#Real-Time Cloud Testing

[gqattech]

Cloud Platforms Testing at GQAT Tech: Powering Scalable, Reliable Apps

In today's digital world, most companies use the cloud to host their software, store their data, and provide users with seamless experiences and interactions, meaning their cloud-based systems have to be fast and secure (it could be an e-commerce site, a mobile app, or corporate software platform) and be able to provide a robust reliable level of service that does not fail. All this hard work to develop a cloud-based application means nothing if the application is not subjected to testing and verification to work properly in different cloud environments.

Credit should be given to GQAT Tech for making cloud platform testing a core competency, as the entire QA team tests applications in the cloud, on cloud-based platforms, i.e., AWS, Azure, Google Cloud, or Private Cloud, while testing for performance, security, scalability, and functionality.

Now, let's explore the definition of cloud platform testing, what it is, why it is important, and how GQAT Tech can help your company be successful in the cloud.

What Is Cloud Platform Testing?

Cloud platform testing provides validation of whether a web or mobile application will function correctly in a cloud-based environment (as compared to on a physical server).

It involves testing how well your app runs on services like:

Amazon Web Services (AWS)

Microsoft Azure

Google Cloud Platform (GCP)

IBM Cloud

Private/Hybrid cloud setups

The goal is to ensure your app is:

Scalability - Will it support more users over time with no performance degradation?  

Improve security - Is my data protected from being compromised/attacked?  

Stability - Is it repeatably functioning (no crashing or errors)?  

Speed - Is the load time fast enough for users worldwide?  

Cost - Is it utilizing cloud resources efficiently?

GQAT Tech’s Cloud Testing Services

GQAT Tech employs a hybrid process of manual testing, automated scripts, and real cloud environments to validate/applications in the most representative manner. The QA team manages real-time performance, availability, and security across systems.

Services Offered:

Functional Testing on Cloud

Validates that your app will behave in an appropriate way while hosted on different cloud providers.

Performance & Load Testing

Validates how your app behaves when 10, 100, or 10,000 users are accessing it at the same time.

Scalability Testing

Validates whether your app is capable of scaling up or down based on usage.

Security Testing

Validates for vulnerabilities specific to clouds: data leak vulnerabilities, misconfigured access, and DDoS risks.

Disaster Recovery & Backup Validation

Validates whether systems can be restored after failure or downtime.

Cross-Platform Testing

Validates your application's performance across AWS, Azure, GCP, and Private Cloud Systems.

Why Cloud Testing Is Important

By not testing your application in the cloud, you expose yourself to significant risks such as:

App crashes when usage is highest

Data loss because of inadequate backup

Cloud bills that are expensive due to inefficient usage

Security breaches due to weaker settings

Downtime that impacts customer frustration

All of these situations can be prevented and you can ensure your app runs smoothly every day with cloud testing.

Tools Used by GQAT Tech

GQAT Tech uses advanced tools for cloud testing:

Apache JMeter – Load testing and stress testing

Postman – API testing for cloud services

Selenium / Appium – Automated UI testing

K6 & Gatling – Performance testing

AWS/Azure/GCP Test Environments – Real cloud validation

CI/CD Pipelines (Jenkins, GitHub Actions) – Continuous cloud-based testing

Who Needs Cloud Platform Testing?

GQAT Tech works with startups, enterprises, and SaaS providers across industries like:

E-commerce

Healthcare

Banking & FinTech

Logistics & Travel

IoT & Smart Devices

Education & LMS platforms

If your product runs in the cloud, you need to test it in the cloud—and that’s exactly what GQAT does.

Conclusion

Cloud computing provides flexibility, speed, and power—but only if your applications are tested and validated appropriately. With GQAT Tech's cloud platform testing services, you can be confident that your application will work as required under all real-world environments.

They will help eliminate downtime, enhance app performance, protect user data and help optimize cloud expenditure—so you can expand your business without concern.

💬 Ready to test smarter in the cloud? 👉 Explore Cloud Platform Testing Services at GQAT Tech

[axolozzy]

i NEED to draw louie more like i used to draw louie ALLL THE FUCKING TIME and the last time i actually drew them fully colored was in fucking JULY. WHAT????? impossible :( i’m so fucking sorry louie holy shit AAUUUGHHHHHHHH LOUIIEEEEEEEE :((( louie save me louieieieeeee

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[wroetolando]

𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys! so sorry I haven’t been posting recently. I’ve been super busy with school with finals and graduation coming up! will be a lot more stories being posted during my spring break! april 7-11!

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x chronically online! reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where the chronically online reader gets publicly exposed by lando, roasts him on stream, and swears they’d never fold

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: cloud 9 - beach bunny

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You had a reputation. Not in a bad way—at least, not to you. Some people called you “chronically online,” but that was just a fancy way of saying you were really, really good at the internet. You were the first to catch onto memes before they went mainstream, you knew every streamer’s latest drama, and your Twitter feed was a masterclass in unhinged yet somehow lovable posts.

Lando, however, did not fully understand the depths of your internet obsession. He was online, sure, but in a different way—his world was filled with F1 updates, Twitch streams, and the occasional chaotic group chat with his fellow drivers. Meanwhile, you lived in a universe where knowing whether a brand was about to get canceled was as essential as breathing.

And yet, somehow, he was absolutely in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It started with a joke. Or, more accurately, it started with a tweet.

@yourhandle: “if lando norris ever called me babe i would simply evaporate”

He saw it. He saw it, and you knew he saw it because his little gremlin self had the audacity to like the tweet. He didn’t reply, didn’t quote it—just a simple like that sent your notifications into a frenzy.

Your friends went feral.

BESTIE, HELLO??

Did he just acknowledge your existence???

This is basically a marriage proposal.

You tried to act normal. Failed. DMed him something casual like, “did you just publicly expose me?”

To which he responded:

“Just testing a theory. Should I call you babe and see what happens?”

And that was the beginning of the end.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in Lando’s world—whether that meant sitting on his stream, half-distracted while scrolling your phone, or joining his Discord calls just to roast his gaming skills. The internet loved your dynamic.

“Lando getting cyberbullied by his own girlfriend is my Roman Empire.”

“Y/N being a menace online and Lando just going along with it is peak relationship goals.”

“Her: ‘He’s so dumb but he’s my dumbass.’ Him: ‘I just work here, man.’”

You two were a content goldmine, even when you weren’t trying to be.

One particular night, you were both curled up on the couch, Lando setting up for a Twitch stream while you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. You weren’t paying attention until you heard your own voice.

“Guys, I have a very special guest today,” Lando said in his usual mischievous tone. “My girlfriend, who is currently ignoring me for Twitter.”

You didn’t even look up. “That’s crazy. What’s Twitter saying?”

Chat immediately erupted.

“SHE DIDN’T EVEN LOOK UP LMFAO.”

“Peak chronically online behavior.”

“Lando, blink twice if you need help.”

Lando fake pouted. “See? She doesn’t love me, chat. She loves her parasocial relationships more.”

You finally glanced at the screen. “Why would I need a parasocial relationship when I already have you to annoy in real life?”

The clip went viral within minutes.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Despite all your time spent online, you did, in fact, exist in the real world. And the more time you spent with Lando, the more you realized how much you liked his world too.

There was something peaceful about watching him work on his racing sim, focused and determined, even when he was grumbling under his breath about understeer. There was something nice about walking into the McLaren garage and seeing how the team operated, how much they adored him.

And there was something absolutely dangerous about the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

Like right now.

You were at a race weekend, standing just outside his driver’s room, eyes glued to your phone. He was supposed to be reviewing data, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Lando,” you said without looking up, “why are you staring at me like that?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I think I’ve figured out how to get you off your phone.”

That made you look up. “Oh? Do tell.”

A smirk curled at his lips. “No.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No?”

Instead of answering, he took two long strides forward, gently plucking your phone from your hands and placing it on the nearest table. Before you could protest, he had you backed up against the wall, his hands resting on either side of you.

Oh.

Oh, he was serious.

“Lando,” you said, a little breathless, “are you—”

“I like your little internet world, I do,” he murmured, voice warm and teasing. “But sometimes I think you should focus on this world. On me.”

You swallowed. “That so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And right now, I want your undivided attention.”

Mission accomplished.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You weren’t going to lie—you had expected the internet to roast you once they realized that your whole brand was being chronically online, and yet Lando had somehow turned you into a simp.

And they did roast you.

“So you’re telling me Y/N was ‘if he calls me babe I’ll evaporate’ and then Lando hit her with a real-life slow burn fanfic moment???”

“POV: You thought she was a keyboard warrior but she’s actually a simp in disguise.”

“Lando pulled a ‘look at me, I’m the main character now.’”

Lando, of course, thrived off the reactions.

You were sitting next to him on the couch when he turned his phone toward you. “Look at this one—‘Y/N has spent her entire internet existence roasting men, and yet all it took was one good wall pin for her to fold.’”

You glared at him. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you don’t.”

You groaned, shoving his face away playfully before burying your head in your hands. “I will never live this down.”

He pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Nope. Never.”

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to check your phone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[jijournal]

CHARM ME UP | D.M

Summary: You’ve made it a habit to give small charms to those who need a reminder that they’re not alone. But there’s one person you keep finding reasons to give them to—one boy who always seems to need a charm.

Pair: whimsical!reader x draco malfoy

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It starts with a button.

Draco Malfoy is sorting through his school robes one morning before his Charms exam when he finds it—buried deep inside the lining. A small, copper button glints under the pale light of the Slytherin dorm. It’s not the sort of button that’s part of his uniform. He runs his fingers over the smooth surface, then turns it over, finding neat handwriting on the back:

“A charm for clarity. You’ve got more in you than you think.”

He stares at it, his brow furrowing as he wonders if it’s some joke. A prank. Who would leave something like this in his robes? He’s about to toss it aside when he feels a strange pull to keep it. For some reason, the button doesn’t feel like an intrusion. It feels like… like it’s supposed to be there.

Without much thought, he slips it into his pocket, and the moment passes. He heads to the exam, but as he stares at the test before him, something feels different. His mind, normally clouded with thoughts of his father’s disapproval or his next move, clears. The questions seem easier to answer. By the end of the exam, he’s finished ahead of schedule. He walks out with a sense of accomplishment, something he hasn’t felt in a while.

Later, he checks his grade: top of the class.

Draco doesn’t believe in luck. Not really. But as he stands there, staring at the paper, his fingers instinctively reach for the charm still nestled in his pocket. He doesn’t question it—he simply keeps it.

A few weeks later, the charm reappears again, this time at a Quidditch match.

Draco pulls on his gloves before stepping onto the pitch, and tucked inside his left glove, he finds something small and coiled. At first, it’s nothing but a slight vibration against his fingers, but when he pulls it out, he sees a miniature broom, made of green thread and silver accents.

He examines it briefly before noticing a tiny inscription hidden on the side.

“For steadiness. And aim.”

Draco rolls his eyes at the absurdity. It’s another charm, no doubt—one of those ridiculous little trinkets that had become a nuisance around Hogwarts, but there’s something almost soothing about the weight of it in his hand. He tucks it into his pocket with a sigh, deciding it can’t hurt to keep it for good measure.

The match itself feels different than usual. His focus sharpens. He plays with a fluidity he hasn’t felt in months, his broomstick gliding through the air as if it’s an extension of himself. The team wins, of course—victory after a clean sweep—but it’s the ease with which they’ve done it that lingers in Draco’s mind.

When he later pulls the charm from his pocket, it feels like more than a silly token. It feels like something that worked.

He still doesn’t believe in luck. But he starts to think that maybe there’s more to these charms than he’s letting on. And once again, he tucks it into his tin.

Over the following weeks, Draco notices the charms popping up more frequently. Each time, it’s something different, something subtle—an object that seems so small but always holds a significance that lands right when he needs it most. A paper crane, its wings unfolding and refolding in a rhythmic pattern whenever he’s about to get a question wrong in class. A smooth stone with etched runes of protection, just when his father sends another cold letter. A tiny moon made of thread, glowing faintly in his hands, during the rare moments he’s truly alone.

It’s like magic—real, tangible magic—that only appears for him, and only when he needs it most. He doesn’t know who’s behind it. Doesn’t know how they’re doing it. But as time goes on, he doesn’t question it.

Not really.

Instead, he starts paying attention.

He notices you one afternoon in the library, bent over a stack of parchment, fingers working methodically on a charm of your own. You’re quieter than most, a bit of a mystery even among the usual crowd of Hogwarts students. But Draco’s not the only one who notices that there’s something different about you. While most people bustle about, you’re always where you need to be, your hands always working, always helping.

You’re not flashy. In fact, you’re the opposite of attention-seeking. But when he sees you slipping something into Pansy’s cloak before her Defense class, and then sees Pansy humming softly to herself like her cold walls crashed down, Draco knows. He doesn’t need anyone to confirm it.

It’s you.

And somehow, that doesn’t feel like a surprise.

One morning, Draco wakes up to find another charm tucked under his pillow, folded neatly like a forgotten note. He hadn’t expected it—not after the intensity of his father’s letter the night before—but there it is, sitting like a small spark of hope. It’s a simple charm—just a tiny star, stitched in gold thread, but it feels warm in his hand as though it’s been waiting for him.

“For brightness on dim days.”

