#but anyways despite thinking deeply about the ending-

[junlordofeggs]

*stares at my Fresh x Reader fanfic I wrote when I was 14 years old that I absolutely despise for almost all of the reasons people (me included) dislike cublix* ahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHH

Might I present to you a ship that I have in my AU (well, a past ship, they're divorced now) that I have never seen anyone have in my entire life?

I present to you:

Anyways. Below the Keep Reading button is a personal ramble/vent about what Cublix means to me, why I hated it so much when I was younger, why I'm beginning to tolerate it now, and why that fact means so much to me.

Once again a disclaimer: This is my own personal experience and personal opinion, it is NOT A PERSONAL ATTACK on ANYONE or ANY SHIP, even Cublix itself.

Yeah, nah. Honestly, I got into the JSAB fandom way back in 2018 shortly after a deeply traumatic relationship with my Childhood Best Friend. I have physical scars from that relationship and even more mental ones. In my broken state I managed to form a mental connection between Blixer and my abusive ex (both were guitar-playing, outgoing chaotic assholes). At first I romanticized them, thinking about a "what could have been" scenario if his 'Mental Illnesses Got Better' and if I 'Was A Better Girlfriend' (see: aforementioned Fresh x Reader fanfic) but then I started portraying Fresh in a much more asshole-ish, evil way as revenge the more and more I felt angry at him.

After six years since the relationship and a few years hiatus from the fandom, I've healed and there's no longer this innate connection. But I ended up liking Evil Fresh more than Sad Bad Boy Fresh so I kept on building on that in my AUs. I even made him a lot older in order to further separate him and his past iterations.

At the same time, I managed to form a connection between myself and Cube. Sensitive, physically affectionate, struggling with a deep darkness (CTM), I projected myself onto this little cube, with all of my worst traits like a punching bag. It was also cathartic.

What WASN'T cathartic though, was whenever I saw people shipping Character-Who-I've-Associated-With-My-Abusive-Ex-Boyfriend x Character-Who-I've-Associated-With-Myself with uncanny parallels. Needless to say every time I saw this ship I had a deep discomfort inside me. Even now when I still think I've healed, the scars still hurt and ache whenever I see the ship.

Buuuuuut, I've made progress! I recently finally read Corrupted Bond, and I enjoyed it! I can finally enjoy a piece of media that contains something that reminds me of my trauma! It feels like I can finally close up some old wounds. I'm slowly starting to read some of the other major JSAB comics too (CTYH, due to the way Cube is portrayed though, is probably off-limits for now) and it honestly feels like given enough time, I can put every single little box of pain into the closet and forget about it. I still have my criticisms of the ship and reasons I don't like it outside of Traumatic Association (that other people have also said) but now I'm just glad that I can enjoy stuff.

Still won't ever ship it though. But if you've read this ramble up until this point, I'm sure you understand why. Regardless, despite all of the reasons I dislike the ship, many people love it for their own reasons. Deeply personal reasons, for fun, arbitrary reasons... Whatever. These are just as valid.

Anyways. Shameless self port: in my AU Fresh is an irredeemable charming chaotic bastard and Cube is large, loving and sensitive yet sassy and petty and at some point probably rips Fresh's arm off to beat him with the bloody end. What this says about my current mental state with regards to my past trauma is kinda questionable.

I was gonna post this on a confessions blog but ykw I’m not a coward

Me when I come to the realisation that people in the JSaB fandom probably only like The Boss/Blixer/Fresh/whatever the fuck because of angsty shipping potential and twinkification potential

Like

Genuinely would you guys like them nearly as much if they didn’t have that potential

No wonder Cublix is so popular, they’re perfect enemies to lovers material (and also toxic relationship material but I digress)

Where are my absolute irredeemable bastard and/or aggressively aroace Boss interpretations at man

TPC does so much wrong but at least Dub isn’t portrayed as an uwu soft boy who secretly likes Cube but is weirdly toxic to him lmao (of course Dub barely even existing in the series isn’t much better but hey at least he’s acknowledged as a bastard)

Btw I am NOT trying to start shipping wars or headcanon wars. You have your headcanons and ships, I have mine, we can agree to disagree on this. Clarifying because if I don’t this’ll probably be taken as a personal attack on Cublix shippers or whatever (most Boss ships aren’t great in the fandom I’m gonna be real here) and I’m Not Going Through That™

Have a good timezone and please don’t gun me down for having an unpopular opinion on popular ships and headcanons in the JSaB fandom

[vynel]

I really don't know what to make of the recent chapter of jjk anymore after reading official translations

[firestorm09890]

Y'ALL. Y'ALL so for a long time I've believed that "the sun" in Meursault's story is Carmen, and I went to check Hell's Chicken's dialogue to see exactly how he said that he'd dealt with distortions before, and... you know what else he said?

To my knowledge, it is a phenomenon where an individual morphs into a form often unfit to be considered “human”. It has no known causes, and the appearances were all different.

Unfit to be considered human.

Meursault, who, in his book, was judged by the court to be soulless.

Meursault, who has EGO for Cyborgs who have been so mutilated they barely act like people anymore; a murderer who was experimented on until ceasing to be human; a sheep named after Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a novel about the humanity of androids and the inhumanity of humans; and now a rose that can't help its bloodsucking nature, based on Carmilla, a vampire whose story emphasized the duality between her vampiric traits and her human ones.

Meursault, who answered Heathcliff's ironic question of if he had metal for brains like this:

I'm placing my bets now, that line from Hell's Chicken is foreshadowing for Meursault's canto even more than "I have witnessed a number of [distortion] cases in the past" was

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Do you like all the Springtraps 🤨

Or Just springtrap :^

Ofc there are a few exceptions, but in general- Yes, I do like all the Springtraps!!! :O

[sammygender]

i feel like people think of me as a dean disliker but like. its dean who got me so into supernatural initially. (well and sam & azazel stuff but we won’t go there rn). *old grandpa who needs to go to bed voice* i was a deangirl (reclaimed meaning of the term.. to an extent) for seasons 2 and 3. i write most of my fic from his pov. it’s just that the drive for a deangirl renaissance within me wars with my equally passionate impulse to make everyone shut up about dean forever

[flugame-mp3]

SEASON NINE FINALE WAS WILD. I HAVE MANY MANY THOUGHTS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. A FUCKING ROLLER COASTER FOR SURE

[lanihaluki]

fyrus little mermaid au but I put everything in the tags bc rom spoilers

[kerra-and-company]

prem & any of your ocs ? <:-)

Oooh, okay okay, gladly :D

Chieko has mixed emotions about Prem. On some levels/to some extent she'd understand and relate to him. At the same time, if she knows the full extent of what happened to him, she's wrestling with is this happening in my world as well to others and if I stayed (in DR) could I have helped somehow and about five million other thoughts. So...awkwardness probably? But at the same time they might vibe somewhat.

Minei would like him but also wouldn't really understand him that well. She was blessed by a god as well (Grenth, in her case) but never really felt like he was there for her in the same way Prem thought about Dwayna--in part because said blessing saved her but not her parents. Her relationship with both the Seraph and the Shining Blade would be a longer conversation, but she has reason not to ever fully trust either of them. She's adjacent to a lot of the things that Prem is/was but experienced them from a very different lens. I feel like if they tried to be friends, they might be like puzzle pieces that almost fit together but not quite.

[fighting-these-demons]

I updated my tags in case anyone is open to a mini ship manifesto. o7

cartoon network commercial from 2004

[motorsportbarbie13]

Get Unready With Me - Drunk Edition

In which Lando takes care of you after a night out.

Pairing: Lando Norris x FeminineGirlfriend!Reader Warnings: Drunk reader. Tooth achingly sweet fluff tho. Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

“Lando! I’ve lost my keys!” You cry, opening the flap on your vintage Chanel bag in an attempt to dump the contents out on the floor of your flat’s empty hallway. 

“No you haven’t, you muppet.” He scolds, tugging the purse out of your hands before anything beyond your Charlotte Tilbury lipstick can clatter to the floor. “You gave me your keys after your fifth vodka cran. ‘Lan baby, be my hero and hold my keys so I don’t lose them!’” He mocks, pulling out your keyring from his pocket. 

Your eyes light up, a drunken giggle slipping off your lips as you lean your whole weight onto your boyfriend as he attempts to open the apartment door for you. “My hero!” 

“Besides,” He tuts, slipping the key into the keyhole. “We live together, my keys are your keys.” 

Lando swings the door open, ushering you inside before closing the door behind him with a soft snick of the lock. You look back at him, a bit more unsteady on your feet than you’d like. The pair of you are just getting back from dinner and dancing with a few of the other drivers and their significant others to celebrate the end of the season and you may have gone a bit overboard with the drinks portion of the night.

Flinging your stilettos off your feet, you groan at the relief of feeling the cool tile on your toes, only stumbling a bit when you try to stand up straight. It’s quite the miracle you made it up from the garage to your tenth floor apartment in those heels under your own power really. “I think my feet might just fall off.” 

Lando follows behind you as you stumble towards the couch. “Baby, shouldn’t we just go to bed? It’s late.” 

“My feet don’t work anymore. Carry me?” You pout, reaching for him with grabby hands. You are quite needy when you get this drunk but honestly, Lando doesn’t mind one bit. You’re quite independent, refusing to allow him to pay for much despite his multi-million dollar contract and endorsement deals. In fact, for the first year of your relationship you had refused to move in with him because there had been no way you could afford to split the rent in his posh apartment in Monaco. So when you get needy like this, which isn’t as often as he’d like, Lando likes to take full advantage of it. He likes to feel needed, especially by the woman he is absolutely smitten with. 

“I think your feet work just fine, but I will carry you to bed anyway, pretty girl.” He coos, scooping you up in his arms. 

You wiggle a little against him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck before breathing in his scent deeply. “You smell so good.” 

“I smell like sweat.” He laughs, walking down the hall towards your shared bedroom. 

“It must be the pheromones then. You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty.” You giggle. 

Lando chuckles, knocking the light switch with his elbow as he enters your room. The yellow glow from the lights overhead illuminate your face as you look up at him. In the alcohol induced haze, the thought of how lucky you are to have him flickers through your mind. You two had met a few years ago when you had been attended the British Grand Prix with your uncle Jenson Button. He had literally swept you off your feet when Fernando Alonso had nearly taken you out in the paddock with his scooter. You liked to joke that Lando had literally been your knight in shining armor that day, so of course you fell for him quick and hard. 

“Here you go, love.” Lando gently sets you down on the bed, your eyes already droopy with exhaustion from the day. “Lets get you out of that dress and into something comfy.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lando Norris?” You slur. 

“No, I’m trying to get you into bed because you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep and I don’t want to cuddle you all night with that scratchy dress on.” Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He helps you shimmy out of the tight dress, pulling it over your head so you were left in only the skimpy McLaren papaya colored lingerie set. 

“This is new.” He says, slipping a finger under the strap of the lacy bralette that has him biting his bottom lip. You looked so cute sitting there on the bed, dressed only in his team colors. 

“I wore it to surprise you but now I’m too drunk to fuck you.” 

Lando can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of him. Despite you being 3 sheets to the wind, you know his rules: No sex while one of you is drunk and the other is sober.  And Lando is very sober right now, wanting to maintain some control over you as you tend to get a little wild and adventurous (read: you like to wander off) when you’re partying. “We can have a rot in bed day tomorrow and you can wear it then, okay love?” 

Your bottom lip sticks out in a pout, “Fine.” 

“Now, lay down. I’ll go get you a t-shirt and we can go to sleep.” 

