am not asking you to do any of that." You mumbled and tried to walk away again, "Just lie and say you did one of the two—" "—well I can't! You know they're always watching me!"

Rody was practically begging as he clung to you. He sure was putting the title of a demon to shame. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. As much as I don't want to be here..." Rody trailed off, like even he didn't believe his last words. "Well, it's been a while since I've been out in the field so it was kinda lonely waiting in my apartment but that's besides the point!" He ranted unintentionally, before he shook his head.

Rody noticed the way you stared at him, and he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Just, ask me for anything." He said more seriously as he let you go.

You thought about it, and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not asking you to kill anyone." You murmured and looked down at the floor. As tempting as it sounds, you weren't gonna just tell him to kill your friends. It was silent, as if Rody was waiting for you to initiate something. At least he was willing to wait for your move.

You then got an idea, "Do demons like blood?" You asked him, looking back up into his green eyes. Rody rose a brow before he nodded, "I guess, especially if it's their summoners blood." He whispered, not sure where this is going. "Do they go insane with just a simple whiff?" You questioned once more, and before he could even get an answer out, you rose your sliced finger in front of his face.

Rody's eyes widened, "W-What are you doing?" He hesitantly asked as he split glances between your finger and your face. "What does it look like I'm doing? How long has it been since you've tasted human blood?" A red glint flashed over Rody's eyes as he leant forward, and took your wrist into his calloused hands. "... Too long..." He whispered and gently kissed your skin, before licking the blood with a groan.

"... I feel so dirty... Licking your dried up blood like this..." Rody gazed back down at you with lidded eyes, "I'm not that much of a savage." He muttered as he kissed your lips. His hands immediately finding their way onto your hips and he pulled your body closer to his bigger one, "You don't mind I just..." Rody whispered against the kiss, using his sharp canines to bite down onto your bottom lip—enough to draw blood as he closed his mouth on the wound and sucked on the red liquid.

You hissed at the slight pain that he inflicted onto you. Noticing your reaction, Rody pulled away and pecked your bruised lip, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it..." He whined and kissed down your chin, "Forgive me?" Rody's hands traveled under your shirt to caress your skin underneath. You gasped, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rubbing your hardening nipples. Rody trailed his lips down to the side of your neck, gently nibbling on the skin.

You felt yourself get pushed back against the wall while his knee moved to go in between your legs. Rody pressed himself closer to you, letting his thigh rub against your core. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you..." He cooed into your ear, "Pretty boy..." Rody praised as he suddenly pinched your nipples. You bit your bottom lip to stifle your moans, too embarrassed to let anything out.

But Rody wasn't having any of it. "Let me hear you." He said blankly, and before you knew it, his hand was inside your pants, already thumbing at your engorged clit. "Come on, pretty boy... I'll make you feel so good... Just let me hear your voice..." Rody encouraged you in his velvety smooth voice.

You threw your head back as an unexpected moan slipped past your lips, and a grin spread across Rody's face. "Atta boy, keep going." He removed his hand away from your chest and started to undo your pants, pulling them down to pool on your feet along with your underwear.

Rody took his time to admire you and your sopping cunt that was just begging for his attention. With a quick lick to his lips, he sunk down to his knees in front of you, and placed both his hands onto your thighs to keep them open for him. "Haven't tasted a sweet thing like this in a while..." He whispered in awe, "300 years ago, I'm guessing?" You quipped with a breathless chuckle.

Rody furrowed his brows and slapped your pussy, which made you whine, "If you're mouth's able to retort, then I'm guessing it can moan too." He grumbled as he then buried his face into your cunt. Your eyes widened, immediately reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair as he licked a stripe up your vulva.

You felt Rody close his lips around your throbbing clit harshly sucking and licking it. Your thighs shook, begging to close and push Rody away from the stimulation, but his strong hold prevented that. Rody placed his knee on your pants— the only thing that served as restraints for your ankles— and removed his hand from your thigh to gently tease your hole by circling around it with his fingers.

You whined, practically begging him to push it in, and when he did, a loud moan erupted from your kiss swollen lips. Rody chuckled against your heat, and sucked on your clit, the sounds of your wetness against his tongue making you cringe. Rody pumped his fingers in and out your pussy, curling and hitting all the right places in just the perfect angle.

Rody inserted another finger, his thick digits rubbing your gummy walls as he harshly finger fucked your pussy. "So lewd...~ Your pussies so wet, it's practically dripping down my hand..." He teased, and pulled his mouth away from your clit, instead using his other hand to swish his fingers side to side on the engorged bud. The sensation made you squeal, desperately trying to close your thighs around his hands but he stopped you.

"Whoa there, keep them open." Rody furrowed his briws and fingered your pussy faster. Tears rolled down your cheek from the pleasure, a small whimper sounding from you as you pulled Rody closer to your cunt. Without a second thought, Rody went back to licking your clit, wanting to overstimulate your senses until all that was left of you is a crying and moaning mess.

He thrusted his fingers even quicker at this, "Look at you... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already crying..." He cooed, his hands tightening around your thigh as he licked his lips. You blushed at his words and immediately covered your mouth, getting too flustered by his teasing. You were getting so close, and it was driving you insane—a heat started to pool at the pit of your stomach, stating your impending release.

Rody grunted and suddenly pulled his fingers out—slapping your clit harshly. Your eyes widened as you let out a slutty moan, and before you knew it, you squirted all over him. Your thighs shook from how hard you came, your whole body turning to putty in his hold as more tears escaped from your eyes. With a cry, you glanced back down at Rody, only to see him staring up at you with the same shocked expresson on his face.

"Did you just cum from having your pussy slapped?" He asked, a small grin forming on his face. You sniffled and looked away in embarrassment, "N-No..." Rody chuckled and leant forward to kiss your cunt softly as a small apology for slapping it, "It was kinda hot, don't worry sweet boy." He praised and rose to his feet.

"Think you're ready for me?" Rody asked as he kissed your lips gently. You gave him a slow nod, and he smiled, "Alright." He undid his pants and belt, along with his underwear and let them pool on his feet. Rody was now half naked in front of you, his impressive size standing tall. It was probably the biggest cock you've ever seen. Probably the only cock you've ever seen, rather.

He placed his hands under your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Making sure to let your pants and shoes fall to the floor first so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, "Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" Rody reassured you, and your eyes widened. You placed a hand on his chest, "W-Wait, that's it? You're just going in with no protection?"

He paused and stared at you blankly, "Babe, I'm a demon, not a prostitute. I didn't know I was gonna end up fucking someone today, of course I don't have a condom." Rody said in a monotone voice, as if it was already common sense. "If you're that worried, I can pull out... Don't worry." He whispered and pecked your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gulped, "O-Okay..." You nodded. Rody positioned himself against your hole, rubbing the tip against the lips and smeared the precum all over your pussy. "Fuck, you're even wetter than before..." He chuckled and gently pushed the head of his cock in.

Your hissed at the stretch, immediately tightening around Rody when he pushed more of his length in. "S-Shit, don't tighten so much! I-I can't even go any further...!" Rody panted, closing his eyes at the warmth that wrapped around his weeping dick. "Just... Breathe for me, okay?" He massaged your ass, waiting for you to relax so that he could bottom out inside you, but for now, he remained unmoving.

You steadied your breathing, holding onto him tightly, and slowly nodded. Rody took this as a sign to keep going. He noticed he wasn't even halfway in, before he decided to just fuck it—and suddenly pushed himself in fully in one go. You gasped and cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes at the pain and pleasure that pooled at the pit of your stomach.

Rody moaned into your neck, rubbing your thighs to soothe the pain. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweet boy... It's just that, I couldn't take it... I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..." He kissed all over your shoulder, and slid a hand over to rub your clit in order to distract you from the pain.

You could only scratch at his back as your toes curled, "You're doing so good..." Rody whispered praises into your ear, waiting for you to adjust to his size. It was the least he could do for bottoming out harshly.

After a while, you gave Rody a nod. He put his hand back under your thigh, and slowly pulled out until only the tip was left inside, before pushing back in gently. A shudder ran down your spine at the pleasure that spread through your body.

Once he saw your positive reaction, Rody kept going at the pace he set; slow and steady. You gripped onto Rody tighter, strings of moans falling from your tongue as he kept thrusting. One particular thrust hit your g-spot head on, and Rody adjusted his angle so that he could hit it everytime. "You're so tight... So perfect for my cock..." He grunted into your ear, gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled all the way out and gave a harsh thrust into your sopping pussy.

You threw your head back and cried, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Rody's wings flexed behind him at the pleasure, his own moans and groans stringing out from his mouth. "S-Shit...! N-Need to change your position..." Rody suddenly pulled out your heat, and put your feet down the ground. He turnt you around, and pulled your ass back against him and positioned himself once more, before he thrusted all the way in and continued his harsh thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out as you clawed at the walls. "R-Rody...!~" You squealed and looked down at your stomach, seeing a visible bump that formed whenever he thrusted into your tight cunt. Your eyes grew cloudy from the tears, and you reached down to press on the bump, finding pleasure in knowing he was so deep inside you.

You heard Rody laugh from behind you, "What? You like how I'm so deep inside your pussy?" He asked as he spanked you which made you sob, "Fuck, I love this pretty hole of yours..." Rody groaned and fucked you faster. He leant forward, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. Rody reached down and started rubbing your clit in timed with his thrusts, which caused you to shriek and shake your head. "N-No..! It's too much...!" You cried and babbled, your head turning into mush the more he fucked you stupid.

Rody pulled and rubbed your clit faster at your words, "You're close... Right? I'm close too..." He groaned, whimpering as he reached out to place his hand over your own against the wall. You panted like a bitch in heat, and sobbed, "R-Rody... C-Cum in me...! Please!~" You begged, unable to think straight anymore from the way Rody was bullying his cock into your cunt.

You were reduced into nothing but a toy for Rody's pleasure. Rody's eyes widened at this, and his thrusts faltered for a second, but you shook your head and let out strings of insistent 'no's. "P-Please keep going, keep going...!~" You pleaded. He was hesitant, but the way you were looking and begging... It was too much.

Rody groaned and pulled back, pushing your cheek against the wall with his hand, and fucked your cunt faster. His balls slapping against your pretty pussy lips, "You asked for this... Not me...!" He moaned loudly, feeling himself come closer to the edge.

Rody's thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy, before he gave one last thrust, and came inside you. You came right after him—squirting all over his fat cock. You drooled all over the wall as you closed your eyes from how hard you came. Rody panted and chuckled breathlessly as he stared at you, "You did so good..." He whispered and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

You tiredly reciprocated, whining when you felt your shared release dripping down your thighs. Rody pulled away and rubbed your sides, "You'll give me a five star

review right?" He grinned. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, "Is there even an app for this shit?" He pouted and nodded.

"Yeah, there is. It's called deviliscious."

"You're lying."

"Okay, yeah, I am."

"Just pull out you asshole."

@ shirakow ; Reblogs are always appreciated <3 it's like 5 am as I'm editing this and I haven't gotten any sleep .

ㅤ

#rody x male reader #rody x reader #rody lamoree #rody #dead plate #dead plate rody lamoree #dead plate x reader #dead plate x male reader #dead plate rody x reader #ftm reader #male reader #x ftm reader #rody x ftm reader #rody lamoree x ftm reader #devil rody lamoree #devil rody x reader #. . . 𝘀𝗵𝗶.𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 ?

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redflagshipwriter · 11 months ago

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check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next?

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically.

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet.

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.”

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games.

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him.

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized.

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged.

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???”

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?”

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.”

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted.

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.”

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.”

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started.

#dead on main #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc fanfic #red check yes

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bokettochild · 4 months ago

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much as I love it in fics, the main reason I don't really write Legend and Marin reuniting is this-

Grief changes people

If Marin came back, by whatever means, she'd know Link was still out there, somewhere, whereas the vet has no hope of seeing her, and while that wound is still newly scarred, it still is scarred; he's already started healing, he's already accepted what he's lost. Yes, it hurts. Yes, her memory still lingers. Yes, the guilt of being the reason she's gone is still very strong, but the guilt associated with her and the pain of her loss are two separate emotions, even if they do have some cross-over.

More than that though, he's had to keep living with that guilt and loss both. He's been on more adventures and lost other people and faced struggles and changed, both in small ways and major ones.

Meanwhile Marin, whatever reason you give for her return, has likely only grown up a little bit in their time apart, not anything major.

Still, while Legend loves Marin, by now it's more the memory that he loves, and he, meanwhile, is no longer the boy she loved herself. If they met, it wouldn't be immediate hugs and adoration.

Legend would be wary, suspicious of her. He's dealt with shape-shifters wearing the faces of his loved ones before after all. And Marin? Marin would be treated to the harsher side of a man who's been hardened by hurt and loss in her absense.

It would be a very difficult, very painful reunion, and with that in mind, it's unlikely they would hit it off immediately again. It's highly unlikely that either of them would come to terms with it quickly. It would be awkward, slow, and wary, and they'd both have a lot to work through before any attention could be turned to a romantic spark they'd had when they first met.

#late night thoughts when i'm alone lol #ketto's brainfarts #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu marin

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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in the shadows II a.putellas x sister!reader

based around this request here - haven't decided if i like or hate this yet? but here we go! in the shadows II a.putellas x sister!reader

"mija! can you get the door please?" you heard your mami yell out from the kitchen as the knocking first sounded. "why? they have keys." you called back, quite invested in the latest episode of your favourite drama.

"just get it por favor!" you rolled your eyes and flicked the tv off, hauling yourself off the sofa you'd been lazing out on with a grunt and a stretch.

"vale! i'm coming jesus christ." you groaned as the knocking continued, pulling the door open with a deep seeded scowl of annoyance.

"i hope the wind changes and you are stuck like this, permanently ugly." alba teased, pinching your cheek and pushing past you making a beeline for the kitchen.

"alba!" your eldest sister huffed, being left with all of their luggage as you rolled your eyes. "gracias pequeña." alexia sighed as you helped her bring everything inside, kissing your head and pulling you into a hug. "hola." you mumbled into her shoulder as she echoed back the greeting.

