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hoshigray · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! | t. fushiguro + k. nanami

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Taking your daughter to a sleepover with her best buds is easy peasy; ending up staying over at said sleepover to have some fun of your own with the two single dads you're crushing on? Not so much...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dilfs! Toji + Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; single parents au - implied you + Nanami are in early 30s; Toji is in late 30s - Tsumiki (age 10), Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara (8) - mutual pining/crushing - fluff then SMUT then fluff - kissing/making out - mutual masturbation (m! + f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - Daddy kink - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spoon/sidesaddle dp + reverse cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play (swiping) - praise - breeding kink - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (angel, baby, good girl, love, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - Nobara is your daughter; Yuuji is Nanami's - mention of drool/spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k (Christ almighty...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask from one of my anons; so happy to be writing an actual fic after a month, yippeee!! and tysm for 7.7k, my loveliesss!!

“Hahah, I win again!”

“No fair, I used the aerials like you taught me, what!?

“Yeah, but there’s no point using them if you’re just gonna let Itadori counter.”

“Shut up, Megumi! Hey, Yuuji, one more time!”

“Hey, keep it down, you three.” You warn the children who cause a ruckus in the living room from the dining table.

There’s nothing wrong with hanging with friends or going to someone’s house to play. Children are highly encouraged to do so to form deeper relationships! It’s what you’d want for your child, your sweet daughter poking out of her public shyness now that she’s playing video games with two of her best friends at a playdate.

Your daughter, Nobara, heard your warning and swerved her head back to apologize. “Sorry, momma! Itadori’s just cheating!”

“No, I’m not!” The pink-haired boy sitting next to your brunette daughter on the living room floor retorts. “She just sucks at playing!”

“Why you…” The two kids glare and argue to themselves while another sits on the living room couch and sighs at the interaction before him. Megumi was his name, the raven-haired boy putting his attention back on the animal encyclopedia he was reading.

You chuckle before speaking again, “Well, cheating or not, keep your voices down, okay? Tsumiki is trying to do her homework.”The kids nod and return to their fun on the television; the sounds of controller buttons mashing and clicking fill the absence of their voices, and you go back to what you were primarily doing. “Need any help there, Tsumiki?”

The fourth grader perks up from using her name, flashing a weary smile in your direction. “I’m trying to find these countries for my quiz on Monday, but where are Colombia and Guyana…?” The paper before the little girl exhibited a blank sheet with a map of the North and Southern American continents; a word bank is provided to the side with a list of countries.

Getting up from your chair, you walk to the vacant side where Tsumiki is and sit alongside her. “Hmm, let’s look at this together…”

This wasn’t your home; it belonged to the father of Yuuji Itadori. Staying during your daughter’s playdates was a rarity, particularly in another parent’s house. Yet today is a Friday, and you didn’t really have much to do other than clean the apartment and maybe catch up on a show or two. Besides, it didn’t hurt to watch the kids play and laugh now and then.

Luckily, you aren’t the only parent here; two other parents are taking out of their day to monitor the kids with you! The only problem is that…they make your stay a bit difficult.

Footsteps are heard descending the hall from the bedrooms, and your eyes peer to find a man walking into the kitchen area. “How’s studying going?” Golden blonde hair was the first you see, followed by the pleasant look of his chocolate brown eyes. A slim-fit grey long-sleeved shirt hugs his frame well, accompanied by dark-fitted jeans and dress socks. Kento Nanami, Yuuji’s adoptive father, has entered the scene and has made your heart skip to an irregular tune.

Thankfully, saving you from making a fool, Tsumiki answers the man. “Good, Auntie Y/n is helping me remember countries of South America!” She says with a blinding smile.

“Is that so?” Nanami opens a cupboard to pull out a glass to pour water. “You think you’ll be okay for the quiz?”

“Mmmm, if I remember five countries out of ten, I should be fine. I know more, thanks to Y/n!”

“Good,” your breath hitches when he walks to stand behind the chair you were sitting on. “And how are those three?”

You cough before averting your gaze to the living room. “They’re fine,” you watch your daughter exclaim in glory after finally beating Yuuji in the video game. The salmon-haired child groans in defeat, standing up to switch with Megumi so the other can play. “Nobara loves playing with the boys; they make her competitive spirit wild. It’s funny because she’s usually quiet and soft-spoken around me and others. However, that doesn’t explain her track record with terrorizing the boys of the school…”

Nanami chortles at your observation, the sound almost hypnotizing you. “Children bring out a different side in each other, helps them grow.”

“Wise words—“

Grrooorrr!

You both stop at the sound of a rumble, glancing at Tsumiki to see that it is her grumbling stomach. The child chews her quivering lip and hides her face by looking back at her homework. You giggle, “You hungry?” She nods slowly. “Me too, sweetie; the pizza should be here any minute.”

“That’s odd,” Nanami takes a sip from his glass. “He said the food would be done by the time he’s off work. It’s almost 7 o’clock, is there traffic on—“

KA-CHA! CLACK-CLINK!

“Yo, I’m here with the pizzas,” another voice, a lot lower and gruff than the blonde’s, enters the space. Your heart skips again, and you instinctively turn to find the source — you know who the source is.

Giant steps draw near the kitchen area, keys rustle as he stuffs them inside his jeans pocket, and the other hand holds three pizza boxes. After putting the food on the kitchen island, the man scratches his onyx head and stretches. His loose-fit cotton sweatshirt slips for a peak of his abs to be seen, and your eyes pull back before they hook onto the tanned skin for too long. Green eyes capture yours, and a smirk uproots the scar on the right of his lips. “Hey, Y/n,” the way he says your name pulls you in. “Good thing I caught ya before you could leave.”