You follow his instructions and watch as Lando bustles around the room, first getting changed himself and then pulling a t-shirt out of his closet for you. 

A few moments later, Lando pulls his t-shirt onto your body and tucks you back into bed before going to get some aspirin and a glass of water for you, knowing you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow. He hates to see you in pain, but a part of him is pleased that you’ll be unable to do much tomorrow so he’ll be able to wait on you hand and foot. Being needed is absolutely one of Lando’s love languages. 

As he goes to switch off the lights, finally ready to get into bed beside you, suddenly you sit up. “Lando!” You gasp, smacking him on the shoulder as he sits down on his side of the bed. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” 

“My makeup! If I don’t take it off and wash my face, I’m going to break out and I will not be your pretty girl anymore.” 

Lando rolls his eyes, “Seriously? Can’t you just skip it this one time? You will always be my pretty girl, breakout or not.” 

In addition to being extra needy when you’re drunk, you are also extra stubborn. “I need to do my skincare, Lando.” You whine. 

“Fine.” Lando is quite certain there is no way you’d be able to do it by yourself, judging by the state you’re in though. “Let’s go, I’ll help you.” 

You blink up at him as he rounds the bed to stand before you, offering you his hand. “Really?” 

He looks down at those big eyes and pouty lips of yours and really wants to break the whole ’no sex while only one of us is drunk’ rule. “Yes, really you muppet. Come on.” 

Despite the fact that just a few minutes before you had been insisting your feet were about to fall off, you suddenly find the ability to walk and pad behind him into the large en suite bathroom. It’s a luxurious place, with a large jetted tub and huge shower with two shower heads. You find yourself sharing a shower with Lando more often than not. On the other side of the white and black tiled bathroom are his and hers sinks, yours more cluttered than his with various skin and hair products. You may be independent when it comes to asking for help, but you are certainly not low maintenance when it comes to your hair or skin.  

Lando stands in front of your sink, eyeing the various jars and tubes with a bit of skepticism. “I hope you’re sober enough to tell me what goes first because there is no way I can do this on my own.” He mumbles.

“You watch me do this all the time, baby.” 

“Doesn’t mean I know what any of this is. Now, hop up on the counter and let me take care of you.” He says, kissing the tip of your nose. 

A fire burns in your belly at his order. Secretly, you do love when he takes care of you like this. You just hate to admit it. Being raised by a single mom who was never the biggest fan of the male species, you had always been wary of asking for help but being with Lando had healed some of that trauma and mistrust in you and the longer you were with him, the easier you found depending on him. 

“What’s first?” 

“The micellar water.” 

Panic flashes across Lando’s face. “The what?” 

Giggling, you kick your feet like a toddler and point to the large bottle with clear liquid in it. “That. Put some on a cotton ball and…” 

“Wipe off your makeup. I know, I’ve seen you do it, I just don’t know what goes when.”

Lando squirts some out on a cotton ball like he’s seen you do a thousand times and begins to wipe off the makeup in long, slow strokes. The alcohol makes your brain fuzzy but the way his face is so focused on his task, brows knit together in concentration, has you squeezing your legs together. He can’t quite believe how many cotton balls it takes to get everything off, but eventually most of your makeup is gone. 

“Now is when you use the soap, right?” 

He looks so eager to be right your heart squeezes a bit. “Yes, that bottle right there.” 

Lando continues on with your skincare routine, listening to your every step and following it exactly as described. It takes a little longer than usual, but neither of you mind. The way he so gently rinses the soap off your face and then applies your moisturizer is strangely one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done together. 

Finally, everything is done and you’re bare faced and freshly moisturized. Lando hands you your toothbrush, already prepped with your toothpaste, and the pair of you brush your teeth together. He gently helps you down off the counter and you follow him back into the bedroom, hand in hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” You coo as you slip under the covers, watching as Lando switches off the bedroom lights, plunging the bedroom into darkness. 

“I love taking care of you.” He murmurs when he joins you under the heavy duvet, your warmth radiating towards him in waves. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” 

“I love you too, pretty girl.” 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

Want to be included on the tag list? Send me a message/leave a comment! <3

[darylbae]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡🩰

i think daryl would definitely not realize it at first, in fact i think the group would notice it before him. rick would see the way daryl's gaze would linger onto you when he'd talk about a risky supply run. rick would of course tell michonne, who would poke a little fun at him. "you like her!" "shut up, i do not!" and it wasn't until he'd laid down for the night, that he had realized it. he'd think about your eyes, and how bright they were when you'd be talking to anybody. he'd think about the nervous tells you had, like bouncing your leg, chewing on your lip and looking around the room. he'd think about how, sometimes annoyingly, bubbly you were no matter what. it would typically bother him how happy you were mid-apocalypse, but he lets it slide more often than not. he would not pick up on this stuff if he didn't have a crush. he'd be hyper-aware of how he acts around you, after admitting to himself he had a crush on you. he'd glance at you, then quickly glance away, but always end up looking back over at you. he'd study your lips and how they moved, wanting nothing more than to feel them on his. most of all, he'd keep it to himself. because the last thing he needs is everyone finding this out. and making your friendship with him tense. carol could see through daryl almost too easily, so she's the only one who can get away with poking the bear. besides you. "you like her, huh?" carol would ask, and daryl would just roll his eyes. "so what?" "do something about it!" daryl had no understanding of 'doing something about it', despite his moody, careless attitude, he cared deeply about your friendship and wanted nothing to ruin that. rick was playing matchmaker and suggested the two of you to go out on a run, much to daryl's dismay. now he'd have to deal with his constant reminder of his crush on you, as well as you. there you were, sat sweetly on the hood of a car waiting for him, a smile plastered onto your face as you spotted him. "ready to go?" you asked, your voice smooth as honey and it had sent shivers up his neck. "get in." he'd mumble. "yes, sir." let's not talk about your use of the word sir, and what it does to him. he couldn't explain it, the authority of the word sir, just hit him in his sweet spot. he'd constantly look out for you on runs, even when going along with others, he'd volunteer to split up but stick with you. it wasn't like you were a nuisance, not all the time anyway, he just loved being there for you. he'd walk behind you, trying to be a gentleman and stop himself from gazing across your body as you walked. you were the total personification of sex. "can i bring this back?" you'd ask, picking up something stupidly unnecessary, this time it was a small, pink, glittery cowboy hat attached to a pink headband. "will it help us?" he'd respond, not even looking your way, but still having to keep you entertained. "no." you'd respond, glum face as you look down at it back on the shelf. "then i think we found our answer." daryl was always a bummer, but you had gotten used to it. you knew how deeply he cared for his people, so what was a little grumpiness. but you'd always return back, and find whatever stupid thing you'd found on a run, sitting on your bed by the end of the day.

[sunderwight]

Shang Qinghua strikes me as the type who would only pursue a particular cultivation skill if it had some utility to making his everyday life easier or some specific task more doable, not even register that he'd achieved anything impressive with his cultivation in the process, and then carry on firm in the belief that this is a normal skill that every other cultivator has probably already acquired. Because if it's useful, why wouldn't they?

Like he thinks cultivation is cool and all, but (as can be evidenced by some of his writing choices) he's not really interested in it for its own sake. So everything he chooses to pursue has a reason. Usually that reason is "letting him be done with this tedious task so that he can possibly scrape together some free time, or at least more time to do other tasks."

This is why, despite sword arts being very cool and dashing and all, Shang Qinghua doesn't really bother learning a lot of swordsmanship or fighting skills. There are pretty few situations where wielding a sword is useful, most of those situations are ones which Shang Qinghua doesn't want to be involved in, and nearly all of his martial siblings are better at and more interested in fighting anyway.

He knows that martial prowess is popular and attractive, but it's boring. Sword drills? Dull as hell. There's a reason he came up with a super cursed sword that let his protagonist immediately win almost any fight, with consequences that just led to more interesting drama or conflicts to write about. His fight scenes were at least as boring and repetitive as his sex scenes, let's be real.

The end result is that Shang Qinghua's cultivation is probably deeply weird.

Like he's done muscle-reinforcement but not for combat, it's so that if he needs to he can literally pick up a recalcitrant ox and move it. He mastered inedia because remembering to eat and finding a moment to do it during An Ding's inventory week was harder. He introduced flying carpets to the setting after he transmigrated because figuring out how to transport items on some compatible spiritual device that was bigger than a sword blade, and could thus hold like a chest of goods or baskets of supplies, was way too convenient to pass up. He has selective knowledge of various skills, like alchemy, medicine, smithing, etc, things that are usually only brought up at the master level (thanks to his author knowledge cheat) but he doesn't know most of the basics of those skills, and he only deploys his knowledge for like, hyper specific tasks largely unrelated to the field.

He probably drives Mu Qingfang and Wei Qingwei crazy because he'll drop expert niche knowledge that they know is expert niche knowledge into a random discussion out of the blue, but then can't actually sustain a conversation about it because he doesn't know all the usual accompanying information. Mu Qingfang counting slowly backwards from ten because somehow Shang Qinghua knows that a super rare tonic made from a believed-to-be-extinct plant can bestow temporarily telekinesis to those who imbibe it, but doesn't know anything else about the medicinal uses of the plant, the history of the tonic, or other tonics that can achieve similar results with varying side-effects. But he knows what this one hyper-specific thing will do and he knows, very very vaguely, how to make it. Somehow.

Which would be less weird if it was just one thing, because people do pick up odd bits of knowledge or skills from unexpected places now and again. But it happens all the time. Seemingly at complete random! He also, as said, doesn't just do it with knowledge but with skills. No idea of basic leveling up, Shang Qinghua singles out what he wants from a process and then just does enough to get it and skips everything else that usually goes with it.

I bet he's like thirty before it comes to light that he has no idea how to actually do basic meditation, or something, and Yue Qingyuan does that thing where he smiles placidly while dying inside because how? Shang-shidi is a peak lord! How does a peak lord not know how to meditate properly?!

(In Shang Qinghua's defense, meditating involves spending a lot of time just focusing on one's self and not doing anything else, and he is a busy man! And he actually has mastered a form of meditation, but it's a kind Cang Qiong doesn't usually teach and that you do while also performing repetitive tasks. Usually those repetitive tasks are things like "repeatedly punching the exact same spot on a tree until the tree topples" but Shang Qinghua's are more like "reviewing a thousand nearly identical requisition forms and eating melon seeds at a steady rate" type stuff. When other people expect him to meditate he just sits quietly for a minute until they leave.)

[luvrgreyy]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[slytherinboysvip]

Revenge? | M.R

Plot: Your bf cheats on you, what happens next 🙀

(TW: NSFW) >New series for this! <

It was preposterous. Absolutely unbelievable. You stood there watching as your boyfriend- soon to be was ex making out with the girl he told you not to worry about, which of course you obviously should’ve.

Your blood boiled as you walked up to him, grabbing him by the collar and ripping him away as roughly as possible. You weren’t just mad, you were furious. How could he do this to you? “You fucking pussy. You quite literally could’ve just ended things with me you prick. I’m so done with you.” Not giving him any more chances or pity apologies you walked away, once out of the room you ran to your dorm.

Later that night

A much needed crying session later you heard a harsh knock on your door. Without getting up or knowing who it was you whispered a charm and unlocked your door, to your surprise it was Mattheo Riddle. “Y/n, you do know there’s a such thing as a silencing spell, don’t you” His eyes had a piercing gaze for a moment before he finished examining you, his face fell slightly yet he fixed his demeanor, slowly stepping inside and closing your door.