"alexia!" you groaned as you tried to pull away only for her to hold on tighter. "no i never get to see you anymore, i am making up for lost time." your sister stated firmly as she started to walk toward the kitchen causing you to stumble as you were still held captive in her arms.

"you are so needy, i saw you like two weeks ago!" you struggled in her grip, truly no match for her strength. "you once used to love and appreciate me, worshipping the ground I walked on and following me everywhere always wanting me around, i remember those days." alexia sighed dramatically, gently smacking your cheek with her hand.

"get off!" you huffed, eventually pushing her away only to be pulled backwards into yet another hug. "are we sure she is not adopted mami?" alba asked, wrapping your arms around you as if you were wearing a straight jacket and holding them firmly behind your back as you wriggled to break free.

"sí she hates affection, like an alien." alexia joined in with a smug grin as you tried to kick and hit your sisters shins. "how do you have a girlfriend? so miserable and angry all the time, maybe we should give her a medal for putting up with you." alba teased, kissing your cheek as you huffed and struggled to break out of her grip, a head shorter than her.

"she still cannot get free, so cute." alexia joined in, cooing and pinching your cheek as your teeth snapped at her. "oh the biting phase is back, watch out." alba grinned as your legs lashed out wildly trying to connect with either one of them.

"i'm only like this around the two of you because you never leave me alone!" you grunted, bucking and kicking hopelessly much to the amusement of your older sisters who had always found pleasure in teasing and picking on you.

thats not to say they would ever allow anyone else to push you around though, that role firmly occupied only by them and they'd been fiercely protective of you your entire life in every other aspect.

"vamos, let your sister be." eli waved to the two of them with a disapproving look. you were let go and immediately launched at whoever was closest which in this case was alba, chasing her into the living room.

"do not break anything!" eli yelled out as a war cry was heard and something crashed to the ground, thumps and grunts echoing as the two of you rolled around wrestling like children on the living room carpet.

now a few days before christmas you were all due to spend the holidays together, cramming back into your family home which always lead to some sort of squabble between the three of you when you were forced to live on top of one another for the week.

"go make sure they do not kill each other please." your mami sighed a few moments later when you and alba were yet to return, alexia pushing herself up and setting off to find wherever the two of you had dissapeared to.

your relationship with both of your older sisters despite the teasing and the age gap was always incredibly close, and had only seemed to get better now none of you lived together anymore, alexia busy with her football career, alba with her job and you with law school.

well, you used to be.

"-no you need to tell her. we cannot keep this up forever!" alexia paused by alba's bedroom door which was slightly ajar, frowning at the hushed voices coming from inside.

"not forever! just not over the holidays, you know mami is already stressed with everyone coming over and she always sends herself sick and crazy preparing and cooking and cleaning. its not the right time alba!" you whispered back with a firm shake of your head.

"when will be the right time? you have made excuses for weeks now and you are making me lie because you're living with me instead of at school. someone will find out and then i get in trouble for not telling anyone you dropped out!" alba warned sternly as alexia's eyes widened and you both jumped as the door flew open.

"you dropped out of law school?" you withered under the piercingly sharp glare of your eldest sister as alba hurried to close the door again.

"ale-" you started but fell silent at yet another angry look flung your way. "when? do not lie to me." your sister warned firmly as alba sat back on the bed with you.

"five months ago." you answered honestly, even alba's eyes now bugging out of her head and she smacked your arm. "joder! you told me three weeks ago. where the hell were you living?" she scolded, both their gazes burning into you.

"with mariana." you again answered honestly. "oh when i get my hands on that girl. she should have known better than to let you drop out, i bet she encouraged it!" alexia scoffed shaking her head.

"yeah well you won't need to worry about seeing her again to kill her because we broke up." you mumbled, gaze dropping to the floor as you picked at a loose thread on your shorts, the ripped denim edges now suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

"oh great! so you drop out of school, move in with your girlfriend, your girlfriend breaks up you and then you move in with alba and make her lie to everyone." alexia laughed but it was a bitter noise which stuck in the back of her throat, your eyes snapping up toward her.

"why do you assume she broke up with me?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper as alexia failed to hear but alba didn't, her frown melting from one of anger to concern.

"ale." alba warned quietly, catching the new look you were sporting as your fists balled by your side. "no! you do not get to defend her and coddle her alba. everyone makes excuses for her!" your eldest sister warned sending the brunette beside you quiet, but it didn't stop her hand from finding yours, gently forcing it out of a fist and squeezing it supportively.

"you are always going on about how everyone treats you like a baby. well look at how you act!" alexia gestured wildly with her hands.

"you're supposed to be smart. to study and learn and finish school, then get a great job, help people and help make change like you wanted to. you have so much potential hermanita why would you just throw that all away? do you not care about your life? your future? a career?" alexia lectured, voice growing louder as your eyes flickered nervously toward the door aware your mami was only a few feet away in the kitchen.

"alexia i-" you tried to answer her questions but it would appear they were rhetorical as she held up a finger silencing you. "you are going back to school. do you know how much even a year costs? no you don't because you didn't pay for it! and you promised me." alexia hit you where it really hurt as your face crumpled.

when you'd first floated the thought of law school it had been on the floor of her apartment, the three of you laid down on the floor the night she moved in testing out the new white shaggy rug alexia had insisted on buying for the place she'd bought after she signed a new contract with barca.

you hadn't finished high school yet but you hardly needed to try, you'd always been smart, book smart anyway, and you passed through school with ease. much to the infuriation of your friends who spent hours and hours studying for tests you'd finish a half hour early and that was after you'd already gone through all your answers twice to double check.

"how many years is law school?" you'd asked suddenly, both your sisters sending you a perplexed look as you rolled your eyes and snatched alba's phone, your own out of reach on the counter as you googled your question.

"why?" alexia pushed herself into a sitting position to look down at you as alba grabbed her phone back and flicked your ear for taking it.

"just thinking." you shrugged, moving your hands behind your head. "about going to law school?" alba had asked now as again you shrugged.

"maybe. oh! can get we get sushi for dinner?"

for the weeks that followed that night you continued to do your own research, hauled up in your room reading through the different kinds of law, lengths of study, different schools, but all of that came screeching to a halt when you'd looked at the cost.

though you'd tried to keep it to yourself there wasn't much you could get past alexia. alba was much easier to lie to or manipulate as you needed but your eldest sister seemed to have been born with a built in lie detector.

which was part of the reason you'd avoided her so much these last few months for fear of her finding out you weren't in school anymore.

but it was just after you'd graduated when of course the questions started. what would you do now, where did you see yourself in a few years time, what were your goals for the future? and all accompanied by the growing pressure of your families boasting that you were so smart you could go anywhere and do anything.

only, you couldn't do the one thing you actually thought you might be good at.

you'd applied for a scholarship without telling anyone, a last final hope that maybe you could make something work. but when you got the letter back in the mail informing it had gone to a different applicant you'd abandoned the thought all together.

but of course there was one person who saw right through your attempts to evade the questions and the compliments, alexia.

you'd all just finished having dinner after your graduation ceremony, the table of your family and friends loud and rowdy all drinking to celebrate you as you watched on with a smile, your eldest sister knocking her knee against yours.

nodding for you to step outside with her you'd followed, the two of you slipping away to the balcony of the restaurant which given the late hour of night was a lot quieter as you exhaled and relished in the momentary peace.

"so, law school." alexia had started, catching you off guard as the walls you'd had up all night when it came to the questions of your future faltered for a moment. "the scholarship did not go through." again, she was right on target.

"how did you know i even-" you frowned and shook your head in bewilderment as she only shrugged, refusing to disclose an answer. "its the cost nena, sí?" alexia spoke, softer now as you hesitated before nodding and exhaling, the walls tumbling down.

"you have to pay for the first year up front. then the next two years you are put onto a program where you do not pay until you graduate and start to work. like a debt! it gets paid off overtime with interest. but that first year alone, it is too much." you admitted with a shake of your head as alexia only hummed.

"please don't tell mami. she would do something stupid like sell the car or mortgage the house again for a loan, she has already given up so much for us." you pleaded quietly, eyes baring into hers as the taller girl looked away.

"ale please! i am already looking into other scholarships for other courses, other schools, other options." you begged, which wasn't a lie. "no." your sister replied simply as you deflated, looking upwards with a deep sigh.

giving up on the conversation you stood from your chair to head back inside, intending to enjoy one last night of peace before alexia would force you to come clean to your family.

"ay hermanita." your sisters hand grabbed your wrist, nodding for you to sit back down. "no, you will go to law school." alexia corrected as you took your seat, sending her a frown. "ale i already said-" her hand silenced you.

"i will pay for the first year." alexia stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument though you were never one to listen to her. "no you will not!" you scoffed, again trying to stand and leave but she tugged you back to your seat.

"alexia." you sighed deeply as her hands found yours and forced you to look at her. "hermana, you are so smart. smarter than me, than alba, than most people i know! you have so much potential it is a waste for you not to use your mind to learn and to do good because of something like money." your sister spoke kindly but firmly, eyes locked with yours.

"you are not going to drop this, are you?" you asked, lips hinting at a smile. "no, you know me better than that." alexia smiled smugly, dropping your hands to pull you into a tight hug. "and you really need school if you cannot even win an argument with me. some lawyer!" alexia teased softly.

"i don't even know what to say ale." you exhaled shakily as your sister kissed your forehead, lips lingering there.

"start with a thank you hermana. we can call it your birthday and christmas present for the next...ten years." alexia mumbled against your skin as your body vibrated with laughter against hers. "thank you, thank you so much."

"but pequeña promise me you will make the most of it. that you will go and you will learn and do great things, greater than any of us." alexia stared down at you as you nodded, promising her with a smile.

the moment was interrupted by alba bursting outside as you broke apart, slinging her arms around both of you with a cheer and a lopsided grin.

"vamos hermanas! time for shots."

"that is not fair alexia. i never asked you to pay." you spoke up again, standing to your feet with a frown as alexia scoffed. "you might not have asked but you also did not do much to fight me on it, did you?" alexia bit back, squaring up and taking a step forward as you refused to back down.

"are you even going to let me speak? or just talk at me, after all i know how much you love the sound of your own voice capitana." you spat, tone now laced with venom.

"vale! i think we should all just take some time and some space to calm down before we continue." alba stepped in, trying to push her way between the two of you sensing it was bordering on ugly.

"and how could you let this happen! you kept her little secret and you did nothing to try and change her mind?" alexia instead turned her anger on her other younger sister who pulled a face.

"alexia you have not even heard her out for five minutes. i have had three weeks of conversations with her hermana, you are not being fair." alba defended you, having reacted similarly when you'd first come to her and realizing her mistake once you explained yourself.

"fair! whats not fair is her giving up the moment something gets hard. you found school easy but not everything will be easy for you! that is what being an adult is, if you want to be treated like one." alexia attempted to push her way past alba who held firm despite being the shorter of the two.

"ale that is enough. walk away, calm down and hear her out afterwards." alba spoke calmly again, though you knew both of them well enough to see she was near to meeting alexia at the same level of anger.

"no! i have never been so disappointed in you, ever. i thought i was investing in you and your potential but if you are so happy to throw it away and drop out of school? fine! but what a waste it was then." alexia spat, glowering at you as hurt flashed across your face.

"you dropped out of school?" all three of your heads whipped to the door which was now open again, your mami standing there with a face like thunder as you shrunk, wishing a sinkhole would form and swallow you up.

"mami-" you started as alba and alexia stepped away from one another, all the anger which had once radiated around the room sucked out in a second.

"no. come!" she pointed for you to step outside as your body deflated and you made your way out of alba's room, the older girl moving to follow but eli held up her hand again.

"you two stay here, fix this." she ordered, gesturing between them before pulling the door closed as her footsteps sounded in the distance. a pause of silence passed where you could have heard a pin drop, before the sound of eli's yelling echoed through the house and both alexia and alba winced at the harsh catalan bouncing from wall to wall.

neither girl spoke a word sat side by side on alba's bed as they listened in to the entire lecture, not hearing you even say a single word back before a door was heard slamming and there was silence again.

sharing a look both older girls left the room, finding your mami dishing up lunch. "eat please." the woman instructed calmly as they both sat down at the table. "where is she?" alba spoke first as eli took her own seat.

"your sister went for a walk." the woman answered curtly, anger still present in her voice as alexia remained quiet, picking at her food and ignoring the looks sent her way by her sister across the table.

lunch being painfully awkward the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening again as you stepped inside, alba the only one to look toward you and noticing your red and puffy eyes where you'd clearly been crying.

"mami." you tried, the woman ignoring you as she continued to eat. "mami por favor, can we just talk about this?" you requested softly, voice dangerously close to breaking.

"mami please, at least look at me." you all but begged, voice cracking as alba tore her own eyes away unable to watch as yours filled up again with tears.

but when again you received nothing in return you deflated even further, shoulders slumping as you dropped your keys on the counter and silently made your way to your childhood room, door closing with a gentle click.

"mami." alba frowned, the woman pushing her chair back with a scrape, collecting their empty plates and wordlessly walking to the kitchen.

"mierda!" alexia swore as suddenly alba kicked her under the table with a glare. "puta." the older girl spat back rubbing her shin which started to throb. "this is all your fault, big mouth." alba huffed, pushing back her own chair and heading for your room.

but as hours passed she was unsuccessful in trying to coax you out or to let her in, your door remaining locked and the entire family on edge, a frosty silence falling throughout the normally bright and joyous home.

alexia seemed unfazed, laying on the lounge watching the barca men play, arms crossed and a placid look on her face. "ale!" she looked up at the call of her name. "i'm going to the store mija." eli informed as her daughter nodded, the older woman out the door before she could even blink.

"what?" alexia sighed as alba appeared again, blocking her view of the tv with arms crossed. "you know what." her younger sister retorted. "how is this my fault? she is the one who made all the mistakes, mami was going to find out eventually anyway!" alexia defended herself as alba rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote, flicking off the tv.

"alba!" "alexia!" her sister mocked in the same tone, taking a seat beside her. "well if you won't hear her out, i will talk." and with that she spent the next ten minutes explaining everything alexia had failed to hear from you, the blondes stony features softening.

"oh." was all she managed to get out. "oh!" alba repeated sarcastically, shoving the older girl.