You gulp to wet a dry throat. “It’s good to see you, too, Toji.”

Toji Fushiguro, the father of Tsumiki and Megumi, strides from the island down to where you three are, ruffling his daughter’s brown hair as a greeting. “How’s homework goin’?”

She swats her father’s hand away, fixing her ponytail. “It’s okay, I’m just hungry now.”

On that note, you decided it was time for everyone to take a break and eat. “All right, kids, the pizza’s here; come over and eat!” Nobara wastes no time springing out of the couch and sprints for the dining chair next to Tsumiki after you stand to grab the paper plates.

The boys don’t move, eyes glued to the screen and fingers moving across the controllers. Nanami tries to get their attention again, only for Yuuji to excuse themselves for a few minutes. The golden-haired father looks to the other before giving him a curt nod, a signal for Toji to walk to where the boys were sitting and turn off the television. They groan in unison before the black-haired man picks them up effortlessly and waltzs back to the dining table. “Time to eat, squirts.”

You have known Nanami for a long time, meeting him around when Nobara was still aged by months and could barely walk. Being a first-time parent is no easy task, especially since the man took Yuuji as his own after the death of the baby’s parents and grandfather when he was just a newborn. The transition from sober salaryman to committed fatherhood wasn’t an gradual one. But you know what they say: it takes a village, no matter how big or small. You found Nanami at the perfect time while you took care of Nobara, lending a helping hand to the single guardian whenever he needed advice or help looking after the pink-haired babe. He’d return the favor, of course, having you two spending and getting to know more about each other throughout the years. So, as the babies grew and became friends, so did you and him.

Toji entered your life around the same time as well; a single father of two was just as [if not more] challenging as your scenario. Not to mention – the poor man had to work ungodly hours, sometimes calling up a friend to look after his kids. You felt for him, even Nanami, so you’d help him out as well whenever he needed it, whether it be picking up Tsumiki and dropping her off at daycare or rocking three-month-old Megumi to sleep and waiting for the father to return home safely deep in the night.

Without the hood of parenthood, you three wouldn’t have become such good friends. Although there have been rough moments, at least you had the two to share and relate with if necessary. You’re so thankful for both fathers being in your life, serving as dependable outlets as you three grow along with your children. And it’s an even bigger blessing watching the kids have become great friends — practically inseparable! Words cannot express the gratitude for Nanami and Toji, treasuring the men so much that you’d love to maintain this mutual relationship with them as long as possible.

Being friends is more than enough; however, a tiny piece of yourself wishes something more to come out of this friendship. Admitting that to yourself is enough to have your ears heat up in shame. Crushing on the two fathers like some school girl, how embarrassing…

But can you blame yourself? As you all sit down and eat around the dinner table, you find it hard to restrict your eyes from wandering to either side of the table where the men sit.

Don’t get it twisted; you’ve always thought of the dads to be attractive men. However, the more time you’ve spent visiting and getting to know them, you’ve found that they’ve become more and more charming as the years go by. Now, it has gotten a lot worse.

Nanami is so entrancing to the eye — damn near looks as if he walked out of a movie set. His mocha eyes were so soft and perfect with his mellow tone. The charismatic blonde easily played with your heart with how attentive he was, making sure if you and Nobara ever needed anything or ever wanted someone to voice with. God, he was too good to be true, it was hard not to fall in love with him — you were honestly mesmerized the moment he first said your name. Now, solely seeing him is enough to make your ears hot and your heart race. Your admiration for him threatens to dwell into that of a childish crush — how mortifying!

And Toji — fuck, that man. Aside from having a body literally sculpted like an Olympic athlete, the dark-haired man was somebody who knew how to wind you down. Maybe it was the baritone voice that always captured your attention or the mischievous jokes and flirts he’d throw your way; whatever it was, Toji knew how to draw you in. Sure, you were a little intimidated by him at the start, but that’s long been substituted with feelings of trust and mutual respect from seeing how much of a good father he tries to be for his children. Although, the more you hear his gruff laugh, see his smile pull the scar, or forest green eyes drilling holes into your very being, the more you want to slap yourself for thinking about him day by day!

Goddamn it! As you sit at this table chewing on your pizza slice with the others, all you can think about is how pathetic you must be for falling for the two heartthrobs of your life. It’s appalling how these two fathers have yet to snatch up somebody, knowing there would be lines of people wanting a piece of them. And you sigh heavily, thinking if there’s ever a possibility you’d be lucky enough to be on the receiving end with either.

Probably not…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Annnnd BAM! UNO!”

“What?? You’re cheating!”

“Am not! You can put draw twos on plus fours!”

“Hah!? That’s not in the rules!”

“So? That’s how my mom plays.”

Why am I being brought into this… You shake your head as you observe the kids play their final card game before bed. All the children are dressed in their respective pajamas, sitting in a circle around couch pillows as they draw and place cards down. The sunset has long been set as the hour hand touches the eleventh number; the kids usually go to bed at eight or nine. But it’s the weekend and meant to be a sleepover, so one or two more hours of fun shouldn’t hurt anyone.

“UNO Out!!” Except for the heavy groans shared with Megumi and Yuuji as Nobara finishes the card game with an enthusiastic slam, turning around to give the older brunette a high five. “See, Tsumiki? I told you I can handle it!”

“Man, that’s not fair,” Yuuji throws his card pile to the floor in exasperation. “Wish I knew about that rule beforehand.”

Megumi does the same, “You should’ve made the rules clear before we played the game.”

“Wahh, keep complaining, loser,” Your daughter annoys the boy with a blown raspberry. “Fine, we can try again; if I win, I’ll have Yuuji's bed to myself and Tsumiki.”

