#i don’t even know if this makes sense but … i love him so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pullupinarari · 1 day ago

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I feel so cold without you [LH]

summary: Lewis' schedule has been crazy, and he can't spend much time at home. but little Grace doesn't understand why.

author's note: I am still struggling with a writer's block so I'm so sorry cause this is honestly so bad and makes no sense, but I'm trying to get my creativity flowing again so pls bear with me. this is angsty but doesn't have a destructive ending. also barely proofread

• masterlist

wc: 5531 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Everybody knows that Lewis’ life involves traveling a lot, to different countries, continents, all the time - that’s not new to anyone. You met him in this reality, married him with this crazy agenda, and Grace was born in the middle of what you consider to be ‘normal’ for your life beside your husband.

As a couple, you always managed to deal with the schedules, the work trips, the races abroad. As a family, you learned how to juggle being a mum and a wife to a F1 driver, with your own work responsibilities, teaching little Grace the best you can all about why her dad has to be away so much.

When Lewis is away for a little time, your daughter understands it. She sees her daddy racing on the television, she chants his name as if she was there in person - she knows her dad is doing what he is best at, besides being the bestest daddy ever to her.

But Grace is very, very attached to Lewis, in the exact same way that Lewis is extremely attached to his princess, and they can’t stay away from each other for long. The problem is, for the past couple of weeks, your husband hasn’t been home.

Lewis was in Italy, preparing everything at Ferrari, and setting everything up for the day you and Grace will meet him there, at the new place that you will call ‘home’ for this new period of your life. Then, the driver had to fly with the team to Spain, to prepare for the pre-season. So, his schedule has been incredibly tight, leaving him with no chance of flying back to London, to his girls’ arms, even for just a night.

As the weeks pass by, your daughter starts growing confused. Daddy isn’t racing on the telly, he isn’t home to play with her, so the toddler could show him how she is feeling more confident to ride her pink bike, and the only time she sees him is through a video call that he does when calling you at the end of the day.

So, why is daddy not home to tuck Gracie into bed every night? To give her the special forehead kisses that only he knows how to do, the ones that would scare away all the monsters?

Inside the three-year-old’s brain, everything made more sense while she could see him driving his car on the television, listening to him talking on the interviews following the race, knowing for a fact that her daddy is working. And, as much as you keep telling the toddler that dad is at work, where is he working? Why can’t Grace watch him on the television now? And why can’t he come home?

It’s been too long - you know. You admit it too. But you can’t say that to your baby’s face, adding more to the exasperation living inside her confused mind. It’s already heartbreaking enough to see your daughter’s eyes growing sadder by the day, noticing how she grows quieter through the week, seeing the disappointment plastered all over her face every time you have to say ‘no’ whenever she asks ‘is daddy coming home today?’

The salty tears painting the toddler’s features when she begs her daddy to come home over the phone are enough to make yours and Lewis’ hearts sting with an indescribable pain - one that seems to never cease, no matter how hard you try to nestle her close to your chest, trying your hardest to shush her fears and insecurities, making her feel protected in the first home she ever knew - your skin.

- You don’t love me anymore, daddy? - Grace blurts out in between sobs, her little voice sounding muffled against your skin as she hides her face on the crook of your neck.

The words leaving her mouth were enough to make Lewis’ heart sink, making sure that question will forever be engraved in his mind, not letting him forget about this moment, about the hurt in his princess’ voice when wondering why he is not home with her.

The man is left speechless for a minute, feeling a bunch of hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as well. It has, definitely, been too long since he got to have a moment just for his family, dedicating all his hours to his favourite girls.

He knows exactly how Grace is feeling, because Lewis feels the exact same void fulfilling his days, desperate to have some free time so he can go back home as soon as possible. But unfortunately, everything has been too much, lately, and the driver’s schedule is not giving him a break.

- Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, princess, you know that… - Lewis’ trembling voice cuts his phrase short, swallowing the knot that’s stuck in the man’s throat as his daughter continues weeping on the other side of the line. - Then come home! I miss you so much, daddy - Grace insists, her sobs growing louder as the little girl tries to understand why her dad can’t be by her side, right now.

He wishes he could. Lewis feels every bone in his body frail at night, when he lays his head on the pillow and opens his camera roll, going back to every picture and video that reminds him of some moments when he genuinely felt happy and at peace - with Grace in his arms, with you by his side.

Tonight, some silent tears are finally freed from his eyes, looking at all the pictures of his child in his phone, while his brain is still replaying the toddler’s harsh question that she let out over the call earlier today.

Lewis feels this moment completely wrecking him, especially when he stops to think about all the videos you send him while he is away, updating him on every new achievement and discovery your daughter makes during the days, trying your best so your husband won’t feel like he is missing too much.

But he is. And he knows it - especially when he realizes how fast time passes by, how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for anyone. How does he know that tomorrow is coming? Your husband keeps waiting for it, hoping that a break will eventually arrive so he can go home, but he shouldn’t suppose that tomorrow is coming, because nothing in this world can assure him that there will be one. And that thought kills him, because while he is thinking about it, he realizes that it’s been five weeks since the last time he got to be home, tucking his daughter to bed.

The excited, bubbly Grace you know has been missing lately, leaving room for a sad and confused toddler to show up in her place - one that holds tighter to you when you hug her, when you’re holding her in your arms, kissing her curls as her lips just show you a downhearted pout.

As your child grows up, she finds new challenges in life, and dealing with new emotions definitely is one of them - and missing her daddy this much has been leading to a rollercoaster of questions to erupt in your baby’s creative mind. You tuck her into bed, but it’s not the same thing. Your kisses are sweet and protective, but they are not Lewis’ cuddles that make sure to create a shield around the little princess, making sure no monsters can reach her.

Your days have been hard as well, trying your best to deal with Grace’s doubts and tantrums, hushing her as you assure her that you are right there for her, informing her that her daddy will be by the girl’s side in no time. But, in the silent darkness of the night, heavy sighs escape your figure as well, loud noises of concern erupt in your mind, questioning if you are doing a good job, if you’re being a good mum, if you’re supporting your husband the right way. But, sometimes, you also ask yourself: where do you stand, in the middle of all this?

The arms that hold Grace are the same ones that hold Lewis when he needs it the most, you being the pillar of your family, holding everything in place when a storm threatens to push your boat away from safe land. Either way, you know better than to complain, understanding how this entire situation is hard for your husband as well, sharing the same pain and apprehension when you talk to him over the phone.

Feeling restless from so many sleepless nights, being haunted by the infinite thoughts running through his brain, the man finally managed to get a free day - just 24 hours, but enough for him to fly back home, accepting the short break if that means he can hold the light of his life in his arms for a bit, shushing away all the small weeps that leave the toddler’s figure.

Arriving early in the morning, you are already waiting to see your husband walking through the door, with a cup of warm tea in your hand. You can’t deny that there’s a small glimpse of nervousness bubbling inside of your stomach, at the thought of finally seeing him again, praying that his presence will lighten up the mood and help your daughter feel better.

You’re sipping on your tea when you hear the front door open. Shortly after, his shadow appears on the kitchen’s tiles, mere seconds before the man himself is in front of you - the shine in his eyes, the relieved smile cracking through his tired features is noticeable, as he immediately walks over to you.

Once your figures meet, Lewis wraps his arms around your figure, holding you close without saying a word, sharing a deep, tight hug while kissing your shoulder lovingly from time to time. There’s a heavy sigh leaving his body, as if being home is the magic solution that helps improve all his problems, taking a huge weight off his shoulders.

His face is glued to the crook of your neck for a while, as your fingers reach to caress his scalp. It feels like time has stopped, as if the world is not spinning anymore. Both of you are merged in a bubble of comfort and reassurance, almost making up for all the stress and agony that your parental hearts have been feeling lately.

When your lips finally connect again - after so long, a deafening silence is created between your bodies, as if your kisses speak for the two of you. I miss you, I need you, things have been so hard without you by my side. Both of you feel the same, both of you know how hard the past weeks have been for your family.

Breaking the kiss, your foreheads are still glued, the tips of your noses touching, wanting to feel the other as close as possible.

- She’s still asleep? - your husband breaks the silence, asking about Grace. He has very little time to stay, and he wants to enjoy every second by his daughter’s side. Still, the man can’t help but bite his own tongue as he looks at the time: it’s 7:24 am, and he knows that his baby usually doesn’t wake up that early.

He earns a nod from you. The little girl hasn’t had nice nights of sleep lately either, constantly waking up after having bad dreams, always begging you to cuddle her to sleep, to let her sleep by your side. To tell the truth, your heart softens every time that your daughter asks to sleep with you, loving how she helps you fight Lewis’ absence as well, you two cuddling each other so you don’t feel so alone without his bright, powerful presence around.

- She’s on your side of the bed, though - you inform him. Last night wasn’t any different. Another nightmare, another cuddle session in your bed before the toddler falls asleep again.

Lewis furrows his eyebrows at your words for a second, before remembering that you had already told him all about how Grace has been having more bad dreams than usual, especially since she started feeling so down, constantly asking if her dad doesn’t want to be around her anymore.

Again, a deep sigh leaves his lips, filling the air surrounding you. The memories of everything that his daughter has been saying, make an incredibly heavy weight to form on his shoulders, hating how he has to stay away for work so much, how he hasn’t been able to give his princess all the attention she needs and deserves.

Trying to shrug those thoughts away, the man serves himself a cup of coffee before reaching for your hand, guiding you to lay on the sofa with him, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest - starting with a cuddle session with his wife, until it’s time for Grace to wake up.

Having your husband’s arms wrapped around you again almost feels like a dream. Something that has felt so distant for the past weeks, that you were craving and needing so much. And now, you finally have him all to yourself, and as you rest your head on his chest, a comfortable silence strings your bodies along. No one dares to say a word, just focusing on how each other’s touch feels light yet soothing against the other’s skin, leaving kisses here and there, hugging tighter and closer.

In the back of your head, there’s a small assumption that keeps itching you. As much as you want to believe that he is home to stay - at least for a week or so, unfortunately, you noticed how small is the bag that he brought with him when he arrived. An incredibly small one, the type that Lewis only uses when he is only away for a weekend or so. So, as much as you want to make the most of this, the cuddles, his presence, you know it’s something that it won’t last.

It’s like Lewis can feel the tension that slowly creeps on your muscles the more you think about it, his hands rubbing your back to try and calm you down, showing that he is here, right by your side, trying to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you.

But in reality, he too has been obsessively thinking about the time passing by, how he needs to leave again in the middle of the night, not even being able to sleep beside his wife for an entire night - wanting nothing more than to cuddle you and Grace to sleep in his chest, protecting the loves of his life. But he can’t. Not tonight. And he knows that he hasn’t told you about it yet, but it’s like he can’t find the courage in his body to do it, to drop the bomb in your face, to ruin the moment you’re having right now. So he decides to keep it to himself, for now.

8:47 am, you and your husband are climbing up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where your daughter is still sleeping. Opening the door to her tiny figure wrapped in the sheets, her curls all over his pillow, truly is the sight that the man didn’t know he needed to heal every wound in his heart.

Lewis doesn’t even hold back, his body moving on its own as he sits at the end of the bed, on his side of the mattress that now apparently belongs to Grace, so he can have a better view of his baby’s features.

She looks gorgeous as ever, the most beautiful and precious thing that Lewis has ever laid his eyes on, the most important thing in the driver’s life, the owner of his entire heart, without a doubt. Some small tears tingle in his eyes as his fingers gently caress the toddler’s cheek, slowly nudging her so the girl can wake up.

- Princess - he calls quietly, before landing a small kiss on his child’s hand. - Time to wake up.

Slowly opening her eyes, the little girl rubs her features as she wakes up from her slumber. Her gaze immediately is glued to the figure in front of her, almost as if she is trying to make sense of reality, questioning if she is still dreaming.

- Daddy? - Grace whispers, before some tears appear in her eyes as Lewis nods at her question, getting close so he can hold her small body close to him.

Small cries escape the toddler’s figure, as she immediately wraps her arms around her dad’s neck, using all her strength to not let him go, scared that he might leave again if she breaks the hug.

Lewis can’t even describe the feeling washing over him as he can finally hold his daughter safely in his arms, noticing the scent of her baby shampoo, how her skin still holds his favourite smell ever. He can only take deep breaths, kissing the top of Grace’s head countless times, trying to calm himself down so as to not break down crying while holding his baby.

It’s an emotional sight, even for you , now that you are watching your two favourite people reunite, feeling your heart beating stronger in your chest, as if it’s being refilled with love again, after so many insecurities pooling over your head lately.

And your daughter’s cries quickly turn into an excited gasp that leaves her lips, forgetting about all the sadness that she was carrying lately - now being substituted by happiness, the genuine type, from having her father near her again.

Soon enough, the toddler is jumping on the mattress, giggling loud as she celebrates the fact that daddy is home again, and now he can have tea parties with her, she can show him how she has mastered all the techniques he has taught her about riding her pink bike, watch her favourite cartoons with her on the sofa, and do everything that the girl has been wanting to do with him while he was away.

Lewis giggles for a moment, before feeling a weight sinking in his chest again, remembering how he can’t do any of that with his princess, because he will leave again in a few hours.

- Daddy! Can we go see the cute ducks at the lake tomorrow? Mummy took me there the other day, and there are little ones now! You need to see them, they are sooo cute!! - Her excited tone, mixed with the puppy eyes that she is giving him, are enough to break the man’s heart. And he knows that his next words are about to break his daughter’s heart as well.

Sighing, he tries his hardest to find the right words to say it, but it’s like his brain just forgot every single one of them.

- Daddy can’t make it tomorrow, love. - the little girl furrows her eyebrows, not really understanding what her dad is trying to say. - Are you tired from the trip back home, daddy? It’s okay, we can go the day after tomorrow. We can just stay home and have a tea party instead? - her cute smile is just making everything hurt even more for him. - Bubs, daddy is only home for today. I have a day off work and came back to see you and mummy, but I have to leave again after you go to sleep tonight. - there it is, the words that he didn’t want to say, and the ones that no one in the room wanted to hear.

Your head hangs low as you hear it. Deep down, you already knew it. You knew it, as soon as you saw the bag that clearly showed that he wasn’t going to stay for long, when neither of you wanted to talk about the day he had to leave you two again. And now, you know why.

His words hit Grace like a million bricks, the poor little girl being met with reality once again as she tries her best to hold back the tears that still slide down her cheeks.

- You don’t love me anymore! You don’t want to spend time with me anymore! - the toddler screams before running away from her dad, hiding in between the four safe, pink walls of her room.

And again, Lewis is met with his daughter’s harsh words, that are enough to tear his entire world apart. He gets up from the bed, wanting to go meet his child again, only to be stopped by your hand, touching his chest in a silent ‘don’t’. He too can see the disappointment evident in your eyes before you break eye contact, turning your back on him as you go to your daughter’s room.

Your husband sits on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands as he rethinks every small decision that he has ever made, questioning why his schedule has to be so chaotic, why life can’t ease up on him a little more, so he can have some more time for his family. At this point, he doesn’t know what he can do to be better, to make things right, to make it easier for everybody, knowing for a fact that he has, above all, been failing his family lately: failing you as a husband, failing Grace as her father.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom a little bit, he can hear his baby’s loud cries again, as you hold her close in your chest, trying your best to calm her down again - something that has become a part of your routine already. And the sounds, the mental picture of what’s happening behind Grace’s bedroom door is enough to break him, to make some tears fall from his eyes as well as he clenches his fist, absolutely hating this entire situation, cursing himself from having to leave his family so soon.

Grace doesn’t know how to deal with these new emotions that have been erupting through her small figure lately. All she knows is that she is sad, very sad. And very confused with her dad’s agenda, not understanding why this is making her chest hurt, only making her cry out more, feeling scared with the discomfort that these newfound emotions provide her.

Tired of hearing his princess cry while staying still in his bedroom without doing anything to help or to make it better, Lewis decides to step up, gaining the courage to walk to the toddler’s room.