“Either you’re blasted, or you were crying, so which one is it.” He said blatantly sitting down on a chair near your bed. “Fuck off Mattheo, you don’t even talk to me” You flipped over in bed, annoyed at the unwanted intrusion of your privacy. “If you didn’t want me in here you wouldnt have opened the door” He sent a small smirk your way despite you not being able to see it. “In my defense I didn’t even know it was you”

You both sat there in silence before you reluctantly turned back over to face him, “Why haven’t you left yet” You sighed deeply rolling your eyes looking at him. “If you’re really just gonna be a bitch I can leave” He rolled his eyes in return, beginning to stand up. Without thinking you held your arm up grabbing his instinctively “Don’t go, I’m sorry.” You quietly apologized causing him to slowly sit back down.

You removed your hand from his and to break the awkward silence you spoke, “My boyfriend, well I guess now my ex boyfriend cheated on me. I literally caught him making out with her openly in public” I scoffed still dumbfounded as to how oblivious I was. “What an ass. I’ve seen him, you’re too hot for that anyway”. His words made your cheeks blush slightly so you attempted to hide it by stretching.

“I just can’t believe he played me like that” I looked back at him, “You know, we could get some revenge and have some fun” He winked at you and smirked. “And what exactly would this revenge entail?” I cocked my eyebrow at him curious yet intrigued. “Well we could act like we’ve been dating this entire time, pretend we’re finally ‘going public’, and by that I mean we full send it by making out in front of Parkinson and tell her skanky ass we’ve been together so she can spill it to the entirety of this school.”

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I mean the plan obviously needed some major readjustments and we’d need to come up with a story but it honestly could work. “Are you gonna say something or am I just gonna sit here and look like an idiot who came up with an awful plan” He shook my head in his hands catching my attention.

“Yes.” I looked him in the eyes. “We could make out tomorrow then, but you know, I could use a bit of practice” he said nonchalantly , you were still making eye contact so there was no way for you to ignore this, your face was getting hotter by the second, no telling how red you were visibly. “Come on sweetheart, I have a feeling you need the practice too, don’t you?” He smirked.

No thinking needed you just nodded your head yes, and just as thoughtless as it was for you to nod your head, he immediately launched towards you and connected your lips. A soft moan left your lips as soon as you felt his tongue enter your mouth, attempting to fight for dominance in the kiss and failing miserably. His hand came up and softly squeezed your throat causing another soft moan to escape, you covered your mouth instinctively but he ripped it away replacing it back with his lips.

Keeping a grip on your neck he parted your legs with his left arm and rested his knee between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your heat. More small moans were coming out and you could feel him getting hard against your stomach. He leaned closer to your ear, kissing and nibbling a bit before whispering, “Be careful amor, if you keep moaning like that I might just have to fuck you already”

His knee never stopped rubbing against you, and you were more turned on in this moment than any time with your ex. You didn’t want this to end, even if he wouldn’t continue with your plan afterwards. “Then do it Matt, Fuck me.” You looked at him and gave the best fuck me eyes You could. With zero hesitation he yanked your pants down discarding them across the room followed by your underwear. You started quickly taking your shirt off as he himself got undressed.

All of this happened in what seemed like under a minute, before your lips were back attached to eachother and he was rubbing his tip up and down your soaking entrance. “Fucking hell Y/n, I knew you were hot but I didn’t think you’d have this pretty of a fucking pussy” He began to speak but it turned into more of a moan as he sunk himself deeper and deeper into your dripping cunt. “Fuck, and you’re dripping” He moaned once fully inside.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan, needing to adjust to the big size. He looked so hot above you too, especially being able to see his abs from your angle “Oh my god! Please keep going” You looked at him, already needing and begging for more. “Shit you’re so perfect. I’m going to ruin this fucking pussy” He whispered the silencing spell quickly before he began to harshly pound into you. Louder moans than before began filling the room as his aching dick fucked in and out of you.

He pulled out and got off of the bed, yanking you to the edge and flipping you onto your stomach. “Put your ass up for me princess” He smacked your ass harshly making you moan, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at that. You were scared he might’ve wanted to do anal, yet you obliged nervously arching your back. Without warning he slammed into you, definitely hitting your cervix. A pain and pleasure induced moan left your lips and that only fueled his fire.

He kept going at a relentless speed, your eyes began rolling back and you couldn’t hold back any noises even if you tried. You felt yourself starting to unfold, your stomach tying in knots as your release inched closer. “I’m so fucking close Mattheo fuck fuck” You could barely get your words out, they were more like whimpers and screams. “Cum all over my dick, I’m not done with you yet” He slapped your ass which sent you over the edge.

You were seeing stars, your body was beginning to shake as he pounded into you, his arm reached under and began rubbing over your previously teased clit, it was already swollen and sensitive and you couldn’t control anything. Tears started to roll down your face as you came all over his dick, tightening around him making him moan more and more.

Your body collapsed down but he picked you up by your hips and kept going, his thrusts got slower but they were still deep and consistent. The overstimulation was driving you insane, it was something you didn’t know you needed. He pulled out and flipped you back onto your back. “If im going to cum, and if it’s going to be because of you, then I need to see your gorgeous face and these amazing fucking tits” He smirked at you and slowly thrusted back inside of you before grabbing your boobs and putting your left nipple in his mouth sucking and pinching the other.

Your walls clenched around his dick once again, and you felt another orgasm coming, this time it was more bearable yet you were still so overstimulated and turned on you were a moaning mess. He started speeding up and picked his head up to look at you, his hand stayed on your boobs massaging them and pinching your nipples but he was close. Even though it’s your first time together you could tell.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, he threw his head back moaning and throwing around curse words, with a few more hard thrusts you felt his thick cum coat your walls and as he pulled out slowly the warm substance dripped out slowly. “Fucking hell” You sighed completely laying back exhausted. “So, we still on for the plan?” He winked.

I rly hope this is good but tbh the more I read it the more I don’t like it 😭😭

Also! I feel like lowk this would be a good mini story/ series? Like the actual revenge and such, maybe them getting into a relationship… who knowssss. But it’s only a thought I’d need your feedback!!:)!!

[lovelyhan]

— again and again ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 15.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut

warnings: medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets), mentions of snake bites, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: i wrote this with bss' 7pm on loop for two straight days. nothing like the sweet taste of yearning <3 this also wasn't extensively proofread, so if you spot a few mistakes, i implore you to ignore them EJWHJHSDF

this is part of the doting on you! series.

smut tags: vanilla, mingyu is super whipped, praise kink, service top gyu, dirty talk, nicknames (babygirl, sweetheart, sweet thing), overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, heads up that the filth is at the very end tho

taglist: @cherrycheolie1995 - @ashkuuuu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @christinewithluv - @fancypoisonapple - @odetoyeonjun - @minnie-mouser22 - @etherealyoungk - @davoraciousreader - @mariondior - @hella-sirius - @coveyland - @marlow234 - @dobomiyeon - @belysusonrisa - @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @seoksoop - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @acgyu - @gae-uls - @pluviophile-xxx - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @yutadae - @smileyjimvn

additional notes: you might want to check your visibility settings if you can't be tagged!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place. 

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by. 

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second. 

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line. 

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.” 

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu. 

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan. 

“Five minutes past midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.” 

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not. 

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about. 

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. 

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?” 

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared. 

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

Right behind her desk, Chae looks up at you with a knowing look. You flash her a smile that silently pleads for her not to say a word, but your receptionist has always been on the frank side.

“Something’s telling me you’re still hung up on him, boss.”

Sighing, you push yourself back to your feet, tugging on the lapels of your crisp white coat. That might be true to some degree, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.

You and Mingyu live in two completely different worlds. It’s something that you both came to terms with when you broke up. You just had to accept the fact that there’s simply no efficient way to work around his busy schedules and the appointments you need to attend to at the clinic. 

It was the most unproblematic breakup you’ve ever had, and it’s with a famous idol. Who would’ve thought. 

“Anyway,” you tell Chae before nudging the door to the operating room open. “Care to help me look for the anesthetics? I can’t remember where I put them away last time…”

Your receptionist is most definitely judging you inside your head, but despite how straightforward she can be, Chae still knows when to drop it. After a few clicks on the clinic’s desktop computer, she joins you on the hunt for that pesky bottle of anesthesia without asking any intrusive questions.

You make a mental note to treat her to some coffee tomorrow.

…

One of the reasons you seldomly paid your hometown a visit is the hassle that comes with the entire commute.

First you have to endure the long queue to get tickets before sitting through an eight-hour train ride to the seaside town of Haenam. Then comes navigating the local bus routes and schedules that always seem to change every time you go home. 

When you made it out of the train station for this year’s Chuseok celebration, you didn’t even bother stressing yourself out with taking the bus back to your parents’ house—flagging down a taxi that definitely charged you a ridiculous rate in exchange for your utmost comfort instead. 

You try not to think about how easier it was last Christmas, when you and Mingyu took turns driving one of his company’s cars on the way here—laughing and singing along to their songs on the road like nothing else mattered.

The scent of salt hangs heavy in the breeze when you unload your baggage from the trunk of the taxi. You had the foresight to make the trip before midnight, so you’re rewarded with the sight of the sunrise breaking through the nearby ocean—light glittering across the horizon like it means to say welcome home. 

That’s what you should feel; like you’re at home. But the fact that you’re about to bring some disappointing news to the table regarding your breakup with Mingyu isn’t doing your peace of mind any favors. 

You contemplated coming clean about it to your parents over a phone call, but it seemed too…impersonal with how attached they’ve gotten to your ex-boyfriend. Having a significant other that your family absolutely adores seems like a double-edged sword now that you think about it.

Once the cab hits the road again, you stand in front of your family home with a wistful sigh. It’s barely past seven in the morning, but your father must already be at the pier—sorting out today’s catch with the other fishermen in town.

Your mother loves taking walks in the market even if she doesn’t have anything in particular to purchase for the day. They’re early risers by default. 

You can’t really say the same for your younger brother, Haneul, though. That one likes to sleep until noon. 

When you ring the doorbell outside, you expect to hear the sound of excited barking from the other side of the gate. Namja was always the first to welcome you back whenever you’re in town, and just thinking about reuniting with him quells your anxiousness a little. But surprisingly, you don’t hear the telltale noise of your family dog’s excitement. 

What you do hear is the sound of the screen door opening and slamming back shut—slippers being hastily slid on before the gate creaks open, revealing Haneul still sporting a bedhead as he rubs his eyes.

“You’re back,” he says a-matter-of-factly, like he isn’t even thrilled to see you, but you’re too surprised to see him up so early to quip about it. “Mom said you wouldn’t arrive until noon.”

“I wanted to make the most of my vacation leave,” you explain before looking around the garden inside. “Where’s Namja? Did Mom take him for a walk, too?”

Haneul hums before taking your luggage. “Hm. You can say that.”

“What does that even mean?”

As if on cue, your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar bark resounding from the end of the road. You quickly whip your head around to see your beloved golden retriever, Namja, wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you before letting out another woof when you call out his name in glee.

However, the moment you realize who’s holding his leash, you suddenly feel like you got struck by lightning.

It’s Kim fucking Mingyu.

The sight of your ex-boyfriend just...standing there when he told you he was on the other side of the world sends a million thoughts surging through your head all at once.

You try not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the early morning light. Loose, long sleeved shirt that still emphasizes his muscular build despite. Hair having grown past his chin, curling slightly at the tips. And those stupid fucking canines that peek from his lips every time he grins. 

The bastard is just standing there with zero disguises, as if his existence in this place, at this point in time, doesn't throw a wrench in all of your plans.