“Not happening!” You and the salmon-haired child deny the winner’s request, and the girl only snickers mischievously while Tsumiki deals the cards.

Saved by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, Nanami is now here to dismiss the bunch. “All right, kids, time for bed.” Every one of them mourned at the statement; Yuuji quickly requested five more minutes, only to be shut down by his father. “Nope. I’m done with my shower, so you four must get to bed — that was the deal.”

“Aww man…” The four begrudgingly get up from the living room floor after putting the cards away and setting the pillows back on the couches. Before they leave, they wish you a good night. “Goodnight, Mom!” Nobara comes rushing to you for you to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetpea,” you let go of her so she could run back. “And you three — where are my kisses?” Yuuji and Tsumiki happily come for you to place a goodnight kiss on their cheek. All that’s left is the silent child of the bunch who, unfortunately, doesn’t slip past your eyes. “That means you too, Megumi. Or else I’ll chase you down and kiss you up a storm like last time, you hear?”

The black-haired one fights a smile creeping his face, slowly taking steps to where you sat and fidgets as you kiss his cheek. You wish the boy goodnight, and he follows the others down the hall to the bedroom after doing the same.

“Fushiguro’s in the shower now.” Now that the children are gone, Nanami sits on the left side of the couch before dimming the ceiling lights. He turns on the television, “Seems like they’re having fun.”

“Mmm, they are,” you settle by the middle to be close to him. “I can’t believe they’re all so big now. Didn’t Yuuji just turn eight years old last month?”

“Mhmm, he’s now the same age as Nobara and Megumi,” he says with a smile. “For a little while, that is. He is the youngest, after all.”

“You’re right, poor thing.” You giggle with a stretch. “Nobara’s gonna be nine this August, and Megumi at the end of the year…”

“Hmm. We are old.”

That made you laugh hysterically as the delivery of the comment sounded so defeated yet true. It’s okay, though, since Nanami was laughing himself with a shaken head. “Don’t say it like that! They say you get sexier during your thirties.”

“Are you sure about that? My grandfather had photos from his thirties, and he was balding and getting chunkier before turning thirty-five.” More laughter seeps through your lips. “I don’t know, Y/n; not all of us can keep fit like Fushiguro; he still works out while halfway approaching forty.”

“Now, hold on, Nanamin,” you grin while pointing to Nanami, and you can see him try to fight a smile after using the nickname he supposedly doesn’t like. “You can’t say shit, either; you still look like a model coming straight out of a Men’s Vogue magazine!” That made him laugh more, the sound warming your heart. "You still got it, Kento; a real prince charming."

“Why thank you, Y/n,” he appreciates the compliment.

“Of course.”

The silence following that felt unsettling and had you fidgeting with the bottom of your halter top. Five uncomfortable minutes of nothing but the lowered volume of the television to fill the space. Come on, Y/n, keep the conversation going. “So, almost ten years, huh? A whole decade.” You watch Nanami nod along through your peripheral. “I remember the first time I met you; you looked like you barely got any sleep for the past month.”

“Because I didn’t. I was hassling with back-to-back meetings, on the cusp of finding another job to take outside of being a salaryman, and then had little newborn Yuuji to come home and put to sleep after feeding. Thank God you could babysit for him with Nobara; I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh God, I remember when you came home so tired while I was rocking both to sleep. I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever seen you fall asleep on the couch; so tired you forgot to greet me!”

“We don’t talk about that,” he scratches his ear. “That wasn’t so bad when we promised to watch over Megumi and Tsumiki during the weekend while Fushiguro went to take up so many jobs. He fell to his knees once he passed the threshold, and I had to walk him to his bed.”

You tittered at the recollection — all the memories mentioned made you feel warm and glad, all the years coming back to you with a happy memory. “We’ve done good, though. We managed, and the kids are growing to be good friends.”

“Before you know it, maybe Nobara will come to you about liking the boys—“

“That isn’t happening; I asked her the question like three weeks ago, and she said if she and the boys were the last people on Earth, she’d kill herself.” Nanami gasped and stifled a laugh, but you could see his shoulders bounce. “A third grader — an eight-year-old – telling me she’d off herself rather than be with one of the boys. Talk about radical...At least she loves to hang with them; she loves those boys like they’re her little brothers.”

The blonde hums to your words. “Them being close is a blessing. I guess that’s thanks to us, having each other’s backs all these years.”

It’s your turn to nod to him. “True, and I’m just glad they like being with each other.”

“Same here; Yuuji likes being with you guys,” he throws his head back. “…Just like I do.”

You blink. “What do you mean?” Suddenly, you feel as though you shouldn’t have asked that question because the way Nanami turns his head to look at you nearly paralyzes you. Oh my God…

“I like being with you.” He says it tenderly, only for your ears to pick up. “You make me feel at peace when you’re around, and I’m not as close to anyone as I am with you. A decade of you being in my life has made it more serene and…fun. So, I like it when you’re with me.”

You didn’t breathe a single puff of air during his speech. The worst part was that these were Nanami’s words — they were genuine. You could feel it in his bronze gaze, your heart unable to control itself.

And it doesn’t help that your eyes took in every detail of him; his hair, usually neat and styled, is now down and damp from the shower, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His home wear comprised a loose sweatshirt and dark grey sweats, but you snuck a glance of his collarbone that peaks from the opening collar of his shirt. You move your gaze to the floor to stop yourself from looking any further, or else more fuel for indecent fantasies will be stored for later!

Fingers fiddle with each other as you chew on your lip. God, Y/n, just fucking say it! “I, uhh…I like being with you, too, Nanami.”