Knocking on the door gently, he hopes to be met with a ‘come in’. But instead, he is met with a loud ‘I don’t want to see you!’ coming from his daughter’s mouth, hearing how you reprimand her due to the attitude she is giving him, now. There’s a desperate sigh escaping Lewis’ lips now, but still, he decides to ignore Grace’s words, walking inside the room.

Once he does, the toddler immediately hides her face in your chest again, trying her best not to look at her dad’s face, keeping her words.

- Grace, please look at me - Lewis asks her with a serious tone, crouching down so he is eye leveled with the kid. But still, all he gets in return is silence, and the girl only hides her face further into the crook of your neck.

Rubbing his features with his hands almost desperately, he looks up at you, giving you a pleading glance, needing your help with this - begging you to forget about how sad and disappointed you are feeling at him now as well, so you can help him solve this problem with your daughter now.

With a tired sigh, you give in.

- Grace, look at your father - you say. Still, nothing. You know she is as stubborn as you are, but you absolutely hate when she is acting up this way. - Grace. - you say more sternly, catching the girl’s attention as she slowly turns to look at him, now.

Once Lewis’ eyes meet his child’s again, the pain in both of their chests connects, feeling it in the exact same intensity. Taking in the sight of his daughter’s tear stained face is the worst part of it all.

- Bubs, please listen to daddy carefully. - he starts speaking, feeling his voice cracking a bit, laced with the million different emotions surrounding his body as well. - You know how you and mummy are going to move to the new house that daddy got in Italy, right baby? I even showed you pictures of your new room and everything - he asks Grace, trying to give her a calm, light tone. The girl nods her head, not really in the mood to talk now. - So, daddy needs to go because I am preparing everything so you can move there as fast as possible love, so we can spend every day together again. - the thought of having his family next to him all day, every day again, makes a small smile appear in the man’s face. - But you are never home anymore. You can leave that house and come here! And you don’t want to play with me anymore. - the toddler finally speaks up, finding a perfectly reasonable solution for the problem.

Lewis tries to get closer to the little girl, his fingers gently touching her small hand, hoping she will give in a bit, so she can better understand what’s going on and hug him again in no time.

- Princess, my favourite thing in this world is to play with you. Tea parties, riding our bikes, you painting my nails, watching ducks at the lake, you name it. My favourite time in this world is the time I get to spend by your side - he admits, being completely transparent as he looks right into the toddler’s eyes. - You know daddy loves you more than anything in this entire world, bubs.

The three-year-old slowly nods her head ‘yes’. She does know that her dad loves her more than anything, but she is still hurt.

- I promise everything will get easier, princess. I’m doing everything I can so we can be together everyday again really, really fast, okay? Please forgive me, my love. Daddy never wanted to hurt you - landing a small kiss on her cheek, his hands caress her hair as the little girl moves in your lap, stretching her small arms to hug her daddy.

And once Lewis is able to hold his princess in his arms again, everything feels a bit more right, as if the toddler has the power to glue the pieces of his heart together. The only things that can be heard in the room are muffled ‘I love you, bubs’, ‘I love you so much’, that Lewis keeps whispering to his daughter, to which Grace quietly replies ‘I love you too, daddy’.

Today, there were no tea parties, the kid didn’t paint her dad’s nails, they didn’t go to see the ducks at the lake. Instead, they ate the toddler’s favourite breakfast together, at home, and decided to just spend the entire day cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the time together as a family, playing some small games, singing songs, dancing in the middle of the living room, to an extent that loud giggles would erupt through the walls.

After dinner, the air grows heavy again, as the three of you know that the day

is coming to an end, and that Lewis won’t be home again once you and your daughter wake up.

The man carries Grace safely in his arms, her tiny limbs strongly wrapped around his neck as well, as they reach the toddler’s bedroom. Now, you decided to let them have this moment to themselves, waiting downstairs for your husband to come back.

Tucking his princess in bed as he usually does, the biggest kiss lands on the little girl’s forehead, ready to scare all monsters away, so she can have the most peaceful of sleeps, with the sweetest of dreams.

- Have a nice night of sleep, my love - Lewis says, trying not to show how this goodbye is killing him, playing it off with a smile.

However, he notices the kid’s big chocolate eyes looking up at him attentively.

- Please come back fast, daddy. I feel so cold without you here. And mummy misses you too - the toddler whispers, almost on the verge of crying again.

Lewis needs to swallow the lump forming in his throat again, staying silent for a second as he takes in his daughter’s words.

- I promise I’ll be fast, bubs. You’ll be in your new room, in our new house, in no time. I promise - he shows her his pinky finger, knowing how serious Gracie takes pinky promises.

The fact that her daddy is pinky promising her that they will be together again soon, makes a sparkle appear in the girl’s eyes, as she wraps her own pinky around his.

- I love you so, so much, princess. More than anything in this world. Never doubt that - he insists, kissing her forehead again before giving her another bear hug. - I love you too, daddy. And please make sure that my new bedroom has the right shade of pink in the walls - the three-year-old jokes, lightening the mood as her dad gets up from her bed. - I will, baby. I will - he giggles lightly, before blowing one last kiss to his biggest reason to live, closing the door behind him.

Lewis takes a moment before coming downstairs again, wiping away some of the tears that escaped his eyes. Saying goodbye to little Gracie is always the hardest, and definitely the worst part.

Finally meeting you in the living room, the man completely breaks down as you engulf him in your arms, noticing how much of a wreck he is. You let him cry in your arms, staying silent as he apologizes over and over again to you. For not being home as much, for not having many days off of work, for failing you when you need him the most.

At this moment, he starts thinking that maybe you were right all along. He should have slowed down already, he should have left F1 behind, dedicating himself to his other projects and especially to his family, which needs him so much. But he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of joining Ferrari, putting his dreams in front of everything else.

This might only be temporary, until you and Grace finally meet him in Italy, but you are sure that you can’t keep up doing this for much longer, now.

- Things can’t continue like this, Lewis - you tell him, hot tears sliding down your cheeks as well, now. - I know, love. I know. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make everything right. In a blink of an eye, the three of us will be together in our new home, baby. Please, just be a little more patient with me - he begs, his arms wrapping tighter around your silhouette as he voices his pleads.

You sigh. You know you will end up giving in, but you can only take so much, and now, there’s not a day that you aren’t concerned about the future of your family.

- Just don’t let this sport break you, baby. Don’t let them take you from us. We need you so, so much - you confess, seeing Lewis nod as his tears match yours, holding you in his chest as you mourn the time you had for each other.

Before he has to leave, he makes sure to cuddle you extra close in bed, your words echoing in his mind to the point where he feels like he could drown in them, dying in your arms as you fall into a peaceful sleep in his chest, almost as if he will still be by your side once you wake up.

But you know he will leave during the night. And so, while you have the privilege to fall asleep in his chest, you trick your mind to dream about him, so you can have him twice, making sure that, one way or another, he will still be with you once you wake up in the morning.

In your absence, everything is suspended for Lewis. Your husband is so addicted to seeing you, that he just daydreams about your figure being right by his side, inventing you everywhere, feeding the void that the distance insists in creating between him and his family.

He hates it, he really does. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do right now. He wishes he could make a call and cancel all his responsibilities for the rest of the week, spending all day by his girls’ side. But he can’t. And right now, he can only pray for you to be even more patient, until the day you are together again, in your new house.

Tucking you in bed with a forehead kiss, the man leaves your shared room, feeling all the weight coming back to his shoulders as he picks up his bag, leaving his happiness behind as he travels back to his job, leaving his heart behind, in his home in the human shapes of you and Gracie, wanting to be right where his family is.

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revelboo · 1 day ago

Note

Welcome to Smirks and Smiles of TFA Optimus. I didn't grab any from Season one, but here are a bunch from season two, thought you might like.

Everyone, including me like to think he is a wholesome lil man, but those devious smirks say otherwise XD

Oooh yes… he’s such a good bot. Because it’s what’s expected of him. The responsible one, the serious one who always has a plan. Let him lose control a bit, be a little wild and deviant

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

TFA Optimus Scenarios

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Startling at the mass displaced mech when Optimus rests his cheek on top of your head and wraps his arms around you, you smile. Just draping himself against your back and nearly knocking you forward into the kitchen counter. Setting down the dish you’d been about to put up in the cabinet, you hold onto his arm. “Bad day?” Know no one else is around if he’s being clingy and he just groans to make you wonder what went sideways. “They’re still not listening to you?”

�� “There’s no sense of team or cohesion. No communication or strategy, they just all do their own thing,” he mutters, venting to stir your hair. And you lift a hand to touch his jaw. ‘Babe, you’ve got to learn to be assertive,’ you say and he almost laughs. None of them really bother to listen to him. Not even Ratchet and he’s never been that aggressive. ‘You could practice on me.’ Stilling against you, recognizing that tone, his spike immediately stirs behind his plating. Almost whines despite himself when you slip out of his arms and back away, smiling mischievously.

• Sari and Bee are out patrolling. That buys you a few hours as long as they don’t actually find anything and comm for help. Slowly retreating as Optimus follows, those audial fins of his perk up. And you’ve been trying to get him to be a bit more aggressive during sex. Or lovemaking as he insists you call it, the big hopeless romantic getting so offended if you call it just sex. Heading into the room he’d claimed as his, you start stripping before he’s even got the door closed, watching those audial fins flatten back when he looks to make sure no one’s around to see you. Sitting down on the human height berth he’d rigged after you’d started fooling around, you ease back on your elbows and look up at him. “Okay, big guy. You call the shots.”

• Audials going back as you shift to spread your thighs in invitation, he swallows a needy growl and reaches to run a palm against your thigh. Assertive. When he prefers you to take the lead, to tell him what you need. And your expression is all challenge, looking up at him and hooking a leg against his hip. “Get up on the berth,” he manages. “On your hands and knees.” Freeing his spike when you obey him, he climbs up after you, reaching to cup you. Stroking a servo deep, checking how wet you are for him before he’s shifting against you. Slipping his servo free to catch his spike and press inside you. “This okay?”

• Shivering at the familiar burn of him stretching you, you push back against him. Feel his servos tighten on you before relaxing. “Mmm,” you murmur, as he adjusts behind you. “What do you want, babe?” And he presses a palm between your shoulders to ease your upper body down, hips up. The position making him feel even bigger inside you, making you very aware of his spike when he slowly rocks his hips.

• You’re so tight around his spike, so warm and slick as he pumps his hips. Finding a rhythm much more urgent than normal. Taking out his frustration on you. Hips snapping against you to make you moan. “Want to spark you,” he groans, hips pumping in hard drives. Imagines rutting against you, making love to you then snaring you with his spark. How that would feel. Being inside you while you’re tangled in him. Claiming you, claiming all of you as his. “Let me spark you.” Lost in those needy cries and the wet sound of his spike inside you, he bows forward, slamming a hand down on the berth for balance. Thrusting deep again and again. “Let me have this. I need it, please.”

• He’s begging again, hips snapping against you. Chasing that peak is all you’re focused on. Have no idea what he’s asking, but if he doesn’t stop moving, you don’t care. He can have whatever he wants. He’s never been this rough with you, thrusts almost wild. And you’re so close. “Please, give it to me,” you whimper, rocking back to meet him. Crying out when you come apart and he keeps moving, dragging it out. You feel his denta graze your neck as his chassis presses against your back and he’s filling you with a groan, hips still bucking even as you feel his plating shift at your back right before you’re snared in him. In his spark in a way you didn’t even know was possible.

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime

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worthlessnepenthes · 23 hours ago

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So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

#svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #SJ #YQY #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #SY #just fucking bullshit #sqq

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 days ago

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Vans Valentines - Lovebirds

Origins! Logan X F! Reader

Vans Valentines

A/N: It's almost 3 am that i'm posting this. Idk even know what happened. it's like I blacked out typing this. Ironically I started out not liking anything but I just kept going (just like them lol). You'll see when you see the word count. Theres next to no plot. just fluff and smut. I haven't even made the graphics for this yet but I really wanted to post this so I'll do it later. I love this btw.

Plot: It's Valentines day, and you and Logan can't keep your hands off each other

Warnings: Smut. So much smut. MDNI!, a lot of fluff too, established relationship, unprotected PiV, multi creampies, Oral (both f! and m! recieiving), fingering, car sex, kitchen sex, valentines sex, just sex in general, hair pulling, one (1) ass smack I think, petnames, babydoll is the most common, a guest appearance of certain character (he just showed up idk), there's no plot really. just fluff and smut. I'm so tired. probably grammer and spelling mistakes.

Word Count: 7355

You woke up to the smell of cooked bacon and fresh brewed coffee, wafting to your nose. You opened your eyes, sunlight beaming through the cracks of your curtain. Turning your head, you found the space that your husband filled by your side was empty.

You sat up, a small yawn escaping you as you stretched your back out, before pulling off the comforter and stepping onto the cold bare wood floors. A slight shiver ran down your back as you wrapped your arms around yourself- clad in nothing but a pretty slip on that Logan gifted you a while back, you made your way to the kitchen, following the warm aroma of food and coffee.

Stepping inside the small kitchen of the little cabin you and Logan resided in, you smiled at the sight of your husband. His tall frame at the oven, as he flipped slices of bacon in a pan. A plate of pancakes sat on the table, next to a bowl of sliced fruit.

You snuck up behind him, (although you know he does know you’re behind him, y’know, because of his surprior senses) Your arms wrapped around his waist, as you pressed your body into his firm self, hugging him tight. You could feel the rise of and fall of his breathing, bringing you a sense of comfort.

“Morning bub.” You heard his warm voice greet you, as he turned, shuffling around so that you were now facing each other. He looked down at you with a warm regard, fondness in his eyes and a small smile on his lips.

“Morning.” You hummed back, moving onto your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. He leaned his head down to meet you halfway, smiling bigger once he felt your lips on his. “Happy Valentine's day.” You whispered.

“It’s Valentines?” He asks in a mock surprise voice. You rolled your eyes.

“Mm. It’s literally the easiest date to remember.”

“Our wedding date is easier to remember,” He says warmly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him. “Cause that was the best day of my life.”

You giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Nu uh!”

“No, you’re right. The best day was when you finally put out.”

You gasped, shoving him again, feigning anger but he kept you close, chuckling warmly as he leaned down to bury his lips onto your neck. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and tipping your head back as you gave in to him, leaning into his body as he pressed open-mouth kisses over your neck and up to your jaw.

“Mm. I wish you didn’t have to work today.” You say softly.

“I know.” He mumbles, pressing chaste kisses to your lips.

“You should quit.”

He chuckles warmly. “Then who’s gonna pay to keep you spoiled?”

“I don’t need anything. Just you.”

He hums, pressing his lips to yours again, his hands on your hips pulling you closer. He then moves to kiss your cheek. “I figured I’d make you breakfast before I go.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say softly.

“Yeah I do. Gotta take care of my girl.” He says, moving to finish the bacon, putting the cooked pieces onto a plate with paper towels, soaking the extra grease. He lets go of you, moving across the kitchen to grab silverware while you grab the two plates he’d put out for you both, and begin serving the pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sliced fruit that he had prepared.

While eating, you reached over, swiping a bit of syrup off the corner of Logan's mouth, and he turned, grabbing your wrists and licking the syrup off your finger. You saw that look in his eye- the look that screamed trouble as he stood up from his seat- the chair screeching against the floor, and his lips crashed onto yours. Your seat screeched against the floor as you stood up, Logan swiped the dishes to the side- several of the dishes falling to the ground in a loud clatter.

“Logan!” You laughed, grabbing his shirt in an attempt to make him slow down.

“I’ll clean it up.” He mutters into your lips, picking you up and placing you on the table, slotting himself between your thighs as you messily made out, the taste of syrup lingering on your tongues and lips. His hands went under your slip-on, quickly pulling your panties off as he leaned you back down on the table.

“Lo, what about your hard work for this breakfast?” You teased me. “You should eat before work!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” He mutters as he kneels onto the floor, spreading your thighs open and tugging you to the edge of the table. You gasped as his tongue licked a long stripe up your folds. He groaned, “Taste so damn good princess.” He mutters into your thigh.

