#I just happen to be close with people who are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daechwitatamic · 3 days ago

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Cinnamon || KMG

banner by @sailorrhansol

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do their best to do better going forward, quick and prosey smut scene with piv penetration

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-inggggg iluuuuu

December

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

You grumble in response, eyes still mostly closed, as you make your way by muscle memory to your apartment’s barely-functioning coffee machine. Only once you’ve poured a mug, stirred in everything you need to make it palatable, and taken your first sip, do you speak actual words.

“Morning. You’re up early.”

Jeonghan, one of your three roommates, nods solemnly. “I have a nine o’clock meeting today, but I need to get some files together first, so I’m trying to be there by eight,” he tells you. You glance at the clock on the microwave - it’s already 7:20.

“You might want to get moving,” you warn him.

He makes a face that says, I know, but - and cocks his head towards the bathroom the four of you share. The door is closed and the light inside is on, which means it must be occupied. It’s not usually a problem, even with four of you - your schedules are just different enough that it works out.

You frown. “Wonwoo isn’t gone yet?” He’s usually the first one out of the house on weekdays since he’s got the longest commute.

Jeonghan shakes his head, but then the light clicks off and the door opens. A girl you’ve never seen before steps out cautiously, then pauses when she sees the kitchen isn’t empty.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Hi. Good morning. I’ll just -”

She gives you each a polite nod and slips quickly back through the nearest door - Mingyu’s bedroom.

You face Jeonghan again and roll your eyes. He gives you a bit of a grimace and gets up, hurrying into the now-empty bathroom.

You take his seat at the table, sip slowly at your coffee. Having three guys as roommates means this happens with relative regularity, though usually the guys keep their conquests to weekends and holidays. Mingyu must have really liked this girl to bring her home on a weeknight. You glance back at his closed door; you can faintly hear their voices, but not what they’re saying. She was pretty.

You tuck away whatever feelings you might have about this, just like you always do, wipe your heart as clean as a classroom chalkboard at the beginning of a new day. Jeonghan vacates the bathroom, clearly in a hurry, and you take his place, turning the shower on and praying that there’ll be enough hot water left to get you through. (There’s not.)

Later, as you sit on the train amidst a sea of other morning commuters, you check your phone.

Roomies 💕

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: i would like to issue a formal complaint

[8:07 am] wonuuu: i left plenty of coffee bro

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: not that

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: if this is a noise complaint… i’m sorry but also no i’m not

[8:09am] You: you’re disgusting

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: you love me

[8:10am] You: 🙄

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: so does the girl whose presence in our one (1) bathroom made me late this morning

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: if i get fired you’re covering my part of the rent

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: have fun defending that in small claims court

[8:11am] You: i am happy to be a witness on your behalf

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: et tu brutus?

[8:11am] You: my shower was lukewarm at best

[8:12am] You: you will be hearing from my counsel

[8:12am] You: thanks in advance wonwoo

[8:14am] wonuuu: for the millionth time… I cannot be your counsel. I’m not qualified yet.

[8:14am] You: yet ☝️

[8:17am] Cinnamingyu: let’s not ignore the real problem here… we need another bathroom

[8:21am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok great, tell me when you win the lottery so we can move out

Chuckling, you slide your phone back into your coat pocket as the train pulls into your stop. You hurry through the train station, tucking your chin into your coat collar as you speed through the icy December morning. It’s one of those dry cold days, where the air around you feels frozen, almost hurts to breathe. Everything is grey - sky above you, buildings around you, ground below you. Fast steps take you the three blocks to your office building, where you sigh in relief as the heated air hits your face, chasing away the chill.

You check your phone again as you hang your coat on your chair in your cubicle. As usual, Mingyu has texted you privately, away from the group chat.

[8:31am] Cinnamingyu: sorry about the hot water :(

[8:38am] You: you should be. i shivered through my whole conditioning routine.

[8:38am] Cinnamingyu: poor sunny baby :( :( :( will you ever forgive me?

You roll your eyes, but you’re fighting a smile. You hate that Mingyu can just charm you right out of a mood, and you hate it even more than he knows it and weaponizes it. He’s the one who gave you the nickname Sunny (or Sunshine depending on how cranky you were at the given moment) back when you were a college freshman. Your other roommates picked it up, but Mingyu was the only one who ever turned Sunshine or Sunny into Sunny Baby.

It’s absolutely horrendous, unfathomable, deeply unfair that it works, that it makes you melt into goo when he uses it. Still, you try to hold strong.

[8:38am] You: don’t you Sunny Baby me Kim Mingyu, you have crimes to answer for!!!

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: ill cook for you tonight as penance. and then maybe a movie?

You frown. You wish you could take him up on the offer. Mingyu’s a great cook. One of the many things you love about him.

[8:39am] You: rain check. i won’t be home for dinner

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: what’s this? did you manage to bag a man????

[8:39am] You: i hate you so much

[8:39am] You: yes you absolute scrambled egg, i have a date

Mingyu sends you a gif of an old man suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, and you laugh out loud. Then you stash your phone behind your keyboard and get to work. But when you check it again a few hours later, after your first meeting of the day lets out, he’s texted you again.

[8:40am] Cinnamingyu: is it the same guy as last week? date number TWO?? 😮

[10:51am] You: yeeeeees 🤭

[10:51am] Cinnamingyu: wow, big moves for you. a second date! do we need to have The Talk?

[10:51am] You: blocked and reported

This is an ancient song and dance for you and Mingyu. When you’ve been friends as long as you have, some things just become routine. Like you, gracefully ignoring the handful of girls that you never see a second time. Like him, acting like it’s monumental when you actually give someone a chance.

He’s used to you giving no one a chance, ever. He knows it doesn’t happen much.

But you had a good first date with Daeyoung last week. A really good first date. You’d been texting a lot since then, too. He was funny - witty. And cute. So you’d thought to yourself… what the hell. Why not? Why not go out a second time? What else were you going to do tonight?

(Stay home and eat the food Mingyu cooks for you. Watch a movie together on the couch.)

And, sure, you do want to do those things. But going out with Daeyoung tonight won’t change a thing between you and Mingyu. He’ll grill you about it when you get home, maybe tease you a little, and you’ll do food and a movie another night.

Daeyoung takes you bowling. You weren’t sure how you’d feel about it, not having been in a bowling alley since you were a kid, and remembering them as vaguely sticky places. But it ends up being kind of cute, maybe even nostalgic. Daeyoung buys a pitcher of beer and sets it on your - yes - sticky table, and walks with you as you select a pink ball that is definitely meant for children.

“You know that’s only six pounds, right?” he asks you, smiling playfully.

“Bold of you to think I could lift a heavier one,” you deadpan, and he laughs. You like his laugh - it’s easy, light, like he’s wholly uncomplicated. You could use some uncomplicated in your life.

You're terrible at bowling - you score a 42 on your first game, the ball finding the gutter more times than it stays on the lane. Even so, you manage to have fun. Daeyoung doesn’t make you feel weird about it - in fact, he barely pays attention to the actual bowling. Instead he talks to you about your day, asks about your family, doesn't seem like he's freaked out that you live with three guy friends. He doesn’t even ask the very common, “so, has anything ever happened there?” for which you’re grateful.

He’s got three sisters, you learn, and grew up with cats but still wants a dog someday. He graduated two years before you, has never traveled outside the country.

You offer back your own resume of sorts - an older sister and a younger brother, no pets growing up and allergic to most mammals (perhaps humans included, as has been pointed out by Mingyu on many occasions, usually in the same conversation that he’s calling you Sunshine and pinching your cheeks like your attitude is cute). Graduated with Honors and haven’t traveled much either, though you’d love to when you have some money saved up.

Your phone lights up on the table every so often, and you check it while Daeyoung takes his turn on the lane. A few are Jeonghan and one of your co-workers, and one is your little brother asking how to get blood out of laundry which is super alarming - but the rest are from Mingyu.

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: just know that you are missing one of my best creations

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: but dont worry i will save you some ☺️ because i’m the best roommate ever

[7:31pm] You: thank youuuuu! I might not have any tonight but you know i’ll eat the leftovers!

[7:31pm] Cinnamingyu: hows the date?

[7:36pm] You: i am very bad at bowling actually!!!

[7:36pm] Cinnamingyu: aim for the pins

[7:43pm] You: have i mentioned that i hate you?

[7:43pm] Cinnamingyu: guess i’ll throw these leftovers out then

[8:12pm] Cinnamingyu: what time do you think youll be home?

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: sorry i didnt mean that like WHEN WILL YOU BE HOME YOUNG LADY

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: i was asking bc i was deciding if i want to start a movie or wait for you i wasnt trying to

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: you know

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: anyway. aim for the pins. wear protection. etc. see you later lol

[8:38pm] You: young lady 🙄 go away mingyu!!!

[8:38pm] Cinnamingyu: you dont mean that

[8:38pm] You: i don’t 😘

[8:47pm] You: if you wanna save a movie for me… i should be home by 11

Daeyoung drives you home after the date, and you note that his car is clean, but not serial killer clean. A green flag.

When he asks if he can see you again soon, as he's pulling the car up to your building, you tell him yes without hesitating. It’ll be your first third date in maybe ever, and you make a little note in your brain that you should probably talk to him about this, make sure he can be on the same page - that this is fun and you’ll keep going out as long as it’s a good time, but you aren’t really looking for serious.

When he pauses, leaning in a little closer, you feel yourself smile, and you let him. It’s a nice kiss.

He’s a nice guy.

There’s no reason you couldn’t follow through with this. There’s no giant problem with him, no personality quirk or inherent difference that makes him ineligible.

But.

You push the thought away. “Thanks for tonight,” you tell him. “I had a good time.”

“You’d have a better time if you listened to my advice and used a heavier ball,” he says seriously, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s teasing. “You can’t expect to knock down pins when they weigh more than what you’re throwing at them.”

“Sounds fake,” you joke, and hop out of the car. Before you shut the door, you pause. “See you next weekend?”

His smile unfurls, pleased. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll text you.”

You practically skip back into the apartment. You pause at the closet by the front door, pulling off your boots and hanging up your puffy winter coat. You can hear the tv on in the living room and water running in the kitchen.

You step into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. Mingyu stands at the sink, his back to you, up to his elbow in suds. You bump him with your hips as you pass by, and he kicks at you and misses. You open the fridge and grab a can of seltzer. Mingyu smiles at you from the sink, and just like that, Daeyoung evaporates from your mind.

He calls you Sunny, but he’s the sun. Has been that way as long as you’ve known him - since undergrad.

You’d met in your freshman year - he was puppy-dog cute, back then, not the chiseled sculpture of a man who takes up half your kitchen now. You’d been in the Arts and he’d been in the Sciences - something mathy - but you’d bonded in one of those godawful general requirement classes, and somehow the friendship had taken hold.

Mingyu holding your hand - metaphorically and literally - through your two required math classes and two required science labs was the only reason you’d even managed to graduate. Of course, you’d also written every single formal paper he had through the whole four years, so it evened out.

You complement each other that way, in every area. He’s outgoing and friendly, you’re cranky enough to be given the nickname Sunny in pure irony. Mingyu likes puzzles and problems he can work out, you like to turn the brain off for any and all hobbies. Mingyu is sunshine and big smiles, you are made of salt and sarcasm.

But you love each other - have been best friends since almost the moment you met. There is nothing in your life you’d be willing to lose less than him.

You wander up to him and lean against his arm, mostly to be funny because he continues to wash dishes even as it jostles you around, and it becomes a little game of him trying to shake you off and you refusing to be shaken.

“How was your night?” he asks finally, reaching to turn off the water. You automatically pass him a dish towel to dry his hands. He takes it, drying, and then reaches around you to hang it back up near the oven.

“Not as good as yours,” you snicker, noticing a purple blotch near his collar.

He flushes dark, slapping a hand over the spot. “Yah,” he complains.

You laugh. “She was cute!”

“She’d be cuter if she spent less time in our bathroom!” Jeonghan’s disembodied voice floats from the living room.

“Alright, we get it!” Mingyu calls back hotly. “You’ve only been complaining about that for fifteen hours!”

Cackling, you follow him out into the living room. Jeonghan is sprawled sideways on the two-seater, a show you don’t recognize playing across the tv screen. Down the hallway, Wonwoo’s door is open about a foot, casting the hallway in flickering blue light that tells you he’s gaming and you probably won’t see him for the rest of the night.

“So,” Jeonghan says dryly, without peeling his eyes from the tv, “I noticed your boyfriend’s car idling outside for quite a while before you came in. Were we necking?”

“Necking?” you splutter. Beside you, Mingyu is biting on his lips, trying not to laugh at your expense. “What year is this, 1950? And he’s not my boyfriend. You know that.”

You can’t help the defensive edge that creeps into your voice. From where he’s plopped on the couch, Mingyu reaches up for your hand, tugging. You let him pull you into the space next to him and he rubs a soothing hand across your shoulders before taking his hand away. It’s a silent, quick moment - easy to miss if you aren’t looking. But you are looking, always, and you wonder if he even knows he does this - reads your moods, rushes to fix you.

Unbothered by your ruffled feathers, Jeonghan asks lightly, “So, are you seeing him again, or…?”

The bastard hasn’t even looked away from the television screen.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” you grumble at him.

Now he looks over at you, smiling beatifically, innocently. “There’s my Sunshine.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Mingyu asks from next to you, eyebrows raised. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to sound casual. You can tell the jackals are in a mood tonight.

Jeonghan’s face splits into a delighted grin. “A third date? My goodness.”

“We all know what happens on a third date,” Mingyu says sagely, and you punch him in the thigh, extra hard since you can only reach him and not Jeonghan too.

Wonwoo’s voice comes from down the hallway. “Leave Sunny alone, you guys.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Leave Sunny alone.”

Mingyu stretches over your lap to reach for the remote. It brings his torso almost flush against yours and you feel your face heat.

“I was watching that,” Jeonghan complains before Mingyu even presses anything.

“Sunny and I are watching a movie,” Mingyu says flatly. “Go watch on your laptop if you care so much.”

Jeonghan reaches towards your couch lazily and slaps at the air like he can’t be assed to work any harder to hit his roommate. “You’re cranky today,” he observes, the arm not trying (sort of) to slap Mingyu’s leg folded behind his head. “Why might that be?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer him, just settles back next to you, his arm against yours, and starts scrolling through movie options.

He still hasn’t picked one when Wonwoo appears in the living room’s doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, his LED headset looped around his neck and his eyes on his phone.

“What are we watching?” he asks absently.

“Nothing, apparently,” Jeonghan quips.

Beside you, Mingyu growls a little.

Unphased - this is so normal for them, it would be more alarming if they weren’t pissing each other off - you look up and Wonwoo and say, “I didn’t think you’d emerge tonight.”

“I’m heading right back in,” he admits. “Hydration break. Anyway - question. What’s everyone’s plans for the holidays?”

Mingyu stops scrolling, pausing to think.

“I’ll be home,” Jeonghan says, meaning his hometown.

“Me, too,” Mingyu adds. “I’m leaving on Sunday. Next Sunday, I mean.”

Wonwoo lets out a little sigh. “Okay. My folks were asking when I was coming. Sunny, you’re going home, too?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you admit. “I was staying here.”

You feel rather than see your friends share a glance.

“I can stay, then,” Wonwoo says, a bit tightly - you can tell that wasn’t the plan. “So you aren’t alone.”

“No,” you protest. “I’m perfectly fine being here by myself, you know that.”

“Sunny Baby is an indoor cat,” Mingyu notes, and you bump him with your elbow.

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Plus, I think Daeyoung will be around, so I won’t be alone the whole time anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyes bore into the side of your face, but you don’t look at him; if it’s pity he’s leveling at you, you don’t want it.

“If you’re sure,” Wonwoo says, and when you assure him you do, he vanishes into the kitchen and then back into his room. Mingyu clicks on a movie and you settle in, eventually getting sleepy and shifting sideways, your head resting comfortably on his unfairly sculpted shoulder. He shifts to let you get more comfortable, and the night passes as simply and pleasantly as hundreds before.

When the movie ends, you pick up the bottles and cans from the coffee table while Mingyu does a quick lap of the apartment, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. You meet outside the bathroom - occupied by Jeonghan - both waiting your turn to brush your teeth and whatever else before bed.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says softly, something tentative in his voice, and you look up at him, heart suddenly thumping. He’s looking at you earnestly in the dim light from the bedrooms down the hall, something you’re not sure you can name on his face. It’s almost pleading, but that doesn’t make sense. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me for the holidays? My family would love to have you - they’re obsessed with you, you know that.”

Your heart calms. “It’s really okay,” you promise. “But thanks for checking.”

The bathroom door opens and Jeonghan slips by, leaving a wave of toothpaste-mint in his wake.

“You go ahead,” Mingyu says.

“You were in line first,” you argue.

He rolls his eyes but knows how stubborn you are, so he disappears into the bathroom. You lean your butt against the kitchen table and check your phone for the first time in a while.

Daeyoung had texted shortly after he drove away - probably as soon as he got home.

[11:24pm] Daeyoung: I had a really good time tonight. Looking forward to next week :]

[12:51am] You: me too ☺️

The bathroom door opens and you turn off your phone screen with a click, bidding Mingyu goodnight as you slide into the bathroom’s light.

–

January

New Year’s Eve

Roomies 💕

[11:13pm] (jeong)Han Solo: sunny where’d you end up tonight?

[11:13pm] You: i’m with the girliesss!!! where are you guys

[11:13pm] Cinnamingyu: sunnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy baby baby baby

[11:13pm] You: yyyeeesssss??

[11:14pm] (jeong)Han Solo: we’re downtown. mingyu cant come to the phone right now but i think he wants you to come hang out with us

[11:14pm] You: lmao nooooo he didnt even make it to midnight??? thats sad, kim mingyu

[11:16pm] Wonuuu: u ever think about that phrase “can’t come to the phone”… from an era in which you had to walk to the family’s landline phone in the kitchen or whatever… none of us were even alive for that

[11:16pm] You: wow apparently you guys are having a much better time than me

[11:16pm] (jeong)Han Solo: only wonwoo lol ok be safe and have fun!! see you at home

–

[11:14pm] Cinnamingyu: come out!!

[11:14pm] You: i am out! Lol

[11:15am] Cinnamingyu: you know what i mean

[11:16am] You: im sorry :( but we’re across town and by the time we got there we’d miss the countdown

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: ok 🙁

[11:16am] You: don’t pout!!! i’ll see you at home tomorrow and we can hang out all day

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: not the same!

[11:17am] You: ok lets take a shot together!!

[11:17am] Cinnamingyu: ???

[11:17am] You: go order one and tell me when you’re ready!!

[11:18am] Cinnamingyu: lmao on it 🫡

[11:28am] Cinnamingyu: ok im ready

[11:28am] You: ok when you get this count to three and take your shot!

[11:29am] You: geonbae or cheers or salute or whatever

[11:29am] Cinnamingyu: or whatever 🙄

[11:29am] You: 😘

New Year’s Day

Roomies 💕

[12:00am] You: HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES OF MY LIFE LET THIS BE THE BESTEWT YEAR FOR US EVER EVER EVR!!!!!