He doesn’t know how you knew. He doesn’t need to know. But for the first time in months, he sits with it, feels its warmth against his fingers, and lets himself believe that things might just be okay. That maybe he’s still allowed to be good.

That he’s still allowed to be more than just a Malfoy.

The charm stays with him longer than any of the others. He keeps it in his pocket for a week, letting the weight of it ground him. It becomes his little secret, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’s light—somewhere, somehow.

By now, Draco knows where to look. He doesn’t have to search the hallways like he did before. He simply keeps an eye on you, watches as you slip in and out of classes, a quiet observer in the background, always stitching and folding and mending things that no one else notices.

One day, he catches you in the library, sitting by the window with a small bundle of thread in your hands, your eyes focused on your work. He knows better than to approach you immediately. He’s learned to wait, to observe, and so he watches you for a while, seeing the way you pause when someone asks for help, seeing how you always offer something when others least expect it.

He clears his throat when he’s close enough, making you jump slightly in surprise. Your eyes widen, but you don’t back away.

“Who are they for?” he asks, his voice steady but filled with curiosity.

You blink, surprised at the directness of his question. For a moment, you hesitate, then answer, “Depends who needs them.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “And who decides that?”

You smile, the kind of smile that makes him wonder if he’s stumbled upon a secret. “I listen.”

Something inside him shifts at those words. It’s so simple, yet so profound. You don’t just make the charms. You feel them. You understand them.

Draco finds himself leaning against a table, unable to break his gaze. He doesn’t say anything more. But from that moment onward, he watches you even more closely, noting the way your hands move with such intention, how your eyes flicker with understanding when someone comes to you for something more than just a charm.

And, in a way, he starts to wonder if he might need something more, too.

The next Saturday is sunny and warm—a rare break from the usual dreariness of Hogwarts. Draco finds himself walking through the halls, his thoughts preoccupied with the latest charm he’d received, a small coin that had somehow found its way into his pocket before a particularly tense conversation with his father. His fingers close around it now, absentmindedly, as he walks toward the greenhouse, only to stop short when he sees you.

You’re kneeling in front of a row of plants, your hands buried in the dirt. He watches you for a moment before he speaks.

“Got a charm for me?”

You look up at him, startled. Then your lips curl into a smile, soft and hesitant.

“I thought maybe you were ready for something different.”

You reach into your bag and pull out a small note. It’s folded neatly, no charm this time, just a scrap of paper with delicate handwriting.

Draco unfolds it carefully and reads the words:

“For when you’re ready to ask me to Hogsmeade.”

He looks up at you, his heart thumping in his chest, and for once, he doesn’t hide his smile. Not from you.

He holds out his hand, offering the same quiet invitation he’s kept hidden in his heart for so long.

“You free next weekend?”

And the smile you give him in return is all the answer he needs.

“Yes.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[diqldrunks]

CAPTIVATED; cl16 [smau]

nav | inbox (open) | main masterlist

a/n: ik this took like a week but i got distracted with max… 😶‍🌫️

cw/tw: part two to OBSESSED <3 i’ve left it here just in case charles doesn't win bc i don’t want to jinx it 😭 p3 will be post race/summer break

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

twitter

instagram

yourusername just posted!

liked by charles_leclerc, bradpitt and 734,324 others

yourusername ✓ after auditions, chemistry testing and five different variants of scripts, i’m extremely happy to announce that i will be acting alongside brad pitt in the upcoming film ‘F1’ which will be in cinemas in 2025!! i’m going to be truthful and admit i don’t really know how formula 1 works, but i have dts to get me started 🤭 (is being attractive a requirement for drivers bc damn?)

84,173 comments…

user5 CHARLES LECLERC FOUND DEAD 💀

user6 2025 cannot come fast enough

user7 OMFG CHARLES AND CARLOS ON THE LAST SLIDE

user8 he’s liked the post which means he’s seen it too 🙏

scuderiaferrari ✓ hopefully we’ll see you in the paddock this season to give you the real experience and maybe wearing some red? (liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername)

user9 shut 💥 the 💥 fuck 💥 up 💥

user10 ADMIN?!

user11 Y/N AND CHARLES BOTH LIKED IT?!

yourusername i think i have some red clothes hidden somewhere that i could find ❤️ (liked by charlesleclerc and scuderiaferrari)

charles_leclerc cannot wait ❤️

user12 CHARLESY/N INTERACTION OMFG 🤭

charles_leclerc just posted!

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 98,087 others

charles_leclerc ✓ starting p1 for tomorrow babyyyyyy. unexpected but it feels good. we’ll give our best tomorrow for the last race before holidays 😘

18,623 comments…

user13 LETS GO BABYYYYYY 💪

user14 Y/N IS IN THE LIKES?!

user15 SHE 😭 FOLLOWED 😭 HIM 😭 BACK 😭 LAST 😭 NIGHT

yourusername ✓ congratulations charles! i cannot wait to see you in action tomorrow ❤️

user16 DOES THIS MEAN-

user17 charles will have a heart attack if he sees this y/n you still have time to delete the comment

charles_leclerc ✓ ❤️

user18 these red hearts are giving me hope(?)

f1gossip just posted!

liked by charles_leclerc, user19 and 18,625 others

f1gossip actress y/n l/n, who revealed last week that she would be staring in the ‘F1’ film alongside brad pitt, has been seen wearing ferrari merch at the belgium grand prix! above are the posts from her and her friends instagram stories. y/n’s name has been linked to f1 before, as ferrari driver charles leclerc has been very vocal about his long time crush on her!

5,732 comments…

user20 not charles in the likes 💀

user21 NO BUT I SHIP THEM

user22 i need him to win please i beg

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

charles taglist (lmk if you want to be added); @llando4norris @rana030 @cloud-55 @loloekie @tallrock35 @mel164

[sunsetmade]

The Tutor

College Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You start to tutor the notorious Rafe Cameron unaware that he has taken a liking to you.

"Miss Chandler, could you please stay for a moment?" I nodded and, more slowly this time, packed my things into my yellow bag. Walking over to the desk, I gave my teacher a smile. "You wanted to see me?"

She looked up from her papers and clapped her hands together. "Ah, yes. I wanted to let you know that I’m assigning you the task of tutoring some students due to your excellent grades in this class."

I smiled brightly. "Yes, ma'am, I understand."

She laughed. "Good, good! Your first student is Mr. Cameron. I'm sure you're familiar with him—he tends to wander around."

My smile fades, and I let out a half-hearted chuckle. "R-Rafe Cameron?" She nods, handing me a stack of papers. "Yes, only until our next test, my dear. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be... fun," she says, her voice dripping with false assurance. I sigh, reluctantly taking the papers from her, and thank her for her time.

It’s not like I actually knew him. I had no real reason to be so judgmental without even giving him a chance. But, he did have a reputation. He was the biggest playboy at school—always partying, with a new girl every week, and deeply involved in the most notorious frat on campus.

And he made it pretty obvious that getting to class wasn’t his priority. He’d stroll in late every day, barely staying for 15 minutes before the bell rang. And somehow, he’d always manage to catch your eye, sending you a wink as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You, on the other hand, preferred to keep to yourself, managing straight A’s in all your classes. You didn’t go to many parties—it just wasn’t your thing. You weren’t exactly invisible; you had plenty of friends. You just didn’t fit the typical college-girl mold.

I walked over to my locker, books in hand, letting out a sigh as I tried to balance them on my leg while fumbling to open the locker door. "Need help, princess?" A deep, soothing voice called out.

I turned to see Rafe walking toward me, his signature smirk casually resting on his face. "Uh-n-" I started, but before I could finish, he was already lifting the books from my thigh and into his strong arms. "Thank you," I muttered, avoiding his intense blue gaze. I opened my locker, then turned back to him, taking the books from his hands. "So, I hear you're my tutor now, pretty girl," he said, and I could already hear the smirk in his voice.

My face flushed, “I guess I am.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

I sat at the table in the library, staring out of the bay window. The leaves outside had finally turned that vibrant shade of green, and the sun peeked through the clouds in scattered rays. I glanced at my phone — 5:12. He’s late. Of course he is. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had told him 4:50, but here we were. I sighed, gathering my things. My pens went back in my bag, and just as I started to close the book, the doors to the library swung open with a loud creak.

“Wait—wait! I’m here!” Rafe’s voice cut through the quiet of the room. I turned to see him, panting and disheveled, rushing over to me. The librarian immediately shushed him, but he just waved them off without a second thought.

“You’re too late, Rafe,” I said flatly, picking the book up from the table, preparing to leave.

Before I could close it, he snatched it from my hands, his grip firm. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at him, waiting for some kind of excuse. He hesitated for a moment, chest still rising and falling from his sprint.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he started, his voice rough. “I lost track of time. Practice ran late.”

I rolled my eyes. “Rafe, I’m not gonna keep wasting my time like this.”

He shook his head, his messy blond hair falling over his forehead as he leaned in closer. “Please, princess,” he said, his voice softening. His blue eyes locked onto mine, almost pleading. “Give me another chance. I really need this.” He also really wanted to spend time with you but he decided to leave that part out.

I studied him, narrowing my eyes. I hated how easily I felt like giving in. There was something about him that drove me insane.

"Fine, but no more being late," I said, grabbing the book from his hands. His signature smirk quickly reappeared. "I won’t let you down, princess." I shot him a look, and he raised his hands in mock surrender before backing up and taking a seat in the chair next to me.

"Okay, where do we start?" he asked, glancing at the book I had open.

"The business of marketing. It just says that—" I started, but he nodded, not really listening. His eyes were fixed on the way my lips moved as I spoke, watching how they formed each word. Or how my eyes would squint when I read over a sentence.

"And the finance part of it is when—"

"Are you going to the party tomorrow?" he interrupted, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I look up from the book, “W-what?”

"The Alpha Delta party, tomorrow at 8," he said casually, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. I met his gaze, suddenly feeling shy. "Uhm, I don't usually go to parties."

Rafe smiled, not at all surprised by my response. "Go with me."

I stared at him, thinking he was joking. "Very funny, Rafe. Let’s get back to—" I flipped through the pages, my cheeks warming as I tried to focus.

But he wasn’t backing down. "I’m serious. Please, go with me." His eyes locked with mine, intense and steady, and suddenly, my legs felt a little weaker.

He watched you, his heart racing in his chest. Every day, he saw you in class, sitting there with your glasses perched on your head, scribbling notes with such focus. He was captivated by you, drawn to every little thing you did. In his mind, you were already his.

"I—I don’t know," I muttered, unsure.

"I’ll pick you up," he said quickly, his voice softening. "And I’ll actually pay attention to your lesson."

I chewed my lip, hesitating. I guess what’s the worst that could happen? I gave him a small smile. "Okay, but what do I—wait, you weren’t listening?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. "Now I am, princess."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

"This is so stupid, I can't believe I'm doing this!" I muttered to myself, tossing the dress I deemed 'no good' onto my bed. I groaned, pressing my face into my hands. Why did I agree to this? How does he make it so easy for me to say yes?

With a huff, I turned back to my closet, rifling through it for something else. All Rafe said was that it was going to be a ‘chill’ party. What does that even mean? Dress? Jeans? Skirt? Who knows. Part of me wanted to text him and ask what I should wear, but I decided against it.

"That’s it, I’m not going," I muttered, throwing my arms up in frustration before plopping down on my bed with an exasperated sigh. I was about to start criticizing my closet choices when a knock interrupted my thoughts. I raised an eyebrow, confused, and hurried out of my room to the front door.

When I opened it, standing there was none other than Rafe Cameron. My jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Wh-why are you here?" I stammered, eyes widening. He scanned me up and down, and I immediately felt a blush creeping up my neck. I was still in my pajama shorts and tank top.

"Nice outfit, pretty girl. Is that what you’re wearing?" Rafe smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’m here to pick you up."

I glanced at my phone, groaning. "It’s early. No, this is not what I’m wearing!" I huffed, turning away from the door, my frustration mounting. In my rush, I forgot that Rafe was actually stepping inside my house, the door clicking shut behind him.

"Thirty minutes until we leave. Better find something quick," he said matter-of-factly, like he was giving me a deadline for something urgent.

I rolled my eyes, my annoyance getting the best of me. "Don’t you think I know that, Rafe?" I snapped, heading back to my room with him in tow.

As I started pulling clothes from my closet, Rafe’s gaze wandered around my room. His eyes traced the photographs pinned above my desk—friends, places I’d been, little mementos scattered around. He noticed the fluffy pink blanket on my bed, the matching bunny stuffed animal resting on top, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking in the small, personal details of my space.

In the last few seconds, Rafe had seen more of me than he had in all the time we’d known each other. But that wasn’t saying a lot, when he came up to me at my locker that was the first time we have ever had a conversation.

I grumbled under my breath about the lack of party outfits, frustration building up. Finally, I pulled out a baby pink, flowy strapless crop top and sighed, carefully laying it on my bed. Then, I scrambled to find a skirt. After a few moments of searching, I settled on a black miniskirt. Grabbing both pieces, I headed toward the bathroom, but as I reached for the door, I realized Rafe was still in my room.

I peeked my head out. "Don’t touch anything," I warned, narrowing my eyes at him.

Rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered, as the door clicked shut softly behind me. He chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face. She was something else. Quiet but stubborn. Sweet but firm. The perfect contrast to everything he thought he liked.

A few moments later, the bathroom door opened again, and she stepped out in her outfit. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat. She looked breathtaking. It was a simple outfit, but it fit her perfectly.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, his voice low. She met his gaze, her wide eyes locking onto his. She swore her heart stopped beating with the way he looked at her.

He walked over to her, and she visibly flushed, her ear turning a soft shade of red. "Is it okay for the party?" she asked, chewing on her lip as she searched his blue eyes for reassurance.

Rafe’s smile spread into something genuine. "More than okay. You look sexy," he said with a chuckle, whistling under his breath.

In that moment, she regretted letting him into her house. She slapped his chest playfully, though it only made him laugh. "I can’t believe you," she muttered, though she really wasn’t surprised by his comment.

Rafe smirked, clearly pleased with himself. She looked away, trying to hide the smile that tugged at her lips, not wanting him to catch her in the act. But he noticed—her cheeks lifting in a subtle smile even as she turned away. His gaze wandered down, and, by accident, he realized just how short her skirt was. He cleared his throat to mask a groan, quickly shifting his focus.

"We should probably go," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual.

"Okay, let's go—wait, I need my purse," I said, rushing back into my closet to grab my black Prada bag adorned with multiple keychains. Rafe's gaze lingered on the keychains, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was so her—simple but personal.

He waited patiently until she stepped in front of him, then followed her out. His hand itched to touch her lower back, to guide her toward his truck. As they passed the kitchen, the temptation was too strong, and he couldn’t resist any longer. He moved closer, his large hand gently resting on the small of her back. She shivered at the touch, focusing on steadying her uneven breath.

Rafe led her to his truck, his hand instinctively wrapping around hers as she climbed into the cab of his massive vehicle. He went to the other side getting in with ease and started his truck pulling out of her driveway.

"Okay, so I was thinking for our next session—" I started, but was quickly cut off by a groan. Rafe shook his head.

"Please, princess, no tutor talk," he said, his hand resting on the armrest, fingers lightly brushing against my arm.

"Rafe, I’m your tutor. That’s my job," I replied, trying to keep things professional.

He didn’t like her answer. Technically, it was true—for now—but he hated the fact that she saw herself that way. He wanted more.

"No," he said, his voice firm but casual. "Tonight, you're my date."

He said it like it was no big deal, but on the inside, my mind was screaming. Did he really just say that? Rafe just smirked, proud of his word choice.

The rest of the short drive was accompanied by the steady hum of country music playing softly in the background. It wasn’t an awkward silence; it was a comfortable one, with the occasional glance exchanged. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in a stunning blend of oranges and pinks.

Rafe pulled into a parking spot in front of a large house, the unmistakable Alpha Delta letters visible on the porch.

"Ready, princess?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation. I nodded, and he smirked, clearly excited for the night ahead.

I, however, was freaking out. Who knows what would happen at this party.

Part two out now!

[demie90s]

Winter Smoke

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Paige is home for winter break. No practices, no pressure—just family dinners, small town snow, and that one girl who’s always been around.

Genre: SMUT. WLW, slow burn, emotional tension, questioning sexuality, winter break setting, pothead x athlete, domestic vibes, closeted yearning

Warnings: Weed use, internalized confusion, soft flirtation, light physical intimacy (touching, closeness, implied attraction), emotional vulnerability, questioning identity

Word Count: ~ 4.1k

Winter break had the same rhythm every year: Paige came home, parents hosted dinner, folks laughed too loud in the living room, and I minded my business from the basement.

I didn’t mind her being around. We weren’t close—just the kind of familiar that comes from small towns and mutual obligations. Her dad and mine coached together in high school, so technically we’d “known each other forever,” but we’d never really talked. Not like that.

She played ball. I played the system.

They wanted us to be friends, though. My dad always hinting about it, asking me to tutor her in something she didn’t need help with just to get us in the same room. Her mom dropping comments like, “You should bring Paige on one of those study trips you go on, maybe it’ll rub off.”

As if intelligence was contagious.

Didn’t matter. I was too far gone into my own world now. I had my weed, my theories, my books, my silence. I wasn’t even mad about my dad pushing me into academia instead of ball anymore—he got over it. He saw what I did with it. I finished high school early, left with an associate’s before I could legally drink, and now I’m 21 working on a master’s degree while barely blinking. A little weed wasn’t going to be the scandal that ruined me.

So when they pulled up again this winter—her whole family—I didn’t blink.

I was in the basement, like usual. Hoodie on. Socks mismatched. Blunt lit. Some quiet instrumental R&B bleeding out the Bluetooth speaker. I was reading an abstract on cognitive reinforcement while simultaneously plotting which chips I was going to eat next.

And then the door opened. I didn’t look up right away. I already knew. Paige.

“Your mom said you were down here,” she said casually, a soft thud as she dropped down onto the other end of the couch.

“Clearly,” I murmured, barely lifting my eyes from the page. “She send you to babysit me or something?”

“Nah. I just wanted to get out of there. It’s a lot.”

I hummed. “Yeah. That house too full of opinions.”

She laughed lightly, then went quiet. I could feel her eyes scanning the room—my scattered notebooks, the rolling tray, the cloud of sweet smoke hanging heavy in the air.

She leaned back, legs stretched long across the carpet, and asked, “Is that your study routine or your spiritual practice?”

“Both.”

That got a laugh out of her. I liked the way she laughed. It was light, not forced, and just dry enough to tell me she wasn’t as straight as she tried to act.

“You ever try it?” I asked.

She glanced over. “What?”

I tapped the blunt between my fingers. “This. You off-season now, right?”

She tilted her head like she was thinking. “I mean… I’ve been around it. Never really did it.”

“Now’s the perfect time. No games, no drug tests, no interviews. Just you and the void.”

She looked at me, a little too long, and I knew then she was considering it.

“You don’t gotta impress me,” I said. “But you curious. I see it.”

Her eyes narrowed, amused. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re narrating a Netflix show no one’s ready for.”

I smirked, slow. “That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

Eventually, she took it. Sloppy first inhale, a cough, another laugh. She settled into the feeling quicker than I thought. And then came the real problem—we started talking. Like really talking.

I don’t even remember what cracked it. Might’ve been a joke about her old baby photos upstairs or some memory we shared at a fourth-grade birthday party neither of us remembered happening until now. But the laughter settled into something thicker. Slower.

“People don’t really know how smart you are,” she said out of nowhere.

I blinked, caught off guard. “You stalking my résumé or something?”

“Nah, just… people talk. My mom brags about you to everyone. Said you had college credits before you had a prom.”

“That’s true. I skipped prom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Cause I was gay and bored. And the DJ was trash.”

Her lips twitched like she didn’t know whether to laugh or process the information. “So you’re out?”

“Out? Baby, I was see-through.”

I stretched out further, dragging the blunt to my lips again. She was watching me now. Too closely. Her eyes darkened a little, the haze from the smoke mixing with the curiosity already crawling under her skin.

“And what about you?” I asked, soft. “You ever… explore?”

She didn’t answer immediately. But she didn’t break eye contact either.

“Not really,” she murmured. “Not in a real way.” I nodded. Said nothing. I didn’t need to press it.

She leaned closer. Just a little. Her hand brushed mine on the couch, slow like a test. I didn’t move. Just let the tension sit there.

“You ever think about what it’s like?” she asked quietly.

My eyes locked on hers, and for once, I didn’t say something witty. Didn’t joke. Just let my voice drop into something honest.

“All the time.” There was a pause.

“Can I… try something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She leaned in. Lips brushed. Slow. Careful. She tasted like nerves and chapstick and a little leftover smoke. And when I deepened it—just slightly—she let out the softest sound I’ve ever heard from her.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Cause I knew who I was. On the surface? Calm. Chill. Smarter than I look and twice as calculated. On the inside? Horny. Starving. Ready to fall to my knees and make her forget her last name.

But I held it in. Barely.

Our kiss broke and she smiled, dazed. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. I felt her fingers graze the hem of my shirt. Not sexual. Just curious. But I was holding on by threads.

We’d been like that for a while now—somewhere between silence and casual conversation, like neither of us knew how to say, “Hey, are we gonna talk about the way we kissed and didn’t stop thinking about it for the last hour?”

We hadn’t moved from the couch. Weirdly enough, it held both of us just fine. Just enough room. Just enough quiet. Except now Paige was laying on top of me.

Her legs tangled between mine, her body pressed down in a way that didn’t feel innocent anymore. Head on my chest, one arm hooked lazily around my waist, like she’d done this a thousand times. Her eyes were closed, but she was still talking—something about childhood basketball trophies and how her little cousin found her old highlights on YouTube.

I could barely register a word. Because all I could think about was how her thigh was right there—pressed between mine. Not moving. But not still either.

And I was high. Which made it worse. I don’t get stupid when I’m high—I get hungry. And every slow exhale from her nose onto my collarbone was pushing me closer to losing it.

I bit my lip. She didn’t notice.

Her voice was soft. “He said I looked mean. Like, ‘Auntie, why you look so mad when you play?’ I was like, bro, that’s my face.”

I huffed out a breath. Tried to shift. Tried to be normal. But she moved with me—adjusted her leg without even opening her eyes, and suddenly her thigh dragged right over where I’d been trying not to feel too much.

I clenched my jaw. She still didn’t notice.

“I used to hate watching myself,” she murmured, voice low and gentle against my throat. “Now it’s kinda cool, seeing where I started. You ever feel like that? Like—”

“I have to move you,” I cut in, voice tighter than I meant.

She lifted her head a little, brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

I sat up slightly, forcing her off me and into her own seat like it didn’t hurt. Like it wasn’t killing me to put space between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned, leaning closer. I licked my lips slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m trying not to fuck you,” I said calmly. Deadass. Unapologetic.

She blinked once. Then again. And smiled. That slow, knowing smile.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why.”

“Mhm.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I did.”

“No, I mean earlier.”

“You were literally laying on me. I could barely breathe. You were talking about youth basketball and I was this close to snapping your waistband and licking your spine.”

She grinned wider, leaned in like she was about to say something smart, and kissed me instead. Not light. Not curious. Firm. Intentional. Her hand cupped my jaw while her mouth moved slow and deep over mine, and I was holding on by a damn thread.

Then she started licking my neck. Not just kissing—licking. Small, warm, deliberate strokes right beneath my ear, and then soft open-mouthed kisses trailing down to my collarbone. And I was still. Frozen.

Not because I didn’t want to touch her. But because I did. Because if I moved, I was going to flip her. Make her cry out. Make her feel every second of what I’d been holding in since she laid on me like that couch was neutral ground.

She sat in my lap now, straddling me fully, rocking just barely. Smirking.

“You good?” she asked in that fake innocent tone, head tilted, lips still swollen from kissing.

I looked at her. Stared. She thought she was winning. Thought she was in charge. But when she leaned in close again and whispered, “Yes…”—that was it.

Everything inside me snapped.

My hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her down flush. The soft gasp she let out told me all I needed to know. She didn’t expect me to take it that seriously.

I kissed her hard—like I was making up for every second I held back. My tongue slid into her mouth like I owned the space. My hands gripped her thighs, pulled her down tighter into me, and I felt the shift in her body—the sudden surrender. The way she melted under it.

“You thought you’d in charge?” I muttered between kisses. She tried to say something cocky. I swallowed it with another kiss.

“You laid on me like I wouldn’t do something about it.”

Her hips shifted. My fingers dug in. She moaned—soft, breathy, and fuck, I wanted more.

I kissed her jaw, her neck, the space just under her ear where she shivered like I found a secret. My voice dropped.

“Girl you got one chance to tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Her hands gripped my shoulders. She leaned in again, kissed me like she was already gone.

I didn’t ask again. Didn’t need to. Paige had already told me everything I needed to hear—between her eyes, her breathing, her “yes,” the way her thighs clenched the second I kissed under her ear.

And I wasn’t about to waste that permission.

I flipped her slow. Nothing rough—just smooth and deliberate. Her back hit the cushions while I stayed above her, steady, calm, calculated. Her hands gripped my hoodie like she was holding herself together. That wouldn’t last long.

Then I was on her. Hands sliding up under her hoodie, fingertips dragging over bare skin, tugging fabric higher as I kissed down her neck. She lifted her arms, let me take it off, hair falling across her flushed face like some forbidden secret I wasn’t supposed to see.

But I was gonna see all of her. Every fucking inch.

No bra. Just her. Skin flushed pink, breathing shallow, chest rising. I stared. Just for a second. Just to memorize the shape of her. Then I dropped my mouth to her chest—tongue licking a slow circle around her nipple before pulling it into my mouth, gently, then harder, until she gasped and arched up.

My hands weren’t still either. One slid down, thumb dragging under the band of her sweatpants. I felt her tremble when I grazed the front of her, the heat, the way her body reacted instantly. My eyes were on hers the whole time.

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help me, quiet, legs parting slightly, thighs tense. No panties. She knew what she was doing. IM not mad at it.

She always looked so clean-cut. So composed. But here she was, laying back in my basement with nothing on from the waist down, wet and ready, thighs trembling, eyes locked on me like she didn’t know whether to speak or beg.