He licked another stripe, before his tongue pressed to your clit, and you let out a moan, tipping your head back, spreading your legs wide as your hands gripped his hair, tugging it towards you and making him moan. You bit your lip, arching your back as Logan's hands came up to grip your thighs, keeping them spread as he made short work of you. His tongue rubbing practiced circles on your clit, just the right pace that had you panting, your heart racing as your pussy became soaked with his spit and your arousal.

He dipped down to your hole, sticking his tongue inside, making you clench greedily around the muscle, making him grin. “Feeling needy huh baby?” He coos as he pulls away. He let go of your thigh, and he stuck two fingers between his lips, soaking them with his spit. He pulled them out, and teased your entrance, circling it with his middle finger, before leaning up and giving your clit a few lazy licks as he slowly pushed his finger inside you.

“Lo-!” You whine, your hip wiggling, desperate for more as he slowly works his finger in and out of you, giving your clit small kitten licks that makes your entire body twitch.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm.” You nodded desperately. Tugging at his hair. “More, Lo, more please!”

“So polite.” He chuckles, his breath fanning over your pussy, and he works another finger inside you, curling them as he touches that spot that sends you careening. Your whines were music to his ears, as he continued rubbing that spot inside you, your legs began to tremble, and your nails dug painfully into his scalp. “C'mon princess. Cum for me.” He urges, before slotting his tongue over your clit, his lips wrapping around your bud and sucking.

It was all you needed to snap that thread. Your body froze, arching your back with your head tipped back, moaning “Logan Logan Logan Logan” over and over as your thighs tightened around his skull, and your pussy sucked his fingers in so tight he could barely pull them out. Fluids squirted out, flooding his face and hand, as he desperately licked every inch of you during your orgasm, moaning at the taste. Your body finally relaxed, as Logan stroked his fingers in and out of you a few more times, working you through your orgasm, and lapping up the rest of your juices.

Your body laxed, your limbs feeling a buzzing as Logan stood up, licking his lips. You attempted to catch your breath, barely noticing the sound of a belt being undone. You felt your legs being moved, placed up on his shoulders.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt his cock sliding between your folds. You squirmed, feeling overstimulated the way his cock bumped against your clit.

“Lo.” You whined, your hands falling to either side of your head.

“What? Gotta make sure you’re fed too baby.” He says, a teasing edge in his voice. You scoffed weakly, shaking your head. You felt his tip against your hole, as he slowly pushed himself inside you.

Two fingers were barely enough to prepare you for the size of Logan. Despite having been with him for years, the moment he pushes himself inside always makes your body melt as he stretches you open. Your hands reached down to grab him as bottomed out inside you, a harsh pant escaping you.

“Fuck.” He cursed quietly, waiting a moment, allowing you to adjust. “I can’t ever get enough of you darling.” He groans, his hands on your waist gripping you tighter, as he begins to thrust in and out of you, slowly.

Your nails dug into his hands, as you felt his length stretching you open as he began to thrust faster. “Oh Logan-” You moaned, biting your lip and tipping your head back. Your hips moved in time with his thrusts, overstimulation covered your body. He moved faster, pushing you down on him as he fucked into you. His hips slammed into yours, as he leaned over you on the table, your legs on his shoulders being pushed down to your chest.

His cock rubbed that delightful spot that Logan's fingers had touched moments ago, each thrust pushing you further and further over the edge once more. The kitchen table creaked with each thrust, making you wonder if you two were really about to break it. “Goddamn, you feel so good sweetheart.” He moans, his lips brushing over yours. Your lips pouted as you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure racking through your body. “Fucking love that you’re all mine. This sweet pussy is all mine. Cmon, look at me.” He demands, as you open your eyes to look up at him. “Yeah, there she is. My pretty wife.” He grins devilishly.

“Logan” You whined.

“I know darling.” He coos breathlessly, his arm wrapping around your thigh as his fingers find your clit and begin stroking. Your vision went white, as you came for the second time, Logan fucking you through it as your body shook underneath him, until he grunted, slamming into you- his release coating your pulsing walls around him. “Aw fuck-” He hissed, letting out another guttural groan as he tipped his head back, his chest heaving as the last spurts of his cum filled you up. He carefully pulled out of you, catching his breath. He moved to kiss your ankle. “All full now darling?”

Still panting, and seeing spots in your vision, you rolled your eyes.

After the “quiet” breakfast, and cleanup, Logan had to leave for work

You met him at the door. He had on his usual ‘lumberjack’ look about him. His snug jeans, flannel, and vest were placed over him. He had his arm behind his back.

“You look handsome as always, baby.” You cooked. He smiled, looking down at you with his chin facing down. He pulled out from behind his arms a large bouquet- they were wildflowers, looking like something Logan must have picked from the surrounding forests. You gasped. “Lo! When did you do this? They’re beautiful!” You took the bouquet to sniff them.

“Before I made breakfast. I wanted to get you some roses but…”

“No! I love these!” You gave him a big toothy smile, adoring the way Logan arranged the beautiful flowers in the bouquet. You could picture him trying to arrange things perfectly in the way he’d know you like them. You’d been married for several years at this point, but he never fails to surprise you with his romantic gestures, and his dedication to making you happy. You leaned up on your toes to kiss his cheek and he smiled.

“I just wanted to give you something, even if we have plans tonight,” He says softly.

“Lo, you don’t have to do anything.” You say softly, “I’m happy with just you.”

“Hm.” He hummed looking down at you, getting that soft look in his eyes. When you first met him, he was a stoic, angry man. He didn’t view the world with much kindness and for a good reason. You supposed that living for so long, and you see as much hatred and violence as he has, you’d be angry too. With time though, he became warm to you, and it blossomed into the romance you and him share now. He is and will always be the only one for you.

You share another kiss before he finally leaves. You sighed, already missing him as you watched the station wagon pull out of the driveway and down to the neighborhood street. You had plans for your Valentine's evening- plans to stay in, make a nice home cooked meal together, dance, maybe watch a flick- and then you’ll put on that sexy one piece you bought in secret that he doesn’t know about, and surprise him. For some people, that may seem like a boring Valentine's- but it was perfect for you and Logan.

You moved to get the chores done for the day and checked to make sure you had all the groceries for tonight's dinner. You checked your pantry and then walked into the kitchen- noticing Logan had left his lunch bag. You weren’t surprised, considering your proclivities earlier.

You decided you would take it to him from work. You went to get dressed, wearing a light pink mini dress with a v-neck live, that hugged your figure and ended mid-thigh, doing your hair up in the pretty style Logan always adored, and putting on some light makeup. You pulled on some boots, and a small jacket that matched your outfit. It was a bit more of a summery outfit to wear especially in Canada during February of all months, but you preferred looking cute for your husband than comfort at this moment.

You had the idea to write a small love note to stick into Logan's lunch. So before you left, you sat down at the table and wrote down some affectionate words for Logan to read, hoping that it’ll make him smile while he’s at work.

You went outside, jumping into his old truck as you drove down to his work. You drove up the long driveway, stopping at the small temporary building where several men stood chatting, turning to look at you arriving, as you rolled down your window.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted the men.

“You lost lil lady?” One asked, you read his nametag and recognized the name as one of the project managers. One of Logan's bosses. You shook your head

“I’m looking for Logan.”

“Oh, you’re Logan's lady-” The other popped up with a big grin. He had brown hair and a face that seemed like he was a sarcastic asshole and proud, you raised an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He says with a big cheesy grin. “You look very pretty today-”

“Likewise.” You cut him off, “Logan?” You ask. The manager nodded, pushing the other guy to the side.

“He’ll be coming back for lunch in a moment. If you wanna go to the park and wait for him. Shouldn’t be long.” The manager nods, you nod.

“Thank you-”

“Hey, hey- Listen if you ever get tired of the grump, come hit me up. I’m Wade.” The guy from earlier introduces himself, and he winks. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help your amused grin. Wade. You recall Logan complaining about him more than once. You put the back into first gear, driving out into a makeshift dirt parking lot, where you parked next to yours and Logan's other car- a simple station wagon.

You waited a few minutes before you climbed out of the truck, moving to go lean on the back of the truck, with Logan's lunch bag in hand. Soon you heard the sound of several trucks as they came down from the forests, and you caught sight of Logan's head of hair, making your heart flutter as you tried to suppress your grin.

He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, stepping down from the truck with ease, axe over his shoulder. You watched Wade bound to him and started talking to him. You couldn’t tell what he was saying- but Logan's expression filled with irritation. Logan suddenly looked surprised, his nostril flaring and he turned his head to look at you, and immediately his stoic and hard face turned soft and something you could only consider lovesick.

You stood up straight, a big smile stretched across your face as you gave him a little wave. The others noticed, and one wolf whistled at the sight of you - to which Logan immediately reacted. He turned towards them, a warning scowl, and you could hear Wade cackling. Logan shook his head, playfully threatening all of them with his axe before turning and practically bounding towards you while the other lumberjacks watched in amusement.

When he reached you, he immediately kissed you, passionate and intense. You’re not sure if it’s excitement from seeing you, or a possessive instinct to claim you in front of the other men. Or both.

Likely both.

“What are you doing here babydoll?” He asks softly.

“Forgot your lunch-” You hold up the brown bag. He smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, as he threw the axe into the back of the pickup, and an arm going around your waist to pull you close.

“And you got all dolled up to bring it for me hm?” He asks in a low voice as he presses his forehead to yours. “It’s too cold for that.��

“It’s Valentine after all.” You hummed. “Besides, I knew you’d keep me warm.” You flirted. He grinned, and he leaned his head back. You saw something lustful flash in his eyes. He stepped back from you, grabbing your hand and lifting it, encouraging you to spin. His jaw tensed, and he glanced over at the men who were all watching, amusement, and surely desire plastered on their faces. Logan felt a streak of pride knowing he got a pretty thing like you by his side. He considered himself a very lucky man. He smirked.

“Cmon, I have lunch for an hour.” He says grabbing your hand, leading you to the passenger side of the station wagon and opening the door for you. You settled inside, and he climbed into the driver's seat.

“Don’t you wanna have lunch around here? Maybe I can meet some of your coworkers.”

“No. I know a private spot where we could eat.” He says as he turns the car on. You laughed, shaking your head.

The next thing you know, you’re on Logan's lap in the back bench seat of the station wagon. His hands are sliding all over you, as he’s leaned back on the seat, his legs spread, forcing your thighs open.

He smelled like dirt and sawdust, and it was heavenly. You leaned forward, licking his bottom lip, begging to be let inside while he chuckled warmly, his hands sliding up your thighs and slipping under the hem.

“Look at you. All pretty.” He mutters slowly, his eyes trailing down you. His hands moved down to grope your ass, and you bit your lip to suppress a smile. “I count my blessings knowing something cute as you let me touch you like this.”

You felt your cheeks go red, and he chuckled. He pushed your ass forward on his crotch, encouraging you to grind on him. A small gasp escaped you.

“Weren’t satisfied by this morning Lo?” You ask softly, your hands reaching to hold onto his shoulders, as you begin to roll your hips over him. You could feel his hard length, threw his jeans, and pressed down against him. Your panties began getting soaked with your arousal.

“Baby I can never get enough of you.” He groans, his hand going over to the back of your neck and pulling you down towards him so he can capture your lips in a messy kiss. “Especially when you come all this way to make sure I’m taken care of. Making yourself all pretty for me. Fuck.” He licked into your mouth. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you began grinding over him desperately. He brought his hands down to his belt, quickly unfastening it. You reached your own hands down to help him out of his jeans faster.

He pushed the jeans down far enough for his hard cock to pop out. You bit your lip at the sight, your hand coming up to give him a few strokes, where he tipped his head back and groaned. You sat up on your knees, and Logan supported your waist, while his hand reached under your dress, and pulled your soaked panties to the side.

You lowered yourself down on him. You bit down on your inner cheek to avoid being too loud. While he pulled you into another searing kiss.

“C’mon, baby. Take care of me.” He moaned softly into your lips. His hands grabbed your ass again, encouraging you to start rocking your hips back and forth and you obliged. Lifting yourself up, all the way to where his tip nearly came out of you, before plopping back down into his lap, where he filled you to the brim.

You continued repeating his motion, slow and steady at first, before picking up the pace. Logan's hands cradled your ass, supporting you as you bounced on him. Your head fell to his shoulder, as small moans and whimpers escaped you.

“That’s a girl.” He mutters. “You’re doing so good. You look so good like this.” He praises. “Feel good?” His timber voice shooting straight through you.

“Mhm.” You bit your lip and nodded. You kept trying to go faster, but soon you felt yourself tiring out. Your thighs were trembling, and you felt like you couldn’t push yourself up anymore. “Lo…” You whined, looking up at him pleadingly.

“Getting tired babydoll?” He asked softly,a slight amused and cocky look in his eyes, and you nodded. He sat back in the seat. “S’alright. C’mon. I’ll take over.”

His hands went to your hips, and he began thrusting into you. As good as it felt to ride him, the way Logan fucked up into you felt even better. Logan somehow knew how to make you feel good better than you knew yourself. He angled himself, constantly pounding into you and hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back.

“C’mon, cmon baby cum for me.” He growls. The power of his thrusts shook the entire car. He wrapped one arm around your waist, while his free hand came up to tug the collar of your dress down, and then your bra, exposing your tit that he took in his mouth- still thrusting up into you. The car was filled with lewd noises of your connections, moans, and whines leaking through the windows that were fogging up from both your harsh pants. “Shit-” He grunted, grabbing you and manipulating you downwards, so your back was on the seat.

His arm is still protectively around your waist, his hips slammed into yours. He grabbed your leg, placing it over his shoulder, while your other leg pressed against his hip. The new angle sent waves of pleasure over you, as your hands clinged to Logan's flannel.

He was fucking into you so hard, you were sure the car was going to tip over by the way it was shaking. No wonder he drove 10 minutes down the road. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing.

His lips crashed onto yours, and with a few more thrusts, you finally came. Your fluids soaked Logan's cock, splashing on yours and his pants as he continued thrusting, before finally finishing inside with a hard thrust. You felt his cum filling you up for the 2nd time today.

He collapsed on you, both sweaty and exhausted. He looked up at you, his hair was a mess, sweat beading his forehead, and his pupils were blown wide.

You couldn’t help it, as you started giggling at the sight of him, and he grinned.

“What?!” He asked.

“We are NOT going to look very discreet when we go back.” You laughed. He chuckled warmly.

“It’s none of their damn business anyway.” He leans to press a kiss against your shoulder, before sitting up and carefully pulling out of you.

He did his pants back up, before helping you up and helping you fix your appearance. You sat on his lap, and you grabbed his lunch bag, pulling it open and pulling out the sandwich inside. His hand massaged your back, as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You broke off a piece of his sandwich, bringing it up to his lips. He smiled, opening his lips and allowing you to feed him, as he chewed and looked at you pridefully, making you laugh.

After lunch, he drove back to the lumber sight, where you said goodbye to the truck. You gave him a kiss - which was interrupted by wolf whistles and calling by the men across the yard watching you both. Logan rolled his eyes, a shake of his head. “I’m gonna kill 'em.”

You chuckled, fixing his flannel a bit. “You’ll be off at 4 correct?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “See you then babydoll” He purrs, kissing your forehead, before opening the car door, holding your hand as you climb in. “Be safe.”

“You too. Love you-” You gave him one more kiss,

“Love you too.” He responds, and he shuts the door of the truck, watching as you drive away from the yard.

“Hey, loverboy, you guys have a nice lunch?” Wade calls out. Logan rolls his eyes as he turns around. “Your flys undone!”

Logan's face fell as he looked down, realizing that it was in fact- undone. He sighs, as his cheeks turned red, zipping his fly back up as he walked towards his coworkers, preparing for a week of ceaseless teasing.

Meanwhile, you run to the store to pick up extra groceries, the gas station, and you get the truck an oil change. It was typically Logan who took care of that - but you wanted to do something nice for him so he didn’t have to worry about it.