"see? now do you see why this is your fault? you didn't give her a chance to speak and you did not see her when she came home before ale, you did not see her break when mami ignored her." alba shook her head.

"you need to fix it. and today! we cannot be like this over the holidays." alba warned as alexia nodded in agreement, at a slight loss for words for once.

when again alba was met with silence as she knocked gently and called out your name, alexia took over and opened your door using a butter knife to easily pick the lock. but when the door popped open, they were only met with an empty room and an open window.

"i know where she will be."

"alba leave me be por favor i am not in the mood." you warned with a sigh, hearing the footsteps approach you from behind. your body tensed as they stopped beside you, the taller girl taking a seat on the sand but taking caution to leave a reasonable gap between the two of you.

"no way." you scoffed quietly, moving to stand and walk away before alexia grabbed your wrist. "please. i am not here to argue or to yell, just to listen." the blonde promised softly as you tugged your hand free and gave her a cautious look.

"i promise hermana."

not finding the same burning anger from before present in her eyes you took a seat again, scooting a little further away and tucking your knees to your chest as the wind picked up a little.

"did you pick the lock?" you broke the silence first, refusing to look at her as your eyes remained locked on the horizon. "sí. did alba show you how to sneak out?" alexia asked, also staring out at the water with a slight smile.

"years ago." you answered, having been caught once by alba when you were trying to get out the front door to go to a party she for once had taken pity on you, showing you how to safely climb down the side of the house and out the back gate when you were just fifteen.

granted she did also use that particular instance to blackmail you into doing her laundry for a week, so really pity may have been the wrong word to use.

"good, i showed her first." alexia smiled properly now, pulling her hood over her head in an attempt to block out the wind whistling sharply through her ears.

"so. alba told you?" you again broke the silence which fell, eyes dropping to the ground as you traced patterns in the sand with your fingers. "i would like to hear it from you." alexia spoke, her stomach knotting up at the memory of the harsh words she'd slung at you hours ago.

"you weren't completely wrong, school was hard, really hard." you started with a sigh and a frown, focused on the sand beneath your fingertips. "none of my friends are studying, they all chose to take gap years and travel, together." your tone shifted, a slight bitterness to it.

"leaving you behind." alexia spoke softly, glancing toward you as you nodded. "i just-" you started, clearly struggling to get your words out. "i don't not like school, its hard but i want to be a lawyer, i think." you continued, shaking the sand off your hand.

"all of my teachers speak about how much of a commitment law is once you are licensed to practice and once you start in a firm." you looked back out to the ocean, well aware of your sisters eyes boring into the side of your head.

"i have to do two hundred hours of placement minimum, a hundred hours each year after the first. and i just...i am only twenty one alexia, i like learning about law but i do not want to be a lawyer right now." you admitted, chin resting on your knees as you fingers picked at your shoe laces.

"so you dropped out." alexia had only already put the pieces together but wanted you to know she was listening. "yes. but they hold my place in the course for a year, that is the bit that nobody ever lets me explain." you murmured, voice barely above a whisper and almost snatched away in the wind.

"oh pequeña, i should have let you speak." alexia mumbled, guilt wracking her body as you hummed. "i am so so sorry hermana you were right not to tell me, i just messed everything up." alexia sighed deeply, rubbing her face tiredly.

"yes you did. mami won't even look at me!" you puffed air from your nose, stabbing the sand angrily with your finger. "we can fix that, i will fix this." alexia promised, taking her chances as she moved to be right by your side, relieved when you did not make an attempt to move.

"i have a job you know? thats what i've been doing since i left, just working and saving." you confessed, still stabbing at the sand and refusing to look at your sister.

"i work reception at a dental clinic, not far from your apartment actually." you chuckled a little at that though you were never too worried about running into her. you knew her training schedule too well and the chances of the alexia putellas stepping foot in a public dental clinic was slim to none.

"i am going to save up enough to pay you back, it will take time but i will pay it back, all of it." your face hardened again which didn't go unnoticed by your sister who frowned. "pequeña-" she started, a hand coming to sit on your knee which you pushed away.

"no, you cannot change my mind. i am not having you hold it over me for the rest of my life alexia. i wish i had never said yes!" you warned, finally meeting her eyes though it broke your sisters heart to see the obvious pain and trouble swirling behind them.

"hey i wont-" "you already did alexia. or have you gotten so old you fail to remember conversations a few hours ago? if you can even call yelling at me a conversation." you reminded sharply, frown set back into your face as you shuffled away from her slightly.

"i am not old." was all she retorted back in offence, causing a small snicker to escape from you as your features softened slightly. "you're basically thirty, that is halfway to sixty." you mumbled, hint of a smile on your lips which dissapeared as quickly as it formed.

"i am twenty nine." her arm stretched out to shove you lightly, eyes on the horizon and a smile on her lips. "still old, should be in a museum." your own arm shoved her back, sharing a quick glance of amusement momentarily.

"know what will be in the museums? all of my trophies." she smirked as you rolled your eyes. "they will need to pry them from mami's cold dead fingers first, or get to them before alba sells them all on ebay." you joked, the frostiness from before beginning to melt slightly.

"i should make a list, she really will sell them." alexia sighed with a shake of her head. "probably already has, or some of your smelly boots and match shirts." you smiled, your sister shaking her head beside you.

"i do not want you to pay me back hermanita." the conversation shifted as you now sighed. "ale-" you tried but she cut you off. "no. at least not yet, if you really want to i cannot stop you. if you decide to go back and you become a big fancy lawyer we can talk about it then, but promise me you will not use your savings from the last few months." alexia warned firmly, your head turning to look at her.

"promise me." she repeated, holding out her pinky. "really?" you gave her a look. "sí, unbroken agreement." she wiggled her finger as you sighed and gave in, locking your own with hers as you both leaned in to kiss your hands.

"i really am so sorry pequeña. i said some very nasty things, i did not mean them but i still said them and that wasn't okay. but i love you very much and i did mean it when i said you are smart, so so smart." alexia again moved closer as you kept her gaze.

"but your life should be yours to do with it what you want, and if that is not law that is okay. you could do anything! the world is yours if you want to take it." alexia smiled sincerely which you finally returned, settling her anxiety.

"i think i am going to travel for a little bit, see more of the world." you spoke up, alexia nodding as you both looked back out to the ocean, your head falling to her shoulder. "you should, it is beautiful. so long as you come home afterwards!" she nudged you with a grin.

"maybe, i might fall in love with the world and never want to come back!" you teased as your sister scoffed. "there isn't a corner of the world where you could hide from me hermanita." she threatened playfully, a gentle hint of insecurity in her voice.

"i would always come home. i'd miss alba too much!" you shrugged, alexia pushing you with a glare. "what? we had all those years at home together when you were off playing football to bond, you're second on the list now, maybe even third if we're including mapi." you grinned, your sister pulling you into a headlock.

"i am always number one, i even have it on a trophy!" alexia reminded with a smirk as you struggled to pull away. "i was six when i gave that to you!" you protested, flinching as her fingers dug into your ribs eliciting a loud laugh to fall from your lips.

"you used to follow me around everywhere, my little shadow." the blonde smiled fondly and let you up as you huffed and fixed your hair.

"i didn't know any better!" your eyes rolled as you halfheartedly punched her shoulder. "and besides you hated it! you used to always tell me off and yell at me to go away." you chuckled at the memory.

"now its you yelling that at me, full circle." alexia mocked, pinching your cheek and draping her arm over your shoulder pulling you into her side, a comfortable silence falling once more as you both watched the waves crash.

"do you remember when you tried to drown me here?" you spoke up, a smirk ghosting your lips. "i did not try to drown you!" the older girl protested sending you a glare.

"you dragged me out past the waves and threw me in, before i knew how to swim!" "sí, and what happened? you learned to swim, you are welcome." "that was not a thank you."

"so what happened with mariana?" alexia questioned curiously. "nothing." you shrugged lightly, the look of disbelief having you roll your eyes.

"if she cheated or she hurt you or she left you or anything, i will take mapi and we will take a baseball bat and we will-" alexia started to explain as you pushed her hands down where she had started to demonstrate just what the baseball bat was for.

"no! nothing like that. when i moved in with her after leaving school things just sort of...fizzled. i think we just saw too much of each other and we decided we were better off as friends, we still talk sometimes but not very much." you confessed honestly as alexia pulled you into another hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"vamos pequeña we should head back. i need to speak with mami, i will fix my mistake." alexia promised as she pushed herself to her feet, holding out a hand to help you up.

"alexia!" you huffed as she started to pull you up but let go, sending your body tumbling ass first into the sand with a grunt. "you always fall for that." your older sister snickered, turning and starting to walk away.

"puta." you mumbled under your breath, standing up and brushing off the loose sand before catching up to her. "never gets old." alexia sighed happily sending you a smirk as you shoved her, the two of you falling into step.

"know what is old though? you." "joder, i am only twenty nine!"

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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lazarus-james · 1 month ago

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finished jentry chau last night and i have a lot of thoughts. SPOILERS AHEAD.

the good (broad strokes because there's so much to like in general!):

production quality is off the charts: fantastic animation, beautiful fight scenes, lovely character and world design, music perfectly complements the whole vibe. great style as well!

satisfying narrative arc: no cliffhangers, we get an A to B story line with character growth and progress. jentry ends the series as emotionally more mature than she starts.

interesting characters and engaging exchange and dialogue between them that mostly felt believable and realistic for teens this day and age.

the bad (my gripe in a nutshell):

the showrunners' decided to favor making the show work to what they'd prefer over cohesive character choices. (like they were trying to manipulate jentry's character around hitting plot points, instead of vice versa.)

jentry's forgiveness isn't consistent for her character.

the showrunners decided that the narrative would be more dramatic when/if she didn't forgive others.

gugu lied to her all her life about SO many things. we're given her reasoning, which we're meant to understand and relate to (she didn't want jentry to hate her/her parents), and because jentry loves gugu, she forgives her. i do not forgive gugu! she lied to jentry for 16 years about EVERYTHING.

this ties into how moonie is still alive as well. gugu knew! she could've EASILY have tracked her down. so she CHOSE to never try and reunite them. and MOONIE knew she was jentry's mother. how could you do that to your daughter? and jentry forgives moonie because she loves the POTENTIAL of her mother. what the fuck! i do not forgive moonie! she CHOSE not to be part of her life.

then we come to the only other person who begged for forgiveness for their secrets hurting her.

kit. he lied about who he was and his intentions. however, out of the him, gugu, and moonie, kit is the only one who does not intentionally obscure jentry's ability to figure out his secret, as in jentry is not forced to act for him to confess his truth. with gugu's secrets, she had to work to uncover them, and with moonie, jentry had to work to find her.

he is the only one who comes clean to her after putting his life in danger to save hers, and there's no way he doesn't know how fragile his painted skin is. he KNOWINGLY went to save her from the fire and risked his identity being blown because she was that important to him. (i remind you his death words started with "everything i did was for me." LIKE SAVING HER THEN??? THAT WAS FOR YOU???)

and how does jentry react? poorly, yes, because she hates lies (because of gugu).

but even after that, kit is never actually forgiven. in fact, jentry uses him, and then abandons him when she achieves her goal. it felt so drastically out of whack for her character that i wondered what was happening. then he is ostracized by her, and she rejects even his friendship and acts cold to him. she cuts him off.

it really doesn't make sense for her to not even want to be his friend. she bonded with him during the doppelganger experience. they WERE friends then. then she says she wants to be normal and pursues michael even when he admits to her HE isn't normal. so that's not it either.

only the narrative is what forces her not to forgive him because the showrunners need to hit the plot points of him betraying her and him needing to sacrifice himself later. (which i would argue his sacrifice really doesn't make sense at all. if you watch that scene when kit dies in her place, WHY would he even pretend to be her? if jentry had just worn the robes instead, she would've been able to defend herself as quickly she donned them as is shown after kit-jentry is attacked. it was a needless sacrifice!)

gugu is forgiven in this same episode for her lies. why can jentry forgive gugu and not kit (prior to the betrayal)? it just doesn't fit for her character.

jentry then goes on to immediately forgive moonie for never getting into contact with her. moonie ALSO lied to her her entire life. but somehow this is forgiveable now because it works with the narrative and the plot points.

anyway. that's my biggest gripe with the show.

instead of building the narrative around jentry's character, the show built a narrative and manipulated jentry's character to make it work.

also...

the mogai-human-form design was weirdly sexist?

when possessing mr. cheng, the mogai-cheng form is ugly and malformed and disproportionate. he is not conventionally appealing or attractive. he is not the same size or shape as cheng appeared. he is wearing clothes.

when posessing jentry, the mogai-jentry form is curvaceous and slim and appealing to look at. this form is conventionally attractive. she is the same size and shape as jentry appeared. she is not wearing clothes.

all of these are choices the showrunners made. they could've made mogai-jentry much more unappealing, but they didn't. for some reason, keeping her "attractive/cool" was the choice over what the design could mean. they did make her look dangerous, i guess?

#jentry chau vs the underworld #my thoughts #narrative over character mistake #spoilers #jentry chau

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drenchedfireworks · 3 days ago

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ELUCIEN | FAKE DATING MODERN AU

The one where Graysen cheating on Elain makes her want to extract revenge and her best friend is conveniently available.

Rated: 18+ (cuz smut) MDNI.

(I've been writing this for months and the difference between reading the smut I've written when I'm ovulating vs. when I'm not is just...enlightening.)

"L-Lucien!"

The groan in response had Elain throwing her head back as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, sinking deeper into her dripping cunt.

"Knew the bastard had never treated you right." Lucien was growling against her ear, pounding into Elain relentlessly as she pulled his face down to kiss him.

If someone had told Elain a few days back, hell, even a few hours back that she would be having the most soul-snatching and phenomenal sex with her best friend, she'd have laughed in their faces. Now, pinned underneath him as he drew out her sixth orgasm after she had already passed out twice in between, Elain wasn't so sure anymore.

Lucien had always been perfectly mannered and gentlemanly, never crossing any lines- not a single time in the six years Elain had known him. But as he held her down, whispering lewd comments and profanities under his breath, Elain wasn't sure she knew him at all.