“Do you really have to go?” He scoots in. “You know I don’t mind you staying over.”

“I—ahem—I think, yeah…I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and Toji; I’m sure you two would wanna catch up on stuff. I’ll just come back and pick Nobara up in the morning before—”

You stop uttering more once you feel a sudden hand on your right shoulder. Turning to your left, you didn’t even realize Nanami scooting to be so close to you, his face a hand’s length away from yours. Once again, you have forgotten how to breathe. And when he places his left hand on your right that lies on your lap? You don’t move a centimeter.

“I want you to stay,” his tone low and sincere. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I like you being around me. I…” He brings your hand to his lips, and a soft kiss makes you gasp faintly. “I love it, actually.”

You gulped. There’s no way this is happening right now. There’s just no way! “Kento—“

“I mean it.” He kisses your knuckles again, his eyes locked in with yours. He chuckles, “You were right.”

“About…what?”

“As you grew older, you have changed quite a lot. You’re…Well, no, you’ve always been pretty. But, all these years, you’ve become a lot more beautiful,” he draws his face in closer. “Breathtaking,” you instinctively close your eyes when his nose brushes yours. “Sexier.”

Nanami’s lips land on yours on the final word, and you don’t move a muscle when he does so. They felt soft against yours, perfect for the mellow kiss. It doesn’t last long, only a few seconds. Yet you quivered as he withdrew, placing his forehead against yours as his hand weaved with your fingers.

“Ken…” Fuck, this is too much. The hand on your shoulder exhibits no interest in getting off. “I can’t, I have to—“ he shushes you with another kiss.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” What the fuck!? Did he just use a pet name on you? “You know I can take care of you, right? Even for one night,” you tremble when he licks your bottom lip. “Stay for tonight, okay?”

“Kento..” He pauses when you hesitantly remove your right hand from his grasp, thinking you’d push him off. But then you bring both hands to cup his sunken cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs. “…More.”

He doesn’t wait a second, accepting your request and bringing his back on yours. Small pecks to the lips gradually become more arousing and tilted heads to achieve a better angle for entry. You moan to his mouth, and so does he. Tongues slowly become adventurous, twirling with each other and exploring the other’s mouth. It feels so good; you lean into Nanami’s hold with every kiss. And he happily accepts you as he gives you more.

Jesus Christ, something straight out of a dream. And if it was, you only hope to indulge in it for a little longer. More, more—

“What do we have here?”

However, you can’t indulge if another person comes into the frey unsuspectedly.

Two bodies retreat from each other, sitting awkwardly on the couch appropriately as Toji walks into the living room. Your lips shook with anxiousness, stealing a glimpse of Toji’s smirk as he walked to your right. You sneak a glance at Nanami, seeing the shade of pink rise on his skin lightly, and you cover your face to shield yourself. Fucking fuck, this is embarrassing!

“Don’t act all shy on me now, you two.” Toji’s weight dents the right side of the couch, extending his arm to be behind you. “Don’t be scared, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Did you check the kids?” Nanami fakes a cough.

“Out like a light,” he answers, creeping his hand from behind onto your shoulder. You shudder at his calloused touch and gruff laugh. “What’s goin’ on, Y/n?” You meekly turned to look at him. Same with Nanami, Toji’s dark hair was damp from the shower, substituting his day outfit with a blank tank top and grey sweatpants. It took everything in your power not to peek at his pecs or exposed biceps.

You avert your eyes from his. “Nothing…” You saw his chest jerk from a scoff.

“Wow, you two are really gonna act like some kids, huh.” His snark remark has you both flattening your lips in shame. “Act all quiet when somethin’ happened.”

He prompted you to question. “How much…did you see?”

“I saw the kiss — you looked like you were enjoyin’ it.” He purposely said that to make your cheeks hot, the brazen bastard. “But I heard Kent here say he means it when he likes havin’ ya ‘round.”

Nanami speaks up while scratching his brow. “Y/n was, uhh, just about to leave.”

Toji lifts a brow. “Leave? When the night is still young?” He subtly shakes you. “Why so soon, hmm? It’s the weekend; I just got outta the shower an’ hoped you’d be here a lil' while.” He spoke to you slowly. It was a dangerous approach with that husky voice. He squeezes your shoulder when you’re not answering.

“I just….You and Nanami probably have some ‘guy stuff’ you wanna catch up on, and I don’t want to come in between that, you know?” It’s here you muster the courage to look at the raven-haired man. Big mistake; now he has your attention where he wants it.

“So considerate, huh,” his free hand comes to your cheek, and you’re frozen as he plays with the flesh of it. “I think you should stay, Y/n. What kind of friends would we be if we let you drive out late."

It’s hard to remind your body to breathe when Toji is surveying you intimately. What the fuck—why is this happening all of a sudden!?? “You–Toji, it’s okay, I’ll—“

“Besides,” he teases you by rubbing your earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “I like you bein’ here, too.” You’re too distracted from him bringing his face to your neck to kiss, evoking an unstable gasp. “Lookin’ all pretty fr’ me…”

“Toji…��Ahh!” You didn’t notice him slide his hands down to the chest area of your halter top, his large palms groping your breasts affectionately. His kneads are rough yet pleasing, having you whimpering for him. “Don’t touch so…Hahhh…”

“Bad girl,” he chuckles to your ear after placing a kiss on your cheek. “Over here lettin' Kent touch you and think you can leave without me havin’ you for a bit, especially when you were eyein' us up earlier today...” He kisses your lips to take in your silent squeaks from fondling your chest, and you mewl for him. “Daddy wants you, too, baby…Heh, so does Kent.”