Going home, you finished your chores, showered, and changed into comfier clothes (at least until Logan got back…)

You spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and attempting to recover from the weakness in your legs that Logan had caused. You two had an active sex life, but Logan seemed particularly pent up today, and you could only imagine what tonight would bring - you just hoped you’d survive it.

The next time you checked the clock, you saw it was 3:40.

Logans going to be home soon.

You moved to start getting ingredients prepared, before going to put on something nice. Something a bit more casual than your earlier outfit, but still fitting for the evening. A pretty red sundress- just to fit with the Valentine theme, your hair was down, and a nice pretty pink lipstick.

You grabbed the gifts you got him. One was a box of very expensive Cuban cigars. He typically went for the cheaper ones, just to save money- but you stashed away some cash specifically for this gift. The other was a new leather jacket, the one he currently has was still fairly nice- but this new jacket was in a color he’d preferred but couldn’t find anywhere. Another was an engraved lighter, with yours and his initials engraved inside a little heart on the side.

The last gift was a necklace that looked like a compass, with the inside being a locket, and a small picture of you both. You were kissing his cheek. On the back of the compass was engraved “So you’ll always find your way back to me”

You wondered if it was too cheesy.

You wanted Logan to know how much you truly loved him though. Despite your obvious affections, things are always perfect. Logan struggles, nightmares, self-doubts, and even pushed you away in the past. You have your struggles that’s caused you to push him away. Somehow though, maybe through trust, you both made it through and stuck those times together. You truly felt that no matter what happens in the future, you and Logan will always be together.

You eloped about 3 years ago, after 2 years of dating. You met him when he was a soldier, fresh from Vietnam. He was rude, condescending, and incredibly handsome. Your perfect type.

Time went on and you grew on Logan. The way you always mouthed off to him when he was a dick, yet how you always supported him through the small moments of vulnerability that bled through, like when he drinks too much some nights and lets slip the things he felt about himself. He always thought you were beautiful, he felt it the moment you met- but fear, fear of hurting you, fear of getting hurt by you, kept him from asking you out. It was you who made the first move, and since then he's done nothing but adore you and make you the happiest girl on the planet.

You heard the front door opening as he stepped inside. Setting the wrapped boxes on the kitchen table, you went to greet him.

“Babe?” He called out.

You walked out into the living room, smiling happily at him. His face lit up, as if he hadn’t seen you most of the day already. It truly seemed like he could never get tired of you.

He kicked his shoes off, then shed his vest off and hung it up, before moving to greet you. His arms wrapped around you, as you wrapped your own around his waist.

“Hi.” You grinned up at him.

“Hi.” He chuckled.

“Work went okay?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled, and you hummed with humor. He elected not to tell you about his fly being down. Spare himself some dignity. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Oh yeah, we’re partying hard.” You teased me.

“Somethings gonna be hard that’s for sure.”

You mock gasp, moving to hit him. “Perv!”

“Like you don’t love it.” He pulled you close. “I’m gonna take a shower, and we’ll start dinner, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod and lean up to peck his lips. “You need it.” You scrunch your nose, playfully pushing him off you, leading him to the bathroom, and pushing him inside.

He showered while you started getting dinner ready. When he was done, he came out smelling like fresh soap, something cedar. He took part in dinner, dicing the vegetables while you cooked some meat.

Soft music played in the background, and you two worked in silence, comforted in each other's presence nearby. The sound of Logan dicing vegetables on the board, and the meat simmering on the cast iron pan merely added to the relaxing atmosphere. When he finished dicing, he came over with the veggies, pushing them into the pan of meat- you quickly grabbed a slice of pepper and popped it into your mouth proudly while he raised an eyebrow at you.

You continued cooking while Logan went and set the table with plates, glasses, and silverware. Eventually, he came over, turning your attention away from the pan, and pulled you towards him, his hands resting on your hips as you both languidly rocked back and forth to the music.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get this.” He finally says. You raised your brows.

“What do you mean?”

“A life like this.” He nods to the room. “A life with you.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

“You’re a good man Logan.” You say softly. “You've been through a lot. Maybe you did things you regretted but…It’s the past. You’re here, with me now.” You brought your hand to cup his cheek, and his eyes softened. “I couldn’t be happier. Nor prouder to be able to call myself your wife.”

His lips stretched into a smile, as he stepped dancing, pulling you into a tight embrace, where he buried his face into your neck. You hugged him just as tightly.

“C’mon.” You urged. “Let's eat, I’m starving.”

You ate dinner. Something with candlelights and wine and soft music. You and Logan held hands over the table, his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand, and where your ring rested. You flung food at him with your fork.

After dinner, and the dishes are done, you both sit in the living room, prepared to give each other their gifts. Butterflies stirred in your belly, as you hoped Logan would enjoy the things he got. You begged him to open his first, which he reluctantly agreed to.

He started with the jacket, pleasantly surprised that you found the color he wanted, as he moved to put it on. Adjusting it a bit, and then smiling warmly.

“It looks good on you!” You say happily.

The cigars took him back more, as he observed them, and took a deep whiff of the scent. He sighed constantly. “How much you’d spend on these.”

“We agreed NOT to talk about budgets…” You warned. You were admittedly guilty of being a shopper, leading Logan to be strict about spending. He didn’t control your money, but he knew how to keep you from impulse buying. Holidays and birthdays are the things you both agreed he wouldn’t give you grief about. He chuckled and held his hands up.

“Alright alright..” He shook his head. He opened the next gift, the lighter. He turned it in his hand, observing it, and finding the engravings. A soft look came across his face, as his thumb softly brushed over your initials. “I love it babydoll.” He looked at it, turning to kiss you on the cheek.

“There’s…One more.” You bit your lip at the last box sitting on the table. He goes to unwrap, and his face falls as he observes the gift.

He pulled the necklace out. The compass wasn’t very big, about the size of a golf ball. He clicked open the pendent, revealing the inside compass, and the picture of you kissing his cheek. He let out a small breath, turning the necklace in his hand when he found the engraving. He swallowed hard, biting his inner cheek as he took a deep breath.

“This is…” He shook his head, staring at it. “I…”

You moved closer, resting a hand on his knee, before wrapping it around his arm and kissing his cheek. “I love you Logan Howlett.” You whisper to him. He turned to look at you, and for a moment you thought there were tears in his eyes, but he kissed you before you could confirm that.

He drew the kiss out as long as possible, before finally parting. “Thank you.” He says resting his forehead on yours. You brought a hand to his cheek, softly scratching his stubble. “Guess you’re ready for yours?” He asks. You giggled and nodded.

You adored your gifts, starting first with a frame of your favorite flowers, dried and pressed. A Howlett original. A necklace that you saw and adored in a vintage shop MONTHS ago and almost forgot about but Logan didn’t. A signed first-edition copy of your favorite book. Lastly, a booked trip to the city you always wanted to travel to.

To say you screamed at the last gift was an understatement.

The night eventually led to what you both knew it would.

Logan laid in bed, stripped of his clothes already- his hard cock straining as he watched you teasingly strip off your dress- revealing the lacey lingerie you planned to surprise him with. The illumination of the candlelights in the bedroom had only high-lighted your figure in a way that made you look like a goddess in Logan's eyes.

“Fuck.” He breathes heavily. “I thought we agreed on only 4 gifts, baby?” He quirked a brow as his eyes hungrily ran over your figure.

You smiled cheekily up at him, climbing onto the mattress and between his legs, resting on your tummy as you rested your cheek on his thigh, blinking innocently up at him. “You know I can never resist buying gifts.”

He hummed- which turned into a groan as he watched you press small chaste kisses up his member, leaving small lipstick stains. His cock jumped against your lips, making you giggle. You brought your tongue out, testing a small lick, and it throbbed again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He mumbles. You bit your lip, taking your hand up to his cock, giving it a few gentle strokes, as you leaned down and licked at his balls, taking one into your mouth and sucking, popping off, before moving to his base, running your tongue around him. You were teasing him as much as you could, your hand held his tip- but did nothing to stimulate him. You turned to press kisses into his inner thigh, giving him a few more lazy strokes and he groaned. “C’mon baby, quit teasing.”

You grinned sinfully at him, staring into his eyes as you moved to run your tongue over the thick vein that ran up his cock. His hips involuntarily jumped forward at the stimulation. You fisted your hand on his tip, rubbing your thumb over it, smearing pre-cum all over your hand as you began to fully stroke his throbbing member. He let out a relieved sigh, tipping his head back as you stroked him faster.

You took his tip between your lips, running your tongue over it and moaning at the taste of him. You felt yourself drooling as you took him deeper into your mouth, spit dripping down your lips and his dick.

“You feel good baby.” He mumbled, his hand coming up and into your hair, moving you up and down his member. “Fuck.” He hissed, as you took him deeper into your throat, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it, and you angled your head to swallow him better.

You took him all the way down to his base, the coarse hairs that sat below his belly button tickling your nose, while your eyes watered from the pressure of his huge member inside your throat. A small gag escaped you as you lifted your head up, and then took him back down again, bobbing your head up and down, and stroking what you don’t fit. Logan grunted and moaned the entire time, his chest heaving as he watched you struggle to fit his entire length inside you. “You look so damn pretty like this darling.” He mumbles, his hand tightening around your hair. “Those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Your lipstick all over the place-” he groaned. “Come on baby, you can fit me all in there again.”

He pushed your head down over him, and you gagged, choking on him again. Your thighs pressed together- your arousal becoming uncomfortably wet and slick between your legs, and your lace panties did nothing to ease the ache. His hand led you up and down his member at the pace he wanted- no, he desperately needed you to go. His hips subtly thrusting upwards into your mouth and down your throat, as your hands braced his thighs and your eyes rolled back, letting him use your mouth as a fucktoy.

He practically screamed your name, thrusting deep into you one more time as his hot cum came down your throat. Tears rolled down your face, as you struggled to breathe as he continued filling your mouth with his cum, small beads of it along with your spit rolling down your lips. You finally pull off, unable to take more as you gasp for breath, spit and cum coating both his softening cock and your chin.

You sat up on your knees as Logan sat up, reaching over and pulling you onto his lap, messily kissing you, and groaning. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” He mumbles into your lips. You nodded, desperately needing him now.

He pushes you down onto the mattress onto your belly, lifting your ass into the air. You licked your lips clean, as he stroked himself, getting hard all over again. You really did love his regenerative factor.

His thumb teased your cunt, pushing the lacey panties that were soaked through with your arousal, and circled the entrance. “Fuck, you’re soaked princess.” He mumbles. “I bet I can slide in you no problem. You love sucking my cock don’t you?”

You nodded dumbly into the mattress, and he pressed his tip against your hold, teasingly pushing inside and pulling out, sliding in between your folds. You wiggled your hips, a small whine escaping you.

“You don’t like the teasing now hm?” He growls.

“Mm-mm.” You mumble into the blankets, arching your back, desperate for him to fuck you. He ran his cock through your folds again, before he slipped inside your greedy hole, and slammed into you with one thrust. “Oh!” You yelped, mouth agape in an O shape as your thighs quivered, attempting to adjust to his size for the 3rd time today.

“I’ve fucked you multiple times today and you still feel so fucking good baby.” He groans, his hands smacking against your ass, his nails digging into your skin. “I just can’t get enough of you doll.”

“Mm..Mhm..” You nodded dumbly into the mattress, desperate for him to move, your hips started rocking back and forth.

“God, you love this cock don’t you?” He mumbled, and you nodded again, a warm chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, I know you do.”

He began thrusting in and out of you, pulling all the way out from the tip and slamming back into you. He grabbed your hips, pushing you back onto him with each thrust until you could meet his pace.

“Logan…” You moaned into the sheets, barely able to think. He was right, you’d think by the 3rd time you’d be used to it, but every time he fucks you- you turn dumb, unable to think about anything other than his cock railing you. He leaned over you, one hand digging into your hip, the other reaching into your hair, tipping your head back, making you whine loudly.

Your ass bounced with each of his thrusts, a rhythmic smacking sound heard throughout the room, alongside yours and Logan's thrusts. His nails dug into your lingerie piece that it started to rip- unbeknownst to either of you.

“You’re squeezing me so tight doll, already about to cum?” He hums. You nodded, that tight string in your belly felt like it was going to snap at any moment. Logan adjust his angle- fucking into just right, that your eyes rolled back- and you couldn’t even moan as you came over his cock. “God, I love you-” He tipped his head back as you felt your pussy squeeze around him.

Logan hissed, you squeezed him so tightly in your orgasm it was almost painful, and caused his control to snap. Your greedy pussy clenched around him, pulsing over and over as he grabbed your hips with both hands, and pounded into you with gritted teeth, before cumming inside you with a loud yell, and a snikt!

You were barely conscious at that point, not registering the familiar sound of his bone claws escaping his fists, and tearing into the fabric of your comforter and mattress.

He collapsed over you, his breath fanning over your back. Both your bodies are covered in sweat. He retracted his claws, as he brought a hand to your shoulder, pulling your up, with his cock- still hard- and still buried inside you.

“I’m not done with you yet babydoll.” He mutters into your ear, sending shivers down your body as you could feel his cum leaking down your thighs. He kissed your cheek. You managed to catch your breath enough to turn your head towards him.

“I love you too-” You say breathlessly, and he caught you in a searing kiss. “Happy Valentines-” You add as he pulls away, moving to manhandle you into another position.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #origins logan #origins logan x reader #wolverine x you #origins logan x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff

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artemisiasmuse · 1 day ago

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Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

#artemisiasmuse #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron ask #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe x female reader

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bunji-enthusiast · 1 day ago

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thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes—holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

#poppy playtime x reader #ppt x reader #ppt 4 #poppy playtime chapter 4 #poppy playtime 4 #doey x reader #doey the doughman #poppy playtime doey #doey ppt #poppy playtime

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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

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Ik you already made a fic about asexuality, but could you make one about a hyper sexual s/o? Someone who’s honestly scared of asking for too much. Obviously this is during the beginning part of their relationship. (Can be with anyone in the Arcane universe, and doesn��t have to be too explicit). Thank you! 🫶

Ps. I love your work a lot!!

ɴᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ||

8144 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ!! ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜʜʜ ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴏᴏɴ! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ!! ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ!! <3

JAYCE

The laboratory was always where Jayce felt most at home, surrounded by his creations, his tools, and the hum of his latest invention. It was a sanctuary of thought and focus. But tonight, something was different. You, standing in the doorway, your figure framed by the soft light of the lamps, filled the cold space with a warmth he hadn’t realised he craved.

You stood there, hesitating, unsure of what to do. Jayce noticed how your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, how your eyes flickered nervously towards him but never met his gaze. It had been weeks since the two of you had started spending time together, but there was still something between you — an invisible barrier that neither of you had dared to cross. He could sense it, but the attraction between you was undeniable, stronger than ever.

"Everything alright?" Jayce asked, setting down his wrench and turning towards you, concern flickering across his brow.

You nodded, though your lips trembled slightly. "Yeah, just... been thinking."

"About what?"

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of hesitation crash over you. It wasn’t like you to be so unsure. Jayce had always made you feel safe, but tonight, there was an undeniable pull between you — one you weren’t sure how to handle. You wanted more. More than just the soft kisses, more than just the gentle caresses. But the thought of pushing him away with your desires, with your own need for more, terrified you.

Jayce’s voice broke through the silence, warm and reassuring. "Y/N, if something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me. You’ve never been shy about speaking your mind before."

You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as your gaze fell to the floor. When you finally looked up, you spoke quietly. "I don’t want to ask for too much... I don’t want to overwhelm you."

Jayce’s expression softened instantly, a mixture of concern and tenderness in his eyes. He stepped closer to you, closing the gap with a slow, deliberate stride. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek gently, lifting your chin so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with warmth and something more, something undeniably intimate. "You don’t have to be afraid to ask. You’re not overwhelming me. Not even close."

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sent a wave of warmth spreading through you, but the anxiety still gnawed at you. "But... what if it’s too much? What if you don’t want it?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He smiled then, a soft, reassuring smile that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. "Trust me. If I didn’t want this, you’d know. But I want to give you everything you need — every part of me. And if there’s something more, something you want... I’ll be here. Always."