[12:00am] Wonuuu: happy new year sunny 🙂

[12:00am] (jeong)Han Solo: happy new yearrr 😽

[4:09am] You: home safe ♥️

[10:33am] Wonuuu: i’ll be home tomorrow sunny

[12:42pm] (jeong)Han Solo: i’ll be back tonight but probably not until after dinner

[12:42pm] You: ok! i’ll be here

[3:17pm] (jeong)Han Solo: is mingyu alive???

[3:17pm] You: lol yeah he’s home. he’s just… not in the best shape asfjkasfhaio

[12:00am] Cinnamingyu: happy new year sunny baby 🩷

[12:01am] You: happy new year best friend!!!!!!! ily ily ily!!!!

[12:32am] Cinnamingyu: you kno you could still meet us out nw

[11:23am] Cinnamingyu: can u open the front door… my head hurts too bad to make the keys work

You stagger to the apartment’s front door, eyes squinting against the harsh daylight streaming into the living room and kitchen area. When you unlock and pull open the door, Mingyu almost collapses on top of you.

“Get up,” you groan, shuffling backwards. “You’re too heavy, I can’t hold you!”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, but rights himself to standing.

You stand there for a minute, both of you just grappling with the horrible reality of being awake and upright and, god, very hungover.

“I need to lay down,” Mingyu says finally, very clearly, like he’s had a sudden burst of self-preservation.

“Come on,” you wave at him vaguely and make your way back to bed. You collapse right into the spot you’d vacated when he texted, pulling the blankets up to your ears and closing your eyes, waiting for the bed to dip beside you.

It doesn’t.

You open your eyes again. “Mingyu?”

He appears wordlessly in your doorway, then makes his way over to his side of the bed. The empty side of your bed. Not his. You have to stop thinking that way.

You’re puzzled, but then he leans over and presses a cold water bottle into your hand. Despite his whining, he was still trying to take care of you.

“Did you take any pain killer?” you mumble.

“Probably more than was actually advisable,” he admits, twisting his own water open and drinking noisily. You don’t see a problem with this - Mingyu is gigantic, and you can imagine his dosing needs would reflect it.

“Okay,” you say with a little sigh. “We’ll sleep for a while and then maybe we can try to eat.”

“God, don’t talk about food,” he moans, taking one of your extra pillows and covering his face.

You chuckle lightly, and then roll to hide your face somewhere near his bicep, breathing in his familiar cinnamon scent and matching your breaths to his until you slip back under. The millionth time you’ve fallen asleep next to your best friend, and you’re already eagerly looking ahead to a million and one.

You’re awakened by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom, clear on the other side of the apartment. You scrabble for and glance at your phone - hours have passed. The light in your bedroom has slipped closer to golden as mid-afternoon begins to wane. You sit up tentatively; this time there’s no wave of dizziness as a punishment for being vertical, though your head still pounds.

You drink some of the water Mingyu brought you, answer a text from Jeonghan, then decide to go make sure Mingyu’s alive.

“You need anything?” you call through the door. You can hear the sink run, and the door opens.

“A lobotomy,” he deadpans. He looks miserable, frown pronounced and eyes puffy.

“Get back in bed,” you tell him gently, and he ambles off towards your room. You detour into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. It might not save him, but you could use some caffeine.

While it brews, you poke your head into your bedroom. Mingyu is back in your bed, curled up pitifully, that pouting frown still prevalent on his face.

“What time did you take something?” you ask him.

“Like ten thirty,” he mumbles into your pillow.

You glance at the clock. “You can have more,” you tell him, and head back across the apartment to pilfer through the medicine cabinet.

With the pill bottle in hand, you stop in the kitchen long enough to pour yourself a cup of coffee. Carefully balancing so as not to spill, you bring it into the bedroom, placing it carefully on your nightstand and then nudging Mingyu’s shoulder.

He whines a response.

“I have drugs for you,” you tell him, and he holds up an open palm without lifting his face.

You drop the medicine into his hand and get comfy back in your spot, even though you think you’re done sleeping for now. Beside you, Mingyu takes the pills and settles back into sleep. He’s snoring before you can even choose a show to watch on your phone.

You look over at him fondly, disaster that he is. Then you settle in deeper, content to let his warmth radiate over to you, content to be by his side.

–

[12:02am] Daeyoung: happy new year! wishing you luck and happiness ☺️

[4:23pm] You: thank you!!! to you as well!!

–

February

Valentine’s Day is an emotional minefield. You don’t know if you want to lean into the bitter and single thing, or if you want to go all Gal-entines and pamper your friends, or if you want to just keep your head down and treat the day like any other fuck-ass Tuesday in winter.

The universe surprises you with a secret fourth option. Or, rather, Daeyoung does.

You’ve lost track counting your dates with him at this point - you are simply dating. Neither of you has pushed for a what is this conversation, and you’re relieved. You like Daeyoung, you like the time you spend together, and you’d be sad if things ended. But at the same time, you don’t feel things getting deeper, and if he pushed you to make this serious, to put parameters on it, you’re not sure how you’d feel.

Something inside you keeps it light - enough so that you don’t even think of doing anything for him to celebrate the holiday.

Apparently, you’re an asshole.

Sometime after ten, your office’s secretary calls you, asking you to come up to reception for a minute. You’re suspicious, but you don’t do the mental math about what day it is until you turn the corner and see the small vase of roses - three of them, arranged with some baby’s breath and a few other fillers you can’t name - sitting on the reception counter.

“These got delivered for you,” she tells you, and it’s clear on her face that she’s dying for you to spill. “Are they from that guy? The tall one who looks like a movie star?”

This would annoy you if you weren’t so used to it. Everyone asks you if you’re with Mingyu - they never understand why you’re not when you two are attached at the hip.

It had happened once - just a kiss at a frat party, in the middle of the dance floor. You’d both been drinking, of course, and pressed close together to dance, his chest against your back and his hands on your hips and then you’d turned and tipped your chin up and his sparkling eyes had gone molten before he’d kissed you and your whole world had been swept away -

And you’d been interrupted, had been literally pulled away to deal with some drama happening in the kitchen, and somehow… you’d never talked about it. It never happened again.

Sometimes, you wonder if you only dreamed it. It wouldn’t surprise you.

But, no. Your imagination is good, but it’s not good enough to come up with the minute details of how his pecs had felt under your hands, how his fingers had felt pressed into the small of your back, how he had almost sighed into your mouth when it opened for him, how he had tasted a bit like cinnamon, courtesy of the fireball shots the frat was giving out like candy.

Anyway. Life goes on, right?

“No,” you tell the secretary quickly, because you know the roses aren’t from Mingyu. Even if he’d done something today, as your friend, he knows you aren’t much of a roses girl. “We’re just friends.” You will the words to leave your mouth without leaving ashes in their wake.

You reach for the small card tied around the thinnest part of the vase to see who did send them.

Thought you deserved something pretty today. Don’t freak out. :] - Daeyoung

The secretary is still watching you, harmlessly curious.

“It’s just a guy I’ve been seeing,” you say. “It’s not serious.”

“Wow,” she says, eyeing the simple arrangement. “Looks like he thinks it’s a little serious - or that it could be.”

“That’s probably true,” you muse out loud, taking the arrangement back to your own cubicle and setting it on your desk. You snap a photo and text it to Daeyoung with a thank you and a row of sobbing emojis. Then you stand behind your chair, eyes on the red petals, your hand pressed to your mouth, processing.

You didn’t expect to feel like this. A fluttering, a rush of excitement. Even though you aren’t into roses, specifically, the thought is very nice. And no one has thought of you, not like this, in a very long time.

When you get home, the apartment is dark and empty. You wonder if any of the guys have dates tonight, or if they’re working late, or with family. You set the roses on the kitchen table, hang up your coat, and then shoot the grouptext a quick “where is everyone?”. Then you head into your room, eager to take a quick shower and change into something comfy.

You freeze when you flick on your bedroom light.

The clutter on your small desk has been pushed to the side, and a clear vase holds a thick bouquet of sunflowers - your favorite.

You hear yourself gasp, the sound echoing through your head on a loop as you stare at the bright, yellow blooms. You step forward on shaky legs, reaching for the tiny card that’s slipped under the vase.

Sunny flowers for Sunny Baby. Love you. - M

The tears come with such unexpected force that you almost laugh through the third sob. You can barely see through the sudden stream of tears, can hear yourself struggling to inhale. You hurry to shut your bedroom door, locking it for good measure, and then those shaking legs of yours give up, and you sink to your knees and weep into your hands, trying to muffle the sounds, just in case anyone comes home.

You cry so hard it makes your abs hurt, makes the muscles in your face feel stretched, nearly makes you gag. You haven’t cried like this since undergrad.

Because he loves you, but he doesn’t love you, and even though you’ve been pretending for so long it’s as unconscious as breathing, it doesn’t shatter you any less.

Because he’s perfect, and he’s yours, but somehow you still don’t have him, and in the meantime no one else will ever be enough - just for not being him.

Because being thought of earlier by Daeyoung was nice, but it is so much better to be known, like this. Mingyu knows you don’t like roses. Mingyu knows your favorites. Mingyu knows you.

And it’s a waste. It’s all for fucking nothing.

When the tears start to settle and you can breathe a little better, you push yourself back to your feet. You listen at your bedroom door and don’t hear anyone, so you hurry across the apartment and into the bathroom, where you blow your nose and splash your face with cold water.

When you come out again, Jeonghan is in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, his back to you. When he turns, he freezes, his face dropping. You must be puffy and red, still.

“Hey,” you reply meekly.

“Oh, Sunny,” he says mournfully, stepping closer. “I told him he shouldn’t, but he asked why not, he’s your friend, and I couldn’t say -”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

He watches you carefully, probably trying to gauge if you’re lying. Then he spots the roses and lights up.

“Well, well,” he says, a sly smile showing up on his face. “Those are nice.”

“Yeah,” you say again, the only word in your arsenal. “They are. I, um, I think I’m gonna shower. Do you need the bathroom first?”

Under the spray of hot water, you cry a little more, like an aftershock hit you. It’s quiet this time, and you try to shoulder through it as you condition your hair, ready to put this whole episode behind you once you step out into the chilly bathroom air again.

When you emerge, Jeonghan is on the couch. By the sounds coming from down the hallway, Wonwoo has just gotten home and is dumping the contents of his life onto his bedroom floor. Jeonghan opens his mouth to say something, but you lift a fluffy-bathrobe-clad arm and silently shush him.

“It’s fine,” you say again, firmly.

Jeonghan had been your friend first, back in undergrad. You’d brought him into the friend group the same way Mingyu had brought Wonwoo. The four of you had worked cohesively as a friend-and-roommate unit for a long time, but sometimes those old alliances seemed to matter more than others. Jeonghan would never cross the line without your permission, would never tell your secrets if you weren’t willing to tell them yourself. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was much more likely to open his mouth - especially if he thought he was helping.

The front door bursts open, and Mingyu enters the apartment in a cacophony of noise and dropped items, oranges spilling from the bag in his arms and rolling across the floor. You move to pick a few up as he puts the bag of groceries down and pulls his boots off.

“Sunny!” he says, all excitement, eyes shining. “Did you like my gift?”

You can’t even look at Jeonghan, turning your back to him completely as you hold out the oranges you’d collected. Mingyu takes them, but watches you eagerly, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I loved it.”

His smile triples.

You were wrong when you said Mingyu was the sun. Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply.

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu’s grumble responds, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs.

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek.

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious.

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once.

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you.

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you.

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaeger bombs did you do?

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed.

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help.

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembered saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…?

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then - like on this fucking card with the sunflowers - he never said it like that, and you never pushed it.

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed.

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu wouldn’t kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protected from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better.

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

March

March can’t make up its mind if it’s winter or spring. Warm days lull you into a false sense of security, and then a blistering cold rushes in just to call you a fool.

You’re the last one to get to the bar on Friday night after work, and you have to stand awkwardly next to the booth the guys have staked out and unwrap yourself - hat, scarf, gloves, puffer coat, big heavy sweater - before you can actually slide into the empty spot next to Mingyu.

“Hi bestie,” he says, immediately draping his arm behind your shoulders, resting on the back of the wooden bench. “How was your day?”

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” you answer.

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” your roommates all answer solemnly, because this is a common gripe.

“Fireball and ginger ale it is, then,” Mingyu says, and climbs over you to head to the bar, his own empty beer glass in hand. When he slides the cocktail glass in front of you and scoots back to his original spot, you fill the guys in on Marcus’s Bullshit of the Day.

“And then,” you finish the story, “I was like yeah, I know you did, Marcus, because she blind-copied me on her reply and you should have seen the color his face turned so I think it’s fair to say I won this round.”

“I’m surprised they aren’t all scared of you,” Wonwoo remarks.

“Marcus is,” you say, glowering at your now-empty cocktail glass. “That’s why he’s such a dick. He hates that he’s intimidated.”

Mingyu’s arm has slid down from the back of the bench and rests lightly across your shoulder by this point, and he gives you a playful squeeze into his side as he laughs.

He starts telling a story next, and you listen as you slip your phone out and check your texts. Daeyoung had texted you a while ago, and you shoot him a quick answer that you’re out with your roommates for Friday drinks, and then dial back into the conversation.

When Mingyu’s glass is empty again, you rise, taking the empties up to the bar and signalling for another of each. While you wait, elbows on the bar, you check your phone again. Daeyoung had texted back, asking where you guys were drinking.

You hesitate. The idea of incorporating Daeyoung into the group makes you nervous. Behind you, you can hear Mingyu yapping a thousand miles a minute, and Jeonghan’s distinctive heh heh heh in answer. It’s not that you don’t think the guys will be nice… it just feels like a big move.

It might be nice to have him there, though - someone on your side when Jeonghan and Mingyu gang up on you and Wonwoo is too in his own world to be effective back-up, someone to hold your hand and get your drinks, someone to be in your own private little bubble with when the conversation ebbs and flows away from topics you can engage with.

You send him back “just a little place by the apartment!” which is technically true, and then grab the refreshed drinks for you and Mingyu.

The guys are getting up, making noise about a just-vacated darts board, so you swivel and turn to follow them, a cold drink in each hand.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu tells you, half an hour later, bending down low so he can talk close to your ear over the loud music, “you have to put more muscle into it. You have to throw it like you want to pierce it.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious, actually!” you tell him cheerfully, and down the rest of your drink, pushing the empty glass into his giant hand. His turn.

He shoots you a grin so sharp and devilish that it makes your whole body fight a shudder, and then he disappears off to the bar.

You heckle Jeonghan through his turn (unsuccessfully - he’s way better at this than you) and then glance at the bar to see if the bartenders have gotten to Mingyu yet in the crowd. He’s facing you, his arms crossed, that same devilish smile on his face. He leans sideways on the bar, where your drink and his own beer sit sweating, forgotten.

The girl he’s smiling at has her back to you, which is a miracle, because if she’d been able to see your face fall, she probably would have back-pedaled out of the conversation immediately - it would be impossible for her not to see that she was walking into a flashing neon sign screaming this situation is a mess!!!!

When she laughs, throwing her head back, and reaches a hand out to touch his forearm, you feel the whole bar swoop sideways around you. You’re fumbling for your phone, even as you hear Mingyu’s answering laugh cut through all the loud music and conversations filling the space, even as you watch through your periphery as he gives her a return nudge to the shoulder, playful, that smile only growing.

You’re going to be sick.

You shoot Daeyoung a text - sorry, I should have told you which bar. I’m leaving now though. Do you want to come get me? We could chill for a little? - and then you push your way through the bar, not even bothering to tell Jeonghan and Wonwoo goodbye. You make an extra effort to skirt the opposite wall as the bar, hoping you get out without Mingyu spotting you.

There’s no way you could fake it right now. Zero chance. If he came after you, it would all be out in the open.

Daeyoung answers you almost immediately - no worries! sure, send me your location. you want to hang at my place?

Outside, the cold air assaults you. You immediately hesitate, wishing you’d grabbed your coat. You’ll get pneumonia waiting for Daeyoung without it.

You’re saved the trouble of going back in - the door opens and someone comes out after you. But it isn’t Mingyu - it’s Jeonghan, giving you the heaviest side-eye you’ve ever seen from him, your coat in his hands.

“Thank you,” you breathe when he’s close enough, taking the coat and sliding it over your arms. “It’s freezing.”

“Sunny,” he says, and something in his voice makes you pause. “I think we should talk.”

You cover your face with one hand, embarrassed and spent and tired. “About what?” you ask flatly, just to buy yourself a second. You know the answer. Of course you do.

He levels you with a look. “This can’t continue,” he says firmly. “For you, or for him, or for me and Wonwoo.”

You scoff. “What do you two have to do with it?”

You’ve never seen him this serious, and it scares you a little. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you get hurt?”

You lower your gaze to the ground and don’t answer this; it feels rhetorical.

“But you’re right - it’s not about us. It’s about you. Something has to give,” he says gently. “Either face it and get your answer, or let it go.”

“It’s not that simple,” you argue.

“Yes, it is that simple,” he retorts. “It’s just scary. But that’s not the same thing.”

“I can’t tell him,” you say, because it’s true. You can’t. You can’t. “What if it messed up everything for all of us?”

What if you lost him completely? What if he moved out? What if he stopped talking to you?

Jeonghan doesn’t reply to this at first, he just watches you carefully, then tucks a long strand of dark hair behind his ear.

“You can,” he says finally, still gentle. “But… if you won’t… then you have to let him go.”

Your stomach drops at the words, even though this is a truth you’ve been aware of for ages, have been doing your best to avoid.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you whisper. And it’s true - loving Mingyu feels as instinctual as your heartbeat, intrinsically part of who you are. How can you separate it out, shut it down?

“Stop sharing a bed with him,” Jeonghan suggests, and it’s so simple and straight-forward and correct that you can’t think of a single argument. “Quit texting him but ignoring everyone else. Stop cuddling with him on the couch after work. Quit-”

“Alright, I get it,” you snap, the defensiveness rising up again like muddy waters.

“I’m not sure you do,” he says, and the gentleness is gone from his tone; you’ve moved into the Tough Love section of the lecture, apparently. “You can’t keep playing house with him, pretending you’re together, and then falling apart every time he makes it clear that it isn’t real. You’ll never feel better like this. It will never change, Sunny. You’ll be like this, forever. Is that what you want?”

Your throat is tight and sharp, and you blink quickly, eyes on the ground again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he says it like he aches. Maybe he means it. “You could talk to him, you could at least see what he says -”

“No,” you interrupt. “No. I can’t do that.”

He shrugs, big and exaggerated. “Then move on. There are other people in the world who’d be happy to love you the right way. You can’t give any of them a proper chance if you’re holding it against them that they aren’t Mingyu.”

Like the one you ignored all night, who is still on his way to pick your ass up right now…

You push your hands against your eyes like you can block out the truth of what he’s saying, but you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan reaches out and rubs your shoulder. “I’m gonna go back in,” he says, gentle again. “It’s freezing out here. Just… think about it.”

“I’m thinking,” you say dryly.

He nods, then disappears back into the bar, the wave of sound crashing and fading as the door opens and closes.

You stay outside and wait for Daeyoung’s car, your hands going numb from the cold. You run the whole thing over and over in your head, replay Jeonghan’s words, daydream a hundred conversations with Mingyu each with different endings.