I dropped to my knees on the floor between the couch cushions. Didn’t rush. Just kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and firm. Then the other. Licked the softness just above where she needed it, blowing cool air across her pussy until she squirmed.

I didn’t tease her long. Not tonight.

I leaned in and kissed her there—deep, full tongue pressure, slow licks that flattened against her clit, then slid lower, tasting her. Her hips jumped immediately.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. I hummed against her. The vibrations made her moan. Then I really got to work.

My hands gripped her thighs and pulled her forward. I spread her wider, licking long and slow—up and down, circling, pausing only to suck her clit gently, then hard enough to make her back arch off the couch. She was losing it already, one hand tangled in my curls, the other gripping the pillow like it could ground her.

But I wasn’t done.

While I ate her, one hand slid back into my sweats—already soaked from how long I’d been holding it in. My fingers rubbed slow circles over my own clit, matching the rhythm of my mouth on hers. It made the pleasure sharper, more focused. Like I was feeding off her sounds.

She moaned louder. Her thighs started to tremble.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice cracking.

I didn’t. I licked her like it was my purpose—slow but relentless. I flattened my tongue, sucked her clit again, then moved lower and slid my tongue inside her, moaning softly when she gasped and rolled her hips into my face. Her whole body tightened. She was close. Right there.

I pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to come on my mouth.”

She whimpered. “Fuck. I’m gonna—”

Her whole body jerked. Her legs shook around my shoulders. I didn’t stop—kept licking through it, softer now, coaxing it out of her, letting her ride it. She cried out, breathless, shaky, and her fingers pulled hard at my hair.

I stayed there until she twitched. Until she couldn’t take anymore. Until she pushed at me with a whimper and begged, “Wait—baby, stop—too much.”

I finally pulled back. Licked my lips. Looked at her. Wrecked. Flushed. Breathless. Still trembling.

I climbed back onto the couch beside her, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and leaned in to kiss her neck—tasting her skin, dragging my tongue up her throat slow and dirty.

“You taste so fucking good,” I whispered.

She blinked at me, dazed. “You’re high.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t eat you through the fucking floor.”

She laughed weakly, still breathless. And then her fingers slid between my legs.

“Ohhh…” I smiled, slow and wicked. “You trying to be grown?” She looked at me.

“Say yes again.”

She hadn’t even caught her breath yet, still folded into the couch cushions, legs slightly open, chest rising in soft uneven waves. Her skin glowed in the low light—pink from heat, kissed red around her chest and throat. And yet she still looked hungry.

Paige shifted, climbing into my lap like the tremble in her thighs didn’t exist. She pushed me back into the cushions and settled over me, straddling me fully, hands on either side of my neck, gaze low and steady. There was something new in her eyes. Bolder. Like now that she knew what my mouth could do, she wanted to see what her hands could make happen.

“You good?” I asked, low.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” I raised a brow.

But she was already kissing me—hot, slow, and wet, tongue teasing mine like she wanted to reclaim her breath through me. Her hand slid under my hoodie, trailing along my ribs, my stomach. She tugged it up, impatient. I let her pull it off.

She looked down at me now, eyes scanning everything, like she was seeing me for the first time. Then her hands cupped my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I sighed into the kiss, my back arching just a little.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, voice husky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she kissed down my neck before I could answer—slow and messy, lips dragging across my collarbone, then lower. Her tongue flicked over my nipple and my breath caught. She smiled against my skin.

“Oh, you like that.”

“Mhm,” I managed. “But don’t get cocky. You still shaky.”

She ignored that, kissing lower. Her hand slid between my legs, over my sweats, slow pressure that made me sigh and grind into her palm.

“You’re soaked,” she whispered, surprised.

“Yeah. You. Did that.”

Paige hummed, dragging her fingers up and down through the fabric. Teasing. She didn’t rush. Didn’t try to prove anything. Just moved with confidence—like she’d been thinking about this longer than she admitted.

She tugged my sweats down, enough to get her hand in, and the moment her fingers slid through how wet I was, she moaned.

“Fuck.”

I grinned. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, dazed, like she forgot where she was. Her fingers rubbed slow circles over my clit while she kissed me again—deep and dirty, moaning into my mouth every time I twitched.

Then she slid one finger in. Then another. I grabbed her wrist on instinct, not to stop her, but to feel it. She started thrusting slow, her other hand gripping my thigh, and her breath got uneven again.

“You’re so fucking warm,” she whispered, looking down at where her fingers disappeared inside me. “I—I can’t—”

And then she froze. Her eyes fluttered. Her legs trembled.

“Oh my god.”

She gasped, sharp and loud, grinding down against me like she didn’t even mean to. Cumming. Again.

Right there. On top of me. Legs shaking, forehead pressed to mine, fingers still inside me but frozen. She whimpered, soft and stunned.

I bit my lip, smiling. “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” she panted.

“No, no, please,” I laughed breathlessly. “You were being in charge. Continue.”

She blinked down at me, red-faced. “I—I forgot what I was doing.”

I gripped her hips and started to move them. She moaned.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Let me help you remember.”

I guided her—slow grind, right over my thigh now, slick and sensitive, her hands on my chest for balance. I kept moving her, small circles, steady pressure, and watched her fall apart all over again.

“You think I needed more than this?” I muttered, voice low. “Just you on top of me, making all those sounds…”

“Stop talking,” she gasped, but her hips didn’t stop.

“I came already, Paige. You know that, right?” Her eyes widened.

“I came while I was eating you.” (Literally a dream of mine.. don’t mind me)

She whimpered, grinding harder. “Fuck…”

“And now you’re gonna come again. Because you turn me on that bad.”

She didn’t argue. She just shook. Collapsed into my neck and came again, softer this time. Just a long, trembling sigh, her breath hot against my throat, body loose and weak and completely undone.

And I held her. Smiling to myself. Because yeah—she tried to be in charge. But I had her. Every. Single. Time.

It was sometime past midnight when we finally pulled ourselves together—sweatpants back on, hoodies thrown over bodies still warm, limbs still a little shaky. We laughed too much in the bathroom while brushing our teeth, hands knocking into each other, grinning like two kids who knew they weren’t supposed to be doing what they just did.

She stayed.

Of course she stayed.

Now we were in my room, the lights dim, comforter kicked halfway off the bed. She laid on top of me, hoodie half-zipped, cheek pressed against my chest like it belonged there. Her thigh was tucked between mine again, but this time I wasn’t grinding—I was too tired. Too satisfied. My hand rested on her back, fingers tracing lazy lines along her spine while she talked soft and slow, her voice fading in and out like she was about to fall asleep mid-sentence.

“You sure I’m not crushing you?” she mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “You weigh, like, five pounds more than me.”

“But I’m taller. Got broader shoulders.”

I slid my hand down to squeeze her ass. “You’re not heavy, Paige. I lift.”

She chuckled, sleep in her throat. “Okay, hot girl.”

We laid there like that for a while. Comfortable. Quiet. Her breath evened out, her body melted against mine. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

Morning came like a slap to the ego. The sun peeked through my curtains just bright enough to hit Paige’s face. She scrunched up like a cat and rolled off me with a groan, taking the covers with her.

“Damn,” I muttered, dragging my hoodie down.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Your bed’s too comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake up.”

“You drooled on me.”

She blinked. “What?”

I smirked. “Right here.” I tapped my chest. “Dead center. Like a badge of honor.”

She covered her face, laughing into her sleeve.

We got dressed in a mess of mismatched clothes. My sweats, her hoodie. My bonnet that she definitely did not need but still tried on for jokes. I tossed her one of my oversized tees to wear under her jacket and she looked at herself in the mirror like she didn’t hate it.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t know how to walk out of here like I wasn’t literally—”

“Say it and I’ll drag you back in this bed.”

She bit her lip. “That’s not a threat.”

We made our way to the kitchen like two teenagers sneaking in past curfew—except it was 9 a.m., and both of my parents were already awake.

I should’ve known something was up the moment my mom turned from the stove with that look. That mom look. The one that says, “You think I don’t know, but I know.”

“Mornin’ girls,” she said sweetly, sliding pancakes onto a plate. “Y’all sleep good?”

Paige damn near tripped over the chair. I cleared my throat. “Yup. Great. Comfy.”

“Yeah,” Paige added too fast. “Really good. Slept really… peacefully.”

“Mhmm,” my mom replied, smirking. “Sure did look peaceful when I checked on you two. Cozy.”

I froze. “You what?”

“Oh relax. I didn’t open the door all the way. Just enough to see her head on your chest like a baby possum.”

Paige looked like she wanted the floor to eat her whole. And then came my father. He walked in holding his coffee like a championship trophy, grinning like he hit the lottery three times in one night.

“I knew it,” he said, loud as hell. “I told you, baby! Didn’t I say?”

He turned to my mom, eyes wide. “Didn’t I say, ‘Those two gone end up together. It’s only a matter of time’? Didn’t I say that?!”

“You said it,” my mom replied flatly, rolling her eyes.

My dad clapped his hands together once, loud and proud. “Welcome to the family, Bueckers!”

Paige’s eyes got so wide I thought she might pass out. I dropped my forehead to the table. “You’re embarrassing. Please stop.”

He ignored me completely, walking over to Paige and slapping her on the shoulder like he just drafted her to the Lakers. “I mean this girl right here—man! Best in the league. Smart. Focused. Got a crossover and a sense of humor.”

“She’s sitting right here,” I muttered.

He leaned in closer, whispering too loud to be subtle. “If you break her heart, I’m takin’ your jump shot. You hear me?”

Paige choked on her juice. My mom finally rescued us. “That’s enough, Mr. Hall of Fame. Go fix the screen door like you said you would.”

He walked off still talking. “Three for three! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Three for three!”

I turned to Paige, deadpan. “You wanna run? Now’s your chance.”

She leaned over, bumped my shoulder, and whispered, “Actually… I’m kinda into it.”

I blinked. “Into what?”

She smirked. “Being yours.”

My heart did something stupid. Like real stupid.

But all I said was, “Better be. You drooled on me.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[thatpieceoftrash]

You look just like a dream

Malleus Draconia x reader

WC: 1.016

In which you capture a picture of a certain fae(along with his heart)

“Hey stranger, what brings you here in the dead of night?”

Except he definitely wasn’t a stranger, especially not after finding out his real name a few weeks prior.

“Good evening, Child of Man. Isn't it a bit too late for you to be outside?” Malleus greeted you as stepped through the gate leading to ramshackle.

“Normally it would be, but I wanted to test the camera Crowley gave me” you told him, holding up the so-called ghost camera the headmage gave you at the beginning of the year, so you could capture what goes on throughout the school, although you suspect it was another task he was freeing himself of. Well, it wasn’t that big of a deal, at least you got a cool device to make up for it.

“Ah, I believe I have seen you around with it, although I’m not quite certain how it works.“ He said with a pensive look on his face, which was now much closer to you. Close enough to also see the confusion clouding those impossibly green eyes of his.

“Come here, I’ll show you how it works,” you said patting the space next to you. The fae was reluctant at first, likely not being used to such a close proximity with anyone, but after a moment he joined you on the old, cracked stairs of ramshackle, with his shoulder touching yours.

“Alright, so first you look through this small window to see what exactly you’ll take a picture of,” you started explaining, pointing your camera towards the starry sky, “and then, once you’re sure this is what you want, you just click on this button and it’s done!” You demonstrated as best as you could to Malleus, who wore such a serious expression on his beautiful visage, you’d think this was an incredibly important meeting, and not some barely understandable explanations.

“I see. To think whatever you capture is forever immortalised in that camera of yours. How fascinating.” There was a soft glimmer in his eyes as he spoke to you, and so the words coming out of your mouth shouldn’t have been all that surprising.

“Would you like to be immortalised as well, Tsunotaro?” You inquired, slowly turning your head towards him, catching the faint surprised look on his face, but it slowly turned into his familiar and haughty smirk. Now this one you were familiar with.

He let out a small laugh at your question, “You’d wish to capture me with your camera? Truly fearless of you to ask me, I do not usually let other people photograph me, but since it’s you I’ll make an exception.”

You absolutely beamed at this and got up as fast as you could. “Really?! Okay, okay just stay there and I’ll set the camera!” You would not refuse an opportunity to have a picture of the prince all to yourself. After all, he really was quite pretty to look at.

“Very well, is my pose agreeable to you?” Malleus asked as he sat up straighter, but while his whole demeanour screamed nobility, his smile was slightly wider than you were used to, and you could even see a fang poking out from behind those pale kissable lips.

“Perfect!” And you weren’t lying, as you quickly captured what you definitely consider your magnum opus for pictures.

“I’ll definitely be keeping this somewhere safe, out of Grim’s paws, and the ghosts wandering gazes.” You smiled to yourself as you looked at the small paper with your horned friend on it.

“You’d keep me only for your eyes to regard? Possessive, are you?” Malleus questioned, from his position now behind you, with this chin on your shoulder taking a glance at his portrait “Well, I suppose I don’t mind if I have your admiration alone.“

Maybe he doesn’t mind the proximity after all “Well I’ll think of this as my own treasure, don’t you also have that?” You tried to keep a cool head, but his hot breath next to your ear made it harder to even think.

“Oh, I most definitely do, my dearest Child of Man”

You barely had enough time to register his words before you felt a pair of hands grab your waist.