The words settled between you both like a promise, a vow. You took a small step forward, the space between you shrinking with each passing second, your breath coming quicker as you finally allowed yourself to voice the thoughts that had been swirling inside of you for weeks.

"Jayce," you breathed, voice trembling slightly as you closed the distance. "I want... I want to be close to you. In every way. I don’t want to hold back anymore."

Jayce’s breath hitched at your words, the warmth in his eyes deepening into something almost primal. Without another word, he closed the last of the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was nothing like the soft, tentative ones before. This one was heated, desperate, a release of all the pent-up desire that had been building between you both.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of his body against yours. He deepened the kiss, his lips pressing with urgency, as though he’d been waiting for this moment. His tongue brushed against yours in a gentle but insistent invitation, a slow burn that made you feel every inch of his closeness.

You gasped, pulling back just slightly, your breath coming quick and uneven as you met his gaze. His eyes were darker now, filled with a hunger that made your stomach tighten with need. "Jayce," you whispered again, this time a little louder, more desperate. "I need you."

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers brushing along the curve of your hips, before he gently lifted you, pressing you against the nearest counter. Your pulse raced as his body caged you in, his hands tracing the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip with the lightest touch. The contrast between his gentleness and the heat of his desire left you trembling.

"You have me," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough but soft. "Every part of me. And I want all of you, Y/N."

You looked up at him, your heart racing, the uncertainty now replaced by something stronger. "Then show me," you whispered, your voice thick with longing. "Show me how much you want me."

His breath hitched at your words, and without another thought, he pressed himself closer, the heat between you almost unbearable. His lips trailed down your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate, his hands roaming to the small of your back as he pulled you even closer. Every movement was purposeful, as if he wanted to memorise every inch of you, as if he was giving you a piece of himself with each touch.

You arched into him, your hands running through his hair as your body reacted to his touch. The tension, the longing, everything you had been holding back was coming to a head. Jayce’s hands slid under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin, making you gasp at the fire he ignited in you. He paused, lifting his head to look at you once more, his eyes searching yours for permission, for confirmation that you were ready.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and strained with desire.

You nodded, your lips curling into a small, shy smile. "I’m sure."

With that, Jayce kissed you again, this time without hesitation, as though he couldn’t wait any longer. The world outside the laboratory disappeared, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, exploring, pushing, and finally giving in to the pull that had been growing between you both for so long.

VIKTOR

The dim light in Viktor’s apartment felt soothing, warm, as the soft hum of the machines and whir of his mechanical devices filled the silence. His apartment, with its sleek, metallic edges and subtle elegance, was quiet and unassuming—a space where the two of you had grown closer over time. Yet tonight, there was an air of uncertainty between you both, as if your feelings had become too intense, too confusing.

Viktor was seated in his armchair, his cane resting beside him. He looked at you, his golden eyes soft yet intense, as though he was waiting for something you couldn’t quite name.

You shifted nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. It wasn’t just the physical closeness that made you feel unsure—it was the way your emotions were starting to tangle together. There was an undeniable attraction, but you didn’t know how to voice the raw need that simmered beneath your skin. What if you were asking for too much? What if he didn't feel the same way?

Viktor noticed your hesitation. His sharp mind could see the conflict written across your face. He reached for his cane, lifting it slowly with a soft grunt, and guided it to rest across his lap. Then, his eyes softened even more as he leaned back.

"You seem... distracted, Y/N," Viktor remarked, his voice low and gentle.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "It’s just... I’m not sure how to... ask," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You don’t need to ask, you know. Not if it’s something you desire.”

You blushed, unsure if you could meet his gaze. The thought of pushing boundaries scared you, yet something about the way Viktor spoke gave you an odd sense of reassurance. He didn’t push; he didn’t rush. He let you come to him in your own time.

“I... I want more, Viktor,” you said quietly, hands trembling at your sides. "But I don't want to overwhelm you. I don’t want you to think I’m asking for too much. You’ve already done so much for me…”

Viktor’s gaze softened, and there was something in his expression that made your heart race. “Miláčku” he said, his tone firm but not unkind, “if it’s something you want, you don’t need to be afraid. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I will be here—just as you’ve been here for me.” (Darling)

His words, the genuine care in them, loosened the knot in your chest. It was strange, how this brilliant, calculating man could have such a steady, nurturing presence, one that made you feel safe, despite your own doubts.

You took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. “I’ve never really… known how to ask for what I want. I don’t want to seem like… like I’m taking too much,” you confessed, your voice catching.

Viktor smiled, leaning forward slightly, his eyes scanning your face with care. "You’re not asking for too much. Whatever you desire, let me show you how much I’m willing to give. You are more than enough, and I will always want more of you."

The words were a promise, a deep, unwavering vow, and they broke through the wall you’d built around your desires. You could feel your heartbeat thumping in your chest as you took another step forward, your hand reaching out towards him, trembling but determined.

He raised his hand, gently grasping yours, and pulled you onto his lap. The proximity felt electric, the air between you charged with a heat neither of you could ignore. Viktor’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as his lips found yours.

It was soft, tender, as if he was waiting for you to take the lead. And for the first time, you felt no hesitation, no fear of asking for what you wanted. You pulled him closer, the kiss deepening, as his hand trailed along your spine, steady and sure.

His touch was like a steady anchor, grounding you. His lips pressed against yours with increasing intensity, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body. Every part of you yearned for more. You had never felt this way before, never been this close to someone, but there was a comfort in Viktor’s touch that made you feel safe, cherished even.

As the kiss continued, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer. His fingers brushed the skin of your back, sending a shiver through you. His lips moved to your neck, the soft caress of his breath against your skin making your pulse quicken. You closed your eyes, lost in the feeling, feeling as though time itself had stopped.

He gently tilted your head back, allowing him access to the delicate skin along your throat. His lips were light at first, then more insistent, as though he was waiting for you to make the next move, to tell him what you wanted. His words from earlier echoed in your mind: Whatever you need, I will be here.

You weren’t sure when the words slipped out, but they did. “I want you, Viktor,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I don’t know how to ask… but I want you.”

There was a pause, a moment of stillness, before Viktor lifted his head and met your gaze. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then his lips curled into a gentle smile. "You have me, miláčku," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Completely."

And that was enough.

Viktor’s hands slid under your shirt, his touch warm and deliberate. The air between you grew heavier, as though the tension in the room could no longer be contained. His lips trailed down to your collarbone, his tongue tracing soft, heated lines against your skin. You gasped softly, every touch igniting a fire within you, but still, you hesitated. This was new—vulnerable—and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it all.

But Viktor didn’t rush you. His fingers paused when they reached the waistband of your trousers, giving you a moment to breathe. His eyes, full of compassion and understanding, met yours, and in that moment, you realised that your fear was nothing compared to the trust you felt in him.

“You control this, Y/N,” Viktor said, his voice quiet yet firm, his hand resting on the small of your back. “When you’re ready, I will follow your lead.”

It was a small thing, a reassurance—but in that moment, it was all you needed. The weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, and you knew, without a doubt, that Viktor would never make you do something you weren’t ready for.

You leaned in and kissed him again, with more urgency this time. The kiss deepened, and Viktor responded in kind, his hands exploring your body with careful intention. The heat between you was overwhelming, but there was no rush. Everything in its own time.

The evening stretched on, slow and languid, as you both explored each other—not just physically, but emotionally too. It was about trust, about desire, and understanding that, with Viktor, you were free to be everything you were, without hesitation.

JAYVIK

The lab was quiet, the hum of machinery and the soft ticking of the clock filling the room as Y/N sat between him and Jayce on the couch. The soft light from the lamps reflected off the brass and metal details that decorated the room, casting a warm glow over the three of them. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that could only exist when three people were on the verge of something new—something delicate, something that required trust, honesty, and vulnerability.

Y/N shifted nervously, her fingers curling and uncurling around the fabric of her sleeves, the motion almost automatic as she tried to calm the storm of thoughts running through her head. She had been with both Viktor and Jayce separately before, but this was the first time they were all together like this, and the air between them felt charged in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Her body ached with an unfamiliar longing, but it wasn’t just physical. It was more than that. It was a need for connection, for closeness—but she wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

Jayce noticed her fidgeting immediately, his eyes softening with concern. He leaned forward, the muscles of his arms shifting as he placed his hand gently on her knee. “You alright, love?” he asked, his voice warm but steady, the kind of voice that made her feel like everything was going to be okay, even if she didn’t know how to say what was on her mind.

“Yeah,” she muttered, her gaze dropping to her hands in her lap, the words feeling far too small to convey what she was feeling. The knot in her chest grew tighter, the confusion of her emotions almost too much to bear. She felt... hypersexual. A term she had always been a bit reluctant to acknowledge, because it made her feel as though there was something wrong with her. But she couldn’t ignore the need that coursed through her, the desire that seemed to linger in every touch, every glance. It was more than just physical—it was emotional, a craving for attention, for affection, for connection. And she didn’t know how to ask for any of it.

Viktor, ever the keen observer, watched her with that familiar intensity, his usual calm and analytical expression softening as he sensed the turmoil beneath her exterior. “It’s okay if you don’t have the words right now,” he said gently, his voice quieter than usual, carrying an unspoken promise. “We’re here to listen. Whenever you’re ready.”

She swallowed hard, the warmth in his tone offering a sense of reassurance that she hadn’t known she needed. Viktor had always been the more reserved one between the two, but there was a tenderness in his approach now that made her feel safe—made her feel understood, even without words.

“It’s just... I don’t know how to say it,” Y/N confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, the admission leaving her chest hollow. “I feel... like I need more. I’m always craving more—more touch, more attention. But I don’t know how to ask for it. I don’t know how to explain it without feeling like I’m too much.”

Jayce’s expression softened further, his hand shifting to her shoulder, a comforting presence. “You’re never too much for us, Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “What you need is important. It’s not about feeling too much—it’s about us finding a way to meet those needs together. You don’t have to hide anything from us.”

Y/N could feel the warmth of their understanding, but there was still a tightness in her chest that wouldn’t go away. The fear of rejection, of asking for something she wasn’t sure they were ready to give, lingered in the back of her mind. “I... I know I can be a bit much sometimes. I feel so needy. But it’s not something I know how to control. I just... want to feel wanted, I think. I want to feel like I’m enough for both of you.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his brow furrowing slightly with empathy as he processed her words. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more,” he said, his voice rich with understanding. “Desire is a natural part of who we are, and it can be... overwhelming at times, especially when you don’t know how to express it. But the key is not to suppress it. To be open about it.”

Jayce gave a slow nod. “Exactly. You don’t need to hide any part of who you are. If you feel like you need more attention, more affection, we can give you that. We just need to know what that looks like for you, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the words suddenly feeling much more real than she’d expected them to. She’d always been afraid of pushing people away by being too demanding, too open about her desires, especially in a relationship that involved more than one person. But Viktor and Jayce weren’t pulling away—they were only drawing closer.

“I’m scared that I’ll ask for too much,” she admitted softly, looking down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her sleeves nervously. “I feel like if I say it out loud, it’ll be too much. I want to feel wanted, but I don’t know how to... how to make you understand. Sometimes, I just need more touch, more connection, but it’s hard for me to... to ask for it. To say what I want.”

Jayce reached out, his hand cupping her chin gently to lift her gaze back to him. His touch was warm and grounding, and the intensity in his eyes made her feel like he saw her. Really saw her. “You don’t have to feel ashamed of what you want, Y/N. We’re here, we’re listening. What you need is important, and we want to be the ones to help you get it. You don’t have to be afraid of asking, of needing us. It’s okay.”

Viktor’s voice was softer than usual, almost as if he were speaking to himself as much as to her. “The difficulty is not in wanting more, but in fearing that it will drive us away. You don’t need to hide anything from us. If you want touch, affection, more... attention, then we can explore that. We will go at your pace, as long as we are all clear and respectful of each other’s needs.”

The weight of their words settled in her chest, the knot finally beginning to loosen as she realised that the very thing she feared—being too much—was the thing they both welcomed with open arms. She wasn’t a burden. Her desires weren’t something to be ashamed of.

“I... I need you both,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “I need to feel wanted, to feel seen. I need you to touch me, to show me that I’m not too much.” Her breath hitched as she said the words aloud, feeling both vulnerable and liberated in the same breath.

Jayce smiled warmly, the kind of smile that made her feel like she was truly understood. He brushed a lock of hair from her face and leaned in close, his voice low and sincere. “You’re not too much, Y/N. We want to make you feel complete. And we’ll take the time to learn how.”

Viktor nodded, his hand resting on her shoulder now, grounding her in his presence. “We’ll do this together, step by step. We will learn what you need and make sure we give it to you. There’s no rush. There’s no shame.”

Y/N felt something shift inside her, a sense of relief flooding her as she realised that asking for what she needed wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t something to be feared or hidden. It was a part of her, and they wanted to understand it, to embrace it. And maybe, just maybe, she could finally allow herself to be seen.

VANDER

The candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow across the room, but the shadows seemed to grow longer in the silence between them. Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap. The room felt like it was closing in around her as she tried to gather the courage to say what had been weighing on her for weeks.

Vander sat across from her, his usual calm and imposing presence somehow softened tonight. His broad frame was relaxed, but there was a subtle tension in the way his eyes lingered on her, waiting for her to speak.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he said gently, his voice low and warm. "Is something on your mind, love?"

Y/N looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to tell him everything — about the way her body reacted to him, how every brush of his hand made her ache with longing. She wanted to be open with him, but the words were caught in her throat. The thought of sharing something so personal, so vulnerable, filled her with dread. What if he didn’t understand? What if he didn’t want her the way she needed to be wanted?

"I..." She swallowed hard, biting her lip as she looked down at her hands, trying to steady her breathing. "I don’t know how to say this."

Vander's brow furrowed with concern, and he leaned forward, his large hands resting on his knees. "Hey," he said, his tone soft, "whatever it is, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me. I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?"

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded, her fingers still twitching in her lap. She had to say it. She had to. But how? How could she explain something so... raw?

"You’ve been patient with me," she started slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, "and I don’t know if you’ll understand, but... I feel like I need to be honest with you. About who I am."

Vander’s gaze softened, his eyes full of quiet understanding. "You don’t have to explain yourself, love. But if it helps, I’m listening."

She hesitated, biting her lip harder as the words tumbled out, her voice shaking slightly. "I... I’m hypersexual, Vander."

Vander blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment, and Y/N’s heart sank. She had said it, but now that it was out there, she was terrified of how he might react.

"I mean..." She stumbled over her words, trying to clarify. "I don’t just want you, I need you. All the time. It’s not just physical. It’s... it’s more than that. And sometimes it’s overwhelming."

The silence stretched between them, her chest tight with anxiety as she waited for him to say something. Anything.

Vander didn’t speak immediately, but instead, he moved closer, his hand gently brushing against her arm, grounding her in the moment. "You don’t have to be ashamed of that," he said quietly, his voice steady. "Everyone has their own needs, love. But if this is something you’re struggling with, I want to help you with it. We can figure it out together."

Y/N felt a surge of relief, but also something else—something deeper. She had feared that her desires, the way her body constantly craved more, would push him away. But Vander... Vander didn’t pull back. He was here, and his words were like a balm to the rawness inside her.

"I don’t know how to ask for it," she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. "It’s like, I feel this fire inside me, but when it comes to telling you what I need, I freeze. It’s hard to ask for what I want. I don’t know if you’ll want the same things, or if I’ll be too much."

Vander’s expression softened even further, and he reached out to gently cup her cheek, guiding her eyes to meet his. "You’re not too much for me," he said with a sincerity that made Y/N’s heart ache. "I’ll never think that about you. If anything, it makes me want to be closer to you. To understand you better."

She bit her lip, feeling a fresh wave of uncertainty, but Vander’s steady presence made her feel a little braver. "I... I need you, Vander. More than you probably realise. Not just... in bed, but in every way. And sometimes it feels like I’m drowning in it. It’s like this constant hunger, this craving, and I’m scared you won’t want to keep up."