You think maybe you should take Jeonghan’s advice - put some physical distance between you and Mingyu, just as a starting point.

You hate the idea of it. But you know he’s right.

When Daeyoung pulls up, you slide into the passenger seat and tell him thank you, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smiles at you, all sweet, and then whisks you away. Halfway to his place, he glances over at you.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he observes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and then instantly feel bad for it. “Just… argued with my roommate. I’m kind of cranky.”

He reaches out and squeezes your knee once, reassuringly. “Well, you’re welcome to stay with me,” he says, and when you whip around to look at him, he laughs. “I wasn’t being presumptuous. I just meant if you needed some space from them, you’re welcome. That’s all.”

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat, settling back against the seat. “We’ll see.”

You keep your eyes on the window for the rest of the drive.

You wonder if Mingyu brought that girl home, and then you shove that thought away, because you’re letting him go, starting tonight, and those thoughts aren’t going to serve you anymore.

And then you wonder the same thing again five minutes later.

–

April

Winter softens, the temperature sturdies itself, and the season forms solidly into rain-logged spring.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu sings. Even on the greyest, soggiest days you turn to him like a plant turns to sun. “I’m bored.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you quip.

He drapes himself over you in retaliation, long arms and legs hanging heavy towards the floor as his torso smothers your face, drowning in you in his cinnamon-tinged scent.

You protest wordlessly and shove at him, and he laughs, his abs working near your chest with the motion.

“Entertain me,” he whines.

Things have been different - weird different, sometimes even bad different - for a few weeks now, all because of Jeonghan. You choose to blame him, anyway.

What he said to you plays in your head on loop all day every day, and suddenly you don’t know how to act right with Mingyu, causing you to overcorrect and swerve wildly. Sometimes you’re spending the entire day with him, touching and talking and leaning into it - then you think about it too hard and you spend the next two days icing him out.

It’s confusing for both of you. You can tell he notices, can tell he’s baffled by the change. More than once you’ve caught him looking at you like you’re a problem to solve - that face he makes when something isn’t working, or he’s got an equation of some sort to work out. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make you feel bad about it, doesn’t confront you, just takes what you’ll give him with a smile.

You haven’t gone to his room in the middle of the night since your talk with Jeonghan, either. It feels like quitting something. The withdrawal eats at your nerves, the cravings taking over until you can’t focus on anything else. More than one night since then you’ve laid awake, staring at your ceiling, heart pounding as you argue with yourself - just go, you’ll sleep and you’ll feel better waging war against Jeonghan’s you can’t keep pretending you’re together and then falling apart when he makes it clear that it isn’t real.

Each time, you’d ended up staying in your own bed. Jeonghan is right. You knew it when he said it, and you know it now. You have to let go if you’re ever going to be happy. You can’t keep living in the shadows of Mingyu’s life, waiting for him to come give you just a slice of himself and pretending to be sated by it.

“I can’t entertain you, you pain in my ass,” you say, as he allows you to roll his heavy body off of yours and onto the other side of your bed. “I have a date with Daeyoung in like an hour. I need to go shampoo.”

“Booooo,” he complains. Then he props himself up on one elbow and gives you that familiar look again - the math problem look. Not calculating, exactly, but definitely evaluating. “You’ve been seeing him for a while,” he remarks, and you can hear the effort to keep his tone casual, which makes you wonder what he’s hiding.

“Like four months,” you say, not sure if this is agreeing with him or not.

He nods, then rolls to face your ceiling, arms behind his head. It does disgusting things to his biceps, and you look away, sitting up and reaching for your phone to check the time.

“How’s that going?” he asks, still all casual.

“Good,” you say airily, still not looking at him.

“Sunny,” he says, a bit more seriously, and it’s enough to make you glance his way. He’s facing you, arms still behind his head, but watching. “Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

Ice flows through your veins so quickly that you have the urge to blow on your fingers to warm them. Talk to me about it. You take a calming breath, remind yourself that he’s asking about Daeyoung, not about your feelings in general.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Just feels weird.”

“It didn’t used to,” he says, and you know exactly what he means. You’d always talked to him about anything - including boys and crushes.

He doesn’t ask so what’s different now, but you know the answer anyway. You’re afraid you’ll say anything, and Mingyu - who knows you better than anyone else - will hear everything you aren’t trying to say. How you feel about him, how you’ve been trying to create distance and boundaries, how it’s been unsuccessful because you have no sense of consistency, how you can’t seem to accept that you don’t get to have him, how Daeyoung is so nice and fun and cute but still can’t silence the urge behind your ribs that screams for Mingyu.

“Yeah,” you sigh, acknowledging that he’s right - that you used to tell him everything. “I don’t know, Mingyu. It’s good. I like him. Like… I don’t necessarily think he’s The One or anything, but I’d be upset if we broke up?”

Mingyu nods, something complicated on his face. “Well,” he says finally, “That’s good. I’m glad it’s going well. You deserve it.”

There’s something flat in his voice, and you stand because you can’t just sit there next to him right now.

“Thanks,” you say, because you don’t know what else to say. “Well… I’m gonna go shower so I’m not late.” You grab the few things you need from your room and pause in your doorway. He’s pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping slowly and his eyes on the screen, and you carry on across the hallway, leaving him behind.

The way you need to. The way you’re trying to.

Daeyoung takes you to dinner, making you laugh so hard you have to wipe under your eyes, and listening intently when you bitch about work (and, yes, Marcus in Accounting).

After, as you walk along the river, looking out at the lights, Daeyoung reaches for your hand, and you link fingers.

This is what you need - to lean into it with someone, to really try with someone. Maybe that will ease this process of shifting Mingyu to the background. Maybe you just need to try.

Like he can read your mind, Daeyoung slows, turning to look at you. He says your name hesitantly, and you match his slowed pace, waiting.

“We’ve been doing this for a while,” he says, kind of hesitantly, “and I kind of wanted to see if we’re on the same page.”

When you just look at him, he forges ahead, the words rushing out of him now. “I really like you, and I really like this… and I was wondering how you’d feel about… maybe being more official?”

You feel yourself flush, a smile tugging at your lips. “Are you… asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He smiles back, relief washing over his face. “Yeah,” he says, much more confident now. “Yes, I am.”

You lick your lips, suddenly unsure. “Daeyoung,” you say, and you watch his face fall. You hurry to amend - “No, I’m not saying no! It’s just… I don’t know… I feel like we’ve kept things pretty… light. And I just worry that if we get more serious and you see more of me… you might…”

You trail off. He watches you intently, and then finishes for you, “Change my mind?”

You nod meekly. What if you can’t do it - what if you can’t push Mingyu out of your head and heart, what if you can’t start fresh with someone? Daeyoung has been wonderful to you. He doesn’t deserve to get hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be second choice, doesn’t deserve to be a consolation prize.

You can’t say yes if that’s what this will be. You need to be sure you’re all in, you need to be sure you want him and not just the fresh start he represents.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say instead, quietly.

He considers this, watching you carefully. “Why do you think you will?”

It’s a fair question. “I’m… trying to get over someone,” you force yourself to say. He deserves to know what he’s walking into.

You watch his face for any change in expression. His expression does ripple a little, and then he licks his lips and asks, “And how’s that going?”

You scuff the toe of one shoe absently along the pavement. “Goes better when you’re around,” you admit. “But I don’t want to be… like… using you, I guess? It feels… unfair.”

He nods. “I appreciate that,” he says, looking away from you, at the river. He’s quiet for a while and then asks, “Are you into this? With me?”

“Yes,” you say emphatically, because despite the Mingyu of it all, it’s true. “I just don’t want you to end up with regrets.”

He smiles kind of ruefully. “Thanks for being honest,” he says, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“What are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper. You really hope you aren’t breaking up right now, but you wouldn’t blame him if he called it off.

He lets out a long breath, very slowly, measured. “I’m thinking that no one can make promises at the beginning of a relationship.”

Your stomach jolts, terrified, at the word. He continues, oblivious.

“But,” he says, “you just take it a day at a time. That’s all I’m asking for - just a day. And then maybe another. We can go from there.”

You consider this, that tiny smile returning. He waits for your answer.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Yeah. If you’re sure you want that, then… yes.”

“Yes?” he repeats, like he needs to be sure. He’s already grinning, despite the turn the conversation had taken on the way here.

You laugh, feeling suddenly shy. “Yeah. Yes.”

He kisses you next to the singing river, and later you take a selfie together beside a food cart. You post it to social media with a blue heart emoji for the caption.

You swallow hard and swipe roughly to remove the notification when Mingyu likes the picture minutes later.

–

May

“Kim Mingyu!” you bellow, scooping up an armload of shirts and socks from the living room floor. “Get your gross, sweaty clothes off of our shared couch! The hamper is like three feet away!”

“Yah,” he complains, coming to take the offending pile from you. “You never cared before!”

“Well now her boyfriend is coming over,” Jeonghan says, somehow making the word sound sleezy. “She wants it to be pretty in here.”

“I hate you both,” you say. “I only like Wonwoo. He’s my only friend. Wonwoo, you’re my only friend.”

Wonwoo gives you a very deadpan finger heart from his spot on the couch.

Unfortunately, Jeonghan is kind of right.

You’ve mostly spent time out with Daeyoung or at his place - mostly because he lives alone and you live with a cast of clowns. But he has come over a handful of times. Sometimes he’s only there long enough to stand awkwardly by the front door while you finish putting on jewelry and shoes before whisking you away; other times he’s stayed to eat take-away and watch a movie as the aforementioned clowns filter in and out, leaving snappy comments like use protection in their wake.

Tonight’s the first time that the plan is for everyone to hang out. To say you’re nervous is an understatement, as evidenced by the uncharacteristic way you pace the house, adjusting items Daeyoung has already seen out of place as if it makes any difference.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu finally says, coming up and putting his hands on your shoulders, trying to still you. You pull back from his touch as gently as you can, trying to make that space with some subtly. “Why are you freaking out? He’s been here before.”

“Yeah, you’re right, why would I be nervous?” you ask sarcastically. “Why would I be nervous to have my boyfriend come over for games and movies with three notoriously very nice people who never make trouble?”

“Rude,” Wonwoo remarks from the couch.

“Not you, Wonwoo, you’re my only friend,” you tell him without even turning your head. You hear Jeonghan snort.

“You said three,” Mingyu points out seriously, stepping back from you like he silently got the memo about space. “That includes Wonwoo.”

“Fine, I retract my statement. Two people who make trouble, and then one person who knows how to be normal sometimes.”

A knock on the door interrupts you before anyone can push your buttons any further.

“Be nice,” you tell them sternly as you head to open the door. “Be normal. For the love of god, at least try.”

“She has no faith in us,” Jeonghan says sadly behind you.

“We probably shouldn’t try Monopoly tonight,” Mingyu remarks, and you hate that he’s right.

You all almost broke up over Monopoly, once. You never played again.

“Yeah, put that one away,” you agree, as you pull the door open.

Daeyoung greets you with a smile and a small bouquet of flowers - nothing too fancy, just a little something. You pay for them with a smile and a kiss, lifting onto your tiptoes to reach his lips.

“Awwww, so cute,” Jeonghan coos from across the apartment.

“Jeonghan,” you say sharply. “What did we talk about?”

Daeyoung feigns a pout. “You don’t think we’re cute?”

You slap at his arm playfully and step back to let him in. You head to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers, listening as the men all exchange heys and how’ve you beens.

You all settle for a variation of Rummy, sitting around the kitchen table with a smattering of snacks and drinks, chatting easily as you play.

At the end of the second hand, you ask, “Wait, what does that put me at?”

“Sixty-two,” Daeyoung says, just as Mingyu says, “Sixty-three.”

You look at them both blankly. You and numbers don’t vibe.

Jeonghan looks at the little note on his phone where he was tallying scores. “Sixty-three,” he confirms.

“Whoops,” Daeyoung says apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to short you on points, sweetheart.”

All three of your roommates stiffen, and you feel your face heat. “No worries,” you say quickly, reaching to cut the deck for the next hand. “Whose turn is it?”

Be normal, be normal, be normal, you mentally beg the clowns.

“I think it’s mine, sweetie-pie,” Jeonghan deadpans. You kick him ferociously under the table, not even trying to be subtle, and he swears.

“Knock it off,” you growl.

“You’re upsetting pookie, hyung,” Mingyu says somberly.

“I hate all of you,” you whine. And then, on instinct, “Not you, Wonwoo.”

Daeyoung looks around the table, amused. “Is this always how it is around here?”

“Basically,” Wonwoo admits. “Just usually with a lot more -” He stops short, coughing, and reaches for his drink. You all wait, your heart thrumming nervously. You’re sure he’d been about to drop a crack about you and Mingyu’s physical affection. “A lot more yelling,” he finishes. “This is everyone on their best behavior, because Sunny threatened us.”

Daeyoung laughs, and you pray that the moment went unnoticed. You can tell Mingyu is a bit still on your other side, and if it was a month ago you would have reached over to him already, soothed a hand down his arm or pressed your cheek to his shoulder until he untensed. You rest your hands in your lap, instead, eyes on your cards.

After Rummy, which Jeonghan wins by a landslide, you all head to the couches for a movie. Your roommates and you have always had unspoken “spots”, but Daeyoung’s presence throws the balance off entirely. Normally you’d be next to Mingyu but he takes Jeonghan’s spot, leaving the other guys to buffer as they try to figure out a new arrangement.

“Here,” Daeyoung says, tugging on your wrist until you settle on his lap, legs hanging just off the side of his own, “we can make room.”

Jeonghan tosses you a small blanket and a wink and settles in on the far side of your couch, giving the two of you lots of room. Wonwoo flicks off the overhead lights and settles next to Mingyu, the two of them awkwardly squished on the two-seater. But, blessedly, no one complains as the opening score emanates from the sound bar.

As the movie begins, you relax, leaning sideways against Daeyoung’s chest, his arms looped around you. You stomp down on the intrusive thought that wants to compare how comfortable this is to how comfortable you’d been with Mingyu for past movie nights, internally hissing at your own brain for the unwelcome thought.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice low, only for you, one hand rubbing the small of your back lightly.

“Mhm,” you assure him, reaching up to kiss the edge of his jaw, the only bit of him that you can reach comfortably. He smiles down at you, endeared, and then turns his attention to the television again. You can feel someone’s eyes on you, but you refuse to look, refuse to give attention to whoever is trying to heckle you right now. They can’t just let you live, huh?

Halfway through the movie, Mingyu stands, moving out of the way of the screen quickly and heading to the kitchen. You don’t lift your head from Daeyoung’s check, just watching him go through the corners of your eyes.

“Anyone need a drink?” he calls from the kitchen. “Hyung? Sunny Baby?”

Daeyoung physically recoils, his head snapping back so he can look at you, wide-eyed. You look back at him the same way, feeling like you’ve been caught at something.

“It’s just habit,” you say, quietly, and Jeonghan turns away, shifting awkwardly next to you two. “Old nickname from a million years ago.”

Daeyoung nods, but his face is still a bit stricken.

“Hello?” Mingyu calls from the kitchen. “Beer? Anyone?”

“No, thanks!” you call back, trying to force your voice to come out cheerful.

When he returns, flopping unceremoniously into his spot next to Wonwoo, Daeyoung’s arms tighten around you.

You close your eyes, frustrated. You hope you can salvage this. You’d been afraid from the jump that the Mingyu factor - even with the changes you’ve been purposely making, all that space - would damage what you have with Daeyoung, as effective as a drop of ink in a bucket of water.

When the movie ends, Wonwoo gives a polite goodbye and vanishes into his lair and you lead Daeyoung back towards the front door. Behind you, you can hear the tell-tale clicks of bottles as Jeonghan and Mingyu start picking up the food and drinks.

“I’m sorry,” you say, as soon as you have some semblance of privacy in the entryway. “I knew hanging out here was going to be a mess.”

Daeyoung manages a smile. “It wasn’t a mess,” he says. “I just didn’t realize how close you all were.”

He’s being too nice. You feel terrible.

“I think we might get less close very soon if they can’t get their shit together,” you grumble, which makes him laugh, some of the tension alleviating.

“Well,” Daeyoung says, suddenly turning conspiratory, “while your place was very fun… what would you say to some fun at my place now?”

You giggle. “I wouldn’t hate that plan,” you say coyly, smiling up at him. “Quieter, there. Fewer clowns.”

He laughs again, even as he reaches to tilt your jaw up, shuffling you backwards against the entryway wall as his lips find yours.

As the kiss warms you, your hands finding the front of his shirt and bunching it into your fists, heat beginning to trickle out of hiding in your belly, you hear footsteps and an abrupt, “Oh - shit - sorry - my bad -”

“Your place,” you say against Daeyoung’s lips as Mingyu retreats back to the kitchen. You can practically feel through the wall how red his ears are.

Daeyoung lets you out of his embrace and you hurry to your room to toss a few things together - toothbrush, phone charger, clothes - and come to get your jacket.

“Bye, idiots!” you call through the apartment. Then, “Not you, Wonwoo!” and you close the door behind you with a giggle, following Daeyoung down the stairs.

On the other side of the wall, safely hidden in the kitchen, Mingyu stands staring blankly at the pantry, one hand over his mouth, still as a statue. What is this feeling churning in his gut? He feels sick, and he can’t put a name to it but he hates how it crawls through his system.

Jeonghan appears next to him, placing two more dirty cups in the sink. He lets out a single, wry laugh when he sees Mingyu standing there.

“Yeah, dude,” he says easily as he leaves again. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

–

June

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unfurling with distant thunder and a smattering of fireflies lazily drifting through the trees beyond the garden. His arm brushes yours and you can hear his breathing as he exhales slowly.

You feel happy - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those distant cracks of ferocious thunder. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your joy has to burst from you, just like the clouds on the horizon.

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You wake up with faint tear-tracks on your cheeks, and you growl out a frustrated breath.

“I need a lobotomy,” you grumble, wiping at your cheeks and trying to get comfortable again, hoping to go back to sleep - with less ridiculous dreams.

It doesn’t happen. You flop from side to side over the course of half an hour, and then give up. You reach for your nightstand to see if you have any water, but there’s nothing but your phone and the lamp. With a sigh, you push yourself out from under the blankets and pad into the kitchen.

You’re letting a glass fill with tap water when you hear one of the other doors down the hallway open. You turn, peering through the moonlit living room, to see who else is up. The clock above the stove says it’s four in the morning.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says, his voice rough with sleep. His hair is sticking up in the back. Your stomach lurches with the sick desire to smooth it down. “Why are you up?”

“Had a bad dream,” you lie. It was a good dream. Nothing bad about it until you wake up and feel guilty because of Daeyoung, and angry because your brain and heart are holding you fucking hostage. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.” That part’s true.

“Poor Sunny Baby,” he croons, coming closer, the darkness making his form seem even bigger. “Come on - we’ll get comfy.” Just like we used to, he doesn’t say.

Your heart slams against your chest. “Oh,” you say softly. Because, yeah, a few months ago you wouldn’t have even needed him to invite you - you would have been there already, snuggling into the space next to his ribs, breathing him in until sleep returns to you. “Mingyu, I can’t.”