“Why, my greatest treasure is right here.” His whisper sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you also gonna keep me for yourself only?” You teased him back, turning your face to gauge his reaction.

His eyes widened a little, before he let out a laugh, “you say the most curious things, I advise you to be careful, lest a dragon steals you away.” He almost purred those words, and your brain stopped functioning.

“What if I say I wouldn't mind it?” You challenged him, slowly bringing your lips closer to his.

“Oh my, a brave one, are you? Tempting me like this. Remember that you brought this on.” And as you were about to retort, he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Malleus, you tease!“ you sputtered before turning away completely, but you didn’t leave the warmth of his arms.

He gave a delighted laugh at that. “Apologies, my dear, I just couldn't resist. You’ll forgive me for my insolence, won’t you?” He said, placing yet another kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ll forgive you, but then you'll also have to forgive me,” you said, suddenly turning back to him.

“Whatever for-“ but he didn't get to finish his sentence, as you planted your lips to his.

For a moment he froze, and you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have been to bold, but his shock quickly melted away, in favour of kissing you back, with just as much, if not more vigor, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, as you grabbed his ethereal face.

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, with your foreheads touching each other. Neither of you said a word, as you basked in the comforting silence that followed, though you knew you’d eventually have to talk about it.

“Well, I suppose I could pardon this transgression, if you give me another kiss.”

[furofafawn]

dusk — jacob black ౨ৎ˚₊ 

pairing: jacob black x fem!reader word count: 702 a/n: i've never posted my work before so please bare with me & let me know if there's anything i should do differently :0 summary: short fluffy smut one-shot thing i wrote to test this page out. oral (fem recieving).

your eyes meet the window of your dimly-lit bedroom, the grey clouds overhead constantly promising rain. since moving to the little town of forks eight months ago, you can’t seem to escape it—and you can’t seem to escape jacob black either.

you had been friends with him when you were little, since your father and his father were friends, but when you moved back to your hometown seventeen years later he was very excited to see you again. you never expected for it to go this way. you never expected to fall in love with him.

finally, your eyes meet his. jacob is kneeling before you, his hands holding your bare knees and his thumbs rubbing loving circles into your skin. he’s got a love-struck expression on, staring into your eyes like you’re something to be admired as you stand half-naked in front of him.

and god knows he wants you. you see it in his eyes.

jacob breathes your name quietly. hopefully. indirectly asking your permission before he goes through with what you both know he wants to do. you smile, running your right hand through his short, black hair before nodding at him. you always found it funny how he likes to act so damn tough around his friends. you know that the moment you're with him, alone, he melts.

the nod is all he needs. jacob swallows, his eyes moving from your eyes to your body before he leans in and starts pressing kisses to your thighs, and your pelvis, focusing entirely on you. during the day, he can worry about the pack and about what sam thinks of him all he wants. at night, he’s yours. he is fully devoted to you.

you sigh quietly, the pleasure beginning to build in your lower stomach as his hands slide up toward your thighs, gripping them just a little bit tighter. your jeans and underwear bunch around your ankles, giving him all the room he needs for when suddenly his mouth connects to your pussy, beginning to swirl around and suck on you eagerly. jacob moans against you muffledly, enjoying your taste.

you moan gently and gasp his name, your grip tightening around his hair. it would be a miracle if he still had any of it by the end of this.

jacob grins against you. he's happy doing this, giving you all the pleasure he can. and you’re definitely happy to be on the receiving end.

“taste s’good.” he murmurs, the vibration of his voice against your throbbing pussy making you bite your lip. your thighs tremble around his head, evoking a quiet laugh from jacob, a little muffled-sounding against your clit. you look down at him and he’s got that stupid grin on his face that lets you know he’s real damn pleased with himself.

he pulls away, glancing at your pussy and then up at your face.

“i got you. c’mon.” he whispers before attaching his mouth right back onto you, hands holding onto your hips now. his eyes flutter shut as he laps you up. every little move and gesture he makes causes the pleasure building in your gut to reverberate, time and time again. he takes his time with you. he savours you.

soon, the warm pleasure you had been experiencing increases tenfold and you're grabbing at his head, feeling him move it back and forth to give you just that little bit more. you moan and whine as it all washes over you and for a second there, you swear you’ve seen heaven.

jacob smirks happily, his eyes rolling back just a little bit. he’d never admit how much he loves when you grip his hair just like that.

“yes..”, he murmurs against you blissfully. “come..”

jacob rides out your orgasm with you, continuing to eat you out until you’ve come down from it and then, only then, does he finally pull away.

he’s smiling. damn him and his contagious smile. with a soft and satisfied laugh, you kneel down to meet him on the floor as he grabs your hands and kisses you. he loves you loudly and proudly.

after a moment, he finishes the kiss with a pleased giggle and presses his forehead against yours. something about the way that jacob is smiling lazily at you lets you know that this will certainly not be a one-time occurrence.

[milfsloverblog]

Yield (nsfw)

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’m in my Brienne era, dreaming of a female Knight in shining armour—vowing their life to me. Ha, a girl can dream! I hope you’ll enjoy this fic, I sure did giggle and kick my feet writing it!

The sun burned low in the sky, stretching the shadows of the field long and gold. Dust curled in lazy plumes where hooves had pounded earlier in the day, and the crowd now buzzed for the final match, eager for blood, for victory, for the thrill of steel meeting steel.

Brienne of Tarth stood tall in the centre of the arena, a vision of quiet strength, her armour catching the last of the light. Her grip on the sword was firm, but her stance relaxed, confident, composed. She was favoured to win. Of course she was.

You watched her from across the field, adjusting your helmet. The weight of it grounded you, familiar and steady. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, steady but hard. You hadn’t fought her before. Not like this. Not in front of so many eyes. Not with your identity buried beneath plate and leather.

No one knew what you were about to do—not even her.

Especially not her.

Your armour bore no sigil. No name. You were simply a late entry, a nameless challenger allowed into the ring thanks to coin, anonymity, and the chaos of an already packed roster. Your heart clenched, not with nerves—but with something hotter. Heavier. You had something to prove. Something to feel.

You wanted to face her. Not as her lover. Not as the woman she kissed behind tent flaps and starlight. But as her equal.

The horn sounded.

You advanced.

Brienne’s expression shifted at once. Curiosity narrowed her eyes as she raised her sword, taking you in with a practiced gaze. You knew that gaze. It had scanned battlefields and challengers, had lingered on your face in candlelight.

She didn’t recognize you.

Yet.

The first strike was yours. Fast, clean, testing. She met it with ease, parried with the grace of someone who’d fought all her life. But there was no condescension. She didn’t underestimate you.

Steel rang as she countered, a measured blow that caught your side and sent you staggering back a step.

You grinned beneath your helmet and lunged again.

The crowd roared at the speed of your retaliation, your blade clashing with hers in a flurry of sparks. She blocked high, then low, pivoting around you with growing focus. Her brows drew tighter, suspicion creeping in.

You fought harder. Pushed her. She was taller, stronger—but you were fast, fluid, unpredictable. You circled, ducked, feinted, then struck low to draw her balance. Her blade scraped your vambrace. Yours barely missed her thigh.

She grunted softly, more in surprise than pain.

“You’re quick,” she muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. “But reckless.���

You danced away, giving her nothing.

She came at you again, this time with real force behind the blade. You blocked, barely, the impact jarring through your wrists. Brienne pressed forward, step after step, until you were nearly at the edge of the ring.

Her sword pressed lightly to your shoulder.

“Yield,” she ordered sharply.

Still, you said nothing.

You dropped and rolled out of her reach instead, dust clouding up in your wake. The crowd erupted again, some cheering for you now, others laughing at the way you'd ducked a knight like her with no name, no house, no honor.

Brienne turned to face you, her lips parted, breath rising. Her eyes had narrowed in recognition—not of you, not yet—but of something familiar. The way you moved. The way you tested her limits.

She was starting to sense it.

“You fight like someone I know,” she said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

You just struck again.

The fight continued, longer than anyone expected. Sweat beaded beneath your armor, trickling down your spine. Brienne’s hair stuck to her forehead in golden strands. Your limbs were aching, breath coming harder now, but neither of you relented.

She locked your blade in a twist and leaned close, her voice low and urgent.

“Yield, damn it. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

Still, you didn’t break. Didn’t speak. You shoved back with a surge of strength, forcing her off-balance for just a second.

It earned you one final clash—one last, desperate flurry that ended in a brutal pivot and the flat of her sword knocking yours from your hands.

The crowd howled as your blade hit the ground with a thud.

Brienne stepped in fast, placing her sword to your chest, her shoulders heaving. “Yield.”

This time, you did.

You dropped to one knee, panting beneath your helm. “I yield.”

Relief rippled across her face. She lowered her sword an inch—but didn’t step back.

You reached up slowly and removed your helmet.

The shift in her face was instant.

Shock, horror, disbelief.

Her mouth parted, but no sound came. Her eyes swept over your face like she couldn’t trust it, like she wasn’t sure she was seeing you at all.

“Gods,” she whispered.

You gave her a slow, crooked smile.

“Told you I’d find a way to fight you.”

Her sword lowered all the way now, slipping to her side like she'd forgotten she was holding it.

“You can’t— What were you thinking?” Her voice trembled slightly, but not with fear. With anger. With disbelief. “If they knew—if anyone knew—”

“They don’t,” you said calmly, getting to your feet. “They won’t.”

“But you could’ve— I could’ve hurt you.”

“You were supposed to try.”

She stared at you like she didn’t know whether to kiss you or drag you out of the arena by your collar.

You stepped a little closer, letting your smile soften just enough to cut through the tension. “You beat me fair and square, Ser Brienne.”

The official was announcing her victory in the background. The crowd roared her name.

But she wasn’t looking at them.

She was only looking at you.

And there was something in her eyes—rage and heat and longing all tangled up beneath the armor.

You let the tension hang there between you as the moment passed.

Later, when the moon had risen and the wine had quieted the campfires, you’d find her again.

You didn’t return to your own tent after the match.

Not right away.

You wandered the edges of camp instead, letting the quiet settle back into your limbs, into your chest. The tournament had drawn to a close with laughter and mead and the clang of mugs against steel, but you kept to the shadows, avoiding the firelight and the curious questions.

No one had recognized you. No one had pieced it together.

Except her.

She hadn’t looked at you during the celebration. Not once. Hadn’t approached while the other knights clapped her on the back, praising her victory. Her smile had been hollow, her eyes always fixed somewhere just beyond the crowd.

You knew that look.

Brienne was angry. Not because you’d lost. Not because you’d surprised her. But because she couldn’t say what she wanted to say.

Not there. Not in front of them.

Which was why you weren’t surprised to find her in your tent.

You slipped inside quietly, lifting the flap with a practiced hand. The lantern was already lit. She sat on the edge of your narrow cot, legs apart, elbows on her knees, hands clasped like she was trying to hold herself together.

She’d removed her armor, though the padded tunic beneath still clung to her frame. Her hair was damp from a rushed wash, curling slightly at the edges.

She didn’t look at you when you entered.

“I could’ve hurt you,” she said, voice low and tight.

You closed the flap behind you. “You didn’t.”

“You could’ve broken something. Your wrist. Your ribs.”

“I didn’t.”

“You could’ve ruined us.” Her voice rose then, only slightly—but enough to twist the air taut between you.

You stood still. “But I didn’t.”

Brienne finally looked up.

Her eyes, storm-dark, caught yours like a snare.

“You’re reckless.”

“I wanted to know if I could hold my own against you.”

“That wasn’t the way.”

You stepped closer, slow and quiet, like you might spook her.

“It was the only way. If I asked, you would’ve said no.”

She looked away.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You’d have said no to protect me.” You crouched before her then, knees aching a little from the day’s battle. “And I love you for it. But I needed to do this. I needed to see.”

Brienne’s eyes flicked back to yours. “You could’ve said something.”

“In front of all those people? Who still think I’m only the King’s niece with a fondness for swords? You know what they’d do if they found out about us. About you.”

Silence stretched.

Long and heavy.

And then—very slowly—Brienne lifted one hand, rough and callused, to your face. Her thumb brushed the curve of your cheek, soft as a breath.

“I knew it was you,” she murmured. “Not at first. But something about the way you moved. I kept thinking: she fights like someone I know. Someone I—”

She stopped herself, but you heard it in the space between the words.

Someone I love.

You leaned into her touch. Let her feel you, warm and real and unbroken beneath her fingers.

“I never meant to frighten you,” you whispered.

Brienne let out a soft exhale. “You didn’t. You just… undid me.”

You stood then, slow and deliberate, your eyes locked with hers. Her hand dropped to her lap as you stepped between her knees. Her breath caught when your fingers gently found her jaw.

You kissed her—softly at first. Testing. A question.

She answered in kind, her hands finding your hips, her mouth moving against yours with slow, desperate hunger. Like she’d been waiting all day to touch you. To taste you.

When you broke the kiss, your lips barely brushed hers as you whispered:

“Yield.”

Her breath shuddered against your mouth.

And then she did.

She slid from the cot, dropping to her knees before you with a grace that made your stomach twist. Her hands smoothed over the backs of your thighs, reverent. Her eyes stayed on yours, blue and burning.

No hesitation. No shame. Only need.