All she did know was that, riding his face had been one of the most life-changing experiences she'd ever had. And she'd die if she never got to experience it again.

"Lucien...Lucien, I can't I can't I can't" Elain was sobbing as Lucien took her entire breast in his mouth, pulling her nipple taut in sync with reaching between them and rubbing her clit.

"Yes, love" He told her, pulling back to stare into her eyes as he slowed his pace to hit her deeper, draw out her orgasm longer before he reached down and sealed his lips to hers "You can."

Her moans were muffled as Lucien kissed her so hard it was like he was trying to drive her into the mattress while she clenched around him so tight, it was definitely painful if Lucien's answering groan was any indication as they came together.

Dazed and spent, Elain finally had breathing room as Lucien pulled himself off her but hovered above, leisurely kissing her as her fingers ran through his long hair that had come undone over the course of the night where they hadn't stopped in...4 hours.

It had all started as some petty revenge and Elain couldn't believe how far she had gone because of it. When she'd seen Graysen parading the girl he had cheated on her with around, openly and unabashedly, it had enraged Elain to the point that she'd actually flung some cutlery around.

It was two years of wasted effort and a deep sense of embarrassment that he had moved on, but she was still stuck in the humiliating loop of the entire ordeal. So, when her sisters suggested getting back at him in a way that was both effective and satisfactory, Elain had only one person in mind for it.

Graysen had hated Lucien's guts from the moment they'd met. Elain didn't know if it was because of Lucien's visible wealth or because of his evident pure-bred grooming. Whatever the case, he was perfect for it. But Elain hadn't been sure how to convince him of it.

When she'd finally gotten around to it, Lucien had all but laughed, agreeing almost immediately. It threw her off that he would be willing to go so far for her just for the sake of getting back at her ex.

But Lucien hadn't said a word, just rolled up his sleeves revealing those delicious forearms of his with the protruding veins, sat her down on his lap, those thick thighs making it hard for Elain to properly adjust herself on either side or smoothen down her skirt. He had handed her phone to her, guiding it towards the floor length mirror and helping her perfect the angle before his fingers ghosted under her shirt and he hid his face in the crook of her neck.

Elain's hands trembled as she took the picture, letting the phone cover her face but the entire setting was too intimate for two people who were just friends. She was positively delirious from the light touch of Lucien's warm fingers on her skin, his breath against her hair and his close proximity. She had taken a few more pictures before she gasped when Lucien's mouth connected with the side of her neck. It was a split second; one she didn't even properly register but Lucien was already plucking the phone out of her hand and swiping.

"I like this one" he told her, his warm breath fanning against her cheek as he showed her the last picture.

Elain let him post it.

It was safe to say, it broke the internet. She had only meant for him to post it as a story on his Instagram, but this man had gone ahead and shared that picture with all 760K followers of his.

A picture of Elain on his lap, face hidden by her phone as Lucien kissed her neck with a hand under her shirt had more than 150K likes.

It had taken Graysen less than a day to text her, a screenshot of Lucien's post attached to the message.

This is the best friend you told me to not to worry about?

Elain didn't bother deigning him with a response. Her mission was accomplished, and she felt a lot better.

So, why in God's good name could she not stop herself from coming up with absurd reasons to keep this farce going on for longer?

For Elain, that post wasn't anything. But for the world, Lucien belonged to one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country. Sure, his controlling father was dead, and no one mourned him, and Eris gave all his younger brothers much more leeway than they had ever gotten but for Lucien to be so generous for some petty scheme on her end... it made her question her entire friendship with the enigma that was Lucien Vanserra.

It didn't help that she had always been oddly drawn to him, attractive and unbearably sexy that he was. Always immaculately dressed and groomed, charming and so so mouth-wateringly handsome.

When she brought it up with her sisters; Feyre, who had been friends with Lucien even before Elain, shrugged "Did you ever entertain the idea that maybe he likes you?"

Elain had laughed but sobered up when neither Nesta nor Feyre joined "You can't be serious?"

But they were and like the previous time, prompted her to test the theory.

It felt weird not being able to ask Lucien outright what his intentions were. She'd always been able to talk to him about these things and it felt unsettling to tiptoe around him.

When she innocently asked if he would be up for a few more pictures (that she would post this time), Lucien had shrugged and agreed without giving it a single thought.

The next few weeks were spent posting all sorts of deceptive pictures on her very public account. A hand on her thigh that was recognized as Lucien's almost instantly because of his signet ring. One of a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Another of a candlelight dinner. Of two champagne glasses. A shot of them walking around holding hands.

Very quickly, not only had she started gaining followers by the thousands, but her Instagram feed was filled with pictures of her best friend parading her around like she was his girlfriend for real. All she'd done was explain how it bothered her that Graysen was engaged to the girl he had cheated on her with, and Lucien had taken care of the rest.

Her sisters would swoon whenever a new picture dropped, and her comment sections would be flooded. Her sisters were proving their theory right and to the world, they were an ideal couple. Privately, Lucien had best friend duties as he tried to make her ex eat dirt.

But she could read between the lines. Lucien had remembered her favorite flowers when Elain had probably mentioned them in passing once. The candlelight dinner was set up on a beach near the waters which was on Elain's bucket list. He hadn't stopped holding her hand on the entire walk. Lucien had not removed his hand from her thigh after she had taken the picture, he'd just left it there like she was his real girlfriend.

And Gods, with how good he had treated her, she wanted to be.

She just didn't know what to tell him. For Lucien, she was sure he was just dutifully fulfilling his responsibilities as a long-time best friend. She didn't know how to tell him she loved acting like he was her real boyfriend.

When Vassa's party came around and Elain spotted Graysen in the crowd heading towards her, she was sure she was going to be sick. Three seconds before Graysen reached her, an arm had encircled around her waist and pushed her flush against the side of a firm body.

"Graysen" Lucien had greeted, his smile conveying all the malice he felt.

"Lucien" Graysen returned, eyes immediately dropping to his arm around Elain's waist "Long time."

"Not long enough" Lucien had responded "How's the cheek?"

Elain fought to hide her smile, turning her head and burying it into Lucien's expensive three-piece suit when she remembered that Lucien had punched Graysen on Elain's behalf when they learned of his infidelity.

"I knew you were always jealous of me; you bastard" Graysen had spat at him from his place on the floor.

"Then you would know how this turn of events delights me"

At the time, Elain had assumed Lucien was talking about finally getting to punch Graysen, something he'd been offering to do for a long time every time she complained about her douchey boyfriend. As she recalled that and compared them with recent outcomes, she wasn't sure.

Before Graysen could get another word out, Lucien was already leading Elain away. With a start, she realized it was away from the party as they ascended the stairs together.

All for a show. All for a show. All for a show. All for a show. Elain repeatedly reminded herself.

"How far are you willing to take this, Elain?" Lucien asked, an amicable expression on his face to cover up the seriousness of what he was asking.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Elain realized he still believed she was doing everything, all of it, to one up her ex-boyfriend. But somewhere between her request and the first picture they'd taken, lines had blurred for her.

"Till he thinks death is a sweeter alternative to watching me with another man"

"In that case..." Lucien's voice drawled as he led her down the hallway till they were shrouded in darkness, far away from the party and any illumination the full moon was providing.

His head suddenly dipping too close to hers would have had her moving away but Lucien's grip on her waist tightened "He's right there, near the staircase. Watching"

Elain's breath caught as Lucien leaned in closer, grabbing the back of her head "Put your hands on my shoulders" When Elain did that, he instructed further "One hand near my..." He trailed off when Elain grabbed his nape, rising to her tiptoes and pressing her body flush against his.

"I get it" She whispered under her breath as Lucien changed positions, pushing her against the wall and trapping her in between the concrete and his body.

With the angle, Lucien's hands roaming all over her body as Elain rhythmically tightened and loosened her hold on his neck, it was hard to tell what exactly they were doing in the dark.

"Thank you" Elain finally whispered, looking up at him through her lashes, his face mere inches from hers "For going along with this and doing all of this for me despite knowing how silly it is"

Lucien didn't say anything. He watched her in a contemplative way, his gaze darkening when Elain's tongue peeked out to swipe against her lips as she continued watching him.

"Elain" He finally said.

"Yes?"

"Stop looking at me like that unless you want to really partake in what we're pretending to do here."

Elain didn't stop looking at him.

With a tortured groan, Lucien swept down and captured her lips with his, pressing her into the wall while simultaneously lifting her face for better access. Elain moaned at the feeling of his teeth nibbling on her lips before they parted for him, and she gasped when Lucien wasted no time in plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her, so she was suspended in the air, legs wrapping around his trimmed waist as she met him stroke for stroke. Lucien released a deep groan in his throat when Elain bit his lip and then soothed it with her tongue.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as they breathed heavily still staring at each other before Lucien pushed her against the wall again, claiming her lips once more, unable to stop his hands from exploring the expanse of her body.

Elain's hands were on his face, memorizing the smoothness of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw as she opened her mouth further for his intrusion.

When they pulled back a second time, Lucien's lips had latched onto the side of her neck, kissing the secret spot below her ear that made her dizzy and gasp against the sensation. Before Lucien's lips latched onto her again, she managed to ask.

"Is he gone?"

Lucien paused as if he had been doused with cold water and he immediately dropped her back onto her feet, pulling back and creating space that Elain was beginning to hate.

"I think so" Lucien noted the empty spot near the staircase while he simultaneously held his handkerchief out to Elain for her to wipe her lips with. She stared at the handkerchief incredulously before swatting his hand away.

"Don't give me that" She grit out, eyebrows furrowing at his closed off stance.

"He's gone so I think we're safe to go downstairs now" Lucien was saying, his face set in stone, so in contrast with how he had looked at her only moments ago.

Before he could make a move to leave, Elain was grabbing his arm and dragging him into one of the empty rooms in the hallway before slamming the door closed behind them and locking it.

She whirled at him, enraged that he still thought she was only using him "I only asked-" She grit out, advancing on him "Because I didn't want to give my cheater of an ex-boyfriend a front row seat to whatever we were doing"

"What were we doing, Elain?"

When Lucien didn't say anything else, just watched her, Elain took his hand in hers "What we did-" She paused when she realized not putting a name to it could upset him further "-Kissing you. That was of my own volition, not based on some inane need to flip the bird to my ex. I liked kissing you, Lucien. I..." She took a deep breath as she met his eyes "I like you."

When Lucien remained quiet and contemplative, with dawning horror Elain realized that maybe she was wrong, and he had only been doing everything out of the goodness of his heart. Springing this on him, oh God, she was cornering him.

She snatched her hand back from where she'd been gripping his as words tumbled out "But that's just me. I- I just wanted to tell you" She took a step back "It's probably because you've been so nice to me" Another step back "It'll go away in a while" She gave a pathetic laugh.

"Elain, where are you going?"

With a start, Elain noted the wood of the door grinding into her back. Before she could answer, however, Lucien's hand shot out and grabbed her arm before he pulled her against him once again.

"Don't think you can run away after saying all that."

"I- I wasn't...that's not what I was-"

"Say it again"

"What?"

"The part where you liked kissing me."

Elain's cheeks were tinted red as she avoided his eyes, fiddling with her fingers "I liked...kissing you."

"Why?"

"I... like you" She whispered.

"Elain, look at me."

"I can't!" She cried, the embarrassment at being so horribly wrong flooding over her.

When all attempts to get her to look at him failed, Lucien lowered himself to her height to finally look at her.

"I like you too, Elain. I like you a lot."

Elain's rising smile was smothered down by Lucien's lips on hers as he lifted her with an arm under her ass, making her squeal into his mouth as he walked them to the bed. He dropped Elain onto the mattress, watching her for a moment as she looked up at him with a flushed face and a glowing smile.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Elain nodded because he had. He had picked her up tonight and stood and stared when she'd opened the door wearing a tiny, red number with a modest neckline which was open at the back all the way down to her waistline. She had worn her highest heels and was still considerably shorter than Lucien, a fact she secretly loved.

As he advanced on her, Elain moved further back on the bed "Then let me tell you how you're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

"You're not so bad yourself" Elain quipped teasingly before she squealed as he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back down to the edge of the bed.

"Such a fucking tease" he told her between kisses as he shed his jacket and Elain's fingers worked on untying the knot of his tie.

When she finally managed to pry his shirt open, her mouth dried at the sight of his perfectly tanned and chiseled muscles, openly gaping at his washboard abs and the v-line disappearing into his pants.

"Like what you see?" He taunted making Elain push at his shoulders till their positions had reversed. With a single tug, Elain pulled her dress up and over her body, leaving her in her red, lacy lingerie.

"Good God"

Elain had never truly known what it was like to be the recipient of a look like that till Lucien had come along. He looked like he'd been wandering in the desert for far too long and just found an oasis. She was his oasis.

"Elain..."

"Lucien, if you don't kiss me right this-"

He was already tugging her down, turning them over as he pressed his entire length against her, drawing a shudder from Elain while he kissed her. He kissed her like he was trying to imprint himself on her. He was kissing her for all the times he couldn't.

Elain gasped when she felt his knee against her clothed pussy, rubbing circles that made her feel faint. She thought she could come from that sensation alone.

"Behave, Elain" Lucien chided, almost like he knew where her mind was at, his fingers roaming the expanse of her back as he unclasped her bra, kissing a path down the valley of her breasts and finally pulling the flimsy material away with his tongue.

Elain made an attempt at modesty but Lucien never let her arms reach down to cover herself. Pinning them above her head, Lucien's jaw tightened when he took in the perfect shape of her tits, the peaking nipples.

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

She didn't and she told him so. Lucien responded with reaching down and tugging at her breast with his teeth, making her back arch "Elain Archeron.." He soothed the sting with his tongue "You are every man's biggest desire and wettest dream. Do you know how much self-restraint I've had to exercise around you all these years?"

"Here I thought you were a gentleman" Elain lightly teased.

Lucien retorted by slapping her breast making her gasp "Walking around in those tiny clothes with that body, it's like you loved testing my limits. Last Friday, I almost bent you over the kitchen table"

That was partially Elain's doing. She had been testing a theory by walking around in the tiniest night shorts she owned with a camisole that was practically see-through. Lucien had shown no visible reaction except the occasional sigh but she'd assumed it was because she had subjected him to watching romcoms with her.