The blanket of darkness makes him bold. He scoffs, not even trying to hide it. “Why not? Because of that guy?” Like he doesn’t know Daeyoung’s name, like the last five months never happened. That guy.

“Because I want to respect my relationship?” you correct gently. “Yes, that’s why. It wouldn’t be right, and you know it.”

You stand in silence for a moment, barely able to see each other across the darkened space, at an impasse. Then, he scoffs again, lighter this time.

“Fine,” he says, moving past you towards the bathroom - probably the reason he was up in the first place. “Suit yourself.”

When he passes back through the living room on his way back to bed, you’re curled up on the couch under one of the blankets, the tv on with the sound turned low. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns down the hall and shuts his bedroom door behind him. You hear the lock click. You press your hands to your face and will yourself to breathe deep. Crying over him while asleep is one thing. Doing it while awake feels like a betrayal.

Just one more you can add to your list.

–

“Hey!” you yell across the noisy room. Mingyu turns from where he’s standing near your bedroom door, talking to a few guys who you’ve seen around here but whose names you forget. Seok… something. The other one might be a Chan, you’re not sure. Mingyu lifts an eyebrow, waiting for whatever request you’re going to shout at him.

“Can you get the door for me?” you call, trying to be louder than the music and chatter. Your apartment is bursting with people as Mingyu’s annual summer bash is well underway. You’re at the pong table - your kitchen table, shoved halfway into the living room - a slightly sticky plastic ball in hand. “Daeyoung is here, I can feel my phone going off.”

Mingyu gives you a wordless salute and shuffles off towards the front door, and you close one eye, lean forward as far as the others will let you without calling a foul, and line up your shot.

You sink it just seconds before you feel someone’s hands on your hips. You straighten up and turn to greet Daeyoung with a kiss, firm and confident courtesy of many drinks. The party’s been going for a few hours already, and you and the guys pregamed before the guests started showing up.

“Hi!” you chirp when you part. “Glad you made it!”

“This is a lot of people,” he says back, looking around your living room and kitchen a bit incredulously. “You said you guys do this every year?”

You nod seriously. “We bribe our neighbors. I mean, they’re all invited of course, but we also try to do something nice to make up for the one night of noise. Last year I baked cookies. This year we just went straight to cash.”

He laughs, and you lead him through the throng of people into the kitchen for a drink.

“I’m glad you came,” you say again, as he stands before the open fridge, scanning beer bottle labels for something palatable. He sends you a smile over his shoulder, then picks a bottle and turns. You place the opener into his waiting hand.

“You look good tonight,” he tells you, all glinty, looking at you sideways. You pretend to preen.

“Sunny always looks good,” Jeonghan asserts, breezing in behind you holding a bowl full of chips.

“Are you sharing those?” you demand. “You can’t gatekeep the good ones, Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this.”

“Gatekeep, girlboss, whatever the third one is!” he replies, zipping back out of the kitchen as quickly as he’d come.

Out in the living room, you hear the familiar sound of the karaoke machine booting up. There’s a telltale scraping - the pong table being shoved against the far wall to make more room for jumping around while aiming for that perfect score.

When you and Daeyoung make it into the living room again, Mingyu and one of the friends whose names you forgot are singing together. Mingyu’s all irony, eyes closed in mock passion as he clutches his mic with both hands, but his friend is actually good, voice sailing over the higher notes without error.

“Wow,” you say. “That guy can actually sing.”

One of your friends, a girl you lovingly call Ethel because of the style of grandma glasses she favors, stops in front of you, pushing little plastic shot glasses into your hands.

“Are you the boyfriend?” she asks Daeyoung, somewhat breathlessly. “I’ve been dying to actually meet you. She’s been keeping you a secret.”

“I have not!” you reply hotly, as Daeyoung laughs, introducing himself.

“It’s nice to meet her other friends,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I know, it’s hard to separate her from these guys,” she says. “They deserve a sitcom.”

“I’m standing right here,” you protest.

Jeonghan appears behind you, too close. “We have a little problem in the kitchen,” he whispers.

You excuse yourself, leaving Daeyoung with Ethel - who will hopefully say nothing too incriminating about you and Mingyu’s blurry-lined friendship.

In the kitchen, Wonwoo is kneeling on the floor, his upper body hidden in the cupboard under the sink. When he shuffles back out, the front of his shirt is wet. You can see a bit of water starting to pool on the boards below the cleaning supplies.

“Uh oh,” you say.

Mingyu appears to your left, solid and warm against your arm. Then he crouches, peering under the sink.

“Can I have someone’s phone?” he asks, and you pass him yours. He turns on the flashlight and shines it at the pipes. You watch his face do that thing - that calculating look, the problem-solving look.

“It’s this one,” he says, pointing to something you can’t see under there. “Where’s our toolbox?”

“Great question,” Wonwoo says, mouth twisting as he tries to remember. “Laundry room?”

“I think so,” you say. “I think it’s on the shelf in there.”

Mingyu scoots out from under the sink and disappears into the little nook you all graciously call a laundry room, since it does have a functional door, then reappears with two tools in hand. You don’t know what they are - you’ve never needed to.

You and Jeonghan and Wonwoo stand around him, worried, like you’re waiting for a doctor to emerge through hospital doors to report on the status of a loved one. When Mingyu backs out of the cabinet again, it’s with an air of smugness.

“All set,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking proudly.

“Our hero,” Jeonghan deadpans.

“This is why we keep you around,” you tell him.

“Get the man a shot,” Jeonghan says, swiveling to the collection of bottles on the counter.

Daeyoung finds you on the kitchen floor, using a rag to wipe up any bits of water. Wonwoo and Mingyu both disappeared to change into dry shirts, you think.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him, wiping one last spot and leaning up on your knees to look around for any areas you might have missed. The last thing you need is for someone to slip in here. “The sink broke. It’s okay now, Mingyu fixed it.”

“Well, thank god for Mingyu,” he says, and you look up at him, not sure if you’re imagining the edge in his voice. Are you? Did you project that?

“Well,” you say, “kind of! Because four of us live here, and only one person could solve the problem.”

He laughs reluctantly. “I can fix a sink,” he says, a bit of a pout in his voice.

You stand, returning the rag to the counter. “I’ll make sure to ask you first next time,” you say, leaning up to brush your lips teasingly across his. “I just thought the rent-payer should handle the problem before the guests.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he allows, smiling bigger.

A while later, you find yourself in Wonwoo’s room, leaning against the wall watching somewhat absently as he and one of his friends play a POV shooter game, their brows furrowed in concentration and fingers flying on the controls.

Daeyoung had been with you only moments ago, reporting into your ear on the game’s happening like a sports commentator to make you laugh, but he’d gone to get you each a new drink. Mingyu appears in his absence, and you can tell immediately that he’s sloppy.

“Sunny Baby,” he sings, draping an arm over your shoulders.

You can’t help but smile, even as you try to shift out from under his arm. “Yes?” you sing back teasingly. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “You can stay just like this.” He wraps his other arm around you, and you laugh, pushing very gently at his chest.

“Mingyu,” you protest, laughing. “Get off me.”

“I will in one second,” he says, smiling cheekily. “You haven’t let me hug you in a hundred years, I have to take advantage now that your defenses are weakened by cheap vodka.”

“Mingyu!” you laugh again.

And then you see Daeyoung in the doorway behind him, face unreadable.

“Mingyu,” you say again, deadly serious now. “Let go.”

Daeyoung slowly reaches to put the two beers on Wonwoo’s dresser and turns, wordlessly retreating down the hallway.

“Damn it, Mingyu,” you hiss, extracting yourself and hurrying to follow him. Daeyoung makes it clear outside and down the front steps before you catch him.

“Daeyoung, wait!” you call, and he finally slows, turning to face you. You jog to catch up, a bit breathless. You’ve had way too much to drink for this kind of confrontation, but you try to get your shit together enough to defend yourself. Or apologize. Or both.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows and waits.

“Don’t -” you start, and then switch tracks quickly. “That was nothing. He’s like that when he’s had too much to drink. He’s just being silly.”

Daeyoung laughs once, sharp and sarcastic. “Don’t lie to me,” he says flatly.

“I’m not!” you protest. “It’s true.”

He shakes his head, swipes his thumb across his phone screen and taps around.

“Don’t leave,” you beg. “I’m sorry. I was trying to tell him to let go.”

He twists his mouth, refusing to look at you. At the far end of the street, you can see approaching headlights. He’s ordered a ride home.

“When you said you were trying to get over someone I didn't pry,” he says flatly, “but I guess I should have. You could’ve had the decency to tell me that you live with him.”

The slam of the car door feels final, the sound passing over you like shrapnel.

The blink of red taillights has just vanished around the corner when strong arms wrap around you. Mingyu must have followed, must have been watching from the door, must have seen it happen.

You’ve been trying to make space, you’ve been trying to stay away, but you’re buzzed and you’re sad and you’re weak. So, you turn in his arms, burying your face in his shirt and letting yourself cry.

He holds you through it, doesn’t say anything to you, just holds on tight until you can breathe again.

“I don’t want you to see this,” you sniffle finally, and he lets his arms drop, stepping back so he can look at you. “This shouldn’t be you.”

“That’s fair,” he murmurs, sounding much more sober than he had inside. “But I’m the one who’s here. Tell me you want me to go, and I will.”

Your heart cracks.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he says, wrapping you up again, leaning his chin on the top of your head and swaying you a little bit. “Then I won’t.”

Eventually, you both lay in the grass. You don’t want to go inside, and Mingyu says he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the front yard. Instead, you lay side by side, far enough away that you’d have to stretch to touch. It feels like that night in undergrad, but also completely opposite. In your memories of that night, you felt warm and good like your place in the universe was guaranteed, your cog in the great machine fitting perfectly and spinning without difficulty. Tonight, you feel off, cold and angry, like your piece has been displaced and can’t fit anywhere anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to make problems for you guys.”

“I know you didn’t,” you allow.

“It was just us being us,” he says, a bit defensively.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think that was the problem.”

He has nothing to say to that.

Daeyoung calls you, much later, when you’re back inside and tucked in your bed.

“Were you sleeping?” he asks.

“Of course not,” you say. “I’m lying awake agonizing over you storming out on me.”

He laughs quietly, and you feel hope bloom behind your ribs. Is this salvageable?

“I might have overreacted,” he admits. “It’s easy to be intimidated by that guy.”

That guy again. What is it with these two?

“You shouldn’t be,” you tell him. “He’s an idiot.”

Daeyoung laughs again. “So am I,” he says.

“You don’t need to worry about him,” you say. “I’ve been really trying to adjust the boundaries of our friendship, and it’s a big change from how we used to be. Usually we do better… Like I said earlier, he was drunk. He just forgot himself, went back to how things used to be.”

Daeyoung is quiet for a second. “I should have let you explain yourself before I left,” he says evenly.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place,” you counter. “I didn’t mean to. I’m in this with you, Daeyoung. I promise.”

“I know,” he admits. “I know you are.”

You smile into the phone. “Our first fight.”

He laughs again. “Hopefully not one of many.”

“Eh,” you say. “It’s normal. Anyway, I’m glad you called. I would have been a mess waiting to hear from you. Might have embarrassed myself blowing your phone up.”

“Maybe I should have let you embarrass yourself,” he teases.

“It’s like that, huh?” you joke.

“Yes,” he sniffs. “Until I feel better.”

When you finally hang up, you creep through the apartment to pee before trying to sleep. You notice Mingyu’s light is on, though his door is shut. You pause, looking at that sliver of light, and then continue on back to your own bed.

–

July

“Move over!” you giggle, using your hips to scoot Daeyoung out of your way, a wooden spoon in your hand. The simmering stew on the stovetop smells delectable, and you give it a stir, make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom of the pot.

“Ask nicely!” he retorts, but he’s smiling.

Mingyu watches the scene covertly from the couch, trying to keep his face neutral, trying to keep his face tilted towards the tv so he doesn’t get caught watching. Or worse, caught sulking.

You and Daeyoung eat and wash up most of what you used to cook, offer the leftovers to anyone around to hear you (so, just Mingyu), and then leave, giggles and flirting dissipating and leaving Mingyu in a quiet that he absolutely can’t stand.

When you return the next day, trying to look nonchalant with your overnight bag clutched in your hands, Mingyu is at the kitchen table, eating some of the leftovers and watching videos on his phone.

“Hey,” he greets you, pausing the video.

You give your overnight bag a light toss; it lands with a thump over near the couch. “Hey yourself,” you say, heading into the kitchen for a drink. “The food’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Your man can cook, huh?”

“Hey!” you object. “I did most of the work!”

“Hmm,” he says, rising and coming into the kitchen to rinse his plate.

You cross your arms, eyes narrowing. “Hmmm what?”

He shrugs teasingly. “We’ve lived together a long time, Sunny. I have a hard time believing you’re the chef in that relationship. You never helped me cook anything.”

Your eyes narrow even more. “You never asked me to,” you retort, suddenly defensive. “There’s a lot of things I do with Daeyoung because you never asked me to.”

Silence falls on the kitchen like a rockslide.

Mingyu takes one very careful step backwards. “Because I never asked you to?” he echoes, his voice shaking just slightly.

Your pulse races, and you fight a wave of nausea. A Freudian slip if there ever was one.

“That you never asked me to,” you amend firmly.

Mingyu hesitates. Then, “I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

That defensiveness moves inside you like a thing alive, your temper flaring in an effort to protect you.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, suddenly pissed.

Mingyu doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t match your temper at all. Calm and steady, he says, “So then you tell me. How do you feel, Sunny?”

That rockslide hits you. You can’t breathe, too bruised by the onslaught. All the years of secrets and feelings and broken rules and truths that you knew but pretended not to spill around you, impossible to escape.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” you hiss at him. “Not now. That’s not fair.”

His calm cracks, just slightly, his tone going hard. “What are you talking about?”

“Why now, Mingyu?” you demand. “Why now, when I have someone? Why not any of the years before now, when I was only yours?”

You’re breathing hard, having spat the words like they’re venom, and you wait him out. He blusters, splutters, has nothing to say to this.

Your temper pulls you like a wave, a momentum you can’t fight.

“You don’t know the answer?” you ask sarcastically. “That’s fine - I can tell you: because you had me. You had me, and you didn’t need to share me, and you could still do whatever - or whoever! - you wanted and I’d still fucking be here afterward.”

You know exactly the moment you start crying through the words, because Mingyu’s body jolts, like he instinctively moved to touch you but remembered to stay back.

“And now?” you continue, because you’re on a roll, everything you’ve held in for years finally bursting from you with the fury of a cracked dam. “Now that’s changed. So, what is it? You want your toy back now that someone else is playing with it?”

“Of course not-”

“Fuck you, Mingyu! You sat me on the shelf for too long. I don’t deserve that.”

“Sunny, no,” he tries again. “It isn’t like that. I lo-”

“Yes, it is!” you shout. You’ve never shouted at him in your life, and it actually shuts him up. Tears are still streaming down your face, but you ignore them. “It is, and until you see that, I can’t expect you to change it or fix it.”

You start to storm past him, but you whirl on him, a finger pointed in his direction. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you love me!” you add furiously. “No you don’t. Not the right way, not like this.”

And then you slam out of the apartment, barely remembering to grab your keys off the hook as you go.

–

[5:22pm] You: if i send you a list of what i need, can you please put a bag together for me and leave it in the hall

[5:22pm] (jeong)Han Solo: :( sunny

[5:22pm] You: hannie please??? i can’t go inside. i really can’t.

[5:23pm] (jeong)Han Solo: he’s a fucking wreck

[5:23pm] You: i don’t care

[5:24pm] You: i mean of course i fucking care that’s the whole problem

[5:24pm] You: please? my things?

–

August

August 3

[10:02am] Mingyu: sunny please talk to me

[12:17pm] Mingyu: please let me apologize to you

[12:17pm] Mingyu: i dont want to do it over text but you wont answer my calls and no one seems to know where you are

[12:22pm] Mingyu: you were right. about all of it.

[12:22pm] Mingyu: and you were right that you dont deserve it

[12:22pm] Mingyu: please call me back or come home so i can say this to your face

[5:38pm] Mingyu: there’s one part you were wrong about

[5:38pm] Mingyu: i do love you. the right way. maybe it took losing you to someone to get my ass moving but i loved you way before he was in the picture

[5:38pm] Mingyu: dont ever question that again

[11:04pm] Mingyu: god, sunny, answer your phone!

August 4

[7:43am] Mingyu: you’re killing me

[7:43am] Mingyu: are you happy sunshine???? KILLING ME!!!

[1:36pm] Mingyu: come home

[1:36pm] Mingyu: please

[8:02pm] Mingyu: we HAVE to talk about this, sunny

[11:51pm] Mingyu: i’m not going to give up

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: are you staying with daeyoung for a while?

[10:23am] You: no. my mom’s.

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok. im glad you’re with someone who can care for you.

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: we miss you :(

August 5

[8:00am] Mingyu: fine, i’ll say everything over text like an asshole

[8:00am] Mingyu: just know you made me do this!

[8:04am] Mingyu: i fell in love with you in undergrad when you had to take that statistics class that you almost failed. when you saw your midterm score was passing you told me i love you for the first time and i swear to god i almost proposed to you right there. And it never went away. It was never less.

[8:08am] Mingyu: i love you because you wield your attitude like both sword and shield. I love you because you can barely count but you make me feel so stupid sometimes with how clever you are. I love you because you’re beautiful and funny and empathetic and you make me want to be better than i am. I want to be more competent for you, to be able to take care of you and provide for you when you need it. I love you because when i’m sick you take care of me and you let me take care of you when you’re down too. I love you because when i’m with you i feel like someone’s GOT me, someone understands me and has my back.

[8:09am] Mingyu: i cant believe youre making me say this all in TEXT i hate this!

[8:10am] Mingyu: i have more. I have a hundred more reasons.

[8:10am] Mingyu: come home so i can tell you

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunny baby. Please come home soon.

You show up to Daeyoung’s unannounced. His face is grim when he opens the door; you haven’t answered his calls or texts in a few days, either. He probably knows what this is.

“Hi,” he says, stepping backwards to make room for you in his doorway. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry I vanished,” you tell him. “Something happened. I’ve been at my mom’s.”

He eyes you warily, like he’s not sure if this is a I got in a car accident kind of something, or a I cheated on you kind of something, and he doesn’t want to react for the wrong one. “Okay…” he says slowly.

“Daeyoung,” you say, after taking a breath to steel yourself, “I care about you, and I like you, and I have real feelings for you.”

“I sense a but,” he says dryly.

You smile sadly. “But I dont think this is fair to you. I shouldn’t be with someone - anyone - until I’m over him or he’s out of my life… and I can’t seem to make either of those things happen.” You don’t need to say which him. You both know. “I wanted to. I wanted to do it right and I thought I was… but I was wrong.”

He shrugs, face blank. “Okay.”

“Daeyoung.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, frustration seeping into his tone. “I can't argue with any of that. I can’t change it for you. I can’t be better than him, I can't become him. You’re right, you shouldn’t be with someone else if what you really want is that guy.”

That guy. Again.

“You’re right,” you whisper, looking at your feet.

He lets out a breath. “So, it’s done then?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Daeyoung. I hope someday you can believe that this isn’t how I wanted it to go. You deserve better.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t let you go out with any optimism. You and your misery trudge back to your mother’s, fall asleep in your childhood bed.