Vander was quiet for a long moment, his thumb brushing over her skin in slow, comforting motions. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. "You’re not asking for too much. You’re asking for what you need, and I’m more than willing to help you find a way to make it work. We’ll go at your pace, and you don’t have to hide any part of yourself from me."

Y/N felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. The warmth of his words, the way he was accepting her, all of her, without hesitation, broke down the walls she hadn’t even realised she had built. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, but there was a part of her that still felt fragile, still unsure.

"I just don’t want to overwhelm you," she murmured, her hands finally finding his, gripping them tightly as if holding on for dear life.

"You won’t overwhelm me," Vander reassured her. "I promise you, love, I’m not going anywhere. If anything, I want to be closer. I want to understand you better. Every part of you, even the parts that feel... too much. We’ll figure it out, step by step."

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, feeling the weight of his words sink in. The knot in her chest began to loosen, and a part of her she hadn’t realised had been holding on so tightly finally relaxed. He wasn’t pushing her away. If anything, he was giving her the space to express herself fully.

"It’s not easy for me to ask," she admitted, her voice a little stronger now. "It’s like I’m afraid that if I ask too much, I’ll scare you off. Or... or that you’ll think I’m too much. But I need you so much. In a way that doesn’t always make sense, even to me."

Vander’s hand gently squeezed hers, bringing her focus back to him. "Love, you don’t have to be afraid of your needs. They’re part of who you are. And I’m not going to run from you because of that. What you need doesn’t scare me — it just makes me want to know you better. To understand what will make you feel safe and fulfilled. That’s all I want."

Y/N felt a soft warmth spread through her chest, and she leaned into his touch, allowing herself to finally relax a little. "I want to feel wanted. Not just in moments of passion, but all the time. I want to feel like you desire me, even when we’re not... together like that. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t stop, that there’s this constant need inside me. It’s exhausting sometimes, trying to keep it all in."

Vander’s hand gently cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. "I want to make sure you feel wanted, every single day, Y/N. Whether we’re sharing a quiet moment, talking, or... whatever else it is that you need. You don’t have to hold it all in anymore. You can come to me, and we’ll work through it. You’re not alone in this."

Her lips parted, her throat dry with emotion. "But... what if it’s too much? What if you get tired of me?"

Vander shook his head slowly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ for me, love. Not when it comes to you. I’m here to stay, for all of you. Every part of you. All the things you think might push me away? I want to be the one you can turn to when you need it the most."

The vulnerability in his eyes melted the last of Y/N’s hesitation, and she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his with a tender, grateful kiss. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the softness of their connection, the comfort of their shared understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for being patient with me. For... understanding what I need. I’m scared sometimes, but with you, I don’t feel like I have to hide any of it."

Vander’s hand slid into her hair, gently tilting her head as his lips met hers again, this time with a deeper urgency. "You never have to thank me for that, love," he murmured between kisses. "I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out together, every step of the way."

And as their lips met again, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning. She wasn’t alone in this. Not anymore.

SILCO

The dim glow of the candles flickered across the darkened room, casting long shadows on the walls. The faint scent of tobacco smoke lingered in the air, and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only other sound that seemed to fill the heavy silence. Silco sat in his chair, his posture as straight and commanding as ever, but there was something different about him tonight. Something deeper. He was watching you with a gaze that was unreadable, though intense enough to make your heart race in your chest.

You shifted in your seat, fingers tracing the rim of your glass absentmindedly, your gaze dropping to the surface of the dark liquid inside it. The silence between you was thick, like a tangible weight, and it pressed down on you with an almost suffocating force. You weren’t used to feeling this way. You’d always been bold, confident in what you wanted. But with Silco, it was different. Every instinct you had, every sharp desire you had ever followed, seemed to be clouded by his presence, by his dark, unyielding gaze. There was an intensity to him, a danger, and a confidence that left you uncertain about how to approach him, how to bridge the space between what you needed and the words you were too scared to speak.

He was intimidating, in a way that made you second-guess everything. You had spent your whole life demanding what you wanted without hesitation, without apology. But this... this was different. His gaze alone made you feel vulnerable, exposed. The way his eyes never seemed to stray from you made your thoughts scatter, leaving you unsure of how to vocalise the longing that simmered beneath your skin.

He never pressured you, never asked for anything. And yet, you felt like there was so much he could ask of you. That he could demand things of you, in ways that sent a flush through your body. What would he think of you if you did speak up? Would he see your need for him as weakness? Would he think you too bold, too much?

The question lingered in your mind, and for the first time in a long time, you found yourself afraid. Afraid of wanting. Afraid of being open.

Silco, on the other hand, was watching you closely, studying the subtle way you shifted, the way your gaze darted to the floor when the heat between you both grew too much. He had known from the moment you’d walked into his office that something had changed. You were different with him now, no longer the confident, sharp individual you had once been. There was a vulnerability to you that he hadn’t seen before, and it intrigued him. But Silco was patient. He knew the power of waiting, of letting the tension build until it became unbearable, until you were forced to confront it.

He didn’t need to rush you, didn’t need to press. You would come to him when you were ready.

"You’re quiet tonight," Silco’s voice broke the stillness, low and smooth, like velvet slipping through your thoughts. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since he’d entered the room. The look in his eyes made it feel like he could see straight through you, like he was reading your thoughts as easily as if they were written in front of him. "Something on your mind?"

You felt your breath catch in your throat. This was it. The moment you could speak up, the moment you could tell him what you truly needed. But as you opened your mouth to respond, the words died on your tongue. How could you tell him? How could you ask for something so intimate, so raw, when you could barely admit it to yourself?

“I’m…” you started, but your voice cracked, betraying you before you could finish. You bit your lip, frustration bubbling up inside you. This wasn’t like you. You had always been able to take control of your desires, to demand them when you wanted. But Silco? With him, you felt small, unsure, like something more than your usual self was being drawn out. Something you didn’t know how to navigate.

Silco saw the hesitation, the uncertainty in your eyes. He didn’t mock you for it. No, he simply waited. His gaze softened, just the smallest hint of concern flickering beneath the usual cold calculation. But the danger in his eyes remained, lurking beneath the surface, as if warning you that whatever happened next was entirely up to you.

Without a word, he stood up from his chair. His movements were deliberate, slow, like a predator closing in on its prey. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and fear as he approached. Each step was measured, and each one felt like it brought him closer to something that both thrilled and terrified you.

When he stopped before you, his face just inches from yours, you felt your breath catch. His presence was overwhelming, and you couldn’t look away from the intensity in his gaze. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the dark energy surrounding him.

“I know you want something, Y/N,” Silco’s voice was barely above a whisper now, as if he were teasing you. But there was something else in his tone, something more knowing, more assured. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

And just like that, the dam that had held back your words began to crack. The raw vulnerability you’d tried to bury surged to the surface, a need so desperate, so consuming, that you could no longer pretend it didn’t exist. You needed him. You wanted him. But how could you put that into words?

His fingers moved gently down your neck, his touch light but electrifying, sending goosebumps across your skin. He didn’t press further, didn’t push, but the weight of his presence—of his understanding—made your heart race. His voice, though soft, was filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

“You don’t need to be scared of me,” Silco whispered, the words both comforting and unsettling. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.”

A shiver ran through you at his words, and for a brief moment, you considered it. What would it be like, to ask him? To demand from him, to finally give in to the ache that had been building inside you? The thought made you dizzy, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your hand reached up, trembling slightly as it covered his, guiding it further down your body, silently pleading for him to understand. You didn’t need to say anything more. He had already seen it in the way you’d looked at him, in the way your breath hitched every time his fingers brushed against your skin.

“Silco…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart pounded against your ribs, but something inside you broke free. You had never been this open, this vulnerable with anyone before, but you needed to say it. "I… I’m not like other people. I’ve always been… hypersexual. It’s not that I don’t want you—I do. But I’ve never been able to ask for what I need, and it makes me feel—" You paused, taking a breath, unsure if you could finish, but you pushed through. "It makes me feel... desperate, sometimes."

Silco’s eyes darkened at your admission, the flicker of understanding clear in his gaze. The silence between you now felt different—he was no longer waiting for you to speak. He was waiting for you to trust him. And in that moment, you realised that you had. Completely.

His smile curled at the edges, slow and knowing, as if he were proud of you for speaking your truth. His hand tightened slightly on yours, and he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“There you are,” he murmured, the heat in his voice unmistakable. "No more hiding."

You closed your eyes, your pulse thundering in your ears as the tension between you became unbearable. There were no more walls, no more hesitation. You could feel the rawness of your need, the way your body screamed for him in a way you could no longer ignore.

“You don’t have to ask, Y/N,” Silco’s voice dropped to a low growl, sending another shiver down your spine. "I’ll take care of you. But I need you to understand something. When you give yourself to me... there’s no going back."

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid. You wanted him, wanted this. You wanted him to take you—just as he promised he would. And in that moment, you knew you had just surrendered the last of your reservations.

MEL

The soft, ambient light of the evening filtered through the tall windows of Mel’s study, casting long shadows across the room. The quiet hum of the city outside seemed distant, muffled by the thick stone walls. In her chair, Mel leaned back, her gaze intense as she regarded Y/N across the room.

Y/N, seated on the plush armchair, fiddled nervously with the hem of her sleeve. The two had been together for a little while now, but something still held Y/N back. She longed for more, for something deeper, but there was an inexplicable fear that gripped her every time she thought of asking for what she truly desired. She wanted to tell Mel exactly what she needed—wanted to surrender to the desire that had been simmering beneath her skin—but the words wouldn't come.

Mel had always been so confident, so sure of herself. Y/N found it hard to imagine that someone as poised and self-assured as her could ever feel the same fear, the same hesitation. It was a thought that kept her from asking, from reaching out, and it left her sitting in silence, unsure of how to break the tension that seemed to stretch between them.

She couldn’t even bring herself to admit it aloud.

“Mel,” Y/N said softly, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “I… I feel like I’m always the one… waiting for something more. But I don’t know how to ask.”

Mel set down the papers in her hands and turned her full attention to Y/N. She could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched in hesitation. There was something in Y/N’s posture, something raw, that made her heart ache. She could feel the weight of it—the unspoken desire, the longing—but Mel had always been the kind of woman who understood the power of patience.

“I know,” Mel said gently, her voice soothing yet filled with a knowing warmth that made Y/N’s breath catch. She moved closer, settling down on the edge of the armchair, their proximity sending a subtle rush of heat through the air between them. “You’re afraid of asking for what you need. But, you know... you’re not the only one.”

Y/N looked up at Mel, surprise flickering across her face. The words hung in the air like a promise, soft yet undeniably powerful. “You too?”

Mel nodded, her expression softening as she met Y/N’s gaze, her eyes dark with understanding. “I’ve been in that place, where it’s hard to even vocalise what you want. It’s not just you, darling. Sometimes, the fear of being too forward, too demanding... it stops us from even saying the simplest things.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched. She had always assumed Mel, with all her elegance, grace, and undeniable allure, was someone who knew exactly what she wanted. The revelation that Mel had struggled with the same fear made her feel less alone, but it also caused something more dangerous to stir inside her—an overwhelming vulnerability.

“I don’t want to be... too much,” Y/N confessed quietly, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I feel like if I ask for more, I’ll scare you off or... or be too demanding.”

Mel’s hand found Y/N’s, her fingers warm and reassuring. She gently guided Y/N’s hand to her own lap, her thumb tracing delicate patterns across her skin as if to soothe away the tension. “You’re not too much,” she said firmly, her voice low, almost intimate. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more—wanting everything—when you’re with someone who sees you. Who understands you.”

Y/N looked at Mel, searching her face for any hint of insincerity. Her heart raced with an anxious thrill. “You mean it?”

Mel’s lips quirked into a small smile, and she leaned in a little closer, their faces mere inches apart now. The scent of her perfume—a delicate blend of jasmine and sandalwood—filled the air, and Y/N could feel the warmth radiating from Mel’s body. “Of course,” she whispered, her voice soft and smooth like silk. “I’m the same. It’s easy to be scared of wanting too much, but what we both need is simple, isn’t it?”

Y/N swallowed, trying to steady her racing heart. She was so close now, so close to Mel’s warmth, but the words were still stuck in her throat. She could feel the pressure building in her chest, like an overwhelming tide threatening to crash over her. “What do we need?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Mel’s thumb brushed over the back of Y/N’s hand, her touch gentle yet insistent. “We need to be honest,” Mel said softly, her eyes darkening with a knowing intensity. “We need to trust that neither of us will be too much for the other. And if there’s something you want... something that makes you feel safe, or wanted... you just need to tell me. I’ll listen.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened at the intimacy in Mel’s words. There was something dangerous and enticing about her quiet promise, something that made her ache for more. Mel wasn’t just offering to listen—she was offering everything. And for the first time, Y/N felt the weight of her own desires, raw and unguarded.

“But what if I tell you something that’s... too much?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath shallow as she tried to steady her trembling hands.

Mel leaned in even closer, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear, sending a thrill of heat down her spine. “If it’s what you truly need, it’s never too much for me,” she said softly, her voice laced with a seductive promise. “Never.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The words were so simple, yet so full of unspoken desire, that it took everything in her not to give in to the heat pooling in her stomach. She had never imagined Mel to be so open, so willing to give everything. But here, now, with her body so close, so tantalisingly near, Y/N realised that this was not a woman who would shy away from the heat of desire. No, Mel was a woman who thrived in it.

“Mel...” Y/N began, her voice steadier now, though still tinged with vulnerability. She turned her gaze up to meet Mel’s, feeling the weight of her longing pressing in on her chest. “I think I know what I need from you.”

Mel’s eyes darkened, anticipation flooding her expression. She moved even closer, their faces so near now that Y/N could feel the warmth of Mel’s breath on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest, every fibre of her body alive with the raw tension, waiting for Mel’s response.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment longer before Mel began speaking, her voice quiet but heavy with an unspoken promise. “I need you to show me what you feel... not just with words, but with actions. I need to feel all of you, Y/N. The real you. Everything you’re afraid to show—the passion, the tenderness, the desire... all of it.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with understanding, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “You want everything, then?” Her voice was a sultry whisper, sending a shiver down Mel’s spine.

Mel nodded, her breath hitching as she met Y/N’s gaze, the heat of desire building between them. She had never been more certain of her own desires. “Yes. I want all of you, Y/N. Everything you have to offer.”

Y/N’s smile deepened, a predatory curve to her lips. She leaned in, her lips brushing against Mel’s forehead in a lingering kiss, as if savouring the moment. “Then everything you shall have,” she murmured, her voice low, possessive.

When their lips finally met, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a surrender. A moment of raw vulnerability shared between them. Mel’s kiss was soft, tender, but beneath it simmered a heat that pulled Y/N closer, drawing her in. It was a kiss that promised so much more, a kiss that spoke of desires that had been waiting to be released.

Mel’s hands roamed over Y/N’s back, drawing her in tighter. The kiss deepened, slow at first, then urgent, as Y/N melted into it, letting herself be consumed by the fire that burned between them. There was no hesitation now. No fear. Only the raw, unfiltered need to feel everything—to experience everything they had been too afraid to ask for.

In that moment, Y/N realised something. With Mel, there would be no holding back. There would be no more fear of asking for what she truly craved. No more shame. No more barriers. It was a new beginning—one of honesty, vulnerability, and a love that was free of limits. A love that burned hot and fierce, giving them both what they needed.

As their bodies pressed closer, the world outside seemed to fade away. All that mattered was the connection between them. Y/N knew she could ask for everything now, and Mel would be there to give it—all of it. No shame, no hesitation, just desire. Just passion. And just each other.