"You acted like you always did" Elain pouted in sham disappointment.

"I rubbed one out in your bathroom when you went to make more popcorn" Letting her arms go and taking each of her breasts in a palm, Lucien massaged them as he lowered his face again to lick a path up to her throat "Only to come back out and see you bent over the kitchen floor trying to do God knows what"

"I spilled-" Elain gasped when Lucien settled on her breast again, taking the entirety of it in his mouth "-soda"

"I don't fucking care, Elain. All I could think of was you in that exact same position, sitting on my face"

When Elain went quiet, Lucien pulled back to check her reaction, noting one of surprise.

"Fuck" Pulling himself off her, Lucien kneeled over her "Don't tell me Graysen never went down on you?"

"H-He had a thing.." Elain shrugged, arms automatically covering herself in a state of vulnerability "I just thought it applied to how most people felt about..y'know, oral"

Lucien didn't even wanna know if Graysen had made her go down on him. Grabbing her hand, Lucien pulled Elain upright before lowering himself onto the bed and pulling her over him. It was only when he grabbed her thighs and dragged her towards his face that Elain expressed alarm.

"You don't have to do anything just to one up Graysen"

"If I was on deathrow, eating you out would be my last request. Come here"

Clamping both his arms around her thighs, Lucien firmly planted her over his face, her soaked underwear the only barrier between his tongue and the place Lucien wanted it the most.

"You're soaked, baby" Every word against her pussy was a vibration that made her see stars.

Reaching up, Lucien tore her underwear, the sting making Elain gasp and pull on his hair.

"Lucien, I don't-"

With the first swipe of his tongue, Elain forgot what she was saying.

Lucien ate her out like she really was his last meal. He licked a clean swipe from the bottom to the top before capturing her clit between his teeth and tugging. Elain thought she'd black out as she cried out for him, her body bending over his head as she grabbed onto the sheets.

"Lucien!"

"I gotchu, baby" When he hit the spot, Elain's hips bucked forward but Lucien's arms around her firmly sat her back in place.

"You're going nowhere"

And he didn't let her. Not as she rode out her first orgasm, his name a prayer on her lips. Or as her second orgasm rolled into the first one, Elain going slump against him as he licked all of the juices leaking out of her, rolling her onto her back.

Elain's entire face was red, and she didn't think she had it in her to move an inch, but her hands moved up to free Lucien's hair from the band holding it together, pulling him toward her.

"I love your hair" She confessed.

"Yeah?" Elain tasted herself on his lips as Lucien tangled his tongue with hers.

"The volume makes me envious"

Lucien laughed between kisses, unhurried as he caressed her body, rubbing lazy circles on her clit making her eyes flutter and mouth fall open. When she sighed, her eyes barely open and lips swollen, Lucien was gone.

"You're driving me fucking crazy" He groaned against her throat, trying to relieve some of the tension in his pants by grinding against the mattress.

"Let me...help" Elain whispered, hands wandering low till Lucien grabbed onto them, pinning them above her head.

"As much as the thought of that delights me..." Lucien's belt snapping open sent shivers running down her spine "I've waited six years to have you, Elain. Don't make me hold back any longer"

Elain watched him lower his pants, boxer shorts following as she took in his erect length, her mouth drying up at the sheer size and girth "Gods, I want you"

"Say that again" Lucien ripped the wrapper off the condom with his teeth as Elain watched him roll it on with hawk eyes.

"I want you, Lucien Vanserra"

With a groan punctuated with her moan, Lucien sank into her, bracing an arm against the bed to steady himself. Elain's eyes rolled to the back of her head, teeth sinking into the cushion of her lip to hold herself back from screaming.

Lucien had never exercised self-restraint like he did as he waited for Elain to adjust, holding himself back from moving. He was trying to take it easy, make love to her and not fuck her raw and dirty like animals in heat. When Elain rolled her hips and tightened against him, Lucien was positive he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Lucien..." Even her breathy voice was enough to make him finish like a pubescent teenager "Please..."

He didn't need any more invitation as he intertwined their fingers, dug all his body weight into hers, sinking into her inviting warmth to the hilt and pulling out almost completely. Elain was delirious, eyes almost closing at the sensation before they shot open when Lucien hit that sweet spot inside her. The slow and deep strokes he was going for were torture, but Lucien vowed he wouldn't treat his first time with her like a quickie.

Till Elain dug her fingers deep into his scalp and connected their foreheads, speaking right over his lips "Now is not the time to be a gentleman, Lucien. Fuck me like you mean it"

It was like she flipped a switch in him. Something about the mean look in his eyes had Elain more aroused than ever.

When he pulled out completely, Elain whined. Both at the loss of him and his body heat. But Lucien just pulled her off the bed and pinned her over the vanity table.

"I wanted to do good by you, Elain" He lifted one of her legs on the table, stretching her in a way that he would never be strong enough to resist "But you test me every time. Watch" He lifted her face to the mirror in front of them as he sank into her from behind, Elain's head falling against his shoulder "Watch how good I fuck you, baby"

When he started moving against her at a pace much rougher and faster than before, Elain felt herself falling forward but Lucien grabbed her around her mid-section holding her up as she cried out for him, his other hand rubbing circles over her clit.

"Look at yourself, Elain" Lucien urged, grabbing her jaw and holding her face up.

In the middle of her hazy, foggy mind, Elain did register her flushed cheeks, her bruised but perky breasts, the multiple hickeys around her neck and she felt good about them. Lucien felt good. Towering behind her, holding her up with those strong forearms, he looked nothing short of a sex God as sweat glistened his tanned skin that contrasted against her pale one.

She had to take a long moment between his thrusts to actually find her voice "You-" She was already going to combust "You feel so good"

Flattening his fingers on her tongue, Lucien watched as Elain wrapped her tongue around it, panting and moaning, her eyes fluttering shut as Lucien massaged her breasts in tandem.

Her eyes flew open when Lucien delivered a sharp spank on her ass, sending her hips bucking into the edge of the dresser "Eyes on me when I fuck you, Elain"

When she finally neared her orgasm, chanting his name like a prayer he'd all but driven her up the dresser, her face smushed against the mirror with Lucien panting into her hair as he repeatedly hit her sweet spot and applied pressure on her clit.

When one orgasm rolled into another, Elain didn't know. She didn't have any recollection of how Lucien got her back on the bed either, just that he felt too good, and she never wanted him to stop.

Somewhere between her ass being in the air as he pounded ruthlessly into her from behind, holding her hands captive and going slow, edging her orgasm out for hours, Elain had already passed out twice. It was brief, she hadn't even realized it had happened till she awoke to Lucien between her legs, and she never wanted to wake up any other way again.

It was only after Lucien rolled off her that Elain turned to him, automatically resting her head against his bicep. It was funny how something as simple as her perfectly slotting against his side when Graysen and she had been awkward angled whenever they cuddled could make her this happy. That Lucien made her so happy.

"Tell me you like me again" She asked him when he turned to her, pulling her on top of him.

"I like you, Elain Archeron" he said immediately, without missing a beat "And I want to be your boyfriend. Officially"

"I don't know. It's not exactly easy filling that role. It comes with a lot of responsibilities and tasks that I'm not sure you're up to" Elain shrugged in sham pity.

"Are you being coy on purpose?" Lucien twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, something about the mundane activity so intimate.

"Just letting you know what you're signing up for"

Lucien smiled as he leaned in for a kiss and saw Elain already moving towards him too "Don't worry, love. I have prior experience in that department"

"Really? And how was the feedback?" Elain asked between kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You tell me" With that, he flipped her on her back.

____________________________________________________

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #rhysand #feysand #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain x lucien

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honeyhae-svt · 25 days ago

Text

🎮 05 | Double Trouble-Maker 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Mentions of parental loss and illness (reader’s backstory), light emotional angst and introspection, subtle romantic tension (love triangle elements), intimate moment (making out in a car), light teasing and subtle jealousy. wc: 10,347 ♪ playlist ♪: my love (lee hi), arcade (duncan laurence), almost is never enough (ariana grande) a/n: nothing to say. if the plot isnt plotting, then feel free to leave. no smut this chap sorry. i want to focus on their emotional conflict. enjoy tho !

You stayed quiet for too long, your jaw clenched and face burning red as you listened to Jeonghan and Wonwoo trade thinly veiled barbs at each other. The others didn't even bother hiding their reactions. Seungkwan was failing miserably to hold in his laughter, his muffled cackles loud enough to make your ears burn more. Hoshi, on the other hand, didn't even try—he was doubled over, howling like this was the best thing he'd seen all week. The rest of the group glanced at you occasionally, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

But it wasn't until that moment that you snapped.

Jeonghan had casually leaned in, slinging his arm over your shoulder as he delivered yet another snide comment, this time laced with an overly sweet tone.

"Remember that day, Wonwoo? Oh, wait, you wouldn't know. You weren't there, but she was."

Wonwoo's response was immediate, sharp, and dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, and I'm sure you didn't overcompensate at all, Hyung."

It was too much.

"That's it!" You shoved Jeonghan's arm off your shoulder and stood up so abruptly your chair screeched against the floor. Both men froze, eyes snapping to you as your voice cut through the room. Without another word, you turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

The room was dead silent for half a second before Seungkwan leaned over, whispering loudly to Vernon, "I'm betting five thousand won (3.50 dollars ig) they both go after her."

Vernon smirked, crossing his arms. "Bet."

As if on cue, Jeonghan and Wonwoo moved at the same time, practically tripping over each other in their rush to follow you. The door swung shut behind them, leaving the group in a fit of laughter.

Outside, your hands were trembling as you fumbled with your phone, trying to text Seungkwan to tell him you were leaving early. But you couldn't even hit send. Your chest was tight with frustration, embarrassment, and a simmering anger you couldn't quite sort out. They'd been throwing intimate moments around like some kind of twisted inside joke—right in front of everyone.

You thought maybe, just maybe, they'd leave you alone after that.

You were wrong.

"Wait!" Jeonghan's voice was the first to cut through the sound of your hurried footsteps.

"Slow down," Wonwoo added, his tone quieter but equally persistent.

You didn't stop, didn't even look back. But their footsteps quickly caught up with yours.

"Y/N." Jeonghan's hand brushed your arm, but you yanked it away, spinning around to face them. Both men skidded to a halt, looking startled by the fire in your eyes.

"Do you ever stop?" you snapped, glaring between them. "I mean, do you two actually hear yourselves? You're embarrassing! You act like children—and for what? To see who can one-up the other? Congratulations, you both win. You made me look like a complete idiot back there."

They exchanged a glance, and for once, neither had a snarky comeback ready.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "Look, if you two are going to act like this, at least talk it out. I don't care what your problem is—just deal with it. But don't drag me into it."

Before either of them could reply, you jabbed a finger toward the nearest empty room. "In there. Now."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You're bossy when you're mad. It's kind of cute."

"Jeonghan, I swear to God—"

"Fine, fine," he cut in, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We'll talk."

As soon as you left for them to talk, the room plunged into silence, the weight of unspoken words settling like a heavy cloud.

Jeonghan was the first to break it, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning on, his expression sharp but amused. "Well," he started, his voice cutting through the quiet, "that went well."

Wonwoo didn't bother responding at first, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. The tension between them was palpable, and Jeonghan wasn't one to let things simmer for long.

"So," Jeonghan continued, his tone casual, but his words edged with purpose. "Let me guess—you've got a thing for her, huh?"

Wonwoo's scoff was immediate, though his grip on his hoodie tightened. "That's rich coming from you," he shot back, his voice low but biting.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head. "What can I say? She's... captivating. You don't meet someone like her every day."

Wonwoo's glare could've burned a hole through him. "Stop talking about her like she's some shiny new toy you're trying to claim."

Jeonghan's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing. "And what about you? You've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room since this tournament started. You're not exactly subtle, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo opened his mouth to snap back, but Jeonghan wasn't done. "Let's cut the crap," he said, his tone turning serious. "This isn't about me versus you. It's about her. And you're the one acting like you don't know what you want."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Wonwoo looked like he might lash out. But instead, his jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"Maybe it is about her," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But that doesn't mean I trust you."

Jeonghan's expression softened, though the sharpness in his eyes remained. "I'm not asking you to trust me," he said evenly. "I'm asking if you're ready to be honest about how you feel. Because if you're not..." He let the sentence trail off, shrugging lightly before adding, "...then don't blame me for stepping in."

Wonwoo's fists clenched at his sides, his silence heavy with conflict. Finally, he muttered, "I don't want to hurt her."

Jeonghan's demeanor shifted, his usual cockiness giving way to something more genuine. "Neither do I," he said quietly. "But maybe we should stop pretending this is about her feelings, and start being honest about ours."

The silence that followed was deafening, neither man willing to look the other in the eye.

And for the first time, it wasn't clear who was going to walk away first—or if either of them would at all.

You sat on the bench outside the venue, fiddling with the straps of your bag, trying to calm the swirl of frustration, embarrassment, and confusion in your head. Jeonghan and Wonwoo? Together in one room? Talking things out? It felt like a fever dream.

Still, as you glanced back toward the building, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe—just maybe—they were finally clearing the air and dealing with whatever macho competition had been brewing between them.

You imagined them sharing grudging apologies, hashing out their differences, maybe even shaking hands. You chuckled to yourself at the thought of Jeonghan being earnest for once and Wonwoo dropping his stoic, sarcastic walls. Yeah, right.

Little did you know, what was happening inside was... entirely different. You guessed.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall, watching as Wonwoo paced back and forth like a man on a mission. "You're awfully restless for someone who claims to have things under control," Jeonghan quipped, his smirk returning.

Wonwoo shot him a look, but it lacked his usual bite. "You're not exactly calm either. You've been throwing out every lame joke you can to avoid talking seriously."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe because talking seriously isn't exactly my thing. But hey, you're the one who dragged me into this 'let's talk' moment."

Wonwoo stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll say it." He hesitated, then finally blurted out, "She's amazing, okay? She's smart, funny, infuriatingly stubborn, and—and—"

"Ridiculously hot?" Jeonghan finished for him, his tone so casual that Wonwoo nearly threw something at him.