What the hell is he even doing here?!

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back!”

The sound of your mother’s voice is, thankfully, enough to snap you out of your impending mental breakdown. You were so taken aback by Mingyu’s presence that you didn’t notice her standing next to him, carrying the bag she usually brings for her early market visits as she flashes you a warm smile. 

You can only stand there in shocked silence as your mother makes her way back to the house with your dog and ex-boyfriend in tow. Haneul was already inside, so you can’t exactly glare at him for not giving you a head’s up. But given that you still have no idea what on earth is going on, you’ll play along. For now.

“Are you surprised?” your mother giggles before patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Mingyu here said he got off work for a while so he could celebrate with us!”

“Gee, I didn’t know about that,” you say dryly, unsure of what expression you should even wear. “I thought he was going to be in New York until next month.”

She laughs again. “Oh, he told me and your father to keep it a secret that he’s going back to Korea anyways. Seems like the surprise worked, didn’t it, Mingyu-ah?”

The culprit himself agrees with a minute nod before loosening his grip on Namja’s leash. 

Your goldie immediately bounds towards you at the first sign of freedom, bracing his paws on your stomach as he attempts to lick your neck. It’s enough to distract you from the current predicament at hand, making you sigh in defeat as you sink to your knees and receive Namja’s slobbery affection in its entirety. 

As you snuggle up to the family dog, Mingyu says, “What can I say? I missed Haenam a lot. The scenery, the family, Namja, but of course…”

You can only sit there in growing disbelief as Mingyu mirrors your movements. He crouches low enough so that your gazes are leveled before caressing your face with a tenderness that’s both familiar and foreign at the same time. 

“I missed her the most.”

This is all a charade—that’s what you can confirm from the limited clues he’s dropping for you to pick up on. You can try to figure out why he’s suddenly here in your hometown—having arrived earlier than you, from the looks of it—a little later.

What’s important is that Mingyu, ever-so helpful, is actually playing along with the act you not-so-jokingly told him about on the phone.

You should be glad. 

…But why do those words make your heart ache anyways?

“Of course you do,” you sigh before peeling yourself away from his touch, carrying Namja in your arms as if he doesn’t easily weigh thirty kilograms. “Come on. Let’s get back inside and help Mom prepare whatever she’s planning on cooking for lunch.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter despite your obvious dismissal of his affection. You remind yourself that he’s racked up a lot of acting gigs throughout his career, so it’s normal for him to be a natural at this. 

But even if you know that this is all an act, you can’t help the way your heart lurches when Mingyu scoops Namja out of your grasp—the mere brush of his skin on yours more electrifying than it should be.

Namja whines in your ex’s arms, pawing at his chest before licking a long stripe across his cheek. Mingyu bursts out laughing as he coos at him, and your chest burns with an indescribable feeling.

A few moments later, your mother starts gushing about how excited she is to have both of you in the kitchen with her again as she leads you back inside the house. But all that rings in your head is a broken mantra of Mingyu saying I missed her the most.

As if repeating the words enough times will make them come true.

...

It’s one thing to know that Mingyu is in Haenam when he’s supposed to be overseas.

It’s another thing to see his usual overnight bag at the foot of your unmade bed, making you realize that he definitely came here much earlier than you anticipated.

Mingyu is currently in the kitchen, helping your mother out with lunch prep while she insists that you get some sleep first. Though the trains that led to the southern provinces were designed to be more comfortable than the ones contained in Seoul, nothing defeats the comfort of your old childhood bed. 

Except when you’re made aware of the fact that your ex-boyfriend probably slept in it after making the trip all the way here. 

The sheets even smell like him. A hint of that expensive fragrance he never seems to get tired of laces your pillows, and warmth rushes to your face when you realize you’re breathing it in a bit too much. 

So what if Mingyu slept here, right? Your parents’ house doesn’t have a guest room, and this was probably the only room available.

Oh, and in your family’s eyes, Mingyu is still your boyfriend. There shouldn’t be anything weird about your boyfriend, who went out of his way to quote-unquote surprise you, sleeping in your room, on your bed, without your knowledge.

And there definitely isn’t an issue with having to sleep next to him on said bed come nightfall.

You totally got this.

An attempt to dissuade all these intrusive thoughts is made as you unload the contents of your luggage into your old cabinet. It works for a while because all the old clothes you still kept tickled some memories from way back in high school, when becoming a vet was nothing but a pipe dream you came up with after Namja became sick on the day of his first birthday. 

In fact, as you look around further, you’re reminded of just how much time has passed since you moved out. The paint on the walls is starting to chip, and the floorboards creakier than you remember. Even the bed that was too spacious for your liking seems to shrink when you imagine Mingyu sprawled all over it with a blanket thrown over his large form. 

But when you recall how you two somehow made the sleeping arrangement work last Christmas, you figure that there isn’t much to worry about.

Aside from the fact that you’re not together anymore. Fuck.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You jolt at the sound of a soft voice coming from the door. Mingyu’s handsome face peeks from the crack before he opens it all the way, lips pressed together in a hesitant smile.

“Your mom asked if I could fetch your father at the pier in a few,” he says. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to get some sleep first?”

“Do I want to—” you cut yourself off, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Mingyu, what I want is for you to explain what you’re doing here.”

He cranes his head. “You said you needed help.”

“Yeah, but I was going to be honest about the breakup anyway!” you whisper, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from outside. God knows this house has paper-thin walls. “But then you’re suddenly here, cozying up to my family like we haven’t been ignoring each other for months already.”

“Hey, I’d never ignore you.” Mingyu pouts. “I even picked up when you called me at ass o’clock in the morning, remember? If someone’s ignoring anyone here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

You hate how you bristle at that little pet name. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice how you react to it, so you steel yourself instead—refusing to give into his unintentional charms. “That’s not the point and you know it, Mingyu. You can’t blame me for reacting this way when you told me that you wouldn’t be able to help me out.”

“But I’m here, right? I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, but I might have been overestimating myself.”

You are. You are happy to see him. 

But having to live with the knowledge that Mingyu is right here, close enough for you to touch, yet can’t because your relationship has long expired? 

You weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’ll ever be.

“Look,” he starts with a tone that’s meant to placate you, “you were right about not wanting to ruin the holidays with the breakup. I’m just here to help you out since you’re obviously not ready to break the news to your family. It’s not a big deal.”

You scowl at him. “Mingyu, it is a big deal. You are literally an idol with a packed fucking schedule. You can’t just play house with me here when you’re expected to be somewhere else.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Listen to me first, okay? We were all given the weekend off because of Chuseok on short notice. You don’t have to worry about you unknowingly stealing me away from work because there is no work. Besides, I told you I’d still be here when you need me, right?”

How can he say all that with a straight face? Like he still thinks of you as anything but an old flame that’s long been snuffed out?

The problem with Mingyu is that he’s too earnest for his own good. Always wearing a spectrum of emotions on his sleeve. Always so honest about what he feels about certain things. It’s so fucking difficult to stand your ground against someone who’s nothing but forthcoming about every aspect of his life. 

But it’s not like you could ever resist him to begin with, right?

“Fine,” you grumble. “Give me a few minutes to prep. I don’t want to go out in the docks wearing this many layers anyways.”

You hate how your chest warms when Mingyu’s eyes light up at that. Fight back, maybe?!

He looks like he’s about to say something when an abrupt knock disturbs the quiet atmosphere of your room. From how annoyingly long it lasts, you single out your younger brother as the perpetrator.

“You better not be making your firstborn in there,” Haneul drawls from the other side. 

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile before cupping the sides of his hands over his mouth. “We might be making our second born for all you know.”

You won’t survive this weekend. You really won’t.

…

“Remember when we used to eat ice cream by the Han River?” 

You flash Mingyu a perplexed look as you climb out of the car he used to drive all the way to your hometown. It’s a mystery how his manager allows him to go places with their company car with no supervision, but it’s not like Mingyu has done anything in the past to warrant that kind of surveillance anyway.

Besides, if he’s spending the entirety of Chuseok with a bunch of bodyguards lingering around your house, you might actually force him to go back to Seoul altogether.

“Why’d you bring it up?” you ask. “I thought you didn’t like those kinds of dates ‘cause you had to amp up the disguises and everything.”

Mingyu pockets the keys to the car before leaning against the metal railings installed along the pier. Your father is yet to show up at your rendezvous point, so you figure it wouldn’t do anyone harm to entertain Mingyu’s attempt at small talk. 

“Hmm. While I did prefer just cuddling in the dorms and at your place, it always felt a little different whenever we went out together,” he muses, the wind tossing his hair around slightly before turning to look at you. “How about you? Do you have any favorite date of ours in particular?”

You sigh, unsure why he’s even asking you all of this. Yet you indulge him anyway with, “I don’t think it classifies as a ‘date’, but I kinda liked it whenever you hung out with me in the clinic while I tended to some patients. Even if your presence there is an occupational hazard in itself.”

He snickers to himself, and you know damn well he still remembers the flock of fangirls that ran into him in the waiting room when Mingyu paid you a visit out of boredom. Thankfully, they were the respectful kind, and promised not to divulge information about Mingyu’s whereabouts whenever they catch him at your clinic.

“The dogs are always happy to see me,” he chuckles. “The cats, not so much. Oh, but remember when someone brought in their pet snake? I think that one had a crush on me.”

You do, in fact, remember the day Mingyu got bitten by a boa constrictor named Yujin. Her owner is one of your regulars, since other vets in the city don’t have reptiles under their area of expertise. Yujin hasn’t bitten anyone since she first came for a checkup, so you figure that Mingyu must have done something pretty stupid to provoke the aggression. 

“You better be glad constrictor bites aren’t venomous,” you point out with an airy laugh. “Not even a true love’s kiss can cure a venomous snake bite.” 

“It can cure a handful of other things though.”

You turn to glance at Mingyu with a miffed look at his attempt at smooth-talk. He’s always been this way, so it doesn’t particularly faze you. But it still feels surreal to be talking with him right next to the open sea in your hometown as you both wait for your father to arrive.

“I never really got to ask,” you murmur, eyes still trained on a flock of seagulls huddling together near the docks. “How are you? You’re not burning yourself out again, are you?”

You don’t see it, but Mingyu smiles to himself. “It’s in our job description to push ourselves past the limit, you know. But…honestly? It’s been pretty lonely.”

You make a face at that. “Lonely? You’re literally with twelve other guys, like, eighty percent of the time. How does it ever get lonely?”

Mingyu hums before leaning further over the railing. He looks up at the clear blue sky, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, and for a moment, you’re a bit taken aback by how breathtaking he looks under the spill of morning sunlight. 

“You can still get lonely in the middle of all the noise,” he murmurs. “That’s why I was kind of glad I got to go back here for a while. I know I said I meant to help you out, but there might’ve been some selfish reasoning behind the choice, too.”

Your gaze softens at his words. Mingyu is one of the most intensely passionate members of their group, so it’s not hard to believe that he’s also one of those that ends up feeling this way. You remember having a similar conversation with him during a quiet night in your apartment, limbs tangled together under the sheets as he wonders if your lives would be different if he wasn’t an idol.

But of course, it’s your job to remind him that, even if it could become exhausting at times, he once dreamed of being where he is now. 

“They probably miss you already,” you say. “Don’t you guys usually film content for Chuseok?”

“Yeah, but all of that’s prerecorded. They’re all with their families right now, too.” 

“Really? What are you doing here then?” you tease.

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, lips curved into a lopsided smile that reminds you how it felt to catch feelings for him the first time.

“Who ever said you aren’t family?”

Unfair. He’s being so fucking unfair right now.