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juricel · 11 hours ago

Note

heyyy its me again

I have a silly request for you which you can ignore if you want to, since I think your ask box is piling up haha!

basically,

Yandere reader x pre corrupt shadow milk cookie turns to reader x Yandere shadow milk cookie

Reader, at first is super obsessed and does a lot of stuff for pre-corrupted shadow milk cookie and hes like super disgusted by how they’re acting. And suddenly, reader disappears one day, and hes fine with it

beasts get corrupted then get jailed,,

while in jail shadow milk cookie misses how loving y/n was, and realised that he has taken them for granted </33 And now he wants them back because of how love deprived he became

when hes out of the silver tree he see’s y/n again and at first hes all hip hip hooray !! until he sees that y/ns clinging onto the THIEF!!!

he goes batshit crazy, you can be creative with this if you want or just give your little ideas/comments I just really want more food wahah

so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, it’s 2am :’)

tysm for reading oh great one!! you don’t have to do this right away dont worry love ur work already

—💤non

a/n: it's okay, i understand what you were aimimg for! I focused on the other requests before this one and had some church duties to do, so I apologize for having you need to wait for so long.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x past yandere! reader (ft. the bus driver, pure vanilla cookie.)

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, corruption, objectification, stalking, pure vanilla cookie needs a fucking break, one of these warnings is not like the rest, potential ooc.

𖦁 blueberry milk cookie was a heaven sent gift from the witches above, he was a celestial jewel, an angel's whisper brought down to earth, the very breath of seraphim—an impossible, transcendental blessing cradled in the tender arms of witches' own grace. he was a splendid confection, kneaded from divine essence, destined to scatter blessings upon the crumbed multitudes of earthbread—a being way out of your league, you, an ordinary cookie who could crumble and wither into a flour with not a single eye batting to your direction.

𖦁 ah, but how radiant he was, you couldn't help yourself from your love, your dear, your luminous, immortal darling. does he even know? does he grasp the way his mind glows, the way his thoughts spill like molten gold onto the parchment of your very soul? he was your everything, your love—your guiding star, your perfect darling, your sole, necessary breath. and yet, the world, the pitiful, ignorant world, could not comprehend his brilliance, like a mere toy, they had molded him, and cast him aside once their utilitarian need had been served; they did not deserve him. no, the world could not deserve him—those who fail to recognize the sacredness of his mind, who treat his wisdom as commonplace, who look upon him without the reverence of a disciple at the feet of a god—it sickens you, stirs a fury deep within your chest. in the hollowed, gleaming corridors of his towering spire, you would see them—fawning, indulging in their miserable, blind inanities, lost in the sick lies they prefer over the sublime truth he alone could offer. and mind you, it was he—he—who spent his invaluable time, his precious moments, entangled with these dull, odious fools, these imbecilic cookies just for them to throw it away! he should not have to share his divine self with such paltry, uninspired creatures. no, no, no. you could not abide it. you would sever every connection, carve away every distraction, erase every tether that pulled him from you. and if it were required to cloak him in the softest, most unrelenting shadow, to shield him from the world that could never grasp his greatness, to hide him where only your gaze could drink in the luminous glow of his mind—so be it. you would protect him, cherish him, and keep him safe from those who could never understand him as you do.

𖦁 yet, he couldn't seem to understand it all; with every embrace, a look of disdain was given to you, as if you were a taint smeared upon heavens, can't he understand? these cookies were the one that were evil! they will defile him, corrupt his very name with degeneracy! you were merely shielding him away from the evil, how could he not comprehend that? he must've been brainwashed. yes, surely, or so that was what you wanted to believe, however, all his actions proved otherwise: with every touch, he recoiled, like a skittish moth repelled by the flame it once sought. with every affectionate word, he replied in clipped, mechanical syllables, blunt and cold, each one landing with the weight of a slammed door. there was no love in them—no warmth, no hesitance, no trace of a feeling that might, by some miracle, have softened the harsh lines of his indifference. you learned quickly that tenderness was a language he neither spoke nor cared to decipher. a hand reaching for his own was met with a perfunctory pat, a touch devoid of meaning, as if acknowledging, rather than returning, the gesture. you could pour all your warmth into him, let it trickle down the cracks in his facade, but he would not absorb it. He remained, steadfast in his distance, near enough to torment, far enough to elude. you tried to believe in the silences, in the space between his words, in the possibility that somewhere beneath that marble exterior, there was something that resembled love. but hope, much like affection, was wasted on him. you tried, really! to continue loving him, you truly did, but, ah, your feelings leisurely diminished into grains of flour until your love turned into rust and dust.

𖦁 it wasn't long until then your unfortunate sweet dear darling, the celestial beacon in your life was sullied into taint when you vanished into thin air. from graces, he fell, and into the bottom of the endless pit of corruption.

𖦁 and oh, how much he changed: in the cold, lonely cell, he reminisced the past, thought of you, thought of your oh so tender gentle caresses! and to say that it made him deprived of warmth, made him ache—hunger not for food, but for yours was an understatement. he sought and yearned for it, hunger gnawed, a sensation with fangs, sharp and insistent, curling inside his ribs like a starved serpent. he gwaned for you—not sweetly, not poetically, but in the way of a body denied water, of lips cracked and trembling at the edge of a mirage. oh, to be held, to be devoured, to be anything but this wretched hunger pressing against the ribs, licking at the throat, whispering: more, more, more... ah! he couldn't stop it! he promises to himself that he'd apologize to you and pamper you with affection once he gets out of this petulant little silver tree!

𖦁 and he'd definitely stick to his word; the moment he flees from the withering tree binding him and his allies, he had his priorities straight: to find his dear darling! he was beyond ectastic, thoughts filled of embracing you once more and kissing you, but, ah, none could prepare him for the sight that would unfold infront of his very gaze—his sweet puppet was linking arms with /him/. at first, he laughed, he chuckled and brushed it off, no, no, surely he was just presuming things! there was no way his dear would betray him and replace him with such a... ungracious caricature of a cookie, right? right? if you were, he'd definitely need to give you a better eyes as a replacement which was a no worries for him! he has a nice stock of replacement! surely, you wouldn't stoop down to that level of degeneracy. yet, you didn't approach him like he thought and dreamed of within the silved tree, you only took a cautious step back, away from him, away from your perfect celestial darling and to the burlesque version of himself, realization dawned and it made him seeth with anger.

𖦁 blasphemous! how dare you! you superseded his spot with this thing?! to betray him was one thing, but to replace him with this cheap copy of himself whom hadn't grown ever slightly intelligent despite wielding his own power?! you little pest! he'll make you pay for this. oh, and, don't worry your pretty little brain! he promises to be much, much more tender than he will be to him, it will be grand, a show that will mark itself in earthbread's history. so won't you be a good little dear and wait till he finishes his one last marionette show before tending to you?

𖦁 and as for the destiny of the silly little thief... ah, he vows to make him taste his own medicine and he'll make certain it will be a fate worse than crumbling away! he wasn't gonna kill him, no, no, death was far too gentle, he was gonna corrupt him, brainwash his mind with sweet, insidious poison, and distort his reality into a glistening hall of mirrors where every reflection was a lie, every whisper a trick of the light. he would unravel, unravel most grotesquely, as his reason frayed like moth-eaten silk, his thoughts dissolving into the same exquisite delirium that had once seized his own skull in its venomous embrace! and most importantly, he was gonna make him feel like what it felt like to be in his place! he stole his soul jam and now you, surely he doesn't think he can get away with that, can't he? no, no, if he wants to take from him so badly, he was gonna make him /him/.

𖦁 but ah, don't be so upset, dear. shouldn't you be exhilarated? he's giving you the attention you craved for, the attention you digged the sand and soils for until your fingers scarred and numbed for, the attention you yearned and sought for like a madman. so, why won't you clap, give your sweet jester an applause for his spectacular show? don't tell him you were still concerned of pure vanilla cookie! he simply put him in the right path, the road down to the deepest depths of hell, of course, but it was still a befitting destination!

𖦁 yet, still, still, you prattled on, fretting that lovely little head of yours over pure vanilla cookie—his name tumbling from your lips like some sacred incantation, a hymn to a god too distant to listen. and oh, how it curdled something deep inside him, how it set his very marrow alight with a fury so exquisite it was almost pleasure. could you not see? he was here. here, before you, in all his resplendent, fevered devotion, and yet you—blind, foolish, maddening thing—spoke of another. oh! perhaps a lesson was in order. yes, yes, that's right, a lesson. a gentle one, at first—he was, after all, a man of remarkable patience. a game, then, a little amusement, something to turn those wandering thoughts back where they belonged. he would not interrupt, no, never that. he would only guide, nudge, mold. and in the end, oh, you would see. you would understand. you would learn.

𖦁 and to say the wait had been merely excellent would be a crime of understatement, a paltry insult to the fevered anticipation that had coiled and uncoiled within him for so long. no, the outcome was a marvel beyond the bounds of mere expectation. you were back, back as you had been, intact, whole—his darling, his own, still in possession of that precious, once-fractured self. giddy with triumph, he would fall against you, arms encircling the exquisite stillness of your form, his dear darling, still and unresponsive—your gaze, those glassy and depthless eyes, did not meet his but stretched past him, unfocused, fixed upon some distant and nameless horizon. there was no flicker of recognition, no gentle return of his embrace. and yet, he clung to you, triumphant, unbothered by your silence, unshaken by your vacancy. you were here. that was more than enough.

a/n: I've received like... so many requests featuring pure vanilla cookie with yandere shadow milk cookie after i made that one post... do you guys want him dead? anyways, i just lost my pity in the guaranteed banner to fucking sherbet cookie. i need frost queen to turn him into snow once again... can someone bless me their mystic flour luck, ill give you my burning spice who is currently 4 stars (f2p)

#new trailer killed me. shadow milk cookie just wants to be understood and hes willing to ruin pv to make that happen.. my little projector #i just know hes fucking cooked when the update releases though #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader

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scented-morker · 2 days ago

Text

Remember?

Shoutout to kiki for requesting from my Romance Untold event!! I love you mootie, I hope you like this!! exes to ?, Jake x fem!reader, 990 words, fluff.

Your friendgroup decideds to celebrate Valentine’s Day together. The only problem? You’re friends with your ex. And he doesn’t know how to act like he’s not in love with you.

Being friends with your ex was no big deal, really.

A small part of you liked to think it was the pinky promise you'd forced Jake to agree to the minute he asked you out romantically. "No matter what happens, we stay friends."

However, another, more honest part of you knew that even after a break up, Jake was just not the kind of person you could stay away from.

Which is how you ended up in this situation in the first place, a tray of heart shaped cookies in one hand, and a gift bag dangling from your fingers.

Spending Valentines Day with your friends was a much better option than spending it on the couch with a tub of ice cream mourning your newfound singleness. Now you just have to make it through a couple hours without accidentally falling back in love with Jake, no biggie.

"Yn!!" Sunoo cheers as soon as you enter the apartment, taking the tray out of your hands so you can shrug off your coat.

“About time you got here,” Sakura calls from the dining room.

A familiar voice comes next, and you hate the way your heart still reacts to it.

“You’d think after all these years you’d know yn is gonna show up fifteen minutes after what you tell her.”

You cross the threshold after kicking your shoes off, and snatch a throw pillow off Jays couch to toss at Jake.

“Easy girl,” he laughs, snatching it out of the air before it hits square in his face.

You roll your eyes and head through the living room towards the dining room where Sunoo has now set your cookies on the table with the rest of the treats your friends brought.

You greet Chaewon with a hug while she tells you about her work shift that morning.

Jay calls out for help setting the table, and the next thing you know the six of you are sat around the dining table, dishes littering the space in front of you.

A pan with steaks is being passed around, and you stare at them when it gets to you. It makes sense that Jay chose the fancy meat for the occasion, and you felt bad about how picky you were, knowing you probably wouldn’t eat most of it after cutting.

“That one’s for you,” Jake supplies helpfully from his seat next to you, picking up the tongs to grab one of the peices from the side and putting it on your plate.

He makes no further comment as he continues passing the tray.

However, once the conversation has started back up, he slides your plate closer to his own and reaches out with his knife.

“I told Jay you liked yours well done. I know you get freaked because you’re convinced it’s bleeding when you cut into it otherwise.” He says it with an airy laugh, not a care in the world as he cuts your steak into bite sized pieces.

When he’s done, he holds a piece up to your face, letting you get a look at it, cooked exactly the way you like.

You have to restrain yourself from kissing him right then and there, the fondness in his eyes and actions sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Thank you, Jake.”

He grins at you for a moment too long, his eyes boring into yours until Jay calls his name.

When you finally drag your own away from his figure, you’re met with a teasing look on Chaewon’s face.

You give her an impolite hand gesture before happily eating the rest of your meal, ignoring the way Jake’s knee bumps into yours under the table.

Soon enough, you’re spread out on the floor of the living room with a gift bag from a randomly assigned friend in front of each of you.

Everyone starts going through their bags, yelling and showing the person next to them in excitement.

From your spot on the floor, you don’t notice Jake on the couch behind you setting his bag next to him and opting to watch as you pull on pink tissue paper.

Inside is the newly released book you needed to finish your series, your favorite scent of perfume, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, and a sunflower Lego set.

Your head immediately whips towards Jake, finding him already looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

The legos were the exact set you helped him build after your first date, when you’d gone back to his apartment after dinner and slipped into one of his flannels while he dumped the pieces all over his bed.

You reason that a hug is reasonable considering he just got you an extremely thoughtful gift, but all thoughts of justifying it to your friends disappear as soon as Jake’s arms are around you.

You lean your head into his neck, his familiar cologne surrounding you as his hands run up and down your back.

“Thank you,” you mumble into him.

“You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like? Please, give me a little credit.”

You let out a laugh, and Jake’s skin erupts into goosebumps at the feeling.

When you finally pull away from the hug, you get hit in the face with a ball of tissue paper, and you turn to find everyone staring at the two of you.

“Ok can you open the gift that I so carefully picked out for you now?” Jay asks, and Jake finally focuses on his own gift.

His left hand falls onto your shoulder as you sit back down on the floor in front of him, and you don’t make any attempt to move it.

When he gives Jay a hug for his gift, Sakura leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Why’d you two break up again?”

You flush red and swat at her, but as Jake’s hand returns to its spot on your shoulder you find yourself wondering the same thing.

#requests !!#enhypen x reader #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim scenarios #jake scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jake scenarios #jake drabble #jake fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff

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theoreticallybread · 1 day ago

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i genuinely believe that if not for bruce, dick and steph are the ONLY batkids that would have taken up crimefighting.

dick’s entire origin story is filled with rage and despair, he watched his parents fall to their deaths and learned that they had been brutally murdered because of something that wasn’t even their fault! his pure rage fueled his creation of robin. even if bruce hadn’t taken him in, i can tell you that he would have gone after his parents’ killer himself, and probably wouldn’t have stopped trying to rid gotham of crime even as he matured and grew a sense of empathy towards all victims. dick was already the angry robin, it only makes sense that he would have done something even without the cape.

no matter what anyone else says, jason was NOT violent. he loved being robin with all his heart because it gave him magic. it is clear to me that he hated the thought of harming innocent people especially through his time at ma gunn’s place because of his resistance to the thought of being turned into a hurting machine like the other boys. and yet as soon as bruce takes him in, he becomes just that: a child soldier. if bruce had not taken jason in, i think he would have been much happier. he knows that the deaths of his mother and father, while tragic, are not something he needs to avenge, and all he looks for afterwards is food and a roof over his head. he is not a character built on revenge, he is introduced to the concept by bruce when he is trained to defeat evil with his fist rather than his words. jason would have been an amazing teacher if he wasn’t red hood, and he would be able to help people in crime alley just the same, by providing support and a good foundation for them to accomplish things.

tim drake did not want to be robin. the only reason he ever became robin was because he needed to protect everyone who faced the wrath of an angry bruce. he is an observant person and he noticed how much harder bruce was hitting after jason’s death. he knew that bruce needed someone else out there with him to stabilize him and prevent him from doing something he’d regret. tim tried to get dick to fill that role, but when he refused tim took it upon himself instead. he’s responsible like that. tim drake most likely would’ve been a successful businessman if he wasn’t a cape because of his smarts and ability to read people.

steph is the only other robin i believe would have still worn a cape if not for bruce. she found out about her father’s wrongdoings and immediately her sense of justice told her that she needed to stop this from happening. she would be unable to stop herself from trying to protect innocent people with or without bruce, just because of her absolute need to do the right thing.

cassandra and damian are similar in the fact that they were raised as human weapons and weren’t allowed to be their own individual people. i firmly believe that they would have managed to break free of their oppressors even without bruce’s existence for talia to rely on in regards to damian. after so much time spent fighting and being used, i think they would have tried to find an identity outside of this. they probably would’ve have ended up as similar people to the ones they are with bruce in the picture, but i doubt that they would have continued to fight as much outside of absolute necessity because of the bad memories surrounding it. if they did fight, it would be in self defense and for themselves, not in accordance with what someone else wanted them to do.

duke is complicated, because while he does have a great sense of justice and is also a meta, i don’t think he would have continued to pursue the path of a vigilante for very long. i haven’t read a ton of stuff with duke, but i think i can safely say that he would have taken a step back from everything to support himself and take care of his parents after what the joker did to them. he probably would have taken up a career that involved aiding people in a more peaceful way, similar to jason.

anywho thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

#batman #bruce wayne #nightwing #dick grayson #red hood #jason todd #red robin #tim drake #robin #damian wayne #black bat #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #signal dc #spoiler dc #duke thomas

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mastermindmiko · 2 days ago

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Finally

Pairing: Sirius Black + Reader

Summary: Sirius reunites with his girlfriend after many years in Azkaban

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, I believe, but lmk

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The ministry’s guards have been following me around for the last two days. They follow me to work and back to my home. There is a guard positioned in front of my office that stays there, surveilling anyone going in or out. I’m sure they’d have one at my home, if I didn’t so clearly state my distaste for the idea, going on a small rant about my rights.