You peer to your left to see the mentioned man, and you’re taken aback to see him close to your side again. Holy shit. You literally questioned about this earlier, wondering if you’d ever be on the receiving side of these two. You did NOT expect this answer to come out of the blue within a few hours! And now that it’s here, how could you leave now?! This is what you wanted. And – to your surprise – so did they.

You swallow spit and lift your left leg to the couch. And Nanami notices the initiative, coming between your legs to kiss your lips again. Your back pressed against Toji’s chest, you’re caged between the two men who seek to pleasure you in this proximity. You moan to Nanami sucking on your tongue, coinciding with the satisfying kneads of your breasts.

Suddenly, Nanami breaks the kiss with a groan, and Toji chortles close to your ear. Curious, your eyes venture down to find that Toji’s hand grasps the tent of the blonde’s sweatpants. “Enjoyin’ y’rself, huh, Kent?” Toji strokes his hand on the boner, evident through the clothes.

“Toji, st—Hnnn…!” You watch this, eyeing Nanami’s composure slip away as his cock is being touched. The older man willingly massages his friend’s dick, and you observe how he effortlessly makes the sand-headed man hornier with his hand alone. It makes you feel hot, sensing a throbbing sensation in between your thighs. So, you silently bring a hand to sneak inside the hem of your wide-leg jeans.

But you don’t go unnoticed because Toji kisses your cheek. “Like what ya see, sweetie?” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “Want me to take care of you? Here,” he then takes your hand to swap with his, your fingers feeling the rough skin of Nanami’s cock as you hold it. “Make him feel good, ‘kay?”

You couldn’t believe it — Nanami’s hot, living cock was in your grasp. And as you have begun to stroke him, the noises he made turned you on even more. His veins are felt in your very palm, and precum exuding from his urethra lubricates the pretty fingers around his length. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel to have him ease the aching pulses between your legs, how good it would feel to have his girth massage your insides.

But your crude thoughts are interrupted by Toji’s left hand skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, slithering inside your panties, and meeting your wet cunt with his fingers. You jolt, but he’s right there to coo, “Relax, mama,” his free hand squeezes your chin to turn and face him. “Daddy’s gotcha…So fuckin’ beautiful,” Toji slams his lips into you for a steamier kiss, and you lose yourself.

Your hand on Nanami goes faster, eliciting extra precum to escape and stain the material of his sweats. Nanami leans forward to lick and suck the skin of your neck, forcing you to break the kiss with Toji to wail inaudibly while his fingers brush up on your soaked folds with unforgiving speed. Not to mention his bulge grinding against your back…

“Ahhnn, wait, guyss, we can’t—Mmmm…!” Toji kisses you again, grinning at your expression as he sucks and nibbles on your tongue. “We can’t do this…Not here…”

“Why?“ Nanami blows on your ear. “What’s wrong, love?”

CREEAAKK!!

That’s what’s wrong!

Like a flipped switch, all three adults unscrew themselves away from each other and sit back into their original positions. Nanami immediately pulls his pants back up, using a couch pillow to hide the situation that shouldn’t be present as he’s sitting in the living room. Toji follows suit, leaning on the couch arm.

Sounds of tiny footsteps draw near, and they belong to none other than your daughter, who sleepily rubs her eyes coming into the space. You are the first thing she sees, “Momma? You’re still here?”

“Mhmm,” you hoped you didn’t sound too off. “I’m just watching a movie with Uncle Toji and Kento. What are you doing up?”

“I thought I heard your voice,” Nobara walks to you and puts her head on your shoulder, and you voluntarily pick her up to have her sit on your lap. You smile; even though she’s growing day by day, she’s still your baby at heart. “Didn’t you say you’d leave after I go to bed?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to,” the two men sitting on either side of the couch say nothing. “And I can’t go now, seeing you’re still up.”

Nobara nuzzles into your neck. “Does that mean you’ll spend the night, too?”

“Mmm, I wish I could, sweetpea,” you kiss her forehead. “But I didn’t bring any change of clothes or pajamas. I don’t even have my toothbrush – I’d be walking around with stinky breath.” You hear the girl giggle at your words.

What you just said gave the two fathers an idea, the men giving each other a look before saying anything. “I have some unused travel-size toothbrushes and toothpaste I’ve kept from business trips.” Nanami inquires; you put your foot in your mouth on that one.

Toji adds, “You can use the sweatshirt I wore today as PJs. I don’t mind.”

Of course, you don’t. Shaking your head, you knew what the two were insinuating. The adult language is too nuanced for your daughter to pick up on. It’s not like you’ve never slept over Nanami’s place before; you’ve done it dozens of times — even Toji’s! However, this time was different; you three have crossed a line you didn’t think was possible. What happened minutes ago was a mere taste of what could happen if you three decided to change this relationship into something more intimate. And now, after revealing the curiosity, the men were all in to see it through.

…And yet, you can’t say you don’t feel the same either. Are you kidding? You have goosebumps just thinking back on how close you three were, how their hands and lips felt on your skin, and their attention placed on nothing – on no one else – but you. It made your heart beat uncontrollably, knowing that your decade-long crush on them was being favored in more ways than one — like a dream come true!

“Mom?” Snapping back to reality, you peer to Nobara, who awaits your answer. With a smile, you boop her nose with a finger.

“Only if you go back to sleep, sweetpea.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The hour hand had finally met the twelfth number, the midnight hour designating the quiet neighborhood into a calm slumber. Light posts automatically turn on to display the sidewalk, yet the darkness of the night serves as a blanket to cover the silent homes.