But you can’t even think about pushing him into the sea because your father has already made his entrance, waving at the two of you despite his hands being full of fishing paraphernalia. 

He sulks about how it took you so long to go back home, and you had to explain that things have been extra hectic at your clinic, especially when you inevitably earned the reputation of being ‘SEVENTEEN Mingyu and Seungkwan’s trusted veterinarian’ despite neither of them having dropped by since the breakup.

You don’t tell them that last part though. The last thing you need is for Mingyu to have something to gloat about.

“It’s a miracle how those nasty paparazzi folks from Dispatch haven’t caught on yet,” your dad says before climbing into the backseat of Mingyu’s company car. “Unless you’re already in cahoots with them? Remember, Kim Mingyu, leave my daughter out of any celebrity gossip! She’s already built a good name for herself.” 

A throaty laugh rumbles in Mingyu’s chest as he pulls out into the street. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. Protecting her has always been my top priority.”

Your father nods, seemingly pleased with his response. “Damn straight.” 

You don’t express any outward reaction to what Mingyu just told your dad, but you don’t resist when he reaches for your hand over the center console. 

The moment you he squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back. 

…

The rest of the day is packed with preparing lunch and dinner options for your other relatives in town. Having Mingyu on board is an undeniable asset, since the man knows his way around the kitchen even better than you do. It’s a little endearing to think that, even if it’s the first time he’s meeting your aunts and uncles and cousins, his personality makes him fit right in. 

Turns out, one of your cousins’ daughters is a huge fan, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Kim Mingyu smoking fish in the backyard of your parents’ house. She made him promise to sign one of her photocards before they leave—a request that your ex is all too happy to oblige. 

By dinnertime, most of the guests have already left, and it’s just you, Mingyu, and Haneul sharing the rice wine Mingyu brought for the occasion, with your parents having already retired for the night. You didn’t even tell him that your Mom wanted another taste of it, yet he delivered anyway. 

“How are you guys doing it?” Haneul whines, a bit red in the face since he’s already had a few beers before your cousins all left. “When my ex-girlfriend moved to another city, it only took two weeks for us to break up. Long distance is the bane of everyone’s existence.”

“Everyone but ours,” Mingyu says before clinking his glass with yours. “You just have to communicate with each other constantly. If you’re honest about everything both of you are feeling, then it’ll be easier to work things out together.”

It’s so easy for him to say these kinds of things. As if your relationship didn’t go to ruin because of the long distance that always kept the two of you apart. You feel a bit bad for having Mingyu lie to your brother right in his face, but you tell yourself that you’re already here anyway. 

You’ll just have to fake it until you make it.

“But what if the other party doesn’t want to talk about it?” Haneul sighs, tracing the rim of his own glass with his finger. “I wanted to make it work. I really did. But she… She didn’t even want to try anymore. Lost faith in us so quickly, I could hardly believe she even loved me.”

You know Haneul is just drunkenly rambling about his grievances with his ex. He called you about it a few years ago, long before you even met Mingyu, and you consoled him by saying that his ex-girlfriend never deserved his love in the first place.

But even if you know the circumstances that led to your split with Mingyu are completely different, you can’t help but find similarities between the stories. 

You broke up with Mingyu on the first day of spring. When the snow was just beginning to thaw, and the wind started to bring in a warmer climate. They’d just gone back from tour, and you know you’re not the only one feeling the tightly-wound strings of your relationship beginning to fray at the seams. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I don’t think we’re going to work, Gyu,” you murmured, not having the guts to meet his eyes. “I think it’s best if we just focused on our careers.”

You thought he’d throw a fit. Or at least ask you a bunch of questions. Did he do something wrong? Is he not enough? Yet Mingyu simply flashed you a sad smile before nodding right back at you.

“Okay,” he said with a kind of resignation that breaks your heart to hear. “Thank you for being with me all this time.”

In the present, Mingyu shifts beside you on the table—abruptly startling you out of that impromptu trip down memory lane. 

“Then, you’ll just have to take it in stride, Haneul-ah,” he murmurs before throwing back the rest of his drink. Mingyu manages a tight-lipped smile that pains you to look at. “If you really love her, you’ll respect whatever choice she’s come to make in the end. Even if that choice doesn’t involve you anymore. Even if it hurts to see her walk away after everything you’ve built together.”

When Mingyu turns to look at you, you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.

“It’s a good thing I never have to experience that with your sister, though. She loves me too much to let me go.”

Haneul huffs from across the table before rising to his feet. “You two are so in love it’s actually disgusting. You know what, let’s just go to sleep.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom as Mingyu gets ready to sleep. He seems to be talking to someone on the phone inside your bathroom, but you purposely decide not to listen in. It was probably his manager or one of the other boys checking in on him.

You don’t wait for him to finish when you climb under the sheets, leaving enough space for him to occupy on the mattress, should he decide to share it with you tonight. There’s also an extra blanket folded on his side of the bed, since Mingyu’s a notorious blanket hogger, and you’d rather not wrestle that six-foot hunk of muscle for warmth. 

Mingyu takes so long on that phone call of his that by the time he finishes, you’re already fast asleep, curled up while facing the wall so you wouldn’t have to face him. He chuckles, lingering just a few seconds longer by the doorframe of the bathroom. How long has it been since he’s last seen your face under the peaceful guise of slumber? 

It’s been too long, and he isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to commit the sight into memory.

…

Sometime in the middle of the night, you’re rudely roused by the sudden drop in temperature.

It’s only the beginning of autumn, but you noticed that it’s a lot colder than usual. Even if you already have a cozy blanket draped right on top of you. You sigh, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable before realizing that you’re not exactly alone. 

Much like yourself, Mingyu is blinking out the drowsiness in his eyes as he turns to look at you with a question in his sleepy gaze. You shake your head in a wordless attempt to tell him not to worry. 

“You’ve been tossing and turning for thirty minutes now,” he says, and hearing his throaty voice in person doesn’t even compare to that phone call you shared a week ago. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “It’s cold, and it isn’t even winter yet.”

He looks at you for a while, as if thinking of what to say before he reaches out for you and tugs you into his arms. Even if you’re practically half-asleep, the sudden action kickstarts your brain into motion, and you struggle against his grip all while whispering, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“You told me back then I’m as good as a furnace on cold days,” he mumbles as he tucks you into his chest—making you hyper aware of every ridge of his toned chest through his shirt. “If it bothers you so much, just think of it as a favor from one friend to another. How’s that sound?”

Friend. You know that’s all that Mingyu is to you these days, and all you are to him, but even in this drowsy haze you’re in, the word still feels like an insult. A word meant to scorn the time you’ve spent as lovers. 

Just thinking about Mingyu as a friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, so instead of answering him, you cave and burrow yourself into his warmth—something that he seems pleased with, if the satisfied sound that rumbles in his chest is anything to go by. 

He holds you in his arms the same way he did last Christmas, but there’s an unfamiliar sense of possessiveness sinking uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You know you shouldn’t think of what he’s doing as anything but a favor between friends. You’re perfectly aware that, as the person who officially ended things between the both of you, you have no right to yearn for something you already gave up on.

But when Mingyu tilts your head up so you can meet his sleepy eyes, you don’t even put up a fight when he presses his lips to yours.

It doesn’t seem like he planned on doing anything beyond that. In fact, you don’t think he meant to do it at all. Just a heat-of-the-moment decision that the two of you could just forget about come morning. 

However, the moment he starts to pull away, you force a hand across the back of his head, crushing your lips back together as you hook one of your thighs across his hips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, large hands migrating to your waist as he reciprocates your newfound hunger like you knew he would. His touch leaves trails of fire tingling across your skin, and every time his canines graze your bottom lip, you quietly moan into his mouth.

This is stupid. You’re both being incredibly stupid. The walls are anything but soundproof, and your parents are sleeping just across the hall.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Mingyu is making your body remember what it feels like to have him all over you like this.

You missed him. His heat. His touch. His kiss. Everything. You missed him so much that it hurts. You missed him so much that when Mingyu’s fingers start to glide along the exposed flesh of your thighs, you detach your lips from his before pushing him away.

You missed Kim Mingyu with the intensity of a dying star collapsing in on itself, of black holes tearing through reality, but this isn’t how you should go about it.

“Let’s…” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice to carry out your message. “Let’s just sleep.”

Mingyu doesn’t argue. He rarely does. But neither do you when he tugs you back in the caging embrace of his warmth. 

For the first time in weeks, you find yourself drifting off into undisturbed slumber.

…

The next morning, you’re set to go back to Seoul, and by some stroke of luck, so is Mingyu. Still, the two of you decide to stick around until lunch time—neither of you breathing a word about what just happened last night.

But while Mingyu starts to load both of your things into the trunk of his car, your mother asks you for a favor at the last minute.

“Can you bring Namja along with you back to the city?” she asks. “He’s been really listless before you and Mingyu arrived. Your father and I were starting to get worried, and figured you might have to do a check up first.”

You raise an eyebrow at her claim, not really noticing anything amiss about your retriever’s health, aside from the usual signs of age. He’s ten years old, turning eleven this year, so it isn’t such a mystery to see that Namja isn’t as hyperactive as he was as a puppy. But then again, your mother has spot-on intuition about all the strangest things, so you indulge her request in the end. 

Besides, having a pet of your own to keep you company doesn’t sound so bad.

Fortunately, Mingyu is more than hospitable when you ask if you could bring Namja along for the ride—promising that he’s car-trained, and won’t make a mess as long as you pull over from time to time. In fact, your ex seems more elated with the idea of your goldie joining the road trip than you are.

“I can come visit Namja in Seoul whenever I want now, right?” he asks with a soft laugh, and you wanted to reply with, Yeah, if you aren’t always so far away, that is, but choose not to. 

The two of you take shifts in driving as usual. Whoever isn’t behind the wheel is in charge of entertaining Namja in the backseat so he wouldn’t end up whining for attention the whole drive back. It’s a setup that you’re pretty okay with, since it minimizes any sort of window for you and Mingyu to have a conversation. God knows you’re not exactly ready to talk about…whatever happened last night. 

So instead, you ask him about a bunch of trivial things so he doesn’t get any ideas.

“You sure your manager is okay with you returning the car while it reeks of Namja?” you laugh before switching lanes on the freeway. “He might not take the news that he sheds very lightly.” 

Mingyu chuckles before scratching behind Namja’s ears. “I promised I’d have it cleaned before I returned it to the office building. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm. Whatever you say.”

By your third stop-over, you decide to give Namja some food and water while Mingyu gets takeout for the both of you at a nearby fast food chain. You stretch out your limbs while your retriever happily laps from his water bowl, wondering how much longer it’s going to take before you reach Seoul. 

Before you have to part ways with Mingyu again.

You’re startled out of your train of thought when you see Mingyu practically sprinting back to the car, his sunglasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. Namja glances up at him quizzically, and you have to stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, a bunch of fans spotted me in line, so we might have to get food back in the city instead,” he explains hurriedly as he helps tidy up Namja’s food and water bowls. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

After his meal, Namja is sated and sleepy—content with resting his head on your thigh as you watch the streetlights blur past the windows. Mingyu is a much faster driver than you are, so he’s able to cut the travel time shorter than it would have been had it been you behind the wheel. But the lack of anything to do has you quietly staring at Mingyu from the backseat while his eyes are glued to the road.

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his strong arms, and the fact that you were tucked safely between them the night prior. But that’s your first mistake because now, you’re thinking about those desperate kisses you shared in the privacy of your room. Touching each other like you both feared the other would disappear if you didn’t pull them close enough.