"Will you stop? I'm being serious."

"And I'm agreeing with you. Have you seen her? Of course she's all those things."

Wonwoo groaned, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. "This is pointless. We're not solving anything."

Jeonghan shrugged. "What's there to solve? We both like her. That's obvious."

"Yeah, but it's not like she's picking sides," Wonwoo muttered.

Jeonghan's grin turned sly. "Or maybe she's just waiting for us to make the first move."

Wonwoo glared at him. "You're impossible."

Jeonghan tilted his head, a flicker of something more genuine crossing his face. "You know, for what it's worth... I don't want to screw this up for her. I don't think you do either."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean I'm backing down."

Jeonghan chuckled. "Didn't expect you to." He held out a hand. "Truce?"

Wonwoo eyed the hand suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Jeonghan said, his smirk returning. "I just think we owe it to her not to make this more complicated than it already is. At least for now."

After a moment, Wonwoo took the hand, shaking it firmly. "Fine. Truce."

You glanced up as the door to the venue opened. Jeonghan and Wonwoo stepped out, walking side by side—together.

Your eyes widened. "Wait... are you two... good now?" you asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan flashed you his signature grin. "Of course! We had a nice little heart-to-heart."

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. We talked it out."

For a moment, relief flooded you. "Oh, thank god. I thought you two were going to kill each other."

Jeonghan slung an arm around Wonwoo's shoulders, his grin widening. "Nah, we've got bigger things to focus on."

Wonwoo shot him a warning look, but Jeonghan just winked at you.

You frowned, sensing something was off. "Wait... what exactly did you guys talk about?"

"Oh, nothing," Jeonghan said breezily, stepping ahead toward the parking lot. "Just priorities."

"Yeah," Wonwoo added, walking past you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Important stuff."

You stood there, dumbfounded, as they both walked off, their casual banter already picking up again.

Priorities? Important stuff?

You didn't realize it, but the two men had left that room with one unspoken agreement: they weren't just rivals anymore. They were rivals with one very specific goal.

You.

You exhaled deeply as you settled into your gaming chair, finally back home. After today's debacle, you needed a distraction. Firing up your streaming setup, you set up a Valorant session for your followers—nothing too serious, just some casual games to blow off steam.

The familiar rush of excitement hit as your viewers flooded into the stream chat. Messages rolled in:

- "omg you're streaming finally!!!" - "Who won the LoL tournament?!! spill tea pls queen" - "bestie u look kinda stressed what happened?? 👀"

You chuckled, ignoring the questions. "Hey, guys! Let's keep it chill today, okay? Just gonna play some Valorant. No, I'm not spilling any tea!" You winked at the camera, though your mind briefly wandered back to Wonwoo and Jeonghan.

Then the notifications hit. Two new players joined your party.

jeonghaniyoo_n has joined the party everyone_woo has joined the party

You froze. "Oh, no."

And just like that, Jeonghan's voice chimed in through the lobby chat. "Hi there, cutie. Streaming without us? That's not very nice."

Wonwoo's quieter but sharp voice followed. "Didn't think you'd leave us out of the fun."

Your viewers exploded in the chat:

- "wait JEONGHAN AND WONWOO ARE HERE??!!!" - "no way this is the dream team 🔥" - "omg flirting on main i cant handle this"

You rolled your eyes. "Guys, please. Let's just play the game."

But before the match could start, the party grew. Minghao, Hoshi, and Seungkwan joined in one after the other, their voices filling the lobby with chaos.

"Yah, why didn't you invite us too?!" Hoshi whined.

Minghao snickered. "I saw Jeonghan and Wonwoo join and figured I'd save kitsunya from... whatever this is."

Seungkwan? Already cackling. "This is gonna be good. Everyone ready to carry these two clowns?"

The first round started smoothly—almost.

Jeonghan immediately locked in Jett, while Wonwoo chose Omen, both vying for attention as soon as the game began.

Jeonghan: "Kitsu, I'll be your duelist today. Stay behind me; I'll protect you." Wonwoo: "Or you could stay with me. I'll make sure you don't get flanked."

You rolled your eyes. "You guys do realize we're playing Valorant, right? Not some cheesy shit?"

Seungkwan, from across the map: "Kitsunya, please, just mute them. I'm begging you."

But the chaos only grew.

In one round, you got caught in a crossfire because Jeonghan and Wonwoo were too busy arguing over whose callout you should follow.

"Kitsunya, go A!" Jeonghan shouted. "No, B is safer!" Wonwoo countered. And you? Dead in the middle of the map.

"Dude, I'm literally streaming," you groaned, your viewers spamming laughing emojis in the chat.

By the third match, Jeonghan and Wonwoo weren't even subtle anymore.

Jeonghan: "Kitsunya, did I ever tell you your crosshair placement is just... perfect?" Wonwoo: "She doesn't need compliments. She just needs someone to watch her back—unlike some people who keep peeking mid for no reason."

Jeonghan: "You jealous, Wonwoo?" Wonwoo: "Only of how bad your aim is."

Minghao sighed audibly. "I don't think I've ever played a game this exhausting."

Hoshi laughed, clutching his sides. "Oh, come on! This is comedy gold!"

Seungkwan? Already losing it. "Kitsunya, I'm watching your chat. They're saying you've got two idiots fighting over you while the rest of us are hard-carrying."

Sure enough, the chat was in flames:

- "JEONGHAN STOP FLIRTING OMG" - "wonwoo is a SIMP confirmed" - "pls these boys need to chill lmaooo" - "team chaos for the win ✨"

After a particularly close match where Minghao clutched the win (while the rest of you spectated), you muted the mic for a second and turned to address the camera.

"Guys, I don't even know what to say anymore. Is this my life now?"

Of course, Jeonghan overheard and chimed back in. "Why? Don't you like the attention?"

Wonwoo snorted. "I think she's had enough of your attention."

You muted them again, the chat exploding as you facepalmed.

- "HELP she muted them both LMAO" - "you deserve better bestie" - "team minghao carrying this team, no competition"

Finally, you sighed and looked at the camera. "I think I need new teammates."

The room erupted into laughter again, and for once, you couldn't help but laugh along. At least the chaos made for good content—even if Jeonghan and Wonwoo didn't realize just how obvious they were being. They were being such idiots.

You woke up with a groan, your phone buzzing on the nightstand like it was trying to break the sound barrier. You weren't in the mood to deal with whatever the hell was going on online, so you silenced it and dragged your ass out of bed. After a long stretch, you shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing your go-to coffee mug, already mentally preparing for the shitshow ahead.

You sat down with your cup, eyes half-lidded, but something told you this wasn't going to be a peaceful morning. You grabbed your phone again, but this time, you actually opened it.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

The stream from last night was everywhere—TikToks, memes on X, clips making the rounds like wildfire. There you were, caught in the middle of Jeonghan's flirtatious nonsense and Wonwoo's unimpressed deadpan. Fans were shipping the hell out of you, writing captions like "Who's gonna win her heart? 🥽" and "Not them fighting like she's the last healing potion in Valorant."

You clicked your tongue, scrolling through the flood of messages and tags. #StreamerLoveTriangle. #JeonghanFlirtsAgain. #ProtectWonwoo. Your inbox was a warzone of comments, DMs, and donations from people who just wanted more of "the chaos trio."

You weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. On one hand, this was kinda flattering, but on the other, your stomach churned. You had built this stream to be about you—not some messy love triangle. You were a goddamn boss in this space, not a walking rom-com plot.

The moment you opened your group chat, you could already hear Seungkwan's annoying voice in your head.

[#important stuffs-general] pledis_boos: 🤣 Did you SEE the donations rolling in last night? We're buying sushi next time and YOU'RE paying. ho5hi_kwon: Nah, you're buying us all steak. I saw those superchats. Some guy sent $500 to "push Jeonghan into the friendzone." kitsunya: im not buying you shitheads anything. especially you, hoshi the brainrot king xu_minghao_o: Capitalism at its finest. Also, @/Jeonghan, tone it down next time. She's going to start charging you for emotional labor. jeonghaniyoo_n: I'm a natural entertainer. Don't hate me because I'm charming. everyone_woo: Can you all stfu? This server is literally labelled only for important stuff. min9yu_k: Dont act like Kitsunya's not important to you, hyung

You let out an exaggerated sigh, sinking deeper into the couch. You needed a minute, and by "minute," you meant the next several hours of avoiding this shitshow.

The donations were off the charts, though. More money than you'd ever seen in your entire life—700,000 won (500 dollars) to push Jeonghan into the friend zone? That's almost worth the emotional labor, right?

Still, the situation left a bad taste in your mouth. You weren't some spectacle to be gawked at. You didn't ask for this attention, and you certainly didn't want to be anyone's entertainment. But damn, it was hard to ignore the fact that you'd made more money in a single night than you usually did in a whole week of streams.

You tossed your phone on the couch, leaning back with a dramatic groan. You were so done with this today.

But, of course, you knew you'd have to go live again sooner or later. And, hell, it was kind of fun watching Jeonghan squirm.

Later that evening, after the chaos of the stream finally died down, you were sitting on the edge of your couch, your mind racing. You hadn't replied to anyone—your friends' group chat, the millions of tags, or even the flood of donations. You couldn't stomach it. The lines between your private and public life were being erased faster than you could keep up, and you hated it.

You needed to talk to Jeonghan and Wonwoo—really talk to them. You weren't some character they could use for entertainment just to rack up donations. It was getting out of hand, and you weren't going to let them keep pushing your boundaries.

So you called them both into your apartment.

When they arrived, you didn't sugarcoat a damn thing. You crossed your arms, giving them both your best death glare.

"So," you said, your voice sharp, "the stream went great, right?"

Jeonghan's usual grin was nowhere to be found. He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, but we didn't mean to—"

You cut him off, not giving an inch. "Great? It was a circus, Jeonghan. You and Wonwoo acting like I'm some kind of prize to be won? You think that's funny?"

The tension in the room thickened. Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Wonwoo stood there, his usual calm expression replaced by something a little more serious.

"You both think this is just content—and sure, the donations are insane, but at what cost?" You took a step closer, your voice unwavering. "My privacy? My sanity? You two bickering over me like I'm some damn reality show prize? That's not cute. Not to me."

Jeonghan's posture relaxed slightly, and his eyes softened. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to cross any lines. I just... we got caught up in the moment."

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. "Caught up in the moment? You're pushing my limits for donations, and you don't even realize it."

Wonwoo finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "We didn't mean for it to go this far. But we both... we're drawn to you. It's not just about the stream."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked, thrown off balance by the honesty in his voice. "Seriously? Just because you're 'drawn' to me doesn't mean you can act like this. You think I want my whole life to be some circus show? I'm not here to entertain you."

Jeonghan stepped forward, no longer his usual cocky self. "It's not a game to me. I like you. But I respect your boundaries. We just... we got carried away. The donations, the attention... it got to our heads." His eyes searched yours, sincerity now replacing his teasing. "But I'm not here to push you into anything you don't want."

Your breath caught in your throat. The shift was sudden, and it left you feeling off-kilter. Jeonghan, the same guy who had been teasing you relentlessly, now stood there, his expression serious.

You turned to Wonwoo, whose quiet demeanor now seemed almost withdrawn. "And you," you continued, your voice softening but still firm. "I'm not your damn 'perfect match' just because you think I'm different. This is real life, not some idealized fantasy."

Wonwoo exhaled, rubbing his temple like he was trying to make sense of everything. "I get it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to make things feel like that. I was... I just didn't want to miss my chance.

You let out a long breath, still frustrated but oddly relieved at the same time. "This isn't about missing your chance, or trying to win me over. It's about being real with each other. You two want to make this work? Fine. But it's going to take more than flirting in front of a camera."

Jeonghan took a step closer, his eyes soft but serious. "I'm willing to do that. For you. I'm sorry for making it seem like this was all just for the fun of it. It's not."

"I don't know if I believe you," you muttered, your arms still crossed. "You can't just act like this one day and pull back when it suits you."

Wonwoo stepped closer, his gaze softening as he spoke. "We won't. But we can't ignore what's between us, either. It's just you. You're not like anyone else we know. That's why it's hard to stop."

The vulnerability in his voice was unexpected, and for a moment, you felt the weight of his words. "So what, you two think this is all about me?" You threw your hands up in frustration. "I'm not some fucking character for your streams. If we're going to do this, we need boundaries. I don't care how much money's involved. My private life isn't content for your views. Got it?"

They both nodded, the reality of your words sinking in. Jeonghan looked at you, a bit hesitant but resolute. "Got it. We won't push you like that again. But we still want to be here... with you."

Wonwoo met your gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "We'll figure this out. Slowly. No more games."

You didn't reply immediately, letting the moment hang between you. Maybe it wasn't perfect. Hell, maybe it never would be. But for now, it felt like a start.

You took a deep breath, letting the words spill out before you could second-guess yourself.

"Lust or sex isn't love, you know."

The room felt heavy with tension after your last words. Jeonghan and Wonwoo stood there, their usual confidence replaced with an unsettling quiet. You could almost feel their thoughts running a mile a minute, but you were too fed up to care about their reactions right now.

"I don't care if you two think you're 'drawn to me,'" you said, cutting through the silence. "Lust, attraction, whatever the hell you want to call it—it's not love. And you need to get that straight."

Jeonghan looked like you'd just slapped him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn't know what to say. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was completely still. His usual deadpan expression didn't change, but you could tell you'd hit a nerve.

You took a step forward, looking each of them in the eye. "What you've been doing, this whole game of who can get a rise out of me, it's not funny. And sure, the donations are great, but what does it cost? My privacy? My boundaries? I'm not some prize for you both to fight over. If you're thinking it's some kind of competition—"

You paused, trying to find the right words without making it feel too dramatic.

"It's not," you finished, your voice steady. "If you two really want something real, then we need to be clear. I'm not interested in playing games. I'm not going to sit here while you both try to one-up each other in front of a stream. It's messy, and frankly, it's getting old."

There was a long silence as both of them took in your words. You could almost see them processing it, like they were trying to figure out how they'd gotten it so wrong.