Nanami’s home was simple — a one-floor house perfect for the blonde man and his son. Aside from the living room and kitchen, it had a hall that harbored the bedrooms, Yuuji’s guest bathroom, and closet. The children were all resting in Yuuji’s room, the first door to the left you’d meet when entering the hallway. Other than the master bedroom, there was no other room besides the living room couch for you to sleep in.

Being by yourself is something Nanami wouldn’t want, and Toji would’ve primarily taken the couch since you had no plans of staying. But since that’s been changed, the two men took this opportunity to enjoy their sleepover with your company, using the master bedroom at the end of the hall to further themselves from the ears of the snoring kids. Tonight, you’d finally have your answer by being spoiled by your crushes all night.

“Dahhh, Toji, yer tongue…fingers…Ohhh!”

“Fuck, Y/n, you look so gorgeous…Here, kiss me, angel.”

“Mmmm, fuckin’ shit, y’ taste so good…Waited so long fr' this..."

You were practically stuck with them the moment they locked the door. After borrowing Nanami’s shower, your nude body was met with hungry hands and hot kisses, drowning your senses with their overwhelming presence. Three naked bodies lie on the bed, you with your back to the sheets and legs spread. To your right was Nanami, making out with you lovingly while a hand cups and massages a breast. Toji had his face nestled between your thighs, his tongue licking around your labia and fucking your vagina, inspiring you to cry for the blonde next to you. The older man also pleases you by fingering your asshole with lube, conditioning it for future use.

You melt into Nanami’s kiss, and soft tweaks on your nipple make you mewl into his lips more. But you withdraw to scream, “Ahhaaa! Kentoo, touch me more…”

“Hmm? What, baby?” He presses his lips to your cheek, kissing your chin to the outlet between your neck and shoulders. “You like it when I play with your chest?” A low snicker humors him from watching you nod, and he brings his mouth to your nipple to suck on.

You grip the sheets, “Ohhh, hooo…! Tojiii, y’re gonna make me c—Uuuhh!”

He separates his mouth from your soapy folds, and your liquids stick to his chin. What an obscene sight with the grin he has on his face. “Yeah? Ya wanna cum on my mouth, mama?” Unlike Nanami, Toji doesn’t take a nod; he’s a bit of an asshat, so he licks your clitoris to tease. “Use them words, baby; wanna hear you say it fr’ me.”

“Y–Yesss, yes, I do,” a hushed howl after Toji sucks on your pearl and the other rubbing on your nipple to the roof of his mouth. “Pleaseee, I wanna cum…!”

“Heh, well, don’t go cummin’ on me just yet,” he kisses your slit before straightening up and pats your inner thigh. “All ready fr’ ya, Kent.”

Nanami then releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and maneuvers to lay on his side. “Come here,” he asks, resting your head on his arm and lifting your leg. You hum at the contact of his glans meeting your cunt, “So wet for me, huh?” He pushes his cock to the entrance, and you gasp at the tip inserted into your vagina. “Relax, angel,” he coos to you with a kiss on your nose, gauging your reaction as he slowly snugs your vagina with every inch of his cock.

Your mouth goes agape at the stretch of you taking him in; the feeling of his cock feels too good and surreal. And the brush of his dick on your sweet spots has you squeak, same with him poking on your cervix. He throws in a few thrusts to start, but you didn’t expect that. No, fuck! He rubs on your walls at a precise angle, prompting your orgasm to come a bit too quickly to comprehend. So, you have to bite your lip to keep your scream hushed, letting the flutter of your cunt speak for you.

And Nanami notices it, hissing at the contraction. “—Hnnm! Shit…Did you cum, sweetheart?”

“Oh, did they?” And here comes Toji, straddling both the bodies below him. He leans into your face, licking your ear. “Felt that good, huh, baby? We haven’t even started.” He kisses your forehead before uncurling back up and aligning his dick to your lubed anus. Then, he pushes the tip to be swallowed by your puckered hole, and you mumble small prayers as his fat length is pushed inside. “Shit, this tight ass…”

The older man begins to move into you, his shaft churning the inside of your ass. Nanami does the same, his cock scraping your insides synched with Toji’s rhythm. The movement has you immediately making noise beyond your control, wails bouncing around the space between you and the men.

It isn’t long before the two find a groove; Toji pistons his cock with every pull of Nanami’s, and sounds of skin slapping lasciviously against each other are picked up by your ears. How could you not tighten more around the limbs inside you, especially when they scrape on against your tender wails so accurately? Especially after coming, your nerves have not yet recovered from the wave earlier.

“Ohh! Hoooh fuuuck,” your back arches a bit, helping the sand-haired man to find a better angle to scratch the upper wall of your vagina. Your vision is screwed shut, making it easier to indulge in the sensation of their cocks ravaging your insides.

Toji sees you from up top, his eyes traveling down to your ass and whistling at the sight of you taking his and the other’s dick. “Damn, ya feel so good, Y/n. Ass so tight, act like ya don’t wanna let go.”

God, why’d he have to say it like that? Your face was hot enough; did he want to make you melt on this bed? And Nanami doesn’t make it any better. “Heheh, they twitched,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, felt it, too…What’s goin’ on, sweetie?” Toji pulls his cock until his cockhead is on the verge of coming out, and he slams it back down to have you moan aloud. “Ya like bein’ fucked like this? Takin’ Daddy’s cock like a good girl…?”

“They’re gripping me again.”

“Ken, stoop!!” The fair-headed man laughs at your protest, your resilience still present even if it’s wiped away in seconds when Toji quickens his pace. “Nnhhh…! N-Not too fast, I’m sensit’veee—Ahhh!”