“I would,” she murmured. “Only for you.”

You threaded your fingers into her hair and smiled, the kind of smile meant for no one else but her.

The kind that said mine.

Her breath hitched softly when your fingers curled tighter in her hair. She looked up at you from her knees—flushed, devoted, undone. No armor. No titles. Just Brienne.

Your Brienne.

You stroked your thumb across her cheek, marveling at the heat in her skin, the way her pupils stayed fixed on you like you were a star and she, a knight who’d spent a lifetime following the wrong light.

“Take your time,” you murmured. “No one’s watching now.”

Her lips parted slightly. You saw the hesitation flicker in her expression—respect, restraint, reverence—but you didn’t want reverence tonight. You wanted to be known.

You stepped back, just enough to unlace the front of your trousers, fingers a little clumsy from the nerves still buzzing under your skin. Brienne didn’t help. She waited, watching, breathing unevenly through parted lips.

When you bared yourself to her, you saw the change in her eyes—how they went darker, heavier with want. Still, she didn’t move. Not until you whispered:

“Please.”

That single word undid her.

She leaned forward, kissing the inside of your thigh first, just above your knee, soft and reverent. Then higher. Another kiss. Then a third, closer now, her breath warming your skin until your legs trembled beneath her. Her hands slid up to hold your hips—firm, grounding you—just before her mouth finally found you.

You gasped.

Her tongue moved slow, deliberate, drawing a long stroke through your folds like she meant to memorize you. She groaned low in her throat at the taste, the vibration sparking deep in your belly. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter as she licked again, pressing firmer now, more sure.

“Gods, Brienne—” Your head fell back, knees threatening to buckle, but she didn’t let you fall. Her arms wrapped around your legs, keeping you steady, holding you right where she wanted you.

Her mouth worshipped you like she was praying—gentle, rhythmic, unrelenting. Every flick of her tongue pulled another sound from you, raw and breathless, until you were panting her name in broken syllables.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Everything she wanted to say was in the way her lips wrapped around your clit, the way her tongue flattened and lapped, the way she kept moaning softly between your thighs like this—you—was the only thing that had ever made her feel alive.

When your fingers tangled tighter in her hair and your hips began to rock against her mouth, she didn’t stop. She adjusted. Let you chase it. Let you grind against her tongue as if nothing in the world mattered but getting closer.

You came with a cry muffled against your own knuckles, stars bursting behind your eyes, thighs shaking around her shoulders. She held you through it. Steady, patient, reverent still—as you rode the wave down, gasping her name.

When you finally opened your eyes, she was still on her knees, lips wet, eyes burning.

You tugged her up to you by the front of her tunic, crashing your mouth into hers, tasting yourself on her tongue. She kissed you back, deep and hungry, like she needed to remind herself you were real.

You pulled away just enough to murmur against her lips, “Lie with me.”

Brienne didn’t answer. She simply scooped you into her arms and settled you both onto the narrow cot like you weighed nothing at all. Her hand found yours between your bodies, fingers lacing together.

And in the dark, tangled in sweat and breath and silence, you pressed your forehead to hers and whispered:

“You can always ask me to yield for you.”

She smiled then—small, shy, and entirely hers.

“I know.”

————————————————————————

Taglist : @weemssapphic @cblanchetts , @valerielovebug , @schlaegerpaula , @suckerfortallwomen , @dingdongthetail @gwensfz @erablaise-blog @rainbow-hedgehog @renravens @kaymariesworld @niceminipotato @notmeellaannyy @weemswife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @redkarine @women-are-so-ethereal @opheliauniverse e @willisnotmental @raspburrythief @vii-v @fictionalized-lesbian @theboreworms @ness029 @geekyarmorel l @h-doodles @cxndlelightx @winterfireblond @nocteangelus15 @aemilia19 @theswordmaiden @spacetoaim22 @anbadann @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @mysteriouslysapphic

[wongyuseokie]

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 3: Fucked Up, Still Falling

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 15,457

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

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

Content Warnings: yelling, swearing, LOTS OF ANGST HOLY COW shit really hit the fan here. Mingyu is very sad and angry (rightfully so) cheol is very very mean, but its warranted, hoshi is mean but not as bad more bitchy than mean. seokmin is snippy but sunshine cant ever be truly cruel. Smut Warnings:  no smut actually, suggestive sure, but no sex mentions of anal sex its more jokey but none of it. lots of kissing, fingering (but its not y/n) dun dun.  Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 3, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

That evening, your bedroom was a mess of indecision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t know. Not yet.

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

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

Just... not yet. Not tonight.

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

You just needed one more night.

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

“You’ve got this,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

“Shua,” you warned, grabbing your purse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “You wore a suit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “You sing?”

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

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

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

And then you saw where he’d brought you.

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

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

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

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

Your heart swelled. And cracked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head. “Dangerous request.”

“Hit me with it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

“Is that a hickey?”

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

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

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

“He gave you that hickey?”

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

You laughed nervously. “They are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you’re unreal,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? I’m merely asking questions.”

“You’re mean.”

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

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

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

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

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

He winced. “You’re killing me.”

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

You didn’t look up. “No.”

“How many dates has it been?”

You mumbled, “Ten.”

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked. “Am I?”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer.

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

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twisted. Photos of you?

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

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

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

But you could barely look him in the eye.

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

You crossed out the six and wrote nine.

Then stared at it for a long time.

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled awkwardly. “I brought croissants.”

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

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

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

“Gyu,” you said softly. “These are…”

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

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

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

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

“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

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

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

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

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

~~

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

You took a breath. Then another.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

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

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

And then your eyes landed on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were three frames there.

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

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

Your breath caught.

“I call it Falling,” Mingyu said softly.

You swallowed. “That’s…”

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

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

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

You could feel your heart cave in on itself.

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

But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t ruin this night.

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

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

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

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

~~

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

But also, the most deceitful.

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

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

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

“To you,” he said, raising his glass.

You blinked. “Me?”

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

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

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

You nodded.

“I think you’re it for me.”

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

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

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

You paused, fingers tightening around your wine glass.

Say it. Tell him. Just say it.

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

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

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

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

You swallowed the truth. You kissed him instead.

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

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

You had to.

~~

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

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

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

And then your heart stopped.

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

Your stomach dropped.

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

You blinked. “Mingyu—”

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

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

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

“It does,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your silence was answer enough.

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

“No, Mingyu, please don’t say that—”

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu—”

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

And then he left.

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

You had wanted to fall for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still no messages from Mingyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He knows, he found out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

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

“What did you say?” Joshua asked gently.

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

Neither of them said anything.

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

Joshua sighed and sat back down, rubbing his temple.

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

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

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

Cold.

Sharp.

You flinched. “I just wanted to talk.”

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

“Mingyu, please—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat closed up.

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to reach for him.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

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

“Mingyu…” you whispered, one last attempt.

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

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

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

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t.

“Well?” Joshua asked softly.

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

“Yup!” She said, eyes lighting up. 

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

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

The girl giggled and practically leapt into his arms.

“Missed me?” She asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if he doesn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need a ride?”

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

You shook your head. “I’ll wait.”

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

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, throat burning.

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

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

You shrank into your seat.

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

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

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

You pulled away instantly.

“I can carry my bags,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Then what now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He said it low, like a curse.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

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

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

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

You didn’t deserve to.

~~

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

Keira spotted you before you could slip past her.

“Y/N, can I speak to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a long story.”

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, and suddenly you were crying.

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

It was a promise you failed to keep.

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

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

Your head lolled against a familiar chest.

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

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

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

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

“It’s literally seven p.m.”

You beamed. “Then I’m very early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See?” You mumbled. “Didn’t die.”

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

“Mingyu?” You whispered, voice suddenly small.

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

You swallowed thickly. “Can you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is this?” you hissed.

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

“You know I can reassign this—”

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

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

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

You said nothing. Guilt chewed away at your insides.

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

“Mingyu,” you sighed. “I didn’t lie.”

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

You didn’t answer.

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

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

~~

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

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

“Harder,” someone panted.

Your stomach dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jihoon,” Joshua warned quietly.

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

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

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

That was enough.

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

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

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out.

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

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

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

You exhaled. “Hi, Soonyoung.”

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked down at your glass, throat tight.

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung winced. “Yikes.”

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

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

You nodded wordlessly.

“I still do.”

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

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

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

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

The chill in the air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, and it sank in just how far from home you really were. You turned a corner, tried to retrace your steps, but your stomach dropped when none of the streets looked familiar.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

You fumbled for your phone and called the one person you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” “Mingyu.” Your voice was small, unsure. “Hi, I know you hate me, but I… I’m lost.”

A groan crackled through the speaker. “You—”

“No, never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you,” you blurted, ending the call before he could say anything else.

Your screen dimmed before the app you opened for a taxi could even load. Your phone powered off completely in your hands.

“Fucking wonderful.”

You sat down on a nearby bench, staring into the dark, unsure if you should wait it out until morning or hope that someone—anyone—might pass by.

Just as your thoughts started spiraling and panic bloomed in your chest, a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey.”

You turned with a jolt, nearly jumping to your feet. But there they were—Mingyu’s familiar doe eyes, breath visible in the cold air. “So you hung up, and it was a real struggle to find you and I…” Mingyu trailed off, startled when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.

“You okay?” He asked softly. His arms didn’t move to return the hug.

You stepped back, cheeks flushing. “How did you find me?”

“I assumed you’d gone drinking,” Mingyu said, his voice low, careful. “Soonyoung-hyung texted me, said he saw you at that bar. I just traced my steps.”

You nodded, brushing the back of your hand across your eyes.

“Come on, let’s go back,” he murmured, guiding you toward his car. The silence between you was heavy, but not hostile.

When you reached the car, he hesitated before opening the passenger door for you.

“Hey, um… nothing happened, right? Like, no one tried to hurt you?” He asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

Mingyu nodded. “I’m sorry for what you saw earlier.”

You bit your lip. “No… I mean. We aren’t together. And I hurt you. So, it’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone turned sharp. “That’s fucking toxic, and I’m sorry. We were just caught up in the moment. I didn’t even realise until I saw your face.”

You looked out the window. “Do you like her?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think I’ve been on enough dates yet.”

You winced. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated. “I just meant… it’s too soon to tell with her.”

You took a breath. “I knew. With you.”

Mingyu froze. His hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled over.

“What?” You turned to him, your heart thudding. “I knew I felt something for you. I knew it when I saw Mia and I got jealous. I got jealous of the rock climbing receptionist and then that girl you’re dating now. No one gets jealous unless they care.”

Mingyu’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

You sighed. “Because I should’ve said it when it mattered. Because I miss you. And I hate that I ruined it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the crack in his silence was louder than any words.

~~

The ride back to the apartment was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid. When Mingyu pulled into the lot, the car barely came to a full stop before you unbuckled and got out. You didn’t wait for him, didn’t speak—just walked briskly toward the front of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement like punctuation to every aching beat of your heart.

You didn’t expect him to follow. But when you reached the elevator and hit the button, you caught a brief glance over your shoulder—and there he was. Mingyu, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face unreadable. For a second, your eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but something passed between you—an unspoken permission, a quiet nudge.

You took it as a sign and stepped into the elevator. When he joined you seconds later, the air between you thickened, pressing against your chest like gravity.

The elevator ride was short, but the silence felt infinite.

Neither of you said a word as you reached the hallway. Mingyu unlocked his door, then paused—just for a breath—before stepping inside. He left it open. You followed.

His apartment looked the same, but everything felt different.

Mingyu didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I need you to know that every single emotion I felt with you was real,” he said softly, his back still to you. “Every time you kissed me, it felt like fireworks. Every time you hugged me, I felt safe. And every time we—” He paused, his voice catching. “It wasn’t just sex. It felt like a journey. You made me feel special every time I was with you.”

You swallowed. “Mingyu, I made a stupid mistake. But I wanted to fall for you… because I knew there was something there. I just—I went about it the wrong way. I was scared. But you? You’re someone worth loving. Not just… someone worth writing about.”

He turned around at that, slowly. His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for the lie.

“Are you just pushing me into forgiving you?” He asked, but there was more pain than malice in his voice.

You shook your head. “No. I just don’t want what I did to affect how you see yourself. What I did was on me, not on you.”

For a flicker of a second, you saw something shift in him—like your words hit somewhere tender. But then he stepped forward, and the moment shattered.

“Oh, really?” Mingyu scoffed. “Me? Affected? I’m the one getting laid. Not you.” His words came out harsher than intended, bitterness rising. “Fuck, has anyone ever even wanted you? Approached you? Your ex cheated on you,  even Wonwoo Hyung avoided you—he warned me, you know? He knew you were a ticking time bomb.”

You flinched. Your stomach twisted.

“And I still fucking fell for you,” Mingyu said, voice rising. “Ten dates. Don’t worry I’m over i, clearly, I don’t care, because not too long ago, my fingers were inside another girl.” He said it like a weapon, wielded cruelly, “She was tight. Fuck. Her body was—”

“Enough,” you said, barely a whisper, but Mingyu stopped. Like he finally heard himself.

You turned away and made a move to leave his apartment. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mingyu asked, eyes wide.

You didn’t answer, just tried to get out of his apartment. 

“Y/N! Fucking stop.”