August 6

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i have more things to say today

[8:00am] Mingyu: i will give you two 2️⃣ minutes to respond or you get it all thru text AGAIN

[8:00am] Mingyu: and you know how i feel about that.

[8:03am] Mingyu: fine.

[8:03am] Mingyu: you’ve always been so fucking stubborn sunny. just let me apologize to you!

[8:05am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i kept you on hold

[8:05am] Mingyu: you’re right. that’s what was happening. but i didn’t MEAN it like that.

[8:05am] Mingyu: idk if you believe me bc i can’t see your face 🙄

[8:06am] Mingyu: but its true. I just… liked how things were. Youre right… i counted on you always being there waiting for me.

[8:06am] Mingyu: i thought it was okay though… i thought if you wanted it to change you had the power to change it

[8:07am] Mingyu: like, you could have said something to me.

[8:07am] Mingyu: and i dont mean that like its your fault or anything, it was just how i rationalized it to myself. Like if you werent complaining then it must be fine?

[8:09am] Mingyu: i’m an idiot

[8:14am] Mingyu: but i’m an idiot who loves you, and misses you, and wants to do better

[11:59pm] Mingyu: please come home

[12:32pm] You: i broke up with him.

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: are you okay???

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: come home so we can take care of you!!

[12:58pm] You: i cant face him. not yet. im not ready

August 7

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i took you for granted. even if we walk out of this only trying to repair the friendship, i swear i’ll never let it happen again.

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunshine. I love you.

August 8

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont work too hard today

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont take any shit from marcus in accounting

[12:12pm] Mingyu: having lunch. call me if you want? it doesnt have to be heavy. Just hello.

[12:39pm] Mingyu: i need you back sunny. in whatever capacity youll let me have.

[11:57pm] Mingyu: hope you had a good day. Goodnight, i love you.

August 9

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny

[11:58pm] Mingyu: please. Please come home.

–

When you return home, a week after you left, it’s nearly dawn, the light from outside the living room just turning blue enough that you can see the outlines of the couches as you close the door as quietly as you can.

You step lightly, avoiding the spots you know will creak and groan when you step over them. You peer down the hallway to see that the guys’ doors are all shut, no lights on - not even the blues of Wonwoo’s computer monitor.

You open your door and look around; your room looks exactly how you left it, down to the glass of water on the nightstand, now nearly empty. Except… the blankets on the bed are wrong. You set your bag down gently next to your dresser and creep closer, squinting through the dimly lit room.

A dark head of hair peeks out from under your comforter.

You can’t help it - you smile to yourself. For all the things Mingyu is - intelligent, funny, athletic, competent - he’s also a big baby. And he’s sleeping in your bed, because he misses you, and it comforts him.

It makes you want to forgive him for every wrong, press your lips to his sleepy forehead, listen to him lisp out Sunny Baby.

He hurt you, it’s true. But you believe it that he was lying to himself, pretending things were fine. Weren’t you doing the exact same thing? You can’t hope Daeyoung will forgive you for your mistakes if you aren’t willing to do the same, too.

You close your bedroom door and approach your bed. Mingyu stirs, making cricket legs under the blanket and stretching one arm towards the empty side. Towards you, though he doesn’t know it yet.

Then he freezes. His voice comes out paper thin. “Sunny?” he asks, pushing himself to sitting.

“This is not your bed,” you tell him, and he launches himself across the mattress, scrambling to reach you.

You allow him to wrap his gangly arms around your middle, pulling you to him as apologies pour over his lips so fast that he’s nearly babbling.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pushing at his shoulders. You back away and he follows like he’s tethered to you, clambering from the bed and standing before you.

For a moment, you just stare at each other through the thick blue of encroaching dawn.

And then he says your name.

Not Sunny. Not Sunny Baby. Your real name.

“I am so sorry - for everything,” he says, the ache in his voice clear and open. Then he drops his voice to a pained whisper. “Please. Tell me I can fix it.”

You press your lips together, looking at him. He looks awful - like he hasn’t slept much, or been eating well. You feel a little bad that you stayed away for so long, but you’d needed the time by yourself. You’d needed the clarity of being alone to figure out what you want.

“I think we can,” you whisper back, since the rest of the apartment is still sleeping. We, because this was on both of you.

He crushes you in a hug, surrounding you in the smell of cinnamon, his cheek pressed to your head. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please let me try and do better.”

“I broke up with Daeyoung,” you respond, and he snaps his mouth shut, stepping backwards to stare at you.

“Why?” he asks finally, hoarse, like he can barely get the word out.

You look up at him. “Because it wasn’t right to be with him. It wasn’t right to be with him when I’ve been in love with someone else the whole time.”

He closes his eyes, his whole body seeming to sag.

“I forgive you,” you say quietly, “and I do believe that things will be better now. If we talk about it - if we’re working together to make it better.”

“Yes,” he says quickly, desperately. “I will - I’ll do whatever I need to -”

“Both of us,” you say again, emphatically. “You were right, this wasn’t just your fault. I let this go on for… years. I counted marks against you but I never once spoke up.”

“No,” he protests, shaking his head. “It was my fault, Sunny, I took it for granted and I should have been loving you, spoiling you -”

You laugh. “I mean, maybe,” you say. “But if I’d talked to you… maybe you would have been.”

“I want to now,” he says. “Can I? Will you let me?”

You smile up at him, and he grins back, taking your smile as an answer.

You reach up and touch his eye-tooth gently with a fingertip. “Your stupid fang is so fucking cute,” you whisper. “It is truly unfair how cute it is.”

He pretends to scowl at you. “We’re having a serious moment, here, Sunshine.”

You smile again, gentler this time. “I love you,” you tell him. “If you want to prove you can do this right… then I’m all in.”

He whispers your name again, then looks at you.

His eyes are molten again, the way they were the night you’d had your only kiss. It’s almost hypnotizing, the strength of his gaze on you, pulling you in wordlessly until your body is flush with his. You look up at him, breathless.

“I’ll start proving it now,” he murmurs, so low you barely catch it, and then his mouth snags on yours, forceful, his hands cupping your jaw gently, a juxtaposition.

He touches you so tenderly, his fingers feather-light against the skin they uncover as you undress each other in hushed silence. It feels holy, somehow.

He licks spices and heat into your mouth, trails calloused fingers down your bare arms, pulls your hips into his as his teeth trace down your jaw, makes sure you feel his want for you.

You slide your hands from his waist up his stomach and over his pecs, revelling in how he hisses and leans into the touch.

“Wanted to do this for years,” he grumbles, like he’s complaining, before lowering his lips to your chest, sucking on supple skin to see how you like it, then doing it harder when you dig your fingers into his shoulders, gasping at the sensation.

“Should’ve,” you scold, even as your eyes close and your head tilts back. “Could’ve been.”

But you aren’t thinking about your wasted time when he kneads both hands in the meat of your ass, or when you slide a flat palm up the length of him, delighting in the weight and heat you find straining against his Calvins. You’re thinking about how his hands are searing, about how you want to taste him but maybe not yet, not this first time. You’re thinking about his fingers sliding between your legs and the belly-deep rumble he makes when he feels how ready you are for him.

And when you finally come together, his mouth pressed to yours as he lays you back on the bed you’ve shared countless times, you’re only thinking about him and his beautiful smile and molten eyes and infectious laugh and empathetic heart. When he’s pushed as far into you as your bodies will allow, his hips tight against you and a whine slipping between his lips, you’re overcome with emotion. As you adjust to him, his eyes trace your face, and he reads what’s there with perfect clarity.

“Love you, Sunny Baby,” he whispers into the crook of your neck.

You swallow against the thick rise of feelings and run your fingers through his hair. “Move for me,” you beg. And when he does, it’s just as perfect as the rest of him.

You press your forehead to his when you come, his thumb rough on your clit and his mouth gasping broken breaths against your lips, pulsing around him in waves so dizzying you think they trigger even more. His hair sticks to his forehead as he presses deep inside you, and he shelters you between mountainous arms as he finally lets go.

Mingyu is sunrise, leaking orange and pink and yellow and white and chasing away a world of purples and blues. He’s so bright you have to squint, a promise of a fresh start, an end to the darkness of night.

He’s perfect. He’s perfect, and you love him, and finally you can have him.

You lay in his arms, heartbeat slowing bit by bit, and feel wholly at peace - like everything finally settled into place, everything landed exactly as it was meant to. Your cog in the universe, spinning correctly at last, grooves fitted perfectly to Kim Mingyu’s.

The peace lasts…. until you check your phone.

[8:26am] (jeong)Han Solo: when you two are DONE…. we went out for breakfast if you want to join 🙄

—

November

“Baby,” Mingyu says, but it’s stern. “Quit fixing the pillows.”

“It has to be perfect in here!” you whine.

Mingyu wraps his arms around you like a cage, squeezing until you’re laughing too hard and drop the throw pillow from your hand.

“They lived with us for years,” he says, entirely too rationally. “You can’t fool them.”

He releases his hold on you so you can turn and pout at him. You’re about to protest - argue that it’s Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s first time visiting you and Mingyu’s new place, that this is momentous, a special occasion - but you’re cut off by an obnoxiously outlandish knock on the front door.

“I’ve got it,” Mingyu tells you. “You just try to relax.”

You will, in just a second. But first, you lean over to the candle you have burning on the coffee table and adjust it just slightly to center the label, which reads Fall Harvest and Cinnamon.

thank you so much for reading!!!!

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letavik001 · 1 day ago

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I have just recently found out about the SA accusations. I don't know much and I definitely can't know what actually happened in detail and that's exactly the point.

We, external people, don't know anything. We don't know what happened to those women, we don't know what he was thinking all those years ago, we don't know exactly how Oscar Wilde felt about the popularity of The Picture of Dorian Grey and we don't know what John Lennon thought of Paul Mc'Cartney's choice of partners.

I would like to talk more about the part with idolising celebrities. It usually embraces conflict between fans, where both sides are pretty much always incorrect.

Both sides at all times come from second or third hand sources, whether it's the internet, magazines or printed biographies. They're not telepaths, they don't know whether any of it is true, despite it being literal citations of the person they're arguing about or the people around them.

If you have not literally seen it, you cannot know. And even if you have, your words don't always have to be exactly objective or truthful. But that's going too far into it.

What I want to say is – when you idolise a person, you always without a doubt idolise just your perception of them and not really their whole real being. So the only people who have the right source to speak up about the particular Gaiman topic are, for example, Gaiman, the women in question, and the people very close to the whole situation who have seen and heard everything around it.

While idolising a person is not exactly healthy, if you did so with anyone who turned out to be a deviant bastard, do not feel guilty. You have idolised your perception of them and therefore couldn't have guessed if any of your knowledge was even correct. This is your chance to reevaluate your relationship with the author.

Let the author die in your arms, in your mind. Go ahead into you local library or record rental and throw yourself into the bibliographies and discographies of massive bloody pricks who are unfortunately objectively great artists. Just don't consider them at all. You are there for the art, not the artist.

one of the most frustrating things about the neil gaiman situation (and others like it) is people who were fans immediately moving to a different person to idolise ('well, at least we still have x author' or 'please tell me y author is still a good person') and in this situation specifically, 'terry pratchett would be furious'. no!!! you do not know!!!you have no idea whether terry pratchett or any author you like was/is a predator! you cannot take a situation in which a man's public persona as a feminist and supporter of women allowed him to prey on vulnerable women without suspicion and then look at all the other men who portray themselves as good people and say 'well, these ones are still okay though.' just stop idolising celebrities!!!!!!!

#neil gaiman #Arguing is stupid just admit it #Hell even Paul McCartney is not perfect

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solxamber · 2 days ago

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Hi there! For the valentines event can I request Ace with romantic implications with the song "30 Second Love Story" by PEGGY with inspired by these specific lyrics? "There are millions of people, and millions of lifetimes And maybe in one of them, I found my voice And I told you I liked you, and then came for coffee In five years we're married, a house and a family" I know you said you are getting a lot of Ace requests but the brain rot is real if you're getting Ace-fatigue you can go with Sebek instead!

"I spent my whole life in a moment with you" || Ace Trappola

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 30 Second Love Story by PEGGY

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 890

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Confessions

Ace is in love with you.

Painfully, irreversibly, hopelessly in love with you.

It hits him in flashes, in moments so ordinary they shouldn't feel life-changing—but they do. Like when you pass him a drink without him asking, already knowing what he likes. Like when you shoot him a grin after winning a game against him, smug and shining. Like when you nudge him with your shoulder while walking side by side, laughing, your warmth so close yet so far.

It happens when you hold his hand casually, fingers laced without a second thought, as if you don’t notice the way his heart hammers against his ribs. It happens when you lean into him during a movie, your weight comfortable and trusting, completely unaware that his pulse is racing.

He thinks about a future where this is normal—not just fleeting touches and teasing words, but something real. Something that lasts.

Mornings where he wakes up to you tangled in his sheets, sunlight catching in your hair. Breakfasts where he sneaks up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as you make coffee, pressing his face into the crook of your neck just to hear you laugh.

Lazy afternoons spent wrapped in each other on the couch, sharing popcorn and complaints about a bad movie. Evenings where he watches you from across the dinner table and still thinks, Damn, I love you.

A life with you. A future where he’s yours, and you’re his.

He dreams about it more than he should, and every time, he tells himself to stop.

He can’t ruin this. You’re his best friend. If he messes up—if he confesses and you don’t feel the same—then what? He’d lose everything.

So he stays quiet, keeps it locked inside his chest, lets himself drown in his own longing.

Until the day he doesn’t.

It’s a golden afternoon, the kind where the sun paints everything in its soft warmth, and you’re sitting next to him, talking animatedly about something—Ace isn’t even sure what, because all he can focus on is you.

The way your eyes light up when you get excited. The way your hand moves, expressive and unguarded. The way your fingers are wrapped around his, absently squeezing like it’s second nature.

And that’s when it happens.

His heart stutters, skips a beat, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

Why is he waiting? Why is he so scared?

You are his best friend. The one who laughs at his stupid jokes. The one who sticks by him even when he’s being a pain in the ass. The one who makes life better just by existing in it.

How could he not love you?

And how could he keep pretending that he doesn’t?

Before he can think, before doubt can creep in, he moves.

His free hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek gently. You blink at him, startled, lips parting—ready to ask something, maybe—but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He leans in and kisses you.

It’s soft at first, tentative, his breath catching as he waits for you to pull away. But you don’t. You freeze for only a second before melting into him, fingers tightening around his.

The moment you respond—when your lips move against his, when you kiss him back with just as much warmth—it feels like something inside him clicks into place.

He’s never believed in fate, but this—this feels damn close to it.

When he pulls back, his heart is pounding, his stomach twisting in nervous anticipation. But the way you look at him, stunned and breathless and smiling—it’s everything he needs.

You don’t say anything. You just squeeze his hand, as if to say, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

And that’s all he needs to know.

Ace wakes up to the weight of you in his arms.

Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the sheets, and he takes a moment to just—breathe. It's been five years, and he still can't believe this is real.

Your head is tucked beneath his chin, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Your warmth is familiar now, expected, like it’s always meant to be there.

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your back, and you stir with a sleepy hum.

“Mm… Ace?” Your voice is drowsy, muffled against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You tilt your face up to look at him, eyes still heavy with sleep, and he thinks, I’ll never get tired of this.

Never get tired of the way your nose scrunches slightly when you wake up. Never get tired of how soft you are against him, how safe you make him feel. Never get tired of the matching rings on your fingers, the quiet proof of the promise you made to each other.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble, nuzzling into him.

Ace huffs a laugh. “You say that every morning."

“And yet, I still get five more minutes every time.”

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair.

This is it.

The life he dreamed of—the one he was once too scared to reach for—is now his reality.

And as he kisses you awake, slow and sweet, he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #twst ace #ace x reader #ace trappola #ace

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ablobwhowrites · 2 days ago

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So I was reading your poppy playtime new home sweet home post and I saw the one that told of the robber(s) breaking into y/n house and getting killed and I was maybe wondering if you could make that into a full story with all the toys ganging up on the robbers and they do this all as y/n sleeps peacefully in the next room over

Please and thank you

(I got you. Hopefully I cooked with this fic also for this fic, this happened before the doctor came to live at the house. Also cause in game that catnap can transform his appearance then he can totally turn into his small for and I like to think all the smiling critters can do that but mostly are in their big form like how dogday is when we met him but yeah.)

The night was quiet, everyone slept peacefully in the house as the moon stood high in the sky with the stars. Y/n curled up in their bed as yarnaby somehow was able to fit on the bed with y/n as the smiling critters slept in the living room multiple blankets and pillows on the ground to make it more comfortable with sleeping bags as they all pilled with each other in craftycorn's and hoppy hopscotch's pillow fort. The other toys sleeping in bedrooms that y/n helped them settle into for a actual good night rest but one was up and about, quietly walking around the house in their smaller plush form to be more quiet, that was catnap, slowly creeping through the second floor making one last night patrol before joining the other smiling critters in the pillowfort for the night.

His ear suddenly shifts hearing noise down stairs, he silently descended down the stairs to the main floor. The sound of something picking, small clicking and quiet jiggling of something metal until he found the source of the sound. The front door opened quietly as the quiet creaking of the door, catnap went to hide and see who will was coming in. Two people in black clothes and masks can in as they looked around "alright let's just take as much as we can. Next time don't drop a fucking vase, that's what almost got us caught." One of the masked men said to the second one slightly annoyed.

Catnap thinks of ways to kill to dispose of these people, he quickly race up stairs as the two men where in the kitchen trying to find any valuables. He stopped suddenly as a door upstairs opened as mommy long legs woke up groggy from the noise from down stairs woke her up. Being in the silence factory has made her a very light sleeper especially when it's this quiet in the house. "Catnap?...what are you doing up so late?" She yawned as then hearing the a slight aloud clank of something metal coming from down stairs, mommy long legs goes quiet as she quietly walked to the stairs and stretched her neck to be able to see what could be making that noise.

One of the robbers quietly cussed under their breath as they look around to make sure no one heard the sound, not noticing mommy long legs head in the shadows watching them with their every move. She retracted her head back and sighed "the one night i try to get some sleep. Catnap may you please go fetch huggy wuggy and yarnaby for me? I'll make sure they stay where they are in the mean time" she said slightly annoyed and tired but trying to keep a sweet demeanor as catnap went to get the two toys. The robber looking in basement for anything valuable and a good escape route but hearing the door of the basement close as they sighed annoyed "Clyde! Come on man, I told you I'll be checking here, why aren't you checking the living room?" The masked person said thinking it's their partner until the light turns on. "Dude! Turn off that light! Do you wanna wake up the house?" They whisper shouted to their partner.

Creaking of the stairs descending down to the basement floor had the robber a bit worried. "Clyde? Why are you just being quiet? What are you mad at what I said?" But no response, until the light from the one light bulb in goes out and a growl rumbled against the walls, The masked person tried to grab their flashlight to see what was down here with them. "Come on work you stupid flashlight" they said panicked, shaking and lightly hitting the flashlight until it finally flickered on into the face of yarnaby. Slowly opening his mouth as the light shined into the yarnaby's mouth, then he lunged and snapped on the robbers arm and thrashing the person violently as the screams of pain echoed through the walls. Ripping the person's arm off and eating it up as pinning the robber down to the ground as only one will being walking out of this basement alive.