I wish I could’ve said that I was unexpecting of be pulled out of my work in the middle of the day. Three days after the papers printed out the news, and I had caught a glimpse of his adult face for the first time in years. Despite the disheveled hair and maddening stare with the manic scream, it was still him.

The interrogation room is exactly like I thought it would be. Remus had described it in his letters, he was his friend after all, it made sense to interrogate him as well. There’s only a few people present in the room, most of them being guards and secret keepers. The veritaserum is present in a small vile, on an even smaller table. I sit down in front of it and take a small sip.

The auror raises an eye at me, I gulp down the whole potion. I can already feel the effects start to take place, it’s getting more difficult to hold my tongue. The auror grabs a piece of paper from the secret keeper next to them and the reporter holds more tightly to her pen.

“Please state your name.”

The first questions are standard procedure, making sure that the veritaserum is in full effect. It’s basic questions: my name, my age, my occupation. The Auror clears his throat and I straighten my back ready for the actual questions. His voice bellows as he speaks, “Have you had any contact with Sirius Black?”

“No, I have not.” I reply, and as much as it pains me to say it, it’s the truth. The Auror’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously. I can hear the quill scratching at the parchment paper, my answer recorded. He asks, “Have you been in contact with anyone who has been in contact with Sirius Black?”

“No, I have not.” I repeat, and feel the boredom steep into my skin, not just annoyance that was already present. I had wished that he had contacted me, but surely, he was waiting for the trials to be over, he wouldn’t want to get caught.

“Do you know anyone who Sirius Black might try to contact?”

“Do you have any ideas as to where he might hide?”

“Are there any people who might’ve aided him in his escape?”

“Have you aided him in his escape?”

The questions go on and on, and I watch the arrows of the clock tick and tick till an hour of my day is gone. The Auror is on his last paper with the last necessary questions. He asks, “And finally, what was your relationship with Sirius Black?”

“I was his girlfriend.”

***

“I’m not sure I like this.”

“No, don’t worry, you’ll love this surprise.” Remus teases, hinting at something I don't understand. I had received a letter from Remus, entailing anything except for the fact that the order is coming back together. For the second time, to fight off Voldemort. Harry needed more people around him that believed him more than anything.

I open my eyes and my breath hitches when I see him. He looks older from what I remember and much more sane than the pictures that the daily profit prints.I can imagine that if I’d ask him, he’d just smirk and flirt. He’d say that thoughts of me held him over. He’s got his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. The dirt that would’ve covered his skin from the confinement in Azkaban, nowhere to be seen. He wanted to make a good impression, and that was too bad.

“Actually, I’m sure that you’ve loved this surprise for a while now.” He says He walks me towards an unknown room in Grimmauld Place 12. The new location for the order is odd, and quite awfully random. I wasn’t sure how Dumbledore agreed, it seemed such an obvious place to hold a resistance against Voldemeort, but maybe that was the brilliance of it.

Remus was being awfully ominous, he’s been hinting about this surprise for a bit, and now that he’s finally leading me towards it, I feel anxious. I clutch my bag tightly in my hand and try not to look like I want to open my eyes so badly, aching to not try to take a subtle peek through my fingers that covered my eyes.

Remus shuts the door behind us and positions me. He lets go of my shoulders, and shouts, “Surprise!”

The feelings of relief from seeing him, all gone out the window as my fist clenches in anger and my blood boils. Why had he not spoken to me? Been out of Azkaban for two years, and not a single word. How dare he rob me of this relief? Everyday coming home from work to eagerly check my letters and find none with his name. Looking deeply into the fire escape, hoping to see a familiar face, but don’t.

I rush over to him and start slamming his shoulders and chest with my bag. I shout, “You’ve been out of Azkaban for two bloody years and you haven't come to find me till now, you idiot!”

“Ow,ow,ow! Darling, please stop.” He says, moving away from my bag and my fists, but I take a step towards him. I feel my eyes water at the nickname and how much I’d missed his voice. He holds my wrists and pulls them down, taking the bag from my hands and flinging it to the ground.

I look at him again, and there he is. The boy I fell in love with,now a man, but with the same mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He smiles when he notices that my defenses have been let down, and my eyes softened. He always knew me too well. I feel my eyes burn and I press my lips together, urging the tears to stay back.

“I’ll give you guys some space.” Remus whispers before leaving the room. Sirius shoots him a smile and then turns back to me when the door closes. He looks skinnier, being on the run tends to do that. His cheeks are more hollowed out, but definitely filled out more since his initial escape. I wonder if he knows that I look at his pictures everyday. Sirius whispers, “How is it that you’re still getting more and more beautiful?”

“How is it that you didn’t come find me? Or contact me at all? Harry’s been talking to you, he’s told me about the letters, and apparently you’ve been talking to Remus too.” I ask, avoiding his expert technique in changing the subject. He lets go of my wrist and I feel my fingers twitch, aching to get a hold of him again. He sighs, and says, “I was in Azkaban for twelve years.”

“So?”

“So…you could’ve moved on, and I-” He admits, pausing to let out a shaky breath. Fourteen years didn’t change the man that I knew. The mannerisms are the same, the same nervous shifting and awkward, but devastating smile. He continues, “I wasn’t ready to see that. Don’t think I am now, but it seems like it’s been long enough.”

“It’s been too long.” I say, and take a final step towards him. I gulp and reach out to take his hand. I feel the softness of his finger tips, sliding my hand over his, feeling the lines of his palm and his callouses. It’s all the same and I can't without the sigh that breaks out from my chest. The first proper touch from the love of my life. He grips my hand the same way he always did, lock and key. I pull him tightly against me, hug him. For years, this is all I’ve wanted, and now it’s here.

“Have you?” Sirius asks, and I pull away, frowning and confused. I ask, “Have I what?”

“Moved on?” Sirius asks, tentatively, part of him not wanting to know, instead wanting to live in an ignorant bliss. To me, it’s a stupid question. I smile, “No, how could I move on when you’ve taken my heart eighteen years ago, and so selfishly haven’t given it back to me?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get around to giving it back.” He grins so widely I think his face might break. He leans down and captures my lips in a heated kiss that’s filled with so much emotion, the emotions that neither of us could’ve expressed for a long time.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed! I have a feeling that I've been writing too much Sirius Black, though I'm not complaining

I feel a few tears finally escape my eyes, I can’t believe that he’s actually here, in front of me, kissing me after all this time. He wipes them away with his thumbs and cradles my face with his hands. For the first time in twelve years, though maybe without friends and heart bruised and more broken than before, I don’t feel alone.

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hana-recs · 2 days ago

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this fic is in fact everything. i laughed and cried and also live reacted to it because i don't know how to shut up (sorry jo) but i LOVED it so much. i will be thinking about them forever!!!!!!!!!

As usual, Mingyu has texted you privately, away from the group chat. ^ HA. they’re whispering. it’s a sign. but also — so much is done with that “as usual”. jo ur a genius and i love you.

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: just know that you are missing one of my best creations [7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: but dont worry i will save you some ☺️ because i’m the best roommate ever [7:31pm] You: thank youuuuu! I might not have any tonight but you know i’ll eat the leftovers! [7:31pm] Cinnamingyu: hows the date? [7:36pm] You: i am very bad at bowling actually!!! [7:36pm] Cinnamingyu: aim for the pins [7:43pm] You: have i mentioned that i hate you?

^ your honor i love them already. their dynamic is written so WELL like already u can tell how much they know each other, and how it’s different from their other friendships.

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

^SCREAMS. screams so LOUD. this is so cute but after reading “my feet to follow” im a little. apprehensive. i think about that fic SO MUCH.

Now he looks over at you, smiling beatifically, innocently. “There’s my Sunshine.” (…) “You’re cranky today,” he observes, the arm not trying (sort of) to slap Mingyu’s leg folded behind his head. “Why might that be?”

^this isn’t a jeonghan fic but my god i love him. roommate jeonghan does have my entire heart in his hand and he may do with it what he wills.

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

^ never mind. jeonghan and wonwoo have half of my heart each. (your characters are written so well and even in their small cameos they have so much presence and they don’t just feel like they’re there for no reason AGHH i love.)

…then makes his way over to his side of the bed. The empty side of your bed. Not his.

^ouchie. also a few paragraphs down — the timing of the texts between her and daeyoung!!!! hello!!!!!!!! i love tiny details like this they really just. make the fic.

And no one has thought of you, not like this, in a very long time.

^ so i would like to give her a hug. your main characters are always so likeable and relatable (😂🔫) and . yeah they just feel very human and i love it!!! but also; the significance of him and mingyu getting her flowers but mingyu knows her favourite 🥹 AND THE NOTE? “sunny flowers for sunny baby” okay well i’ll just cry myself to sleep or whatever.

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

^ user daechwitatamic i have tears in my eyes. this fic is written so beautifully. i could Eat this angst like i truly feel like i foul take a bite out of it. which doesn’t make sense but i’m trying to say that it’s delicious. and also it hurts.

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

^ this is just gorgeous fucking writing and i truly don’t know what to do with myself anymore. she’s so in love with him and to my outsider third party eyes it’s so clear to me that they’re idiots!!!!!! please kiss!!!!!!!!!!!!! but then i also think that the complications and the uncertainty are written so cleverly that you completely understand reader’s pov 🥹

oh my god jeonghan’s whole entire talk with her made me so emotional like. i love him so BAD he’s such a good friend.

LOVE the part where she was communicating w daeyoung bc i was slightly terrified (he seems so nice!!) that something would go terribly wrong there. however i have trust issues and so i’m. not fully convinced of anything right now 😭😭

ok so this fic is so engaging and investing. the tension during the games scenes where daeyoung comes over is SO palpable i feel like i’m there and experiencing the discomfort with everyone else. idk there’s a very immersive feel to your writing and i appreciate it SO much .

ope and i had a feeling something was going to happen there with daeyoung. the story is getting painful. i am feeling pained. like yay they made up! but also this is a mingyu fic and so i can just sense that this is a dip before the fall (i think i just made that up i really don’t think that’s a saying)

july section — 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 nothing funny but i have to laugh or i’ll cry. the dialogue here is something else 🥹 yn finally expressing herself and u can truly feel the emotion pouring out of the words i’m truly in awe of this fic.

the text messages were so soft. yn is stronger than me i would’ve folded but also i’m so glad that she made him grovel. i personally think men should always grovel

SCRWAMS. THEYRE KISSING THEYRE KISSING THEYRE KISSING happy days. i literally let out a sigh of relief. omg the rollercoaster of emotions this fic has taken me on. i’m so glad they got their happy ending 🥹 this whole fic was written so beautifully - the characters were so human and realistic and the words were just so perfect and brought everything to life in the most wonderful way. and the CHARACTERS !!!! all the different dynamics were everything and all the different personalities were so interesting and none of them felt flat or one dimensional at all (which is something i struggle with so i admire this so much.) user daechwitatamic i will be forwarding u my therapy bill but thank you SO much for writing this and i apologise for this insanely lengthy and repetitive essay. i missed reading your writing 💗

Cinnamon || KMG

banner by @sailorrhansol

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

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

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

WC: 19k

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

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

December

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

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

“Morning. You’re up early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roomies 💕

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

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

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

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

[8:09am] You: you’re disgusting

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: you love me

[8:10am] You: 🙄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:14am] You: yet ☝️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[10:51am] You: yeeeeees 🤭

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

[10:51am] You: blocked and reported

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: you know

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

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

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

[8:38pm] You: i don’t 😘

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

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

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

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

He’s a nice guy.

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

But.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “She was cute!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are we watching?” he asks absently.

“Nothing, apparently,” Jeonghan quips.

Beside you, Mingyu growls a little.

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

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

Mingyu stops scrolling, pausing to think.

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

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

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

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

You feel rather than see your friends share a glance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You go ahead,” Mingyu says.

“You were in line first,” you argue.

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

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

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

[12:51am] You: me too ☺️

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

–

January

New Year’s Eve

Roomies 💕

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

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

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

[11:13pm] You: yyyeeesssss??

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: ok 🙁

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

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

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

[11:17am] Cinnamingyu: ???

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

[11:18am] Cinnamingyu: lmao on it 🫡

[11:28am] Cinnamingyu: ok im ready

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

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

[11:29am] Cinnamingyu: or whatever 🙄

[11:29am] You: 😘

New Year’s Day

Roomies 💕

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

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

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

[4:09am] You: home safe ♥️

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

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

[12:42pm] You: ok! i’ll be here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t.

You open your eyes again. “Mingyu?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He whines a response.

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

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

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

–

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

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

–

February

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

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

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

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

Apparently, you’re an asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway. Life goes on, right?

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

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

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

The secretary is still watching you, harmlessly curious.

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze when you flick on your bedroom light.

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

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

Sunny flowers for Sunny Baby. Love you. - M

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you reply meekly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine,” you say again, firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

His smile triples.

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

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

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

March

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

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

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

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to be sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that simple,” you argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m thinking,” you say dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

April

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

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

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

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

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

“Entertain me,” he whines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

May

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, Jeonghan is kind of right.

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

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

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

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

“Rude,” Wonwoo remarks from the couch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knock it off,” you growl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s being too nice. You feel terrible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just one more you can add to your list.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh oh,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our hero,” Jeonghan deadpans.

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu!” you laugh again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not!” you protest. “It’s true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart cracks.

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

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

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

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

“I know you didn’t,” you allow.

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

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

He has nothing to say to that.

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

“Were you sleeping?” he asks.

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

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

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

That guy again. What is it with these two?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s like that, huh?” you joke.

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

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

–

July

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence falls on the kitchen like a rockslide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not-”

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[5:23pm] You: i don’t care

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

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

–

August

August 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 4

[7:43am] Mingyu: you’re killing me

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

[1:36pm] Mingyu: come home

[1:36pm] Mingyu: please

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

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

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

[10:23am] You: no. my mom’s.

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

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

August 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I sense a but,” he says dryly.

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

He shrugs, face blank. “Okay.”

“Daeyoung.”

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

That guy. Again.

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

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

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

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

August 6

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning ☀️

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

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

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

[8:03am] Mingyu: fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:09am] Mingyu: i’m an idiot

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

[11:59pm] Mingyu: please come home

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

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

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

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

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

August 7

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

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

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

August 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 9

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he says your name.

Not Sunny. Not Sunny Baby. Your real name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He whispers your name again, then looks at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The peace lasts…. until you check your phone.

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

—

November

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you so much for reading!!!!

#omg i really can't shut up #svt; fluff #svt; angst #svt; smut #g; svt #svt; mingyu #a; daechwitatamic #svt; all-time favs

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