You froze as Mingyu walked up behind. “Y/N,” he said again, softer now, “look at me.”

You didn’t move.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You slowly turned your face toward him. His expression was crumbling.

“I know I crossed a line. What I just said… it was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. As toxic as it is, I just wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me, but I went too far.”

You held your hand out to stop him. “I fucked up, Mingyu. I know that what I did is unforgivable. I want to thank you for tonight. I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll have your artist profile written and sent to you for your kind perusal in a week.”

“Y/N—”

You smiled, and Mingyu could see the tears threatening to fall. “Goodnight, Mingyu,” you whispered, leaving his apartment, walking across the hall and entering your own apartment, and closing the door behind you. 

He stood there long after the door closed, your words hanging in the air like smoke.

~~

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor,” Joshua called out, poking his head into your bedroom the next morning. You were freshly showered, curled up in your robe, sipping on kombucha when you caught sight of a familiar figure hovering behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked. Mingyu.

“Can he stay, or do we not like him today?” Joshua asked, squinting at Mingyu like he was trying to summon a glare.

“He can stay,” you replied, quietly.

Joshua nodded. “Alright. But if I hear her cry, I’m calling Wonwoo Hyung to hurt you.”

“Why not you?” Mingyu asked, brow lifting.

Joshua shrugged. “Your stupid golden retriever face makes it hard to stay mad. I can’t hit a puppy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shua.”

“I’m going. Holler if you need me.” He winked, disappearing into the hallway.

You gestured toward the bed. “You can sit. I won’t bite.”

“You seem better,” Mingyu said, stepping inside and cautiously sitting down beside you. His eyes scanned your face, your posture—like he was trying to read how much of your recovery was real.

“Getting there,” you lied, sipping your drink. “You gave me closure last night, so I guess now I just… learn and heal.”

That lie tasted bitter. You weren’t over him. You weren’t even close.

“Really?” Mingyu asked, his expression tightening. “You got over me so quickly?”

You shook your head, voice soft. “No. I just… I’m leaving you alone.”

He looked down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look I’m so fucking sorry for what I said, I was being spiteful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said about her. Or… you.”

You gave him a small nod. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Silence stretched between you until Mingyu glanced around the room and started to get up. “Okay. I guess I should go?”

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a hesitant step toward you and knelt on the edge of your bed. His hand brushed your cheek—light as a whisper—and you froze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Truly.”

Then, just like that, he was gone. His hand pulled away. His body retreated. And he rushed out of your room like a man on fire, leaving you stunned, confused, and just a little less miserable.

~~

The following evening, you were sprawled on the couch in your favorite hoodie, arms crossed stubbornly as House Hunters played in the background at low volume. The sunlight had long since dipped behind the skyline, casting a moody blue over the apartment. You hadn’t moved in hours — not since Mia’s party invite had come through the group chat.

“You’re going,” Wonwoo said, nudging your foot with his knee as he walked past holding a bowl of popcorn.

You didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not.”

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. “Come on.”

“I’d rather attend my own funeral,” you muttered.

“Dramatic,” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “It’s not her wedding, it’s a party. Mingyu will be there. Your friends will be there.”

“Only you and Shua, no one else wants me there.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “You can’t avoid everything that makes you uncomfortable.” “Mia does,” Wonwoo tried to lie. 

You rolled your eyes at him “that’s because she’s dating you and she cares about you.” 

“I’m not avoiding,” you snapped. “I’m choosing peace.”

“That’s funny, because you look like a woman actively losing her mind in a hoodie cocoon.”

You finally sat up, scowling. “I’m just not ready to go to a party where everyone knows I screwed up.”

Wonwoo gave you a pointed look. “Everyone screws up. But only some people decide to marinate in guilt like a mopey rotisserie chicken.”

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” you muttered.

“Still worked.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a throw pillow to hug. “Wonwoo, what if he’s there and just—ignores me? What if Mia says something? What if I cry into someone’s jungle juice?”

“Then you cry. But at least you’re not crying alone on a couch watching reruns of sad real estate couples.” He leaned forward, voice softer. “You’re allowed to show up for yourself. Even if it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.”

You stared at him, torn. “Ugh. Why are you good at pep talks?”

“Because I know you,” he said with a small smile. “And you hate feeling left out more than you hate confrontation.”

“God, I hate when you’re right.”

“And yet you listen every time.”

You took his hand. “I’m blaming you if this ends in disaster.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” ~~

Later that evening you were in full panic mode. 

“Wonwoo, I can’t do this. Everyone there hates me,” you groaned as he paced around your living room.

“Oh also, plans changed, Mia needs help so you need to go yourself,” Wonwoo said sheepishly 

“What the hell, no I’ll be walking into a lions den!” 

He shrugged. “Jihoon and Joshua are already there setting up. Mia’s with me. So yeah, it’s just you. Good luck.” And with that, he ducked out the door before you could protest.

You knew you’d have to face the crowd, you decided to suck it up and get dressed. 

You chose your silk blue dress—short, elegant, and dangerous. The kind that hugged all the right curves. You were slipping on your heels when someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” you called out.

“Hey. Oh—wow,” Mingyu muttered, stepping inside. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and you instantly felt your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze.

You cleared your throat. “Uh hi?”

He smiled faintly. “Mia’s party. Seokmin and Cheol are already there setting up. I figured… maybe we could share a ride?”

You hesitated. “Isn’t your date going with you?”

He shook his head. “Yeah… she’s not really relevant anymore. Turns out I was just the decoy to make her ex jealous. She got him back.”

He let out a short laugh. “Guess I’ve got that ‘easy to fuck over’ vibe.”

You didn’t say anything, but your silence was loud.

Mingyu glanced at you. “Anyway. I called us a cab. You ready?”

You nodded.

~~

The cab ride to the party was quieter than expected. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet. Mingyu sat beside you, elbow on the window, tapping a soft rhythm against the glass. You stared ahead, feeling the buzz of anticipation, dread, and god-knows-what else coiling in your stomach like a tightened spring.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

He smiled at the floor of the car, like he didn’t quite know what to do with your voice.

When you both arrived, the apartment was already buzzing. The bass of the music thumped low through the walls, and there was a faint glow from the string lights Seokmin had insisted on. You could hear laughter, someone singing off-key, and the gentle hum of people who weren’t thinking about you at all.

“Ready?” Mingyu asked, already stepping out and circling to open your door.

You paused. “Not even a little.”

He chuckled. “Same.”

The second you stepped in, all heads turned. Not because of you—no, definitely not just you—but because of you and Mingyu, together. He was in all black, stupidly tall and maddeningly handsome, and you were in a dress that had already gotten three glances and a whisper before you’d made it past the entryway.

You felt the pressure of every gaze crawling up your spine. Your hand brushed Mingyu’s by accident. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t reach back either.

“Hey!” Seokmin grinned, running over, arms already halfway to a hug before he remembered. “Right, hi.”

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.

“Come on Mingyu, party’s started,” Seokmin said guiding Mingyu, and reluctantly you to the bar.

Mingyu gave him a nod before grabbing a drink from the bar and handing you one without asking.

“I thought you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, muttering, “God, yes.”

The night unfolded in slow motion.

Joshua and Jihoon were manning the playlist and playing hype-men near the drinks table. Mia was radiant, bouncing around in a sequin dress, glowing like a mirrorball. Wonwoo hovered at her side like a quiet shadow, until he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.

You raised your glass in a silent toast.

Mingyu disappeared midway through the night, and you let him. You weren’t sure if you were meant to follow, but you didn’t want to look like you were chasing him. You ended up nursing your drink on the balcony, alone with the music and the pulse of memories.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Joshua step out beside you, two drinks in hand.

“Not sure,” you admitted.

He handed you one of the glasses and stared ahead into the city lights. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

“Only mildly crumbling.”

“Progress.”

You both sipped quietly.

Back inside, you caught sight of Mingyu again—laughing at something Seungcheol said, his head thrown back. That laugh used to belong to you. That laugh used to be something you could earn, like a reward. And now it was just… public domain.

You turned away, heart thudding like a warning.

You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until you heard the voice.

“Hey, pretty thing. You’re that girl, right? The one Mingyu dated?”

You turned to face a stranger, his breath laced with tequila and whatever cologne he’d bathed in.

“Excuse me?” You asked flatly.

He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, he clearly upgraded. You should see the new one.”

Before you could reply, you felt someone step between you and the guy.

“Walk away,” Mingyu said, low and lethal.

The guy held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Touchy.”

He slinked off, and for a moment it was just you and Mingyu. Again.

“Thanks,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s jaw was tight. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m getting used to it,” you admitted. “Not being liked very much.”

Mingyu looked at you, really looked at you. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

You didn’t know what possessed you in that moment—maybe the warmth from the drink, or the weight of his words—but you reached for his hand and found he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he gave it the smallest squeeze.

Just once.

Mingyu didn’t let go of your hand.

He hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place, but when you slipped beside him in that quiet moment by the balcony doors, your fingers brushed his—and he didn’t move. And neither did you.

From inside, the party carried on. Someone shouted about food. The lights shifted warmer. The bassline of an old familiar track pulsed through the floor. But here, in this sliver of quiet between the hallway and the chaos, everything stood still.

Your hand was still in his.

And he was still staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like if he looked at you now, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I should go and get some food,” you said finally, barely above a whisper.

But he still didn’t let go.

“I miss you.” The words dropped like a weight between you. Unprepared. Raw.

You turned your head sharply, breath catching in your throat.

“Mingyu—”

“I shouldn’t,” he cut in, eyes still fixed ahead. “I shouldn’t say that. But I do. I fucking miss you.”

Silence.

You looked down at your joined hands, his thumb just barely brushing your knuckle. It felt like fire.

“I never stopped missing you,” you murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering down to the floor. “That makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“I see you, Y/N. At the café, in the elevator, even when you don’t look at me. I still feel like I’m watching the version of you I used to have… and I don’t know how to unsee her.”

You blinked fast, swallowing around the lump rising in your throat. “I’m still her. Just... more broken.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, softer this time. “And I don’t know what it says about me that part of me still wants to.”

That hurt.

But you nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just needed you to know... that none of it was fake. Not a single second.”

Mingyu finally turned his head to look at you. And when he did, the full weight of the ache between you crashed like a wave. The room behind you could’ve gone silent or exploded into flames—you wouldn’t have noticed.

“You made me feel like I was everything,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And then you made me feel like I was nothing.”

You didn’t even realize your hands had tightened together until he pulled away.

“I need air,” he muttered. “There’s food inside.”

And just like that, the warmth of his touch vanished.

You stood still, heart racing, fingers burning in the space where his had just been.

Inside, Mia was mid-toast, giggling through champagne bubbles and surrounded by friends. “To a great group of friends, lets have a great night and make regrettable choices!” She shouted, and the crowd cheered.

You laughed weakly, even as your eyes found him again—across the room now, leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, nodding along to something Wonwoo was saying. He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

But his foot tapped restlessly on the floor.

And you knew he felt it too—the storm, the crack, the pull that hadn’t gone away, no matter how much damage you’d done.

You took a step forward.

Then stopped.

Somewhere between the beat of the music and the hum of the laughter, you realized: this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

And you… you weren’t sure if your heart could take another hit just yet.

So you turned, smiled at Mia, and raised your glass instead.

But still, in every reflective surface—windows, wine glasses, the shine of the fridge—you kept catching glimpses of him.

And you knew he saw you, too.

~~

You had found a quiet corner near the bar, nestled just far enough from the dance floor to avoid being dragged into conversation, but close enough to still look like you were trying. You sipped your drink slowly, hoping that the low lighting and loud music would blur you into the background.

That hope lasted all of ten minutes.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Look who showed up like she was invited.”

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Seungcheol. You tensed, your hand tightening around your glass.

“I was invited,” you replied coolly. “Mia said—”

“Mia invited you because Wonwoo wouldn’t stop pushing for it,” Seungcheol cut in, stepping in front of you. “And even then, we all said it was a bad idea.”

You glanced over his shoulder and caught Seokmin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression wasn’t hostile—just cold. Closed off in a way that hurt more than yelling ever could.

“You think just showing up fixes what you did?” Seungcheol asked, voice low enough that no one else around you could hear, but sharp enough to slice. “You think looking pretty and keeping your head down makes it all okay?”

“I didn’t come here to start anything,” you said, eyes flicking down to your drink. “I just wanted to show up for Mia. That’s all.”

“Then show up somewhere else,” Seokmin said finally, stepping forward. “Anywhere but here.”

You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but it was getting harder with every second they kept looking at you like you were a stain on the floor.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Seungcheol added, not quite as kind as his words claimed. “Mostly for Gyu’s sake. But if you’re still here in the next hour, I’m not going to hold back. Got it?”

You gave a small nod, lips pressed together so tightly you could taste the metallic bite of blood from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t wait for them to say anything else.

You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowd, each step heavier than the last.

And then you were outside—air crisp, music muffled behind the walls, and your breath fogging out in short, shallow bursts. You rubbed your hands along your arms, trying to breathe, trying to forget the way Seokmin wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

That’s when you felt it—a hand around your wrist.

You yelped, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu.

“Y/N?” He said, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why did you leave?”

You exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome,” you muttered, pulling your wrist gently from his hold.