You shake your head. No. This isn’t how friends should think about each other. 

Whatever happened back in Haenam, you’re just going to have to leave it there.

It’s already past eight in the evening when Mingyu eases the car into your neighborhood, and you try not to think much of the fact that he still knows where you live. 

“Guess that concludes our weekend getaway,” Mingyu says the moment he finishes helping you carry your stuff back inside your apartment. “Though it seems that someone’s getting pretty cozy really quickly.”

Namja is already familiarizing himself with his new home, wandering around the living room all while sniffing everything in his path. You stifle a soft laugh.

“Yeah. I guess it is,” you murmur before managing a kind smile. “Thanks for having my back, Mingyu. It…means a lot. Really, it does.”

He laughs softly, eyes trailing around the living room with a curiosity that isn’t so different from Namja’s. “You have your first boyfriend with you now. I can rest easy knowing you’re in good company.”

Your face flushes at the thought that Mingyu still remembers the reasoning behind Namja’s namesake. Namjachingu. When he was still a puppy, you said Namja was your first boyfriend, and that you didn’t need anyone else. 

He lived up to his title for years, too—always acting hostile around past boyfriends that you did end up bringing to your parents’ house despite coming from a friendly breed. The only boyfriend that your first boyfriend seemed to approve of is the man standing right in front of you, just when you thought you would never see him again within the four corners of your house.

“You know,” Mingyu begins, hesitation crossing his face for a split second before he meets your eyes. “My family’s in Seoul for Chuseok, too. I told Minseo to bring Bobpul and Baptori, and you might want to schedule a little playdate between my kids and yours.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Aji?”

“Too old to travel around,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure the other two can keep Namja company just fine. Join us tomorrow for dinner. What do you say?” 

You hesitate. This should’ve been where you drew the line. Mingyu has already helped you out of your initial predicament. You really shouldn’t create any more problems for yourself by joining his family for a late Chuseok dinner. In fact…

“What, you haven’t told your family that we split either?” you ask, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“No, they know.” Mingyu shakes his head. “But they’ve always liked you too, so I see no harm in getting everyone to hang out in one place.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “You know this is just going to make things more complicated, right?”

When he flashes you that toothy grin, you already know that this is a losing battle. 

“It does, but it’s still going to be fun,” he says. “So, are you coming?” 

Sometimes, you wish you never met Mingyu at all. Maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

“Fine.”

…

The next day, you bring Namja to the clinic, and Chae is more than happy to see the brand new addition to the workforce. But while she’s giving your goldie more pets than he probably deserves, you ask if you have any clients coming this morning that called in advance.

“Oh, there’s this one guy who’s bringing in a maltese today,” she says, laughing a little when Namja whines at the fact that her attention is divided. “I think his name was… Seungkwan? Something like that. He has some records from last year, but he hasn’t been back since.”

Seungkwan’s coming today? Huh. Talk about coincidence.

You tell Chae about how Seungkwan and Mingyu belong to the same group, and your receptionist is adept enough to catch on to what you’re trying to say. She’s all too quick to suggest plans on how to mitigate the fans from flocking the entrance to the clinic, like that one time when Mingyu was too lax in disguising himself from anyone who could recognize him. 

But when Seungkwan arrives at your door, you remember that he’s one of the members that doesn’t particularly like being crowded by people, even if they are his fans.

He’s dressed discreetly—dark shades, a beanie, and a black face mask—while carrying an adorable pet carrier that’s probably worth half your monthly salary. Seungkwan is so straight-to-the-point with carrying out his business with you, that it’s hard to believe you and him used to joke around like old friends a year ago. 

But for some reason, when Chae excuses herself to answer a phone call, the façade he puts up falls apart in seconds.

“Noona, you have no idea how much I missed you!” he wails before throwing his arms around you. “Other vets just don’t cut it for Bookkeu! They’re always either too mean or too lax with her. You handled her just right today. Can’t believe Mingyu-hyung always calls you her worst enemy.”

You chuckle before patting his back, and Seungkwan pulls away with a pout on his face. “Hey, you guys are the ones who ghosted me after Mingyu and I broke up. You’re always welcome to come back to have your pets checked—non-showbiz girlfriend or not.” 

“That hyung of mine is stupid,” Seungkwan scoffs as he scoops Bookkeu into his arms. “Well, you’re kind of the same way, but I can’t exactly call you stupid or you might take it out on Bookkeu—”

“I would do no such thing, Seungkwan-ah,” you complain. 

“Okay, it’s just my personal opinion that maybe you two didn’t have to split up at all,” he huffs. “Mingyu-hyung has become more and more listless since you broke up with him. He might look like his usual self on camera, but when we’re not recording anything? He’s always so lost in thought! It gets on Coups-hyung’s nerves sometimes.”

Listless, huh… 

Your mother said the exact same thing about Namja. Speaking of, your gaze drifts over to your goldie who’s staring outside the door to your clinic, like he’s waiting for Chae to come back and shower him with attention again. 

Is Seungkwan insinuating that he and Mingyu aren’t so different?

“Maybe he’s just going through a blue period,” you suggest before writing up a prescription for the vitamins that Bookkeu will have to take for the next two weeks. “It’s been so long since we broke up. I doubt he’s acting that way because of me.”

Seungkwan breathes in deeply, like he’s just barely able to contain the urge to slap some sense into you. “Noona, listen to me. Kim Mingyu is catastrophically in love with you. When you called that night when we were sharing a hotel room in New York, it was the first time I saw him look so genuinely happy for reasons that aren’t related to our music. But that hyung of mine is too selfless for his own good.”

You startle a bit when he suddenly lifts Bookkeu closer to you and points her adorable face in your line of sight. 

“He wants you back, but he’ll never admit it, especially when you made your choice clear all those months ago,” Seungkwan says before pushing his maltese even closer to you. “But now, something tells me that you’re still hung up on him, just as much as he’s hung up on you—if all the things he told me about your trip to Haenam are true, that is.”

Huh. That time he took so long in the bathroom… He must’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“Okay, but why does it feel like you’re using Bookkeu to threaten me into doing something?” You laugh softly. “Seungkwan, our time is up. And it’s not something we can just take back whenever we feel like it.”

“Wh—! Don’t you think things are only that way because both of you are making it more complicated than it should be?” He sighs, exasperated. “Also, yes I am using Bookkeu to threaten you. Promise that you’ll at least talk to Mingyu-hyung about this? We can’t stand seeing him so out of it anymore. Come on, you can’t resist those cute puppy eyes, right?”

You sigh, half-considering pointing out that Bookkeu is, by no means, a puppy anymore, but then again, you still call Namja that despite being more than a decade old.

“Alright, alright,” you relent. “I’m meeting his family tonight for dinner anyways. Might as well clear the air.”

Seungkwan gasps, a comical expression rooting itself on his face. “See! You’re having dinner with his family, too?! If you’re not back together by the time we fly back to the U.S., I'm never talking to either of you ever again.”

Now, it’s your turn to pout. “Who are you going to go to for Bookkeu’s check-ups then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before letting out a petulant huff. You can’t help the snicker that bubbles in your chest as Seungkwan tilts his chin up with indignance. 

“Point taken,” he says before narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at you. “But I’m expecting Kim Mingyu to come back to the dorms later, happy and not heartbroken. Okay?” 

You raise your hands before handing him your written prescription. “No promises.”

When Chae returns inside the clinic, you physically have to hold Namja down just so she can give Seungkwan a receipt for today’s visit. Your mother was right, he definitely was growing lonely back in Haenam. You haven’t seen him this excited in years. 

Seungkwan bids you another, more formal goodbye, now that you're not alone anymore. He doesn’t need to reiterate what he asked of you out loud—the look in his eyes is already telling enough. 

Given that today is a bit of a slow day, you decide to run a few diagnostic tests on Namja just to confirm whether or not he’s silently carrying some sort of disease. But all his results came out normal, except for a clinically insignificant but still noticeable increase in his body sodium levels. Might have to cut down the treats for a few days. 

Otherwise, he’s happy and healthy ten—going eleven—years into his lifespan. The reason for his lethargy back home must have something to do with innate loneliness after all.

Then you remember what Seungkwan told you about Mingyu. How he hasn’t really been himself since the breakup. You never really felt that during your time together in your hometown. He’s still the effortless charmer that you once fell in love with. The big softie that can get along with anyone and everyone, given the right circumstances.

Mingyu has always been a people pleaser. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience others. So it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s been so out of it that even Seungcheol is starting to get pissed with his behavior. 

The sound of Namja barking jolts you out of your thoughts before your goldie pads over to where you’re seated behind your desk, whining as he nuzzles your hands as if he knows you’re thinking a bit too hard about something distressful. You let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind his ears just like you know he likes.

“I wonder what I’m supposed to do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should’ve been born as a dog instead. Thinking about all of this is giving me a headache.”

Namja growls before barking again. Like he doesn’t approve of the idea of not having you as his fur parent. You let out another laugh that’s a lot less quiet before you decide to pull out your phone and shoot Mingyu a text.

Are you picking me up later or not?

…

Dinner with Mingyu’s family is splendid

The outdoor restaurant his mother booked in advance probably serves the best songpyeon you’ve ever tasted in your life. Add that to the fact that they accommodate pets in their alfresco area, this could easily be one of the next places you’ll take your own parents for a meal when you bring them to Seoul for a quick getaway. 

Namja is a bit shy around other animals—a result of being around no one but your family for so long. But when Minseo introduces him to both Bobpul and Baptori at the same time, the two little rascals easily coaxed your senior citizen goldie out of his shell. Next thing you know, they’re running around the outdoor dining area like a bunch of energetic pups.

“Unnie, are you back together with this guy?” Minseo asks in the middle of dessert, pointing her spoon accusingly at Mingyu. “You can do so much better than him, though.”

Their father laughs at their youngest’s comment, and their mother rubs Mingyu’s back as if she agrees, yet still wishes to console her son regardless. Mingyu is simply scowling at his family for how quick they are to throw him under the bus.

“Shut up, you sound just like Seungkwan,” he whines. 

“Well, we’re both right.”

You let out a laugh of your own before scooping some ice cream into your mouth. Then, tentatively, you say, “Don’t say that. Gyu wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, you know?” 

“He’s always so busy though. Doesn’t even have time to come visit Bobpul and our other dogs anymore,” Minseo sulks. “He even missed my graduation! Can you believe it?”

Mingyu pouts. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” 

She huffs. “Not sorry enough!”

“Well, for starters, even if he is ridiculously busy, he still makes sure to call me before he goes to bed after a particularly tough schedule,” you say. “He also answers my calls even if our time zones are different, and it’s an ungodly hour where he currently is. Then when he finally comes back to Korea, he’ll give a bunch of gifts that reminded him of me on his trip overseas.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do so, but the words just gush out naturally. It was a little difficult the first time Mingyu had to hop on a plane to some other country to film some content with the boys, but you eventually got used to it, and managed to make a couple work-arounds.

Now that you think about it, if you were so used to it, why’d you decide it was best for you to part ways when he got back from tour? It’s been so long that you don’t even know the logic behind the reasoning anymore. You just remember feeling like it was the best decision at the time. And you were right—your careers have definitely thrived even after the breakup.

As you continue telling Minseo and their parents about how much of a catch the eldest son of the Kim family really is, you fail to notice the way Mingyu’s eyes never leave you the entire time. Soft, with just a hint of yearning that you’ll only be able to notice if you knew what you were looking for. 