The other robber, Clyde walked into the kitchen as he tried to look for his friend. "Francis? Come out, we gotta go. We got plenty of stuff, this place is giving me the creeps for some reason" Clyde whispered slightly loudly as no response and he sighed. "Great he's probably on the attic or something" Clyde said as he looked at his watch that said 12:50 PM until it shuts off as he forgot to charge it and he sighed annoyed even more now. The sound of something walking closer to Clyde from behind as he quietly groaned "Are we finally done? What took you so lo-..." He froze as seeing huggy wuggy blue fur from the shadows coming uncomfortably close to Clyde "Francis is this some stupid prank then I'm not falling for it, I know your behind this huggy wuggy plushy" Clyde slightly pushed huggy to the side and saw no one behind huggy. "Wait...then how are you moving?" Clyde said in fear as he tried to run but huggy grabbed him as Clyde was about to scream as then huggy opened his mouth, rows and rows of teeth latched onto Clyde head as huggy then bit off the man's head the muffled screams stopped as huggy let go of the man's body and let it drop to the ground with a muffled thud from the carpeted floor.

Mommy long legs checked in y/n's room to see if they where asleep and luckily they slept through the ordeal. It's just the clean up to deal with now. The basement was a mess, the robber who was named Francis was torn apart by yarnaby, and it was easy to clean up because of the concrete and not having to scrub a rug until the red finally comes out and before having to deal with the body's of the robbers and mommy had the other toys help with the clean up as well. Yarnaby ended up getting to them first and much to mommy long legs dismay it does deal with at least deposing the evidence. But yarnaby was then forced to get a bath to clean off the blood, which was a struggle and had dog day wash yarnabys face and mommy long legs to wash yarnabys fur (can the yarn on him be counting as fur?) but y/n woke up early and their alarm rang as it was 8:00 AM. The toys panic and Doey, Bobby bear hug and bunzo tried to stall y/n as long as possible but huggy still had blood on him luckily only from his mouth but still was messy but y/n was able to get down stairs still.

Y/n stopped in their tracks as they looked at huggy "oh huggy what happened?!" That made the rest of the toys hearts drop and they all rushed over to maybe explain but stopped as huggy had bit open into a jug of cranberry juice and held it to him and disguised the blood. "Don't worry I'll clean it up later, let me run you a bath. Hopefully it doesn't stain." Y/n said as they yawned still a bit groggy from waking up. Mommy long legs sighed in relief, "We take this to the grave." mommy said as the other toys agreed.

(hopefully this was a good fic, I'm trying to get back into fics and hopefully I cooked with this one! And if you want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas or anything. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

#yandere x male reader #x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #x gn reader #yandere male x male reader #male reader #yandere x darling #poppy playtime x male reader #yandere poppy playtime #poppy playtime horror game #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #x gn y/n #poppy playtime x gn reader #new home sweet home au

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luvstappen · 1 day ago

Text

pairing: oscar piastri x fewtrell!reader, lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: not even oscar’s birthday party stops lando from stirring up some drama

word count: 1.4k

warnings: swearing, angst, love triangle chaos, oscar suffering in silence

a/n: surprise! here’s the first little bonus chapter from the INTAF series, revealing exactly what happened on the balcony in part 19! hope you like it <3

masterlist

Oscar wasn’t the type to enjoy big parties. You knew that better than anyone else.

He could be charming when needed, of course. The polite smiles, the quiet nods, the well-timed remarks that made people think he was more engaged than he actually was. He was good at it. But you also knew that none of it came naturally. That socialising in rooms like these drained him in a way racing never did.

And tonight was no different.

His team had put this party together, and while the gesture was nice, it wasn’t for him. It was for the sponsors, the PR, the endless parade of people who wanted a piece of him now. Oscar wasn’t the type to demand attention, and this was the exact kind of thing he’d never choose for himself.

And yet here he was, stuck in the thick of it, listening to someone ramble about something that, judging by the slightly glazed-over look in his eyes, he couldn’t have cared less about. His expression was neutral, but you recognized the subtle signs of discomfort—the slightly tightened jaw, the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve.

You were different from him in that way. Where Oscar preferred to blend in, you thrived in crowds. You could talk to anyone about anything. You never shied away from the attention.

And if you were here, standing next to him, he wouldn’t feel like he was fucking suffocating. But you weren’t. Instead, you were across the room, laughing at a joke someone had said, completely at ease.

Then, as if he could feel your gaze on him, his eyes flicked across the room and landed on you. For the briefest moment, something in his expression softened. A quiet plea.

You grinned at him, excusing yourself from the conversation as you set your drink down and slipped through the crowd. When you finally reached Oscar, you leaned in with a wide smile. “Mind if I steal the birthday boy for a second?”

The woman he’d been speaking to blinked in surprise, caught mid-sentence. “Oh. Sure.”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. Relief flashed across his face as he turned to you, already stepping away before she could even finish speaking. You grabbed his wrist, tugging him with you as you led him toward the balcony.

“You looked like you were about to die over there.”

“I think I was,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle.

The moment you stepped outside, the cool air hit you, sharp and refreshing. The night was calm and peaceful, the distant hum of music and chatter fading behind the glass door.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes briefly as you let the fresh air clear your head. “Better?” you asked, glancing at him.

Oscar didn’t answer immediately. He took a deep breath as he watched you, illuminated by the city lights.

Then, without warning, he stepped closer and hugged you.

This caught you off guard. Not because Oscar never hugged you, but because this felt different. Longer. A little tighter. Like he just needed it.

Your stomach flipped.

“Osc?” you murmured, surprised.

He exhaled softly. “Just... thanks for coming.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest ache. You blinked, taken aback, but slowly wrapped your arms around him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder.

“Of course I came,” you said, voice quieter now. “You know that.”

"I know," he murmured, pulling back slightly.

His hands lingered on your shoulders as his gaze searched yours.

“It just means a lot to me.” He smiled softly. “You mean a lot to me.”

Your breath hitched. Oscar wasn’t usually this effusive, so his words took you by surprise. He must’ve had a couple of drinks, surely.

Before you could say anything, the sound of a door opening behind you made you both turn.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lando’s light voice sliced through the air.

He leaned against the doorway, hands casually tucked into his pockets, smirking with his usual ease, but you knew him better than that. His eyes were unreadable and sharp, almost reproachful. They flicked between you and Oscar, assessing, calculating.

You stepped back from Oscar too quickly, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. And Lando noticed.

“No,” you said, too fast. “We were just… talking.”

Beside you, Oscar’s posture had shifted. His hands dropped from your shoulders, his usual composure returning like a well-rehearsed act. “Needed some air,” he added.

Lando hummed, his head tilting just slightly, as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Right,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, but that sharp gaze never wavered. “Well, I’m heading back to the hotel. Thought I’d let you know.”

Your chest tightened. “Already?” You hated how careful your voice sounded. How calm you were forcing yourself to be.

Lando shrugged. “Yeah. Long day.”

But his eyes weren’t on you anymore. They were locked on Oscar. A fraction too long.

Oscar, who just stood there, still and silent.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Lando finally said.

Oscar gave him a small nod, lips pressing together. “Thanks.”

Lando hesitated. Just for a second.

Then, he made a deliberate step forward. And another.

His hand clapped lightly on Oscar’s shoulder, friendly, easy. But the way his fingers curled just a little tighter than necessary felt anything but friendly.

And then, just as easily, he turned back to you with a grin. His gaze swept over you, slow, lingering. Considering.

You knew that look very well.

And before you could even react, his fingers, soft and deliberate, brushed against yours.

The contact sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. You stiffened, inhaling sharply as his touch trailed up, brushing over your wrist, before tilting your chin up with the lightest touch of his warm fingertips.

Your breath caught. You knew what was coming. And you should have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

Because this was Lando. And you never could. Resisting him had never been something you were good at.

His lips met yours, soft at first, but there was nothing hesitant about it. And then it deepened, his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him, like he wasn’t just kissing you. As Gigi would say, it was like he was staking a claim. Like he was making a statement.

Your heart pounded, but not just from the kiss. It was the weight of the silence behind you.

And Oscar. Just standing there. Watching.

You should have stopped. Should have pushed him away.

But you didn’t.

And Lando knew it. He knew you wouldn’t.

When he finally pulled back, his lips barely ghosted over yours, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“See you later,” he murmured, voice low, meant only for you.

Your throat was dry, your mind racing. Because what the fuck was that?

Lando’s gaze flicked to Oscar, just for a second. Long enough to make it clear. To finish his statement.

Then he turned and disappeared back inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

And just like that, the quiet became unbearable.

You couldn’t believe what just happened. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look at Oscar.

He wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the skyline, hands shoved into his pockets. Not moving. Not speaking. Just standing there.

And something about that hurt more than anything.

You weren’t sure what to say, but the longer the silence stretched, the worse it felt. Finally, you cleared your throat, desperate to break the silence. “Well. That was… um.”

Oscar let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, but it was empty and didn’t really reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

Your fingers curled around the railing. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t someone who struggled for words.

You shifted awkwardly. “I, uh—I should probably—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said quickly, finally looking at you. His voice was quiet and carefully even. It pained you.

“It’s not—” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “It’s none of my business.”

The words landed like a slap.

And for the first time tonight, you finally saw it. A flicker of something in his expression—raw, vulnerable, something that twisted in your chest and made it ache.

Your fingers twitched at your sides before you reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Hey,” you murmured. “You okay?”

Oscar’s lips quivered, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Yeah.”

Liar.

But you didn’t call him out on it.

#★ nessie's writings #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #lando norris imagine

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demonic0angel · 2 days ago

Note

"Why is my Wolf in whatever cult damned circle Constantine drew?

"He summoned her."

(This ask will not be related to this ask lmao. For the humor.)

Wolf dusted herself off. “Permission to leave?” She asked, and Red Hood nodded firmly.

“Granted.”

“What?!” Cried out several of the other heroes as Wolf neatly side stepped over the summoning circle and then into Red Hood’s waiting arms. He spun her around to check for any injuries before bringing her in close protectively, turning to glare at the others. Even though he had a helmet on his head, everyone could sense the dark look he was giving them.

Constantine looked nervous. “How did you get through the circle?! It should’ve also contained you and—”

Wolf hummed. “You were trying to summon two things at once. The Ghost King and something that can control the Ghost King. However, you were only able to summon me and since I’m human, your circle was unable to hold me in place. It seems as though you failed.”

Constantine growled. “This shouldn’t have happened! We needed to summon Pariah Dark! And how were you able to guess what the rituals were supposed to be for?”

“It’s easy. I can read ritual circles,” Wolf said, but she fell silent as Red Hood manhandled her into staying behind him.

“Alright, is anyone going to tell me what this entire stupid thing was supposed to be for? Or shall I just leave right now?”

For some reason, he had also been summoned to use his blood for the ritual. He was even more irritated because he had to be stabbed with a needle for all of this nonsense, only for it to fail.

Phantom raised his hand. His expression was very carefully blank. “We were supposed to summon the Ghost King to answer some questions about some rips in the dimension. Pariah Dark was supposed to appear, alongside whatever was needed to control the Ghost King. It seems we’ve failed since we only summoned… Wolf, was it?”

“Phantom!” Wonder Woman scolded, but Wolf answered Phantom’s question softly.

“… that’s right.”

Red Hood turned to Wolf, slightly confused on her uncharacteristically docile answer. Usually, he would’ve expected her to be sharp tongued and scold the heroes for a failed ritual (since she hated incompetence), but now, she was rather quiet.

Red Hood felt even more protective over her and wrapped an arm around her. He said coldly, “Since you failed, can we go? If you can’t even complete neither parts of the ritual, it just goes to show how incompetent you are. These are the people you surround yourself with, Batman?” He sneered at Batman, who remained silent.

Constantine was indignant. “There’s no way it could’ve failed! The ritual to summon Pariah Dark and something to control him was all done correctly, and I even used the blood of a liminal, which should’ve been exactly what was needed to summon the Ghost King! It should’ve worked! I swear!”

Phantom coughed. He seemed to be hiding a smile behind his fist, but Red Hood blinked and it was gone. “Well, maybe we were a bit too hasty. I’d say we should let Wolf and Hood go, and we can come back again after more research has been made? How’s that for a plan?”

Constantine grumbled but agreed. There were more murmurs but no one disagreed, all chastened by the scolding. Batman turned to Red Hood and then said, “You’re free to go.” Red Hood sneered again, rubbing Wolf’s shoulder before he held onto her protectively and turned to leave.

“Hood,” Batman called one more time.

Red Hood turned, pulling Wolf behind him again.

“… tell Wolf that we’re sorry she’s been brought into this. You two can go home and rest…. We have more than enough of your blood, so you won’t need to come back.”

Red Hood huffed, a lot calmer now. “Whatever, old man.”

Then he turned and left with Wolf in tow.

Behind in the ritual room, Phantom was on his phone, texting something to someone named Jazz. He was struggling not to laugh as he thought about what just occurred, muttering to himself, “I can’t believe they were trying to summon Pariah of all people...”

But alas, there was no one around to hear him mutter those words to himself. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have had to struggle several more times…

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #jazz fenton #danny fenton #jason todd #assistant jazz au #jason x jazz #anger management ship #hardcover ship #danny is the ghost king #ty for the ask!#danny is a little shit

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gottencents · 2 days ago

Text

Can’t Wait - Yu Jimin

pairing. idol!karina x chaebol!reader

synopsis. a chaebol daughter, Y/N, unexpectedly finds herself drawn into a whirlwind connection with Karina, a top idol who’s never felt anything close to love—until now.

“No.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her cold gaze fixed on her phone screen as she read the group chat.

Manon: Guys, aespa concert for my birthday. You’re all coming. No excuses.

Yves: Finally! I’ve been dying to see them live 😭

Manon: I got VIP tickets. We’ll be right next to the stage 😌

Yves: Omg, front-row seats? Count me in!

Manon: Y/N? 👀

Y/N: Absolutely not.

Her fingers hovered over her phone as the typing bubble from Manon popped up. Y/N already knew what was coming—a relentless string of messages filled with emojis, persuasive tactics, and an unhealthy amount of guilt-tripping.

Manon: Come on, it’s my birthday! You can’t say no to me on my birthday. 🥺

Manon: Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do. 😏

Manon: Live a little, Y/N.

Yves: She has a point… It’s for Manon. Just this once?

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back on her couch. Of course, they’d gang up on her like this. She didn’t even dislike aespa—it was just that being dragged into the K-pop frenzy wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But Manon wasn’t going to let it go.

Her phone buzzed again.

Manon: Y/N, I already got you a ticket. You’re coming whether you like it or not. 😘

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh. “Typical Manon.” There was no escaping her once she set her mind on something.

The venue was packed, buzzing with energy as fans filled every corner, lightsticks waving in unison. The air felt electric, anticipation hanging thick in the atmosphere.

Y/N glanced down at her outfit and frowned. She tugged at the edge of her jacket—an exact replica of Karina’s “Supernova” MV outfit, complete with the silver detailing and edgy vibe.

“I still can’t believe you made me wear this,” Y/N muttered, shooting a glare at Manon, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Relax,” Manon said, tossing an arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “We look amazing. Plus, it’s part of the experience. Trust me, we’ll get noticed for sure.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Yves, standing next to them, laughed. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit. It’s not every day you get to be front row at an aespa concert.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the stage lit up with vivid colors. The members of aespa appeared, their energy filling the venue instantly. Y/N couldn’t deny how impressive they were live—Karina especially, who seemed to command the stage effortlessly.

As the show went on, Y/N found herself momentarily forgetting her discomfort. The music was good, the performances captivating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Until it happened.

“Let’s play a little game,” Karina’s voice echoed through the arena, a playful smile on her face. “We’re going to play I Spy with the crowd!”

Y/N froze.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, her eyes widening as the camera began panning across the audience.

“Look for something silver,” Karina said. “Hmm… Oh!”

The giant screen above the stage zoomed in on Y/N.

“Oh my God,” Manon whispered excitedly, shaking Y/N’s arm. “She’s looking right at you!”

Y/N’s heart stopped as Karina’s eyes locked onto hers.

“Is that…?” Karina’s voice faltered for a split second before she smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I like your outfit. It’s… stunning.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it wasn’t until Karina’s next words—accidentally whispered into the mic—that chaos truly erupted.

“Absolutely stunning.”

The crowd exploded. Fans screamed, lightsticks waving furiously, while the other members of aespa glanced at Karina, some laughing, others wide-eyed with surprise.

Y/N blinked, heat rushing to her face. “What just happened?”

“She called you stunning,” Yves said, barely containing her laughter. “In front of thousands of people. And everyone heard it.”

“It’s fan service,” Y/N said quickly, brushing it off as her heart thumped in her chest. “That’s all it is.”

“Uh-huh,” Manon smirked. “Sure. Fan service.”

The screen lingered on Y/N a second too long, catching Karina’s lingering gaze before it finally cut away.

Y/N exhaled, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares from the people around her. “I am never listening to you again, Manon.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Manon said with a wink. “Trust me.”

But Y/N had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger mess.

The concert had ended hours ago, but the chaos that followed Karina’s little slip-up was far from over. Y/N sat on the couch in her penthouse, phone in hand, scrolling through a never-ending stream of notifications. Her name was all over Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok—clips of Karina calling her stunning had already gone viral.

“Y/N L/N spotted at aespa’s concert!”

“Karina’s reaction is priceless. She’s totally starstruck.”

“Did Karina just call Y/N stunning in front of thousands? Gay panic much?”

Y/N sighed, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to go.”

The door to her penthouse burst open, and Manon strolled in, holding two iced lattes and a mischievous grin. “Good morning, viral sensation!”

Y/N glared at her. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You never do.” Manon plopped down beside her and handed her a drink. “But I thought you might need caffeine after last night’s… performance.”

“It wasn’t a performance,” Y/N shot back, taking the latte. “It was a disaster.”

Manon chuckled. “Disaster? Please. You’re trending. Everyone’s obsessed with you—and Karina, apparently.” She pulled out her phone and started reading tweets. ”‘Karina’s reaction to Y/N is giving soulmate energy.’ Oh, this one’s good: ‘Karina called Y/N stunning? I ship it.’ There are already fan edits of you two.”

Y/N groaned. “It’s fan service, Manon. That’s what idols do. They say things like that to go viral. She probably didn’t even mean it.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But let me remind you—she wasn’t supposed to have her mic on when she said it.”

Y/N froze for a second. That part she hadn’t really thought about. Karina’s reaction hadn’t felt… rehearsed. It had felt almost genuine, like the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not getting involved in this idol drama. I have my own life, and it doesn’t include being the center of some K-pop shipping war.”

Manon shrugged. “Fair enough. But good luck ignoring it. You know how relentless fans can be.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she knew Manon was right. No matter how much she tried to brush it off, the internet wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

Karina sat in the practice room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with a blank expression. She’d watched the clip a dozen times by now—her voice whispering stunning into the mic, Y/N’s surprised expression on the big screen, and the crowd’s reaction.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“An idiot for what?” Winter asked, walking into the room with a curious look. “What happened?”