“You say that, but your body says otherwise, love,” Kento brings a hand to your hip to massage. “—Nnnn! Jesus…wanna cum so bad…”

Oh, fuck, imagine: being filled to the brim by Nanami’s come? Being stuffed by both of them? It turned you on so bad. “—OhhhGod, please, cum inside me!”

Gold eyebrows furrow. “I can’t, baby; don’t got a condom on—“

“It’s okay, I want it…!” The thought of getting pregnant again should be the very last thing that should pop into your mind right now. And yet, being knocked up by these two has you craving Nanami’s release even more. “Pleaseeplease, I want you to fill me up…! Don’t hold back for me, Ken.” You can tell he’s still on the fence about it. But with a kiss on his nose and a soft hand on his cheek, you convince him otherwise.

“Wanna be the mother of my child so bad, huh?” He says with a chortle, “So beautiful…” Before he snaps his hips into you, Nanami brings you in for one more kiss and wraps his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. He ruts into you with purpose, making sure he’s balls-deep with every push and reaching the deepest he can. You howl at the brush of your cervix again, allowing him to use you to chase his climax.

“Oh? You got him going, now,” Toji comments from above with a smirk, still maintaining the pace with Nanami despite the younger male going erratic. Your screams go higher and higher, so you bring in a hand to cover up the noise. This was not the time to test how thick the bedroom walls were, despite the kids sleeping a closet and office away.

Nanami groans into your lips; his length relentlessly rubs your silky texture. And when his orgasm does reach him, he grinds his pelvis, stirring his length so deep that you can’t help but writhe with him. You can feel his penis pulsate with every pump of his load inside you, satisfying your excitement as your hand massages his skull. He keeps you like this until his body has calmed down, sluggishly removing his pillowy lips from yours with a sigh.

Chocolate brown orbs are fixated on yours, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe spit from your face. “God, you drive me crazy. Making me cum inside, one child’s not enough?”

You titter, “Well, wouldn’t hurt to have another, you think?…Mmmm,” you almost forget about Toji. The raven-haired man removes himself from your ass, his shaft still standing.

“Don’t forget ‘bout me, now,” he reminds you two of his presence, getting his frame off you both so you can move around.

You stand with your knees between Nanami’s legs while he sits upright. “Come here,” he places his hands on your hips and leads you back onto his cock. This time, he’s the one entering your asshole, and you both moan at the union of your sexes. Once your ass meets the base of his pelvis, his arms wrap around your waist and carefully bring you down with him. Your back to his chest, his lips to your ear. “So tight and warm…Hmmm.”

This position is new to you – in fact, this was all new! You can’t remember the last time you had your body this close and intimate with another figure. It’s been so long – damn near bizarre - especially when your heat is transferring with the gold-haired man behind you. The aroused hums to your ears have you throb involuntarily; you could melt into his arms right about now.

That thought goes out the window when Toji’s weight has you looking in front of you, and your brain nearly shuts down at the sight of the older man coming in between your legs to lift them, his emerald eyes locked on yours. Jesus, fuck! You had to turn away – it was all too much!

“Ah ahh, don’t go turnin’ ‘way from me,” he gives your legs for Nanami to hold from the back of your knees, and then he cups your cheeks and moves your face back to him. “Waited almost ten years to have you like this, so I wanna see all of you, mama.” Just when your face couldn’t get any more unreasonably hot, this handsome bastard just had to say that while fondling your chest! And it doesn’t help the other charming face is placing kisses on your neck.

Toji uses this position to spread your folds; he can’t suppress the ardent smirk lifting his scar. “Kent did his thing on you, and ya still want more, huh?” You press your lips together when he slaps his glans on your leaky chasm. “Watch...” Your eyes follow down to the tip of his dick, vulgarly using the come seeping out of you as lube. You gasp sharply at the insertion, “Breathe fr’ me, baby,” he coaxes you through every inch of him, burrowing inside your inner channel that you almost forget to blink from the display. The girth of him has you wail beneath him, and you cry at the poke of your cervix again! Christ, you don’t know how long you can do this.

“—Hnngh…! Fuck, good girl,” the dark-haired one praises, grinding his pelvis down to churn more friction inside you. “So good fr’ Daddy...”

Slow ruts to your chasm begin the second round, three bodies rocking within a mutual cadence. You throw your head back with shut eyelids concentrating on the two dicks that push to and fro from your holes and scrape your walls. And a choked scream leaves your frame at the jab of your cervix again.

“Ohhhshiit,” eyebrows furrow with a chewed lip, and the two men begin to quicken the pace. “HooohGod! F’eel so good…Ahahhn!”

Toji puts his hands on the headboard as leverage, using his hips and the flex of his abdomen to take control. Fuck, seeing his nude physique so up close was too marvelous; it couldn’t be true — it shouldn’t be!

And Nanami is no better while whispering to your ear. “Feeling good, Y/n?” He teases your lobe with a lick, “Gripping on us like crazy as if you’ve been waiting for this, hmm?” You try to protest, but all that comes out are sobs when he jerks his hips unexpectedly. He chuckles, “So cute…Hmm? Heh, you are feeling good, huh, love.”

Can you believe it? Being fucked by these two attractive men, and you’re fingering your clit in the midst of it all? Embarrassment rings your ears as your fingers swipe and grind around the neglected pearl. Toji and Nanami share a look for a split second, and then Nanami switches his hands with the other. Instead, an arm snakes around your waist to keep you on him, and the other silently moves yours aside to play with your clit.

That only has you crying even harder. Pinches to your clit and kisses to your leg accompany the increased speed of their thrusts. Tears well up at every jolt of your body from the frequent jabs to your vaginal walls, scraping your G-spot so precisely. And the length in your butt keeps feeling so fucking good! Grazing your velvet texture that you can’t think straight.