“Ugh, fine,” Minseo huffs, and you don’t think she and Seungkwan are all that different from each other. “This is the first time I’ve seen a couple that’s broken up months ago talk about each other so fondly, still. You sure you two aren’t secretly dating again?”

“Minseo,” their mother scolds before flashing you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her. Minseo’s just been really snappy lately. Must be because she missed Mingyu here very much.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll miss that credit-grabbing punk. He didn’t even acknowledge me in his latest Instagram post!”

“Speaking of dating again,” their father interjects before taking a sip of his wine. “Minseo’s right about one thing at least. You and Mingyu still have chemistry after so long. What’s stopping you from getting back together again?”

At your side, Mingyu flashes his father a cautionary look. “Dad, that’s a really inappropriate question, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. This old man is really just…curious, so to speak.” 

He bows his head slightly, and you make a little gesture that insists you took no offense. But the inquiry definitely made you think for a moment.

It’s like everyone you know completely supports the idea of you and Mingyu just burying the hatchet and rekindling your relationship. But didn’t they consider the logistics of it? You’re a full-time vet and Mingyu’s a full-time idol that travels out of Korea at least once a month. Though you’re a bit unsure of it now, that still played a part in why you called it quits in the first place.

Even when Mingyu took it upon himself to drive you and Namja back to your apartment, his father’s question still lingers in the back of your mind. 

What’s stopping you from getting back together again? 

The answer is pretty simple, but it’s not something you’re ready to face just yet.

It’s you. You’re the only one keeping yourselves from reigniting what you once thought was already lost. Your guilt. Your regrets. Your fears. You didn’t need a verbal confirmation to know that Mingyu would drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant you’ll take him back again. But as much as your friends joke about how you deserve better than Mingyu, you’re convinced it’s the other way around.

Mingyu deserves someone who can reciprocate the love he’s so willing to give tenfold. Someone who doesn’t flake out when he needs them most. 

Someone who isn’t you.

When he pulls over a red light, he lets out a sigh as he checks the text messages that popped up on his phone. After a few scrolls he says, “Oh. Jeonghan-hyung texted about some party in Gangnam. Do you want to—”

“Gyu,” you whisper, eyes riveted on the busy street. “What are we doing?”

He blinks. “Celebrating Chuseok together?”

“But we’re friends right?” You laugh somewhat bitterly. “Friends don’t normally celebrate the entirety of their Chuseok weekend bonding with each other’s families. Friends don’t make out with each other in the middle of the night. And…”

You let out a shuddering sigh before adding, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me.”

You can clearly hear the sound of his breath hitching even if you don’t turn to look at him. It seems like he was about to say something in return, but the stoplight turns green, and he’s back to pulling his focus on the road instead of you.

In the backseat, you can hear Namja whining—ever the empath, that one. You immediately feel him pawing against your seat, as if silently asking what’s wrong. Turning around, you give him a few reassuring pats, not wanting to get claw marks all over Mingyu’s borrowed car.

The two of you are completely silent as he walks you back to the front door of your apartment. You know he didn’t have to, yet he did anyway. How Mingyu of him.

When you finally muster the courage to look up at him and bid him good night, Mingyu grabs your wrist—forcing you to meet his desperate gaze. 

“If I told you I wanted you back, would anything change? No, right?” he whispers, voice tinged with so much emotion, you can feel your own heart ache at the sound of it. “So I’m sorry if I’m being selfish for inviting you to every place I could think of. If I want to spend as much time with you as I can because I know I won’t ever get the chance to do so if I let this pass.”

When he presses your foreheads together, the look in his eyes is so smoldering, you can’t bear to look away. This is what a man that’s been yearning for you for months looks like, it seems. 

And you don’t think you can keep resisting him for long.

“Before I get thrown back into that haywire of a schedule again,” he whispers, and you feel every breath fan across your skin, “can’t you at least let me have this? Let me have you?” 

You don’t even know who it is that lunges in for the kiss. The next thing you know, Mingyu has you pressed up against your front door, devouring your lips where all your neighbors can see. But you don’t care. Not when he’s desperately holding your body flush against his as you reclaim what’s always been yours.

He whispers a bunch of things along the column of your neck as he loosens the strings holding your dress together from behind. Some sweet, some endearing, and others a touch too filthy for others to hear aloud. You stifle your little gasps when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, nudging your thighs apart with his knees so you can feel the hardness straining against his middle.

“It’s you,” he murmurs against your feverish skin, teeth grazing across your flesh ever-so lightly. “It’s always been you. And it will always be you.” 

You know Mingyu is a good actor. But it’s so earth-shatteringly different to hear the raw desperation in his voice. How earnest he is in telling you just how much he still loves you without saying the words outright. You can only dream of being as honest with your true feelings as he is. 

But tonight, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself fall.

In the midst of your mounting desire for each other, though, a lone whine in the night snaps both you and Mingyu out of your newfound vigor. You nearly forgot about Namja, who’s impatiently waiting for either of you to open the front door so he can finally take a nap. You glance at Mingyu, and he glances right back, before the two of you burst out laughing like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world.

Once you’ve gotten your needy retriever settled outside, Mingyu practically tosses you on the bed the moment the door to your room clicks shut—all too eager to cage you between his arms as he continues where you left off. 

The suit he wore tonight looked a bit too good on his frame, but now you want nothing more than to claw it off him. He chuckles, sensing your desperation as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his dress shirt along the way.

“I don’t remember you being this desperate for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down to grasp your face as he strokes your heated skin with his thumb. “I can’t say I hate the development though.”

“Mingyu,” you whimper as you guide his thumb to your lips, suckling on it in a way that you know makes him lose his mind every time. “Please. I want you.” 

It’s so easy to be honest with yourself. You wonder why you’ve struggled with doing that for so long, but then you remember that your brain is fogged with desire for the man that’s currently staring you down like he’s doing everything in his power not to fuck you into the mattress right away. 

But at that moment, you throw all logic and caution in the wind in exchange for taking even more of Mingyu’s thick fingers into your mouth.

“So good for me,” he whispers when he sees you inch your knees apart to welcome him in between. The hand that’s not being fellated by your tongue finds its way to the apex of your thighs—cupping your clothed heat in a way that makes you moan around his fingers. “How badly do you want me, sweet thing?”

“So, so badly,” you manage to wrench out despite your mouth being full, rutting your hips to introduce some friction between your aching pussy and his hand. “Please, Gyu…”

When he’s satisfied, his free hand migrates to your thighs, spreading you further apart as he brings his lubricated fingers to your sopping core. There’s something so fucking hot in the way he just nudges your panties to the side—groaning when he finds you already soaked for him. 

“You need something to stretch out this pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe just the way you like it. “You want my fingers or my cock, babygirl? Better choose wisely.”

You want to say that you’re too fucking horny for foreplay, but also remember that each time you had sex with Mingyu in the past, the stretch of his massive cock can be quite uncomfortable if he doesn’t prep you. With how long it’s been since you’ve laid in bed together, you don’t want to rush into it without thinking of the consequences after.

So, you mewl, “Fingers first. Then your cock.”

Mingyu laughs—a deep, sexy sound—before planting a kiss on your nose. “That’s my girl.”

He carefully eases one digit into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reactions. Part of you wishes to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry so much. That you still trust him with your own body even after all this time. You don’t say anything aloud, but Mingyu seems to get the gist from the look in your eyes either way, surging forward so he can press his lips back onto yours as he loosens you up.

“You’re always so quick to get wet for me, baby,” he sighs, stifling the noise that escapes you when he slides in a second finger to test the resistance of your walls. “You’ve no idea how much I missed this. Missed you .”

“Gyu, I—” Your breath hitches once he curls his fingers just so, making your legs rise involuntarily off the mattress, but Mingyu pins one of your thighs down with his free hand. 

“What was that?”

He’s teasing. He rarely ever does that. You shoot him a petulant look before taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging hard enough to coax a groan out of him. 

“I missed you, too,” you whisper. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good.”

A dozen emotions flit through Mingyu’s face in the span of a millisecond, but the one that remains is something not so different from longing. You hear him sigh a couple of words that you don’t quite catch before he’s taking his fingers out of your sopping cunt and pulling away from you. Just when you’re about to voice out a complaint, he starts undoing his trousers, kicking them away to some uncharted part of your bedroom before working on the rest of his dress shirt.

Not-so-newsflash: your ex-boyfriend is still fucking hot. 

But he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re reacting to the sultry way in which he peels his clothes off—dark eyes still trained on your pliant form on the bed. As Mingyu palms himself through his boxers, you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. 

There was a time when he railed you so good, you legitimately couldn’t walk straight the next day. You wonder if he plans on reenacting the whole thing tonight.

“Let’s get you out of that dress, sweetheart,” he breathes before gently guiding you back into a seated position, tugging at the hem of your dress before tossing it to the side. 

You feel your cheeks warm when he stares at the underwear set you have on tonight. Plain cotton panties and plain cotton bra. In your defense, you really didn’t expect to get laid tonight. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Mingyu chuckles. It’s either he can read minds or he still knows you well enough to figure out what you’re thinking. “I’m taking everything off anyways.”

As he makes quick work of what’s left of your clothing, you distantly remember the last conversation you had with Seungkwan. How you told him you’d ‘clear the air’ with Mingyu right after having dinner with his family.

You’re pretty sure what you’re doing right now is only blurring the lines even more, but you don’t really fucking care right now.

You let out a hushed moan when Mingyu latches his mouth onto your nipple, massaging your other breast as he swirls the appendage across your sensitive skin. His free arm snakes itself behind the curve of your waist, pressing you against his firm body while rutting his hips against the bed. 

He’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, and it fills you with a heady sort of hunger that only Mingyu can alleviate.

“Can I?” he whispers.

You feel his teeth graze across the skin of your chest, making your toes curl with anticipation. It’s been a while, but you can’t easily forget how much of a biter Mingyu is in bed. He loves leaving his marks on your body, and even if you always complain about how hard it is to cover them up, you let him do as he pleases every single time.

“Yes,” you whimper, rubbing your bare pussy against the ridge of his abs. “Do whatever you want with me, Gyu.”

The sound you let out once he finally bites down is caught between a yelp and a moan, your fingers threading across his hair as he suckles on your skin. He’s such a talker in bed, too—whispering all sorts of endearments that are too soft for you to hear, but add fuel to your growing desire regardless.

“So fucking pretty,” he says once he detaches himself from your breasts and marvels at his own work. The fruit of his effort is yet to become visible, but he’s left enough angry red marks on your skin to guarantee the lovebites they’ll turn into come morning. “And it’s all for me.”

Lacing your fingers around his nape, you mold your lips together in another kiss, tongues dancing to the rhythm of your erratic heartbeat as you grind yourself against his toned stomach. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper against his mouth—hot and heavy. “I need you inside me. Need to get stretched on your cock.”

He groans again, fisting your hair so that he can kiss you even deeper. As he busies you with his mind-numbing kisses, Mingyu gets rid of his boxers in a flash—positioning himself between your thighs. You nearly cry out when you feel the fat head of his cock sliding against your soaking slit. When he grazes your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn tears started together in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, babygirl, so fucking wet for me,” he sighs as he lays you back down on the bed and eases your knees further apart. 

You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, still as long and girthy as you remember. Mingyu pumps his length all while sliding the head across your cunt, but you let out another desperate mewl to just fuck you already. 

“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Let me take my time with you, sweetheart. I want you to commit all of this to memory. Gonna have you feeling me inside you for days.”

And you don’t doubt that. Kim Mingyu has a knack for making it hard for people to forget about him, and if he plans to fuck the shape of his cock into your pussy, who are you to complain?