Karina peeked at her from between her fingers. “Did you see the clip from the concert?”

Winter smirked. “Oh, you mean the part where you called Y/N L/N stunning in front of thousands of fans and the whole internet? Yeah, I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

Karina groaned louder, dropping her head onto her knees. “It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. My mic was supposed to be off!”

“Mm-hmm,” Winter teased, plopping down beside her. “Sure, it just slipped out. I’ve never seen you that starstruck in my life. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

Karina shot her a glare. “I wasn’t starstruck. I was… surprised.”

“Surprised by her beauty?” Winter said with a mischievous grin. “It’s okay, Karina. We all know Y/N is gorgeous. Even I’d call her stunning.”

Karina leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it. This is a problem. She’s a chaebol, Winter. She’s not just some random celebrity we can casually talk to. She’s way out of our league, and now people think I’m obsessed with her.”

Winter chuckled. “Out of your league? Please. You’re—Karina of aespa. If anything, she’s probably out there wondering how to get your attention.”

Karina opened her mouth to argue, but a thought stopped her. What if Y/N was thinking about her? No, that was ridiculous.

“I just have to lay low until it blows over,” Karina muttered. “The fans will find something new to obsess over soon.”

“Good luck with that,” Winter said, scrolling through her phone. “The fans aren’t letting this go anytime soon. Look, someone already made a fan page for you two—‘Karina x Y/N.’ They’re calling you the perfect power couple.”

Karina snatched the phone and stared at the page. It was filled with pictures, clips from the concert, and countless comments speculating about their relationship. Her face flushed. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, and get this,” Winter continued. “Someone claims they saw Y/N liking one of the edits on TikTok.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Winter shrugged. “Could be fake, but wouldn’t it be funny if it wasn’t?”

Karina leaned back again, suddenly feeling ten times more anxious. If Y/N had actually seen one of the edits… did that mean she was paying attention?

Y/N sat at her desk, her laptop open, pretending to focus on work while her thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She hated to admit it, but Manon’s words were stuck in her head. What if it wasn’t fan service? What if Karina actually meant it?

Her phone buzzed with a notification. Another message from Manon.

Manon: Did you see Karina’s Weverse post? 👀

Y/N frowned and clicked on the link.

It was a simple post—just a picture of the crowd at the concert with the caption:

“Last night was unforgettable. Thank you, MYs. 💖”

But what caught Y/N’s attention was the timing. It had been posted just a few minutes after the concert ended, and the comments were filled with fans speculating about her.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart beating faster than it should have. “Unforgettable,” she repeated softly.

She shook her head, shutting her laptop. “Nope. Not getting sucked into this.”

But deep down, she knew it was already too late.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to another flood of notifications. Apparently, her accidental rise to internet fame was nowhere near dying down. If anything, it was picking up speed.

Her phone buzzed again—a message from Yves.

Yves: Girl, you’re basically the main character on K-pop Twitter right now.

Yves: I’m serious. Look at this.

Y/N clicked the link Yves had sent, and a video edit loaded on her screen. It was one of those overly dramatic TikTok fan edits. Slow-motion clips of her on the big screen at the concert were mixed with Karina’s stunned expression, paired with emotional music. The caption read: “Karina x Y/N – meant to be?”

The next clip played Karina’s whisper: “Stunning,” followed by a close-up of her face as she tried to recover from the slip.

Y/N blinked. “Oh my God.” She turned the phone off and tossed it onto the couch. “This is getting out of hand.”

Her phone lit up again—this time, it was Manon calling. Y/N sighed and answered. “What now?”

“You’re welcome,” Manon said in a sing-song voice.

“For what?” Y/N asked, already regretting picking up.

“For making you the hottest topic on the internet. This is a PR dream, babe. You’re unstoppable right now.”

“I don’t want to be the hottest topic on the internet,” Y/N shot back. “I want this to blow over so I can go back to my life without people thinking I’m secretly dating an idol.”

Manon chuckled. “Who said anything about secret dating? But hey, if Karina happens to slide into your DMs, you’d better not leave her on read.”

“Manon,” Y/N warned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Manon said seriously. “You know how K-pop idols can be super private. If she’s curious about you, she might reach out through a back channel. It happens all the time in this industry.”

Y/N paused, unsure how to respond. The idea of Karina actually reaching out seemed absurd… but not entirely impossible.

“Relax,” Manon said, breaking the silence. “Just enjoy the attention while it lasts. You’re already on top of the world, Y/N. Own it.”

Y/N hung up, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Karina sat cross-legged on the floor of the practice room, scrolling through her phone with a mixture of dread and curiosity. The internet had exploded overnight, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking the reactions.

The fan edits. The ship name. The endless comments about her “gay panic” moment.

Winter leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve been on your phone for two hours. Let me guess… Y/N?”

Karina didn’t bother denying it. “It’s out of control. They’re acting like we’re soulmates or something.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “And how do you feel about that?”

Karina hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen. How did she feel about it? She barely knew Y/N, but something about her had thrown her completely off balance.

“I don’t know,” Karina admitted quietly. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s… confusing.”

Winter smirked. “Sounds like you have a crush.”

Karina shot her a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Winter said, sitting down next to her. “Look, you’re one of the most focused, controlled people I know. You never react like that. But the second you saw her, you froze. It’s not just some random thing. Trust me.”

Karina leaned back, lost in thought. Was Winter right? Had she really developed a crush on Y/N from one brief interaction?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from her manager.

Manager: We need to talk about the Y/N situation. Call me.

Karina sighed. “Great. This is just what I needed.”

“Looks like it’s time to decide how you want to handle this,” Winter said with a grin. “You gonna ignore it, or are you gonna make a move?”

Karina bit her lip, the wheels in her mind turning. For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the right move was.

Y/N was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on a report, when a notification popped up on her phone. She ignored it at first, but something about it caught her eye.

It was a follow request on Instagram. From katarinabluu.

Her breath caught in her throat. “No way.”

Y/N stared at the request, her mind racing. What does this mean? Is this some kind of mistake? Or is she really trying to reach out?

Her finger hovered over the Accept button.

“Manon’s gonna lose her mind,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

And just like that, with one tap of her finger, everything changed.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at her phone. Karina’s follow request sat there, mocking her with its simplicity. After a few deep breaths, she hit Accept—half out of curiosity and half out of a strange desire to know what would happen next.

Not even a minute passed before her phone buzzed again.

katarinabluu: Hey.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She reread the message twice, wondering if it was a prank or if she was hallucinating. Was Karina really messaging her?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She started typing, erased it, and tried again. Finally, she settled on something casual.

Y/N: Hey. Didn’t expect to hear from you.

The three little dots indicating Karina was typing popped up almost immediately.

Katarina: Yeah, sorry if this is weird. I just… wanted to check in. After last night, things got a little crazy, huh?

Y/N: You could say that. My notifications are still blowing up.

Katarina: Same. I thought it’d die down by now, but… guess not.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself. “Of course not,” she muttered.

Y/N: You kinda caused the chaos, you know. Calling me ‘stunning’ with your mic on? Bold move.

Karina read the message and winced, though she couldn’t help but smile at Y/N’s teasing tone.

Katarina: Totally unintentional, I swear. My mic wasn’t supposed to be on.

Y/N: Uh-huh. Sure.

Katarina: I’m serious! But… I mean, it’s not like I was lying.

Y/N froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to race again. Did Karina just… admit that?

Y/N: …So you meant it?

There was a pause. The dots appeared and disappeared several times before Karina finally responded.

Katarina: Yeah. You were stunning. Still are.

Y/N stared at the message, her face heating up. She was used to compliments—she’d been in the public eye long enough to brush them off—but something about Karina’s words felt different. They felt real.

Before she could overthink it, another message popped up.

Katarina: Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but… would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just to talk. Away from all the cameras and chaos.

Y/N’s heart skipped again. Coffee? With Karina? It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, but it was… intriguing.

Y/N: You’re serious?

Katarina: 100%. No fan service, no cameras. Just us.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Okay. Coffee sounds good.

Katarina: Great. I’ll message you the details. Looking forward to it. :)

As soon as the conversation ended, Y/N leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.

“What did I just agree to?” she whispered.

Her phone buzzed again—this time from Manon.

Manon: Did Karina just follow you? And DM you? Are you KIDDING ME?!

Y/N sighed, already bracing herself for the interrogation that was about to come.

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting her outfit for the third time. She wasn’t usually one to stress over casual meetings, but this felt different. She kept telling herself it was just coffee, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just coffee.

Her phone buzzed.

Katarina: I’m here. Outside the café. No rush.

Y/N grabbed her bag and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

The café was small and tucked away in a quiet neighborhood—intimate and unassuming. When Y/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked onto Karina, who was sitting at a corner table, wearing a simple black hoodie and a baseball cap.

For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe.

Karina looked up and smiled, standing to greet her. “Hey. You made it.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Nice disguise.”

Karina chuckled, adjusting her cap. “Had to be careful. Didn’t want to attract too much attention.”

“So… what’s this about?” Y/N asked, leaning forward slightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not every day that a K-pop idol asks me out for coffee.”

Karina smiled, a little shyly this time. “Honestly? I just… wanted to get to know you. Without all the noise. Last night was kind of a wake-up call for me.”

“A wake-up call?”

“Yeah,” Karina admitted. “I’ve been in the industry so long that I kind of forgot what it’s like to be genuinely curious about someone. And after seeing you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that level of honesty.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Y/N said softly. “But I guess I’ve been thinking about you too.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background.

“Then maybe,” Karina said, her voice steady but her eyes hopeful, “this doesn’t have to be just coffee.”

Y/N took a sip of her iced latte, trying to mask her nervousness. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy—it was surprisingly light—but the unspoken words between them made her heart race.

“So,” Y/N began, placing her cup down. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?” Karina tilted her head, a playful smile on her lips.

“Track down random chaebol daughters and ask them out for coffee.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Karina laughed, her shoulders relaxing a little. “You caught me. I’m secretly building a collection of chaebol friends.”

Y/N smirked. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Not great,” Karina admitted, leaning in slightly. “Turns out, most of them don’t agree to coffee. But you did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the slight blush that crept up her neck. “I’m sure you could’ve had your pick of anyone, but you chose me.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I told you, Y/N. You stood out. And… I don’t want this to sound weird, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Y/N looked down at her drink, swirling the ice around with her straw. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that—Karina was unexpectedly sincere, which threw her off completely.

“You’re really bad at fan service, you know,” Y/N said, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re supposed to make it sound fake.”

“I’m not interested in fan service with you,” Karina said without missing a beat. “I’m just… interested in you.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch. For a moment, the world around her seemed to pause.

“That’s… bold,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been bold since last night,” Karina replied with a slight shrug. “Might as well keep it going.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Fair enough. So what now, Ms. K-pop Idol?”

Karina leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table. “Now? We finish our coffee. Then maybe we go for a walk… or talk about something other than the industry or what’s trending on social media.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Karina said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous game.”

“I like dangerous.”

Y/N took a moment to think before leaning forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay… but only if you go first.”

Karina nodded. “Deal.” She paused, thinking for a second. “I hate roller coasters.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s it? That’s your deep secret?”

“Hey, it’s a serious phobia,” Karina defended herself, holding up her hands. “I went on one when I was a kid, and I cried for an hour afterward. Haven’t gone on one since.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. No roller coasters for you.”

“Your turn,” Karina said, leaning in with anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, then finally said, “I once skipped a huge charity event and hid out at a theme park all night. No one ever found out.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “Wait… seriously? The media didn’t catch that?”

“Nope.” Y/N grinned. “I’m better at sneaking around than you’d think.”

“Impressive,” Karina said, her admiration clear. “We’re both full of surprises, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Y/N agreed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper confessions. Hours passed without either of them noticing, the initial awkwardness long forgotten.

Eventually, Karina glanced at her phone and sighed. “I hate to say it, but I have to go soon. Schedule stuff.”

“Back to the idol life,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Karina stood, adjusting her hoodie. “But… this was nice. Really nice.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, standing as well.

They lingered for a moment at the door, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

“So,” Karina said, her voice soft. “Can I see you again?”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Karina said, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N replied.

With that, Karina gave a small wave and disappeared down the street. Y/N watched her go, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

As Y/N walked home, her phone buzzed with a new message.

katarinabluu: I already miss you. Just saying.

Y/N grinned, typing back.

Y/N: Same :)

Little did she know, this was just the beginning of something neither of them had expected.

The days following their coffee date passed in a whirlwind, but Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Karina. Her presence lingered in every quiet moment—a message here, a picture there, and more than a few late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.

She wasn’t sure how they’d slipped into this routine, but it felt effortless. Natural.

It had been a week since their first meeting when Y/N found herself scrolling through her phone late at night, staring at Karina’s latest message.

katarinabluu: Are you awake?

Y/N: Yeah. Can’t sleep. You?

Katarina: Same. Want to go for a drive?

Y/N hesitated for a split second before typing back.

Y/N: Pick me up in 20.

Karina’s black SUV idled quietly outside Y/N’s building. Y/N slid into the passenger seat, her pulse quickening at the sight of Karina in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair tucked beneath a cap.

“Midnight drive, huh?” Y/N said, buckling her seatbelt. “Sounds suspiciously like something out of a K-drama.”

“Maybe,” Karina replied with a grin, pulling away from the curb. “But I promise there won’t be any dramatic rain scenes or tragic confessions.”

“Good,” Y/N teased. “I left my umbrella at home.”

The streets of Seoul were quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted under the glow of streetlights. The radio played softly in the background, filling the silence with a calming melody.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, watching the city blur past.

“Nowhere specific,” Karina said. “Just wanted to escape for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said softly. “I could use a little escape too.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine almost lulling Y/N into a sense of peace. It wasn’t until they reached a quiet overlook on the edge of the city that Karina finally stopped the car.

“Wow,” Y/N said as she stepped out, taking in the stunning view of Seoul’s skyline. “This is beautiful.”

“One of my favorite spots,” Karina admitted, leaning against the hood of the car. “No one ever bothers me here.”

Y/N joined her, their shoulders brushing as they stood side by side. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Karina said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “When things get overwhelming.”

“I get that,” Y/N said quietly. “The whole world watching your every move… it’s a lot.”

Karina glanced at her, her eyes soft. “Yeah. But being here with you… it feels different. Easier.”

Y/N turned to meet her gaze, their faces closer than she’d realized. “It does,” she agreed. “Like we’re not those people for a little while.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing in the quiet night.

“Y/N,” Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you… afraid of this?” Karina gestured between them. “Of what’s happening here?”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough to stop.”

Karina smiled—a small, genuine smile that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. “Good. Me too.��

Y/N laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Look at us. Two scared idiots trying to figure this out.”

“At least we’re figuring it out together,” Karina said, nudging her gently.

Y/N nudged her back. “Yeah. Together.”

They stood there for a while longer, the city lights twinkling below them like stars. For the first time in a long time, everything felt… right.

Y/N woke up to her phone buzzing relentlessly. Groggily, she reached for it, blinking at the notifications flooding her screen.

Trending on Twitter: #KarinaAndY/N

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” she muttered, sitting up in bed.

Manon’s name lit up her phone, followed by several frantic texts.

Manon: You’re trending. AGAIN. What did you do this time?!

Manon: Wait. Were you with Karina last night?

Manon: CALL ME.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This can’t be good.”

Her phone buzzed again—this time, it was Karina.

Katarina: Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Too late. I’m already panicking.

Katarina: I’ll call you in 5. Just breathe.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

#cents works #aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina #karina x reader #aespa karina #aespa karina x reader #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw #kpop gg

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athenamikaelson · 2 days ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 26

Word Count- 4.8k

Warnings- ARSON, swearing, mentions of sex and threesomes

“Wait so Theo tried giving my brothers the sex talk?”

I tighten my jacket as I cringe at Rebekah’s question. The blonde original walks beside me past construction workers and townspeople as we make our way over to Wickey Bridge.

“I wish I was joking. He’s so corny.”

Rebekah lets out a chuckle, “And let me guess, my brothers sat down and listened.”

I let out a sigh, “Every second of it.”

“What happened after you kicked Theo out?”

I frown as I recall last night, “Nothing. Like… literally nothing. Theo went to his room and then Klaus and Elijah stood up and then Elijah wished me a good night, and then they just left,” I raise my hands in defeat and Rebekah rolls her eyes.

“Well what did you want to happen,” I close my mouth as I hear Rebekah’s tone and see the smirk on her face.

“Nothing…shut up.”

Rebekah shakes her head, “Then you have nothing to complain about,” She eyes me, “Right?”

I eye her back and nod, “Yep. Nothing at all.”

Rebekah rolls her eyes at me and mutters something quietly under her breath before wrapping her arm in mine and dragging me toward Carol Lockwood.

“Why are we here anyways,” I shake slightly as a brush of wind hits my face, “It’s cold. And there’s too many people here.”

“I told you in the car, I need some information. We’ll leave as soon as I get it.”

Rebekah leads us to Carol who plasters a huge fake smile as soon as she sees the Original and it slightly dampers when his eyes meet mine and I fight the urge to roll my own.

“Rebekah and…Y/n,” Her tone tightens as she says my name, “What a pleasure you’re both here! How can I help you?”

Before Rebekah can respond I spot a refreshments table and untangle my arm from Bekah’s. She frowns at me but when I point towards the drinks she nods, going back to talk to Carol.

I’d rather lobotomize myself than have a conversation with that woman.

—

I blow out a breath as I nurse the styrofoam cup filled with cocoa in my hands. The warmth momentarily giving my hands some much-needed heat.

“Pukey, you hear with Barbie Klaus I presume?”

I turn around and my eyes meet Damon’s blue ones.

“Sadly, yes.”

My attention strays to a pretty red-headed woman who stands beside him, an amused smile comes over her face as she gives me a once over.

“Pukey?”

“It’s Y/n.”

She blinks as she hears my name and something momentarily shifts in her gaze, and then her smile turns into a small smirk that unsettles me.

She reaches out her hand for me to shake but Damon pushes it down.

“Touching is a big no-go for Pukey,” He says and I fight back a small smile.

I turn my gaze back to the woman, “And your name?”

She smiles, “Sage. My name is Sage.”

No way. Not possible. Too easy. This can’t be Sage Sage. Finn’s Sage?!

“Rightttt,” I twiddle my thumbs trying to act casual, “And um how exactly do you know Damon?” “He used to be a student of mine.”

Damon smirks, “A longgggg time ago.”

Be casual Y/n. CASUAL.

“How old are you?”

Sage raises an amused brow, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you you should never ask a woman her age.”

“Well, I think that only applies to women who actually age,” I mutter and I see Damon roll his eyes.

“I’m a little over 900 years old. But, who's counting,” Her response has my stomach flipping and I’m fighting the urge to test if I can do a backflip. IT IS HER.

I mean it’s got to be, right? There can’t be that many 900-year-old vampires named Sage.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Our attention is turned toward Bekah who joins us. An annoyed look is plastered on her face as she stares at Sage.

“Easy there Rebekah,” Damon chides, “She used to beat men for sport.”

“That’s a hobby I need to get into,” I remark and Sage sends me a smirk.

“She always was quite common,” Rebekah says. Oh yikes.