Mingyu blinked. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, suddenly so tired your bones ached. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Mingyu stepped closer, voice gentler now. “Wait—Y/N, it’s freezing. You didn’t bring a coat?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get a cab.”

Mingyu frowned, glancing around. “There’s a diner around the corner. Let’s get food? I’ll make sure you get home safe after, I promise.”

You hesitated. “Gyu, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to.”

~~

The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed quietly above you, a stark contrast to the bass-heavy chaos of the club. The booths were faded vinyl, the menus laminated and slightly sticky, and the warmth inside made you realize just how cold your skin had gone. You were still clutching your arms like a shield, and Mingyu noticed.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “It’s quieter.”

You slid into the seat without argument. Mingyu sat across from you, tapping his fingers nervously against the salt shaker before picking up a menu he didn’t bother reading.

The hostess from earlier walked over with a soft smile. “What can I get you two? Drinks to start?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu beat you to it. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream, if you’ve got it.”

Your eyes flicked to him, startled.

He offered a small shrug. “You always get hot chocolate when you’re sad.”

You blinked, the lump forming in your throat again. “And for you?” the hostess asked, turning toward him. “Coffee. Black.” He paused, glancing at you. “Unless you want to split something.”

“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, looking down at the menu without seeing any of it.

“We’ll share the fries,” he told the waitress softly. “Thanks.”

When she walked away, the silence pressed in between you again, dense and tight. You stared at the table, tracing the ring of condensation left by a glass long since cleared.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mingyu asked eventually.

You hesitated, your voice low. “Seungcheol and Seokmin. They cornered me. Said I wasn’t welcome. That they were being nice for your sake, but if I stayed… it’d get ugly.”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, jaw tense. “They had no right.”

“They were defending you,” you murmured. “You were hurt. I get it.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Can you?”

That made him pause. He looked tired suddenly, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know they said that to you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you admitted. “Because I already knew. I knew I didn’t belong there. Not anymore.”

The waitress returned with the hot chocolate and coffee. You wrapped your fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into your hands.

“You know,” Mingyu said, eyes on his cup, “for a long time, I hated myself for still caring.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I’d see you around and I’d want to yell, or kiss you, or run in the opposite direction. Sometimes all three in the same minute.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s... fair.”

“But tonight, when I saw you outside?” His voice dipped. “You looked so lost. And I didn’t think. I just ran.”

You stared down at your mug, unsure what to say. So instead, you took a sip. Whipped cream clung to your lip, and Mingyu leaned forward, gently swiping it away with his thumb. Your eyes locked for a breath too long.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“So why are you?”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever stopped hoping you’d surprise me.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“Are you still angry?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “But less than I was yesterday.”

Your lips curved upward slightly. “Progress.”

He nodded, then signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll get this. And I’ll put you in a cab, like I promised.”

You stood together, walking toward the door in silence. But just before you stepped out into the cold again, Mingyu turned toward you.

“Don’t listen to Seungcheol,” he said. “You weren’t unwanted.”

With that, he opened the door, walked you up to your apartment like a gentleman, and bid you goodnight.

You could only hope that tonight was the start of healing for you both.

[daisyblog]

Sent From Heaven

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN find out they’re expecting Baby Styles number two.

warning: mentions of Liam’s passing (only a little, nothing specific or detailed), upset, emotions, loss of loved ones, pregnancy, positive pregnancy test, crying

Harry, YN and Grace had arrived back in London after spending the last 10 days in America with Louis, Freddie and the rest of the Tomlinson family.

Whilst the first half their holiday had been full of love, fun and much needed family time. The last few days had been tears, loss and heartbreak.

Along with the rest of the world, YN and Harry had cried and cried. They wondered if they had any tears left but seeing their smiling Grace in front of them, made their days a little lighter amongst the grey cloud that hung above them.

Harry was cuddling Grace to sleep in her room as the jet leg had taken over them all. YN stood in their en-suite looking at herself in the mirror as she wiped away her moisturiser trying to put some moisture back into her dry skin.

As YN looked at herself, she could see the heaviness in her eyes and the puffiness that screamed with soreness at how many tears had fallen in the last few days. She felt the sadness and grief overwhelm her again.

“Liam, please send us a sign to say you’re safe with my mum and Fizz”. YN pleaded as she held back her tears. She needed something, anything.

YN waited in silence for a few moments, hoping for a little sign, anything that would give her some hope. But nothing happened, the room was still surrounded by silence.

She quickly wiped away a stray tear that slipped down her cheek. As she opened the door of the small cupboard that sat above the sink, she was surprised as the box fell into the sink. YN reached to pick up the box, noticing it was a pregnancy test. She was about to put it back where it belonged, but then her eyes went wide.

“Is this a sign?”. She mentally calculated in her head when she was due her period, but then realised she was already a few days late.

Not wasting another minute, YN quickly went over to the toilet to do what she needed to do. She placed the white stick on the counter as she washed her hands, her heart thumped against her chest in an anxious rhythm.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

YN’s eyes widened and her hand shot up to cover her surprise. There in front of her, was her sign. Two pink lines. A clear sign she was pregnant.

She was unsure how long she had been stood there, staring at her new future in front of her. But it was definitely long enough for Harry to settle Grace and come and find her.

“Grace is settled babe…I was going to order some dinner-”. Harry’s voice broke her from her own thoughts as he entered the room. “What’s that?”.

“I’m pregnant!”.

Harry was experiencing his own emotions and grief, whilst trying to maintain his duties as a father and husband but hearing those two words was unexpected. “We’re having another baby?”.

“Yeah…we are”. For the first time in a few days, YN and Harry both smiled. Not a smile that they put on for the sake of Grace, and their nephews and nieces. But a real smile that made their hearts warm.

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife, her holding him equally as tight as they shared the moment that they were about to be parents to two, and Grace was going to be a big sister.

“I love you!”. They both said at the same time, smiling as they shared a sweet kiss, one that made them smile more.

As they stayed wrapped up as one, neither of them wanting to leave the other go, Harry spoke his thoughts. “It feels wrong to feel even be the tiniest bit happy at the moment”. His voice was a whisper, like he was afraid someone else would hear him.

“I asked Liam for a sign.”. YN explained as she gently rubbed her hand across Harry’s back in comfort. “Sounds silly I know…but I asked him to send us a sign if he was safe with Mum and Fizz”. Harry gently kissed her forehead.

“It’s not silly at all…we have a baby sent from heaven!”.

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994

[vidals-harkness]

sleepless nights (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: having a toddler means a lot of work for parents. having a clairvoyant toddler, that’s the real test. especially when the lights go out.

fic type: fluff

pairings: agatha harkness x rio vidal x fem!child!reader

warnings: nightmares, tooth-rotting fluff, agathario being sweet but with an attitude with each other

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

Clairvoyance. The ability to see and sense spirits, in layman’s terms. Not an easy power to have, let alone be a child with it.

The night was calm and peaceful, the moon rising with each passing hour, the sounds of nightlife subtle in the cold autumn air. However, your sleep was anything but calm.

You were in the park, your favourite park, going on the swings while your Mama pushed you gently. Mami sat on the swing beside you, laughing and talking, making funny jokes every now and then.

But something was wrong.

Their faces remained out of focus, their words were a muffled jumble. Was that screaming you heard in the distance? Were the clouds coming in?

You turned your head and Mami was gone. The swing stopped, and so was Mama. In the distance you saw them walking down the pathway, swallowed up by the fog. You tried to get off the swing, tried to run after them, tried to scream.

You couldn’t move. The ground seemed so far away, your voice was stuck in your throat. You put a hand up to touch your lips but were met with smooth skin.

The air grew chilly, and the screams grew louder. The whistle of a train carried it to your ears with a sharp, shrill tone.

You covered your ears and closed your eyes. Suddenly you stood in a courtroom, the jury were all spirits, and the judge opened his mouth, unhinging it like a snake, from the inside of which came a loud scream, “WHY DON’T YOU LISTEN?”

“I listen, I listen, I hear you!” You exclaimed. The sound of a sword had you turn. Mami. She swung it at your head…

…your eyes opened to a cemetery laden with snow. You stood in front of twin graves, bearing the names ‘Agatha Harkness’ and ‘Rio Vidal’. Your tears were red; blood. They ran down your soft cheeks and dotted the white ground red.

The cloudy day turned to night, and then you felt them grabbing, screaming, crying, wailing. Calling for help, begging for mercy.

“I can’t, I can’t, I CAN’T!” You screamed, covering your ears and crouching down at Mama’s headstone, trying to drown them out. But that amplified it all.

The ground opened up, swallowed you whole, and down, down, down you fell into the bottomless black.

Your eyes snapped open and you shoved the covers from your body. Your hair was sticking to your neck, damp with sweat. Tears streamed down your face and you checked hurriedly to make sure that they weren’t blood. Once that was confirmed, you heaved a sigh of relief.

Your plush spider was on the ground, pink blush and tiny smile upside down, its glass eyes staring up at you. You picked it up, dusted it off and gave it a kiss—apologising quietly.

You held the spider close, sliding out of bed. You shivered as the floor felt unnaturally cold on your bare little feet, as you made your way down the corridor to your parents’ room.

The door was open, so you padded in quietly, poking Agatha’s side.

“Mama?” Your voice was a quiet whisper, but she didn’t stir. You poked again, harder this time, frowning, heart racing as tears came up in your eyes. “Mama?”

Agatha opened her eyes, blinking tiredly to get somewhat conscious. At the sight of your crying face, she sat up, looking concerned.

“Hiya hon…” she whispered. “What’s the matter?”

You began to cry with relief when she spoke, which made Rio snap awake as well.

In seconds, Agatha had you up and in their bed, under the covers between them. They both lay on their sides, facing you, while they tried to solve the problem.

You were still crying, barely able to form a coherent sentence, so with simple questions they began to understand.

“Mi amor,” Rio’s voice was quiet as she ran her fingers through your hair, sighing at how damp it was with sweat. “Mi amor, was it a nightmare?”

You wordlessly nodded, fidgeting with your spider as a look passed between them.

Agatha spoke this time, her palm resting on your stomach as she patted a gentle rhythm on it. “Was it a one, five, or a ten?”

“N-Nine,” you admitted quietly, sniffling.

“Alright, alright…” she nodded slowly. “Wanna tell Mama and Mami was it was about?”

You shook your head quietly, turning over and burying your face in Rio’s chest.

The woman wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as her and Agatha had a bit of ‘eye conversation’.

“Amor…” Rio patted your back gently, making you look up at her. She wiped your eyes with her shirt and asked, “You want a little something to eat, nena?”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Yes…”

It just took that one response to have Agatha scoop you up and out of bed, going towards the kitchen, Rio following.

“Who’s on nightmare snack duty today?” Agatha asked, placing you on the counter.

Rio rolled her eyes, turned to you and smiled, “What do you want to have, nena?”

“Milk. And cookies,” your standard answer.

“Excellent choice,” Agatha commented, tickling your sides to make you giggle.

Honestly, hearing you giggle was like a huge sigh of relief for them. Agatha and Rio both hated seeing you so distressed, but they knew all they could do at this time was lend comfort and love.

While Agatha grabbed the milk and cookies, Rio picked you up and held you in her arms, trying to rock you to drowsiness gently.

“Nena?” She asked quietly. As you hummed in response, inhaling the scent of her skin. She smelt distinctly like cinnamon and something slightly smoky, and it honestly relaxed you.

“What did you see, tonight? Was it clear, like a vision?” She asked, rubbing your back slowly.

“No, was blurry,” you mumbled, accepting the milk Agatha handed you, her hand gently ruffling your hair. You squealed at the milk and sipped on it, Rio sitting down on the couch.

“Baby…” Agatha said, giving you a look.

“What? It was bad dream only, and I don’t wanna talk about it!” You grumped.

“She’s your daughter,” Rio winked at her wife, earning an eye roll from Agatha.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, little miss has an attitude,” she scoffed.

Rio kissed your forehead gently, tickling your sides once you had handed the cup over to Agatha, making you giggle again.

“Is someone finally ready for bed?” Agatha said with mock-annoyance, making you poke her cheeks, smiling.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You grinned excitedly.

“And I assume you’re sleeping with Mami and Mama?” Rio smiled, taking you to their room while Agatha turned off the lights.

“Yes,” you nodded pointedly, holding your spider close to your chest. “Araña also,”

She chuckled. You loved that spider Agatha won for you at that one random carnival.

The three of you got into bed, and you trembled a little when Agatha flicked the lights off.

However, that fear was quelled the second your Mami wrapped her arms around you, and Agatha stroked your hair.

“My sweet, sweet lamb,” she chuckled, “What are we gonna do with you, hm?”

“Nothing, you love me,” you said plainly, giggling quietly.

“Don’t listen to Mama,” Rio sighed, kissing your forehead. “Get some sleep, nena,”

You nodded and hummed, slowly drifting off to sleep, visions kept at bay by your mothers.

That night, which began so terrifying and jarring, ended in peace and quiet, the moon rising high above the sky, while the nightlife continued as per usual.

And everything was still.

Hi hi, my bao buns! I hope you enjoyed this imagine! Parental Agathario is just so *chefs kiss*, don’t you think? Anyway, requests are open, and don’t be shy if you have something in mind!

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."