When you feel his cock catch across your entrance, you genuinely wonder if it’s going to hurt. Mingyu’s attempt at foreplay was cut halfway through because he got distracted by his sudden desire to leave a trail of love bites all over your breasts. But the thing about having sex with Mingyu is that your comfort is his top priority. 

He would never do anything that he knows can hurt you.

“I’ll go slow, alright?” he whispers, and all you can manage is a nod. “Words, baby. You have to talk to me so I’ll know if you really want it.”

“Gyu,” you whine, arching your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to fuck into you. “I’m alright. Anything you do is alright with me, just— Please. Please fuck me full.”

He sighs, staring down like he doesn’t know what to do with you before finally, finally, you feel his dick breach your entrance—pushing inch by delicious inch inside you with restrained hunger. You fist the sheets at the familiar stretch, but it’s not so uncomfortable that the sensation burns. You’ve taken Mingyu’s cock dozens of times before, and it seems that your body still knows how to accommodate his ridiculous size.

“Pretty pussy’s happy to see me again,” he chuckles, his grip on your thighs tightening ever-so slightly. “Still made to fit me so snuggly. Did you miss my cock, sweet thing? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

“Yes,” you drawl. “Missed your cock so fucking much, Gyu. Fuck—”

You feel so hot, so full. It’s like Mingyu’s the only thing you’ve ever known—surrounding you in every direction until all that floats in your lust-addled mind are the letters of his name. Once he buries himself to the hilt, Mingyu doesn’t move right away, still so attentive to your reactions that even if you want nothing more than for him to rail you into the mattress, he won’t press forward until he’s sure you’re ready.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you need more time to get used to me?”

Something similar to a growl reverberates in your chest as you stare at Mingyu hard. “What I need is…for you to fuck me until I black out.”

Mingyu’s lips turn up into a grin as he shakes his head. “Baby, the last thing I want to be is some sex-deprived savage after we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, he leans forward on the bed again, bringing his lips right next to your ear.

“But I can still make you feel good.”

He prefaces the words with a powerful thrust that you don’t expect, splaying your thighs further until they’re flat against the mattress. The slide of his cock still feels so unbelievably good that even if the sudden stretch should’ve been uncomfortable, you’re too blindsided by the pleasure to notice. 

Your eyes trail across the beautiful man above you as he fucks you in his favorite position. Mingyu has always had a thing for missionary—something about wanting to see your face as he wrecks you. You think you’re starting to share the same sentiment because not only do you get to see his fat cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt, but you can admire all of him at once, as well.

The exertion in those toned arms with every forward thrust. The conspicuous outline of his pecs. That toned fucking stomach. That gorgeous fucking face, so lost in the velvet heat of your pussy—

Why did you ever think letting someone like this go was a good idea?

“You’re going to laugh at me for this but,” Mingyu breathes, chuckling to himself. “I think I’m kinda close.” 

You do laugh, but it’s quickly silenced when one of his fingers finds your clit, rubbing it in quick, precise circles like he hasn’t forgotten how to get you off after all this time.

“I am, too,” you tell him. “Cock so fucking good, you can make me come in minutes.”

Mingyu lets out another guttural noise as he presses your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulder with a look in his eyes that promises nothing but pleasure. Though his fingers have departed your puffy clit, the angle he has you bent in has his cock easily grazing your g-spot with every thrust—reducing you into a pathetic, mewling mess underneath him.

“Your pussy’s a fucking drug, babygirl,” he sighs. “Haven’t wanted anyone else after you.”

Even in your cock-drunk haze, those words bring forth some semblance of clarity within you. But it’s immediately snuffed out when Mingyu amps up the cadence of his thrusts, fucking into you with the intention of bringing you to completion at the same time he achieves it. Your eyes are screwed shut, fingers finding purchase across the ripping muscles of his back as you babble an incoherent mantra of yes, yes, so close, so fucking close, love how you fuck me, love how you make me feel full—

And then, it’s over—a white hot flash like stars bursting behind your eyelids. You curl into Mingyu’s embrace as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, and he’s all too glad to help you ride it out, pistoning inside your spasming walls with a rhythm that’s starting to stagger. 

“So goddamn tight,” he growls. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”

You’re still too blissed out to give him a proper response, but from the way your legs tighten themselves around his waist, Mingyu figures that that’s the green light he needs to make a mess out of you. Mingyu sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck before biting down—his cock twitching in the heat of your cunt as his release gushes into you in thick globs.

He comes so much that when Mingyu does pull out of your abused pussy, his essence trickles out of your hole as you do your best to catch your breath. The world is just starting to return to its normal axis in your vision, and the first thing that your eyes focus on is the sight of Mingyu smiling at you so fondly, it makes your heart hurt.

The look scares you. Like he’s about to say something that you don’t know how to respond to. 

So instead of giving him any leeway for conversation, you tug him back down into a tongue-filled kiss, rubbing your ruined pussy across his still hard length as you mewl against his lips.

“More,” you whimper. “I need more, Gyu.”

And he’s all too happy to oblige.

Mingyu slides himself back inside you with an ease that wasn’t present earlier—your mixed arousal acting as a good enough lubricant to accommodate him. His erratic breathing as he fucks his cum deeper inside you only serves to turn you on even more, making another orgasm creep ever-so slightly beneath your skin. 

“Babygirl can’t get enough of this cock, can you?” he sighs. “Seems to me like your pussy never wants me to leave.”

“Yes!” you hiss, moving your hips in time with his as you desperately claw at his back. “Love your cock so much, please—”

“Come for me again, sweet thing, I know you can do it.”

It’s unbelievable how a few choice words can get your body to submit to his whims without much thought. Unlike your first orgasm, the second one that Mingyu coaxes out of you singes through every functional nerve-ending in your body—sending you into a flurry of overstimulation that has you twitching under his touch. 

Just when you thought Mingyu’s finally done with you, however, he suddenly flips you onto your stomach—pressing your chest against the mattress while your ass is high in the air. The sudden change in positions makes your head spin, but you’re too dazed to protest.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s showing you that same smile you fell in love with a lifetime ago.

“You can give me a few more orgasms, right, baby?” 

When he slides his still hard cock along your swollen cunt, you groan into the sheets—having momentarily forgotten that Mingyu’s stamina can go until morning. If you don’t stop him now, he might actually fuck you until you black out, despite his earlier refutal.

But honestly? You’re not against the idea. Not one bit.

…

When you wake up the following day, it’s to cold sheets and the startling clarity of Mingyu’s absence.

You never minded living alone. You’ve been doing it since your first year of college here in Seoul. You’re used to waking up with nothing but the silence of your room to keep you company.

Even when you eventually got together with Mingyu, lonely mornings have always been a staple, especially on days where he has early schedules. It fills you with a sinking feeling to see that he isn’t with you, but you’ve learned to take it in stride. 

Besides…it’s not like you’re together anymore now.

This is what you wanted, right? For him to not treat…whatever this is as if it’s a relationship thing. The two of you were just heavily pent up, and caved into your mutual desires last night. There’s nothing more to it.

However, when you pad outside the bedroom after shrugging on a flimsy oversized shirt, the scent of pancakes and frying eggs fills your nose. When you see Namja sitting right next to a tall figure hunched over your stove, you can hardly believe your eyes.

He doesn’t notice you right away—too preoccupied with making the perfect breakfast to pick up on your presence. Namja, however, is more perceptive, glancing behind and perking up at the sight of you. He lets out an excited bark before skidding over to where you’re standing, and you crouch down to the floor so you can give him a tight hug.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Mingyu faces you with a smile that’s nearly blinding in the morning light, a spatula in one hand and a kitchen mitt in the other. It’s the exact same scene that you’re greeted with during lazy weekends where he doesn’t have any work to do, and your chest twists yet again at the memory.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile, rubbing Namja’s belly when he sprawls himself on the floor. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have to go back to New York tonight?”

“Yes, but it’s still morning,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

A few minutes later, Mingyu starts to set the table while you wash your hands. He tells you about how Seungkwan doesn’t want to room with him anymore over breakfast because Mingyu takes so long to close the lights when he’s binging a new drama. You tell him to be more considerate of his roommates or they might just dropkick him off the hotel room balcony in his sleep.

When you help him put away the dishes, the sight is so…domestic, it gives you whiplash. Bumping shoulders, splashing water, stifling mutual laughter... Being with him like this, tucked in your own little pocket of happiness makes your heart soar in ways that not even mind-blowing sex can help you attain.

You pray that Mingyu doesn’t breathe a word about it, but of course things don’t always go your way.

Just when you’re about to turn around to give Namja her morning fix of dog food, you find yourself trapped between the sink and Mingyu’s arms—unable to escape the fondness in his eyes even if you tried.

“I think,” he whispers, “we can still make this work. You and me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Gyu…”

You think so, too. With someone as understanding and compassionate as Mingyu, you know nothing’s impossible if you just quit being so stubborn. You were so afraid of him attempting to bring your relationship back to life last night, but…

Seeing him bathing under the sunlight in your kitchen after months of getting used to being alone again… 

Maybe it isn’t so bad to let him back inside your heart.

“O-Of course, you don’t have to answer right away,” he says, turning red in the face. Cute. “You can tell me when I get back from New York. How’s that sound?”

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but the moment is quickly shattered by the sound of Mingyu’s phone going off. He sighs, releasing you from the figurative cage of his arms as he leans against the sink right next to you—fishing his phone from his pocket before answering it in loudspeaker.

“Kim Mingyu, where the hell are you?!”

“Good morning to you, too, Seungkwan-ah,” he chuckles. “Why? What’s wrong? I told Jeonghan-hyung I won’t be coming back to the dorms until noon.”

“Well, Jeonghan-hyung must’ve forgotten to tell everyone else because the entire dorm panicked when we realized you didn’t make it home!” the younger man squawks. “We thought something bad happened! You weren’t answering your phone last night either!” 

You and Mingyu exchanged knowing looks, and you have to stifle your laughter if you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seungkwan’s rage, too.

“Sorry about that, I was a little…busy,” Mingyu supplies. 

“Well, whatever you’ve been ‘busy’ with, you better get your ass back here! Manager-hyung is looking for the car you borrowed, and if you don’t bring it back soon, he’s going to give all of us an earful.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be back in thirty. Bye, Seungkwan.”

“Hey—!” 

Mingyu ends the call with little remorse before letting out a long sigh. When his eyes dart back to yours, they flicker momentarily to your lips before he leans forward. You meet him halfway this time, pressing your mouths together in a firm kiss.

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ll still be willing to accommodate me when I do.”

Though it pains you, he peels himself away from your touch, leaning down to kiss Namja’s head as he gathers his coat in his arms. It just occurred to you that he’s been eating breakfast with you donned with the outfit he wore last night while you’re dressed in nothing but a loose, oversized shirt. The knowledge makes you blush a little.

When you hear Mingyu’s car drive away, you sigh, running your hands through your messy hair. Namja pads over to you, tail wagging as he anticipates another round of petting. Of course you indulge him.

“Kim Mingyu is such an idiot, isn’t he?” you tell your goldie, and you like to think the small huff he lets out means he’s agreeing with you. “Why wait until he comes back when I already have an answer for him?”

This time, Namja actually barks out loud, making you shake your head with a laugh.

You don’t mind waiting for Mingyu, really. He obviously doesn’t mind waiting for you. At this point, you’re at peace with the fact that you might still love him. Maybe, you never stopped loving him at all. Once he lands back in Korea and comes home to you, you promise yourself that you’ll definitely show him.

Again and again.

this is part of the doting on you! series.