“Rebekah, what a happy surprise,” Sage responds.

“What are you doing here, Sage?”

“Well, I hear Finn was finally freed from that casket your rageaholic brother Klaus carted him around in.”

Ohhh. Yet another fan of my man.

“I wouldn’t be too harsh on my brother in front of Y/n here. I’ve heard soulmates have a tendency to get quite prickly when their other half is insulted. Not that you’d know,” Rebekah smirks, and I cringe and silently curse at her as everyone’s attentions go to me.

“I thought your name sounded familiar,” Sage eyes me and within a second Damon positions himself in front of me.

“Touching Pukey is a death sentence, Sage. I would advise against it,” Damon eyes the woman and she rolls her own.

“I’m not stupid enough to do that. But let’s be serious Damon I taught you everything you know. You can’t beat me.”

I position myself so I can see Damon’s face, “Oh, it’s not me you should be worried about. Yes, Pukey here is under my protection, but I’m not the one who would torture you until you're begging for your death. That falls upon…well let’s see,” He picks up his hand and starts counting on his fingers, “Klaus “The Great Evil” Mikeaelson, his noble brother Elijah, the annoying one Kol, Barbie over here, and last but not least your boy toy Finn. Along with all the other supernaturals of Mystic Falls.”

Sage looks from Damon to Bekah who just nods in agreement, “I hate to agree with the bastard but he’s telling the truth. Going against Y/n is going against the Mikaelsons.”

Sage clears her throat, “Well it’s a good thing I mean her no harm then.”

“Yep…sure is,” I mutter.

“Now where can I find Finn?”

“Probably somewhere forgetting all about you,” Rebekah remarks and then reaches over and wraps her arm in mind, “Come, I’ll buy us lunch.”

Before Bekah can fully pull me away I lean towards Sage, “Have Damon give you my number and I can help you.”

Sage’s eyebrows furrow but she still nods.

—

Well, that was a bust.

Rebekah canceled our lunch once she got into the car. After talking to Damon and Sage, Rebekah told me she had forgotten her coat and would meet me back at her car. But when she came back 10 minutes later she was more annoyed and volatile than usual, muttering something about Damon being a dick and other profanities. She apologized to me and said she’d have to rain-check our lunch date to a time when she didn’t feel like murdering everyone around her. I told her not to worry about it and that I wasn’t hungry.

I lied. I’m fucking starving and now I’m home looking at a bare fridge since my mother hasn’t gone grocery shopping in however long. I don’t want to have to go out and get something but at this point, it’s either go and deal with people at the grocery store or starve.

Starving might be better.

I grab my keys though when I realize that Theo still needs to eat dinner. I fling open the front door and- FUCK!

“Fuck me!”

“I’ve been trying, Luv.”

My eyes narrow and my cheeks warm as I stare at Klaus who is watching me with a soft smirk.

“What the hell are you doing here,” I huff out and clutch my chest.

“Well, it’s good to see you as well,” The hybrid replies sarcastically.

I give him a deadpan look and he rolls his eyes.

“My dear sister told me she had to cancel lunch with you so I thought I would ask you if you would accompany me instead.”

I feel a small smile make its way onto my face, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Klaus eyes me for a moment before turning his attention to the chipping white paint of the front door frame.

“I suppose.”

“Damn, don’t sound too excited,” I mutter sarcastically.

Klaus huffs and looks back at me, “That’s not what I…I just meant that” A look of frustration comes over his face while I watch in amusement.

“For being as old as you are you would think you’d be better at this whole date thing,” I smirk at him.

“Well none of the ones before ever mattered the way you do,” Klaus seems to respond without thinking.

I wring my hands and Klaus and I eye each other for a moment before I look away.

“Well, sadly I can’t go out for lunch since my fantastic mother seems to have forgotten to get any groceries for our house. Which means once again I have to go out and get them myself.”

A wave of sadness washes over me and I look to see Klaus’ shoulders drop slightly.

` “But…if you want to come,” I point towards my car, “Shopping with me. I could always have your super strength carry the bags.”

I doubt a one-thousand-year-old hybrid wants to spend his afternoon grocery shopping when he has enemies to fight and-

“I’ll come.”

—

“Princess, I’m immortal and yet with the way you’re driving I fear for my life,” Klaus’ voice comes out sarcastically but with the way I can see him frantically eyeing the road from his position in the passenger seat, I don’t think he’s joking.

I press my foot on the gas as I pass an old woman in a red Ford, “You’re being dramatic. Look we’re here.”

Forgetting my blinker, I whip my car into the small grocery store parking lot and slam it into park.

“See we’re here,” I turn to smile at Klaus but I find him staring wide-eyed at me.

“Is this how you drive all the time?”

I shrug, take the keys out of the ignition, and open my door, “I’ve got places to be, why would I wait in traffic?”

Klaus gets out of the car as well and meets me at the trunk as we begin to walk into the small grocery store, “You passed 4 cars in a 10-minute drive.”

“They were going too slow.”

“You were going 20 over the speed limit,” Klaus’ frustrated voice makes me laugh.

Klaus is quiet for a moment as we reach the automatic door. I turn to him and question and it takes him a second to snap out of whatever stupor he was in.

“What was that all about,” I ask as I grab a cart and lean the front of my body on it.

“Nothing,” Klaus denies as we pass an elderly couple arguing over bananas, “I just don’t get to hear your laugh very often.”

I shrug and smirk at him as we approach the produce section, “Ever think it might just be because you’re not as funny as you think you are?”

“Nope,” Klaus says as he grabs a produce bag and hands it to me.

“Of course not.”

` The bickering couple and the overhead music of an old pop song are the only things heard as I put different fruits and vegetables into plastic bags as Klaus follows behind me. Every time one of my bags gets full Klaus is right there with another. I stare at the cart momentarily and nod.

“I think that's all for produce,” Klaus walks beside me, looks down at the cart, and nods as well.

“What next?”

I stop for a moment and look up at the man everyone else in this town is terrified of and laugh under my breath before turning back towards the cart, pushing it towards the dairy section.

“What was that,” Klaus points a finger at me.

“I just find this funny,” I say simply.

“Find what funny?”

“You,” I grab a gallon of milk when we hit the aisle, “Being here. Grocery shopping. Everyone else in this town is probably trying to plan your demise and here you are shopping for 2% Low-fat milk,” I say as I put the milk in the cart.

“Well, personally I prefer 1%,” His sarcastic reply has me shaking my head, “And yes I know your little friends our out there planning my great demise but…until my death is imminent, which it isn’t if domestic shopping is what you and I do together than,” He grabs a bottle of $3 wine off the shelf and glances at it for a moment before cringing in disgust and putting it back, “Than that’s what we shall do.”

I think about his words as we walk through the store and grab other items, from cereal to pasta, and random snacks, and from time to time, Klaus will throw in his own items.

I lift on my tip toes as I try to grab the sauce can that is on the very top shelf. I hear Klaus mutter a laugh from behind me before I feel his hand place itself on my upper waist to move me out of the way.

“Is it really that hard for you to ask for help,” He comments as he grabs the can with ease and places it into the cart.

“Yes.”

Klaus rolls his eyes but the ghost of a smile on his lips tells me he was already certain of what my answer would be.

I turn back towards the cart and sigh, “I think that’s it.”

Klaus nods and follows behind me as we walk towards the checkout line.

—

“Oh come on, Theo!”

I growl and Klaus, who is putting all the groceries from the cart and onto the checkout stand instantly looks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Theo just asked me to get his stupid gummy worms,” I look at the cashier clerk, who is slowly ringing in each item, and then look to Klaus.

“Can you-”

“Go,” Is all he says and I’m running towards the candy aisle to find Theo’s stupid ass gummies.

After way too long I find them squished in between some chocolate and peanuts and run back towards the checkout line where the clerk is giving Klaus a dirty look, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

I look at all our bagged groceries and swear under my breath, giving the gummies to the clerk.

“Sorry for the hold-up,” I apologize and I hear a scratchy laugh from behind me.

I turn to see the old woman and man from before waiting in line behind us. She smiles thoughtfully as she leans towards me.

“You’ve got a good man here,” She points to Klaus who is clearly pretending not to eavesdrop, “She kept telling him he had to pay and you’d just have to go back at the end of the line but he wouldn’t budge.”

I turn to look at Klaus but frown when I see him swipe his card through the reader.

“Dude!”

Klaus punches in his pin and just shrugs, “You’re friend over there is still talking to you.”

“He even pays for you,” I turn back to the woman who is looking dreamily at Klaus and if she were 50 years younger I’d probably fight her for looking at him that way. Might still now.

“I have to drag my old bastard here by the ear just to get him up in the morning, let alone to the store with me,” She points to the man beside her who rolls his eyes before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Love you too, My Everly,” The man says as he puts their groceries on the stand. And even though the woman tries to play it tough the look of love and admiration she has in her eyes gives her true feelings away.

“Married for 47 years and he still knows how to get on every one of my nerves,” She mutters lovingly, “Make sure to keep that one though. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a man look at a woman the way he does to you. When you have something like that child, grab it and don’t let go. And it helps that he’s quite easy on the eyes.”

I nod and bid her goodbye. I turn to Klaus who is waiting by the entrance of the store with our bagged groceries and a knowing look on his face.

“Have a good chat?”

“Oh shut up,” I mutter as I punch him in the shoulder.

“I am easy on the eyes aren’t I?”

Klaus smirks to himself while sighing, “You Mikaelsons need to work on your egos. I swear to God.”

“All of our egos are very much healthy and intact, thank you very much.”

“Ya…that’s the problem.”

—

“Cans go in that shelf over there, Klaus,” I point to the middle shelf right in front of Klaus and he nods, putting the cans of vegetables into the cabinet.

We got back home 20 minutes ago and after Klaus helped me lug all the groceries in, the ones he paid for, he then just started unloading them and placing them into cabinets and the fridge. It’s been almost comical to watch Klaus’ tall frame try to maneuver around in my tiny kitchen, but somehow he’s managed.

“Remind me to buy you a bigger house,” I hear him mutter and I laugh.

“Yes, please do. And make sure it has a big ass library,” I point at him, “Oh! And I want one of those built-in window chairs, so I can read while seeing the stars at night,” I nod at him jokingly but as I stare at the look on his face I freeze.

“That was a joke, Klaus. I know what you’re thinking,” I put my finger in his face and he gives me an innocent look, “Don’t you dare buy me a house. I’ve come to learn how you Mikaelsons like to throw your money around and I don’t want any part of it.”

Klaus gives me an upside-down smile and nods.

“Oh! That reminds me,” I grab the last grocery bag and start dumping out the contents, “Remind me to give your brother back the expensive ass jewelry he gave me for the ball.”

Klaus grabs a loaf of bread and places it in the bread box, “Good luck with that, Luv. My brother can be more stubborn than I am when it comes to you.”

I put a hand on my hip, “Elijah? Stubborn? I highly doubt that.”

The kitchen is quiet for a moment before a loud laugh comes out of Klaus’ mouth. I pause what I’m doing and find myself smiling as I watch the pretty man in front of me.

“Luv,” Klaus manages to get out between laughs, “The only reason you haven’t seen that side of my older brother is because he hasn’t let you…or really doesn’t want you to see that side of him. Don’t get me wrong, Elijah is noble,” Klaus rolls his eyes, “Annoyingly so. But he is also the pettiest being I have come across in over a thousand years. There is no one I know that will play dirtier than him when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. And you luv,” Klaus takes a step closer to me so he can reach out to grab a piece of my hair and twirl it between his fingers, “Are at the top of his list of loved ones.”

—-

“Well this was almost not horrible,” I tell Klaus as I walk him to the front door.

Klaus snorts sarcastically, “And that was almost a compliment. You and I are making great progress.”

I roll my eyes and open the door for him and his smirk drops, “But in all honesty, Y/n… I-,” Klaus pauses as if he’s having a hard time trying to find the words.

“Me too Klaus. Thank you for coming with me today. It was nice not having to do it by myself like usual.”

Klaus smiles, “You know I could always hire someone to do your shopping for you.”

I raise an eyebrow, “You mean compel someone?”

Klaus’ upper lip quirks, “I never said that.”

I tilt my head, “You didn’t need to.”

Klaus rolls his eyes playfully before shrugging, “Well whenever you get tired of mundane shopping let me know, Luv.”

“Goodbye, Klaus,” I push him outside and he lets me.

“Goodbye, Luv.”

—

“Who is this?”

I pad around the kitchen with my bowl of ice cream as I answer an unknown call.

“Sage. Damon’s friend from earlier. You told me to get your number from him,” The feminine voice makes my eyes widen and I place my ice cream down on the counter.

“Oh! Hi! How are you?”

“Um, I’m alright. How are you,” Her tone comes out slightly confused.

“Eh, eating ice cream. What can I help you with Sage?”

“Finding my beloved, Finn.”

Oh, shit ya.

“Oh right, ya me and Finn and tight. He’s been waiting for you,” I say as I take a spoonful of ice cream and put it into my mouth.

“He has,” The hopefulness in her voice makes me smile.

“Umhm. And you didn’t hear this from me but he thinks you are his soulmate.”

Sage is quiet for a moment, “I know he’s mine. Will you help me find him?”

“Ya, sure when do you want to meet?”

“Now?”

Her rushed tone makes me pause and look at my fluffy bunny slippers, PJ shorts and my “I Heart my Turtle” shirt.

“It’s 10 pm?”

“Yes, I know… please Y/n, I’ve waited 900 years for this moment. I can’t wait another second.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, “Um ya sure…I’ll text you my address.”

—-

“You’re not going to try to kill me right?”

Sage, who stands at the front of my door raises an eyebrow, “If I even thought about causing you harm Klaus and Elijah would be here in under a minute ripping me to shreds.”

I nod. Good Point.

“Come in.”

Sage takes a hesitant step over the threshold and into my small entryway.

“Your house is…”

I roll my eyes, “What? Quaint?”

“Homey,” Sage smiles softly, “It looks like a home,” She takes off her jacket and holds it in her arms, “The only thing that kept me going after Klaus daggered my Finn was the hope that one day he and I could have something like this… something that we could call our home.”

I fight the urge to let out a loud “awww.”

“Well then, we shouldn’t keep Finn waiting,” I grab my jacket and place it over my PJ shirt.

“Wait…”

I turn at Sage’s voice and my stomach drops when I see the guilty look on her face.

“Please tell me you're not actually going to kill me,” I raise my hands up in a fighting stance and she shakes her head.

“No, but… you’re helping me out of the kindness of your heart so I have to admit something to you…”

I stand there completely quiet and still as she goes on to tell me the information she’s done tonight. From having a threesome with Damon and Bekah (gross) to going into Bekah’s mind to learn that Wickery Bridge was actually made from the same tree that the white oak came from and that if the Salvatore’s got a hold of it they’d kill the Mikaelsons.

“So…what do we do?”

Sage shakes her head, “I don’t know.”

We stand there in silence for a moment before a Theo-level-bad-idea comes to my mind, “I’m going to propose something. But if the cops show up you’re compelling us out of there.”

Sage gives me a worried look.

—

“Ok,” I put my hands on Sage’s shoulders and positioned her in the doorway out of sight, “You stay here and I’ll go get him. When I tell you to come in, you can.”

Sage eyes my hands, “I thought you had a thing about touch? And also why can’t I just come in with you now?” I shrug, “1. After what we just did, I’d say we bonded so I feel like our relationship has progressed, and also I’m touching you over your clothes…it’s skin-to-skin that irks me. And 2. Obviously for dramatic effect.”

I excitedly turn around and whip open the front door to the Mikaelson Mansion, catching the last of Sage muttering something about me fitting right in with the Mikaelsons.

“PHINEAS!!!”

“Bloody hell, Little Doll,” A sarcastic British voice has me rolling my eyes, “We’re all immortal here. No need for the yelling.”

I turn and meet Kol’s brown eyes.

“My bad. Wheres Finn?”

“Elskan?”

“Is that Y/n?”

“Luv, miss me already?”

Elijah, Bekah, and Klaus all enter the foyer with combined looks of confusion, whilst Kol is approaching me with an amused look on his face.

“And what’s with the outfit? You have a turtle?”

I shake my head, “No.”

Kol just frowns.

Elijah, still dressed in his suit even though it’s past midnight, hastily approaches me, “Elskan what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Chill, Elijah,” I smile at him which seems to make him relax a bit, “I’m good. I fulfilling a duty I have for your brother.”

“For me,” Klaus’ annoying smirk is plastered on his face as his eyes roam my body.

“No,” I glare at him and point to my face, “And my face is up here.”

Klaus smiles but turns his attention back to my face.

“Y/N?”

My attention turns towards the top of the stairs where Finn is now standing and I have the fight the urge to ruin the surprise right now.

“I have something for you Finn,” I bounce on the heels of my toes and he descends the grand staircase.

“For me?”

Finn’s unsure look only makes me more excited as I nod my head hastily.

“You can come out now,” I call behind me and all the Mikaelson instantly tense up, probably thinking it’s a threat.

I don’t even have to look behind me to know Sage has entered the room because I’m looking at the utterly bewildered look on Finn’s face.

“Sage? Is that you?”

Finn takes slow steps closer to Sage and I.

“It’s me, Finn… I’ve missed you so much,” As soon as Sage says that Finn is running to embrace her.

I feel my cheeks start to hurt from smiling so hard as I watch the couple kiss, embrace, and, share quiet words with one another.

“You did this?”

I look away to find Elijah at my side with a soft expression on his face.

I nod and look back at the couple, “At the ball Finn and I talked and I told him I’d help him find Sage. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to do it… but she kinda just showed up thankfully. Not that Finn needs to know the last part,” I whisper to Elijah.

Elijah doesn’t respond which makes me turn back to him. Once again he has the earth-shattering look in his eyes that makes my knees feel like they’re going to buckle.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” I mutter as I try to go back to looking at Sage and Finn so I don’t have to look at him.

“Because I love you.”

Oh.

OH.

I whip my head back towards Elijah so fast I think I might’ve pulled something and stare at him wide-eyed.

“Nuh-uh.”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow but his lip twitches letting me know he’s finding my reaction entertaining, “Nuh uh?”

“Ya, nuh uh?”

“Well, I do.”

“Nope.”

Elijah lets out a soft sigh, “You’ll accept the love I have for you one day…but even if today isn’t that day I want you to know it. That I do.”

I side-eye the man standing next to me bite down hard on my lip and nod.

“Hold up,” Kol’s annoying voice pierces the air breaking everyone from their conversations.

“What now, Kol?”

I would laugh at Klaus’ annoyed tone if it weren’t for the state of shock I’m currently in.

“Why do the two of you smell like gasoline?”

Everyone in the rooms stops, and I watch as they smell the air and then turn to Sage and I. Sage turns to me though with a raised eyebrow.

“Breaking News,” The loud voice of a newscaster comes from the living room beside us, “Mystic Falls historic Wickery Bridge, has been burned down. Police and firefighters are currently at the scene. Was this a natural fire or something more criminal? When we find out you’ll be the first to know. This is Margot Fell reporting live from Channel 9 news.”

I blink and blow out a low breath as I turn back to the Mikaelsons who already have their eyes glued on me.

“Sooo, Sage and I have something to tell you.”

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