Finally, Jeonghan spoke, his tone softer than usual. "I get what you're saying. I wasn't thinking about it that way. I just... I don't know. I thought it was all just part of the fun."

You shook your head, trying not to roll your eyes. "This is not fun, Jeonghan. And I don't need you two acting like you're competing for me. If that's what you want, I'm out. It's not worth it."

Wonwoo, who'd been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice low. "You're right. I didn't want to make you feel like that. I don't think of you like that—like some kind of game to win. But I guess I got caught up in it too."

You exhaled, not feeling as angry anymore, but still frustrated. "It's not just about being 'caught up'—it's about respect. I don't want to feel like I'm just part of the stream, or like I'm some character you're both fighting over to make things more interesting. I'm me. And if you both want anything more than this weird back-and-forth, you need to respect that."

Jeonghan's eyes softened, and you could see he was taking this seriously now. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that."

Wonwoo's gaze was steady as he nodded. "Me neither. I was just... I don't know. But I get it now."

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were just saying what you wanted to hear or if they actually understood. It was hard to tell. But the shift in their demeanor made you think they weren't just brushing you off this time.

"I'm not asking for you to choose me or whatever," you added, your voice a little more relaxed. "But if we're going to be in each other's lives—really in each other's lives—this mess? It stops now."

There was a pause before Jeonghan finally broke it with a light, almost sheepish smile. "No more games, then. I'll keep that in mind."

Wonwoo let out a small breath, his usual reserved demeanor softening. "I'll be more careful."

You could tell they weren't exactly thrilled, but they were starting to see things from your side. And that was good enough for now.

The next morning, the bright glow of your monitor was replaced by the sterile glare of fluorescent office lights. You glanced at Jeonghan, who was a few steps ahead, already adjusting his tie as the two of you stepped into the lobby of the Yoon Corporation building. It was almost comical, seeing the same man who had bantered his way through last night's chaotic stream now radiating an air of professional detachment.

You, on the other hand, had swapped out your usual casual wear for a tailored blazer, heels that were already killing your feet, and an iced coffee that you'd clung to like a lifeline on the commute.

"Do you ever miss it?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence as the elevator doors closed behind you.

"Miss what?" Jeonghan didn't look up from his phone, already skimming emails before the day had even started.

"The gaming world," you said, leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator. "You know, when the most stressful thing you had to deal with was a toxic teammate or a bad internet connection."

That earned you a faint smirk. "You mean back when I could sleep in past seven and didn't have shareholders breathing down my neck? Can't say I don't miss it sometimes."

His words were light, but there was an edge to them that you didn't miss.

"Must be weird," you mused. "You go from carrying teammates in games to carrying an entire company."

Jeonghan finally looked up, his smile sharp and teasing. "Are you saying I carried you last night? Because I distinctly remember you being the one who couldn't land a headshot."

"Okay, first of all," you shot back, jabbing a finger at him, "I was carrying the content, thank you very much. No one was watching for your kill streaks—they were watching for my sass."

"True," he admitted, his grin widening. "But I still got MVP."

Before you could fire back, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal the pristine, glass-lined halls of the executive floor. The playful energy between you fizzled out almost instantly, replaced by the weight of professionalism. Jeonghan straightened his posture, tucking his phone away as he strode forward like he owned the place. Technically, he did.

You followed closely, the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floors reminding you that this world—his world—was a far cry from the chaos of your streams.

As you entered his office, Jeonghan pulled out a chair for you at the meeting table, his playful smirk replaced by the faintest trace of a frown. "You've got notes on the marketing proposal, right?"

"Yeah," you said, placing your laptop on the table and flipping it open. "It's solid, but I think the ad campaign could use more focus. The messaging is all over the place."

He nodded, sitting down across from you. "Good. Rip it apart in the meeting later. They need to hear it."

For a while, the two of you worked in silence, the sound of typing and the shuffle of papers filling the room. But as you glanced at Jeonghan—his brows furrowed in concentration, his tie slightly askew—you couldn't help but feel the weight of the contrast between the two versions of him. The playful streamer who cracked jokes and flirted shamelessly, and the overworked executive who carried his family's legacy on his shoulders.

"Hey," you said quietly, breaking the silence. "If you ever want to...you know, talk about it. The whole balancing-two-worlds thing. I'm here."

Jeonghan looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening. "Thanks," he said, his voice sincere. "But for now, let's just survive this meeting."

It was late—too late for anyone but the cleaning crew to still be in the office. Yet here you were, leaning against the doorframe of Jeonghan's ridiculously large office, staring at him while he sat slumped over his desk. He didn't even notice you at first, his hair falling messily into his face as he glared at the papers spread out in front of him.

You cleared your throat. "You do know that no one will care if you file those tomorrow, right?"

Jeonghan flinched, startled out of his trance. He looked up at you with tired eyes that lacked their usual mischievous glint. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

"I could ask you the same thing," you shot back, stepping further into the room. "You've been here since morning, Jeonghan. You're going to burn out if you keep this up."

He gave you a half-hearted chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "What, worried about me now?"

You folded your arms, narrowing your eyes. "I am when you look like you've aged ten years overnight. Spill it—what's going on?"

For a moment, you thought he'd brush you off with a joke like he always did. But to your surprise, he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, really. Just...family stuff. Work stuff. You know how it is."

"Yeah, no," you said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. "That vague crap doesn't work on me. Try again."

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the desk as he avoided your gaze. "I didn't want to be here," he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "In business, I mean. This wasn't the plan. Not for me."

You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. "Then why—"

"My family," he cut in, his tone sharper now. "This company isn't just a company to them—it's a legacy. Something my father and grandfather built from the ground up. And as the only son, I'm the one who has to carry it forward. No matter what I wanted."

The weight in his words settled heavily in the room, and for once, you didn't know what to say. Jeonghan—the guy who made everything seem easy, who always had a snarky comeback or a teasing smile—looked utterly defeated.

"I didn't want to leave gaming," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "That world, those friends...they were mine. I was good at it, too. Better than good. But none of that mattered when my dad got sick. I had to step up, whether I liked it or not."

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the desk. "And now you're stuck here, running a company you never wanted to run?"

He laughed bitterly. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong—it's not like I hate it. I've gotten used to it, I guess. But some days...I just wonder what it would've been like if I'd said no. If I'd been selfish."

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside. Then you reached out, hesitating only slightly before placing a hand over his. "You're not selfish, Jeonghan. Far from it. You gave up something you loved for the people you care about. That's not weakness—that's strength."

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching your face. "Sometimes, I wish I had your courage. You don't let anyone push you around, not me, not Wonwoo, not the internet. You know who you are."

You snorted. "Yeah, well, it's easier when you don't have a billion-dollar company breathing down your neck."

His lips quirked into a faint smile, the first genuine one you'd seen all day. "Still. I envy it."

You sat back, giving him space to collect himself. "For what it's worth, you're doing a damn good job, Jeonghan. Even if you didn't choose this, you're still making it work. And that says a lot."

The room fell quiet again, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was the kind of quiet that settled between two people who understood each other in a way they hadn't before.

"Thanks," he murmured after a while, his voice softer now. "For staying. For listening."

"Don't mention it," you said, standing up and stretching. "But seriously, go home. You're no good to anyone if you keel over from exhaustion."

He chuckled, the sound lightening the air. "Yes, boss."

The car ride to your mother's house had been quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional directions you mumbled. Jeonghan didn't mind the silence; in fact, it gave him a rare moment to reflect. His mind kept wandering back to earlier, to the ease with which he'd talked about himself—about his family, his regrets, the suffocating weight of being the "perfect heir."

He hated talking about that stuff. With anyone else, he'd brush it off with a charming laugh or a clever deflection. But with you? All it took was one offhanded question, and suddenly, he was spilling years' worth of baggage like it was the most natural thing in the world. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were scrolling through your phone, utterly unaware of the storm you'd left behind in his head.

When the car rolled to a stop in front of your mother's house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but paused when you noticed him watching you.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeonghan hesitated. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, so he settled for his usual fallback—a smirk. "Nothing. Just wondering if you're secretly a therapist in disguise. You've got this way of making people talk."

You snorted. "If I were a therapist, I'd be charging you for the emotional labor."

"Touché," he said, but his tone was softer, more thoughtful. "Seriously, though... thanks. For earlier. I don't usually talk about that kind of stuff."

"Noted," you said, stepping out of the car. "I'll make sure to grill you harder next time."

He laughed, leaning back in his seat as he watched you walk up the driveway. You were halfway to the door when you turned around and gave him a little wave. "Drive safe, okay?"

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in your voice. It wasn't the first time you'd said something so simple, yet it hit differently tonight. Like you actually meant it. Like you actually cared.

As you disappeared inside, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as a strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest.

He was falling for you. Hard. And it scared the hell out of him.

How did you do it? How did you manage to get the words out of his mouth, the truths he kept locked away from everyone else? You hadn't even been trying, and yet, he'd surrendered so easily. The thought alone made his head spin.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. He didn't want to think about it, not now. But no matter how hard he tried to push the thought aside, one thing was painfully clear.

He was in trouble.

After settling in at your mother's house, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping her prep for dinner. She hummed softly to an old ballad playing on the radio while you chopped vegetables, the steady rhythm of the knife oddly therapeutic. It felt good to be home—grounding, even. Here, there were no streams, no trending hashtags, no chaos. Just the scent of your mother's cooking and the warm, familiar creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet.

"You've been busy, haven't you?" your mom asked, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

"Something like that," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "Work's been... hectic."

"Hectic is good, though, right? It means you're doing well."

You nodded, though the weight of Jeonghan's confession earlier still lingered in the back of your mind. Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed on the counter. You wiped your hands on a towel and picked it up, frowning at the caller ID.

Wonwoo.

Your mom raised an eyebrow. "Work?"

"Kind of," you muttered, stepping out of the kitchen to take the call. "What's up?"

"Hey," he greeted, his voice unexpectedly light, though you could hear a hint of something else in his tone. "You free tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night? Yeah, I guess. What's up?"

"I... wanted to talk to you about something. It's nothing serious, but it's been on my mind for a while now." He sounded like he was hesitating, but you didn't think much of it.

"Okay? You could just tell me now," you teased, sitting up a little straighter on the couch.

Wonwoo chuckled, but it was low and almost nervous. "Nah, I think it's better if we talk about it in person."

You raised an eyebrow. "Alright, fine. You're being weird about this, but sure, let me know when and where."

"I'll pick you up around 7, and we'll head out," he said, before adding in a more casual tone, "Trust me, you'll like it."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips anyway. "Okay, okay. I'm intrigued. See you then."

As you ended the call and walked back to the kitchen, your mom gave you a curious look. "Boyfriend trouble?"

"God, no," you said, laughing a little too loudly. "He's just... a friend. A very particular friend."

"Hm," your mom said, clearly unconvinced but smart enough not to push it further. She handed you a bowl of chopped onions and said, "Whoever he is, he seems to care about you."

You froze for a moment, her words echoing in your head. Shaking it off, you took the bowl and returned to your task. "Let's not get carried away, okay? He just called cause he wanted to talk about something."

But even as you said it, you couldn't shake the faint tug of something more complicated—something you weren't ready to confront yet.

As you finished chopping the onions, your mind couldn't help but drift back to the phone call. "A very particular friend," you muttered under your breath, barely suppressing a smile. It was weird how much truth there was in that. You knew exactly what your mom meant, but you weren't ready to acknowledge it—at least not out loud. The last thing you needed was to have a conversation about feelings. You didn't even know what you felt, anyway.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a text from Wonwoo: "Hey, don't eat too much tonight. I've got something special planned for tomorrow."

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" you muttered, reading it over again. You stared at your phone, a little more confused than before. This wasn't like Wonwoo.

You glanced at your mom, who had a knowing smile on her face as she busied herself with the stove. "You okay?" she asked, not looking up.

"Yeah," you said quickly, though your voice was slightly off. "Just... a little strange, that's all."

"Mmhm," she hummed, clearly not fooled. "You've got a big night tomorrow. Try not to overthink it."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll try."

But as you wiped your hands on the dish towel, you couldn't help but feel that familiar flutter in your chest. Tomorrow wasn't just another night. You had no idea what Wonwoo had planned, but somehow, you knew it was going to change everything.

Work had been surprisingly productive for once—no emergencies, no last-minute crises, just a steady flow of emails and meetings that didn't make you want to pull your hair out. By the time 5:45 rolled around, you were already packing up your things, eager to leave on time for once.

Jeonghan walked into your office just as you slung your bag over your shoulder. His sharp suit jacket was draped over one arm, and his tie was slightly loosened, giving him that effortless, annoyingly attractive look that made people do double takes. He raised an eyebrow. "Leaving early? That's new."

"First time for everything," you replied, brushing past him toward the door.

Jeonghan followed, falling into step beside you. "Big plans?"

"Not really," you said casually, even though you were mentally prepping for whatever mysterious thing Wonwoo had planned. "Just... meeting a friend."

Jeonghan hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Friend? As in, Wonwoo?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant. "Lucky guess. Besides, he doesn't exactly hide the fact that he likes dragging you around."

"It's nothing," you said, feeling oddly defensive. "He just wanted to talk about something."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying you in that way that always made you feel like he could see straight through you. "At six in the evening? Dressed like that?" His gaze flicked down to your outfit—a simple yet flattering blouse and jeans combo that you'd definitely spent more time picking out than you'd admit.

Your eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said, holding up his hands innocently. "Just... seems a little formal for 'talking about something.'"

You let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not a date, Jeonghan."

"Sure," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting back a smirk. "Whatever you say."

You started walking again, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. But of course, Jeonghan wasn't done. He fell back into step beside you, his voice annoyingly casual. "You know, if it was a date, you could just admit it. It's not like I care."

That made you stop again, spinning around to face him. "I just said it's not a date."

Jeonghan raised his hands again, his smirk fully forming this time. "Relax. I believe you."

"No, you don't."

He grinned, the kind of grin that made you want to smack it off his face. "You're right. I don't."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a retort, and stormed off toward the elevator. Jeonghan watched you go, his smirk fading into something softer as he muttered under his breath, "I really don't."

The next day, you were halfway through touching up your makeup when Wonwoo texted: "Outside."

With a final glance at your reflection, you grabbed your bag and headed out. Wonwoo was leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone, but when he looked up and saw you, he froze. For a second, you thought something was wrong—until you caught the faintest flicker of surprise on his face.

"You okay?" you asked, tilting your head.

Wonwoo blinked, clearing his throat. "Uh, yeah. You look..." He hesitated, his hand reaching for the car door handle. "...nice."

You raised a brow, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Wow, such a charmer. Are you always this smooth?"

"Only with very particular friends," he shot back, his lips quirking into a rare smile.

The drive to the restaurant was comfortable—light banter here, a shared laugh there. It wasn't until you arrived, stepping into the upscale restaurant with dim lighting and chandeliers, that it hit you.

"Wait." You turned to him, eyes narrowing. "This is not a casual hangout."

Wonwoo shrugged, clearly amused. "I never said it was."

"You didn't say it wasn't either!" you hissed, suddenly hyperaware of how underdressed—you felt.

"It's just dinner," he said calmly, guiding you toward your table. "Relax."

As you sat across from him, the tension in your chest eased a little. The atmosphere was warm, inviting, and the smell of food made your stomach growl. The two of you settled into conversation, talking about everything from the latest games to the ridiculous memes your viewers had been sending.

It wasn't until halfway through the meal, between bites of perfectly seared steak, that the conversation took a softer turn.

"So," you said, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "What's with all the mystery? Why'd you drag me out here like this?"

Wonwoo looked up from his plate, his gaze steady but thoughtful. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he admitted, his voice low enough to make you lean in slightly.

"Okay...?" You tilted your head, waiting.

He hesitated for a moment, his fork idly poking at a piece of asparagus. "Have you ever felt like... you're not cut out for something, even if everyone else thinks you are?"

The question caught you off guard. Wonwoo wasn't the type to talk about his feelings—not openly, anyway. You put your fork down, sensing this was something important. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "The streams. The attention. It's... a lot sometimes. I like gaming. I like hanging out with you guys. But the rest of it? The constant eyes on me? The comments, the pressure to be entertaining all the time... I'm not sure it's for me."

You frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. "Wonwoo..."

"I'm not saying I'm quitting," he added quickly, sensing your concern. "But I've been thinking about stepping back. Maybe doing less. I don't know."

The air between you grew quiet for a moment, not awkward but contemplative.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" you asked gently. "You know you don't have to keep this all to yourself, right?"

He gave you a small, wry smile. "I guess I didn't want to burden anyone. And I thought I could handle it."

"Newsflash, genius," you said, pointing your fork at him. "You're allowed to have limits. You're not a robot."

His lips quirked up again, this time softer. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," you said smugly, earning a quiet laugh from him. "But seriously, if you need space or whatever, just say the word. We'll figure it out."

"Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean it."

The moment lingered, a quiet understanding passing between you. For a second, you wondered if this was what your mom meant last night—about someone who cared. But you shook the thought away, unwilling to overthink it.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence. "If this is your way of buttering me up to cover for you on stream, you owe me another meal. And dessert. I'm talking cheesecake."

Wonwoo laughed, the sound low and genuine. "Deal."

The cheerful noise of the arcade filled your ears as you stepped inside—buzzing machines, flashing lights, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone who'd just beaten a high score. Wonwoo handed you a cup full of tokens, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"You've got two hours to prove you're better at games than me," he said.

"Better at arcade games," you corrected, narrowing your eyes. "I'm already better at regular ones."

"Debatable," he quipped, leading you toward the nearest set of machines.

For the next hour, it was pure chaos. Racing games, air hockey, a ridiculous basketball shooting contest where you nearly tripped over yourself trying to keep up with the timer—Wonwoo didn't hold back, his competitive streak pushing you to try harder than usual.

But it wasn't until the claw machine that things got serious.

"Watch and learn," you said, kneeling slightly to get a better view of the controls. Inside, a small fox plushie sat tauntingly close to the edge, and you were determined to get it.

"You're going to miss," Wonwoo teased, leaning lazily against the machine.

"Have a little faith," you said, focusing as the claw moved into position. You hit the button, watching with bated breath as the claw closed around the fox. For a moment, it held tight—but as it began to lift, the plushie slipped free and tumbled back into the pile.

"Ugh!" You groaned, slumping dramatically.

"Told you," Wonwoo said, his voice betraying his amusement.

"Okay, genius, your turn," you challenged, stepping aside.

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles like a pro and slid a token into the machine. With meticulous precision, he maneuvered the claw, dropping it squarely onto the fox. The claw grabbed it—firmly this time—and lifted it out of the pile without a hitch. When it dropped the plushie into the prize slot, you stared, dumbfounded.

"How—what—" you sputtered as he handed you the fox with a smug grin.

"Years of practice," he said casually, like it wasn't the most impressive thing he'd done all night.

"You are so obnoxious," you muttered, clutching the plushie like a trophy. But you couldn't help the smile spreading across your face.

As you moved to another game, you found yourselves side by side, shooting at pixelated zombies on an old arcade shooter. It was easy to slip into the rhythm—aim, shoot, laugh whenever one of you missed an obvious target.

Between rounds, Wonwoo glanced at you. "So... are you feeling okay? About earlier, I mean."

You gave him a small smile, keeping your eyes on the screen. "I should be asking you that. You were the one pouring your heart out over dinner."

He shrugged, shooting a zombie in the corner. "I guess I feel a little better. Thanks for listening, by the way."

"Anytime," you said lightly. Then, after a pause, you added, "You know, you're not the only one who got into streaming for a reason."

Wonwoo didn't look at you, but you could tell he was listening. His hands stilled on the controls for a moment before resuming. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, keeping your tone casual. "It's not as deep as your fame thing, though. I just... needed a distraction. Something to keep me busy." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the weight of your words from dragging you down. "After my dad died, it was just me and my mom. She's all I have left, and when she got sick, I had to find a way to help. Streaming was just... something I could do while keeping my other job."

Wonwoo didn't say anything at first, but you felt his eyes on you, his attention unwavering. "That's a lot," he said softly. "I didn't know."

You shrugged, shooting another zombie. "I don't really talk about it. It's not like it changes anything. She's doing okay now, but... I can't lose her, you know?"

"I get it," he said after a moment. "Maybe not exactly, but... I get it."

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thanks."

The rest of the game went by in companionable silence, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics as you moved from one machine to another. By the time you stepped out of the arcade, the fox plushie tucked securely under your arm, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

Wonwoo walked you to his car, his hands in his pockets. "So," he said, glancing at you with a small smile. "How does it feel to lose at every single game?"

"I did not lose every game!" you protested, jabbing a finger at him.

"You didn't win, either," he teased, opening the passenger door for you.

"Next time, I'm destroying you," you said, climbing in.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, his voice tinged with warmth.

As he started the car, you found yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. For someone who claimed to hate attention, Wonwoo had a way of making you feel seen—and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

The ride back was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable, with the occasional hum of a soft melody from the car's radio. You fiddled with the fox plushie on your lap, sneaking a glance at Wonwoo as he drove. His face was illuminated by the glow of passing streetlights, his profile sharp, his jaw set with quiet focus.

"You're really good at this whole 'being nice' thing," you teased, breaking the silence.

Wonwoo glanced at you, one hand steady on the wheel. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I mean, dinner, the arcade, this," you said, holding up the plushie. "It's almost suspicious. Who are you, and what did you do with the guy who can barely give a compliment without looking like he's in pain?"

He laughed softly, the sound low and a little self-conscious. "Maybe I'm just full of surprises."

"Clearly." You leaned back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. "Still, thanks. I needed tonight more than I realized."

Wonwoo didn't respond right away, but you caught the faint curve of his lips, the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel as if he was working up to say something. When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of your building, he cut the engine and turned toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

"What?" you asked, suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were in the quiet stillness of the car.

He shook his head slightly, his lips tugging into a faint smile. "Nothing. Just... you're different when it's just us."

"Different how?" you challenged, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Less guarded," he said, his eyes searching yours. "It's nice."

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through your usual defenses. For a moment, you just stared at him, the air between you thick with something unspoken—something you weren't sure either of you was ready to name.

"Wonwoo—"

But before you could finish, he leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His lips brushed yours tentatively at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn't pull away, the kiss deepened. His fingers slid into your hair, his touch firm but not demanding, and you found yourself leaning into him, your hands gripping the front of his jacket to pull him closer.

The world outside faded away—no noise, no lights, just the two of you in the quiet cocoon of the car. His kiss was unhurried but purposeful, the kind that made your heart race and your mind go blissfully blank. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Well," you said after a beat, your voice slightly shaky. "That's... definitely one way to end a night."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't," you interrupted, your voice firm. "Don't apologize."

He smiled at that, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place. "Okay."

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the delicate balance of what had just happened and what it might mean. But then he pulled back slightly, his hand dropping to his lap as he gave you one of those rare, boyish smiles that made your chest ache.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

You nodded, grabbing the plushie and opening the door. Before stepping out, you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. "Goodnight, Wonwoo."

As you closed the door and headed up to your apartment, you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the quiet intensity of the moment lingering like a secret you weren't ready to share with the world just yet.

As you disappeared into the building, the door shutting behind you with a soft click, Wonwoo leaned back against his seat, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. For a long moment, he just sat there, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, his thoughts an absolute mess.

It wasn't just about the kiss. Sure, the feel of your lips on his, the way you'd pulled him closer like you didn't want the moment to end—that was enough to make his pulse quicken even now. But it was more than that. He wasn't just attracted to you—no, this went beyond the warmth of your touch or the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

This was something deeper, something he hadn't been prepared for.

He'd always been careful with his emotions, keeping them in check like a well-guarded secret. He thought he knew the limits of what he felt for you, that he could compartmentalize it, keep it safe in the category of "just friends" or "casual." But tonight? Tonight had thrown all of that out the window.

The way you'd shared pieces of yourself with him, the quiet strength beneath your teasing, the vulnerability you'd let slip when you thought he wasn't watching—it wasn't just endearing. It wasn't just charming. It was devastating in the best way. Because somewhere between the banter and the games, between the shared smiles and the quiet truths, he'd started to fall for you.

Really fall.

Wonwoo rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low groan. "Shit."

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not when you were clearly dealing with so much—your mom, your job, the shadow of your dad's memory. He'd seen the way your smile faltered sometimes, the way you carried the weight of your world like it was stitched into your skin. And then there was Jeonghan.

Jeonghan.

The thought of his old friend sent a sharp pang through his chest. He wasn't blind—he'd seen the way Jeonghan looked at you, the way his playful banter turned softer, more intentional, when it came to you. And you? You seemed drawn to him in a way that made Wonwoo's chest tighten, even if he tried to ignore it.

"Great," he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Just great."

He glanced at the building one last time before starting the car, the soft purr of the engine breaking the heavy silence. As he drove off into the night, one thought lingered in his mind, unsettling and undeniable:

It wasn't just a crush anymore. It wasn't just attraction. It wasn't just anything. It was you. And he was falling faster than he'd ever expected.

Meanwhile, upstairs, you were pacing your living room, the fox plushie still clutched tightly in your arms. Your lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had no business doing. You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch.

"What the hell just happened?"

You replayed the night in your mind—the dinner, the arcade, the stupidly thoughtful way he listened to you talk about your mom and your dad. The kiss. God, the kiss. It had been... unexpected. Intense. And, worst of all, it had felt right. Too right.

But you didn't have time for this. Not now. Not when your mom needed you, not when work was pulling you in a million directions, and certainly not when Jeonghan—damn it, Jeonghan—was still in the picture, his presence looming in your thoughts like a shadow you couldn't escape.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping you out of your spiral. It was a text from Jeonghan.

DM from [worst boss in the world] Jeonghan: Don't forget we have a meeting at 8 tomorrow. Don't be late.

You stared at the screen, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. This was too much. Too complicated. Too... everything.

Flipping the phone over, you buried your face in the plushie, letting out a muffled groan. "Get it together," you muttered to yourself. But the words felt hollow, the knot in your chest refusing to loosen.

Because no matter how much you tried to focus on the things that mattered—your mom, your work, your responsibilities—your thoughts kept circling back. Back to Wonwoo. Back to Jeonghan. Back to the tangled mess of emotions you didn't know how to sort through.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were in over your head.

The soft glow of your bedroom lamp cast long shadows on the walls as you sat cross-legged on your bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. The fox plushie sat beside you, its little black eyes almost mocking you with their innocence.

You stared at your phone screen, re-reading a text from Wonwoo that you’d seen earlier but hadn’t responded to yet.

DM from [fuckass bitch dickhead] Wonwoo: Did you make it home okay?

It was simple. Straightforward. Just like him. But the knot in your chest only tightened as you read it, your thumb hovering over the keyboard.

You: yeah, im home. thanks again for dinner. and… everything.

You hit send before you could overthink it, tossing the phone onto your pillow like it might explode. Pulling the plushie into your lap, you rested your chin on its soft head and let out a long sigh.

Tonight had felt like something shifting, like a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying had been lifted. But with that lightness came something heavier—something you weren’t sure you were ready to name.

Your phone buzzed again, and for a second, you thought it might be Wonwoo. But it wasn’t.

Jeonghan: Leaving work early for “dinner plans” now? Should I be jealous?

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the faint twitch of your lips. Typical Jeonghan—playful with just enough edge to make you second-guess if there was something more beneath the words.

You: oh, please. dont make it weird. Jeonghan: I’m not. Just checking. I’d hate for our star employee to get distracted.

You could practically hear his voice, that calm, almost teasing tone that never failed to keep you on your toes. And yet, there was something in those words that lingered—like he wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

Tossing your phone aside, you flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Between the tension at work, your mom’s health, and tonight’s… whatever it was with Wonwoo, you couldn’t afford distractions. But that didn’t stop them from creeping in anyway.

And as the night wore on, one thought kept echoing in your mind, quiet but insistent.

This wasn’t just about them anymore. This was about you.

a/n: i definitely am aware of how terrible the plot is. anyway, i tried my best? hope you all liked it !

thank you for supporting me !

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