“—Gaahhh! Mmmph!” Your hand finds Nanami’s wrist to hold on to as his middle and ring fingers swipe on your clitoris. You scream his name when he pitches it softly, “Kent—Ohhh! Shhtop, ish too much!!”

“Yeah, too much?” He toys with it gently. “But I don’t hear you telling me to stop…”

The two of them go at a sporadic pace, skin slapping onto yours harshly in sync. They nearly take your breath away, thanking God they have a hold on you before the momentum steers you away. “Hahah, ohhh, ohmyGod, guys,” Toji bends down to add more of his weight, making you howl from the angle of his fat cock. “I cannn’t; again, I’m about to cuuhmm agaiinn!!!”

“Really? You wanna cum, baby? Mmph! Fuck, this pussy…” He groans. “Gonna be a good girl and let Daddy finish here, yeah?” You nod, and Nanami pinches your clit again on Toji’s behalf. “Words, sweetie, words.”

“Yesss, Daddyyy!”

“Gonna lay there and look cute while I knock ya up, right?” Again, the thought of having another baby should not have you excited. But again, there’s no way your head could be right during all of this. “Hmm? Want Daddy to give ya a baby?”

“Mmmm! Please, Daddyyy, fill me up…!” You were spouting out nonsense, but who cares? “Make me a mama again…Ohhh!”

And he does just that, pounding his shaft at you so harshly that it rocks your entire body, especially with how he brings your legs up to your chest to have your slit fully exposed for him. “Holy shit,” he bites his lip as he eyes your nude frame before him. “Look so fuckin’ sexy like this, Y/n.”

You couldn’t thank him for the compliment, your lips busy with Nanami’s as he takes you in for a steamy kiss. Both men drill their members into you in erratic unison, leaving you a squealing mess for the fair-headed one to deal with. His hands continue to tweak and grind on your clitoris, and your orgasm hits you before you can prepare yourself with a tear trickling down.

And the flutter of your walls around their cocks eggs them onto waves of their own, groaning along with your cries as they piston you with the final ruts of their hips. Their pulsating lengths exert their loads inside your holes simultaneously, filling you up with their essence as their sweaty bodies heave and shudder. Nanami releases your clit from his grasp, the same with your lips.

He hums pleasantly, his brown orbs hooded yet comforting. “Told you I love having you around me.”

“Bet y’re glad you stayed over,” Toji’s hand finds its way to your chin after putting your legs down. He scoffs when you bashfully nod, bringing you in for a kiss. “Did so well, mama…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mornings are typically a thing you share with your daughter in the comfort of your home. From the moment she came into your world to having her own room and bed, Nobara would always be the first thing you’d see when waking up. Coming into your room to greet you, pulling you out for something, or get dressed and ready for the day with you – it was a routine the two of you shared, a sacred thing to enjoy between parent and daughter. So, to wake up in a room different from yours or see a different face has been a rarity ever since she became your top priority.

This morning, though, was one of those rarities.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered open from birds chirping and the sun peaking from the bedroom curtains. Drowsy eyes scan around to see that you are not in your room, already being alerted that something had happened last night of the change of scenery. And when you look to see who lies beside you, it all hits you like a slap.

It was like a scene from a romance movie, waking up to Nanami’s stunning face that was highlighted by the sunlight. Fair blonde hair that matched the softness of his russet eyes and a kind smile to match. And your breath hitches when he brings a hand to caress your cheek.

“Mornin’, Y/n.”

And, of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d be greeting you. You sheepishly turn around to see the other man looking at you, viridian orbs ready to meet your pretty face. The smile on his face pulls the scar on his lips, the man effortlessly shooting an arrow into your heart.

Everything that occurred the night before flashes, and the heat returns to dance on your cheeks and ears. Waking up in a different bed with two handsome men is one thing. To wake up to your crushes greeting you good morning, all three of you nude and comfortable after a night of mutual passion? Oh, you had to be dreaming still.

And yet, you couldn’t look at either of them in the eyes, averting your gaze modestly. “…Good morning,” you say quietly, almost squeaking your heart out when they both move to be closer. They kiss you, embrace you, and give you attention as if your decade-long crush has finally been lifted for them to spoil you. It’s kind of suffocating in a way. But, God, it felt so good.

Eventually, you got up and threw on some clothes to make food for everyone, Nanami joining you after putting his sleepwear back on. Toji had to leave for a moment to grab stuff from the store, his daughter waking up to the sound of him slamming the front door close. Then came Megumi, then Yuuji, who greeted Nanami with a hug, and now Nobara. The children sit around the table and mingle while you and the blonde fix some blueberry waffles, eggs, and bacon.

“Isn’t that my dad’s shirt?” Megumi was the first to notice it, pointing to the sweatshirt that went with your loose jeans — the same sweatshirt that Toji wore yesterday.

You flatten your lips before coming up with an answer. “Yes…I had nothing to wear for sleeping over, so he gave me his shirt. He didn’t mind; he brought an extra one.”

“You stayed over, Auntie?” Yuuji inquired after taking a sip of his apple juice. “Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch.”

Brown brows scrunch together before Nobara asks, “But wasn’t Uncle Toji the one who’d sleep on the couch?”

You open your mouth, but words fail to exit out. Sharing a glance with Nanami, who coughs while putting waffles on plates, he covers for you. “He slept in my bed with me.”

“You slept with my father?” Tsumiki interrogates, trying to stifle a laugh. “He snores a lot, so I’m sorry if you couldn’t sleep, Uncle Nanami.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and closes with the arrival of her father, walking to kiss Tsumiki’s cheek and ruffle Megumi’s hair before entering the kitchen. He pulls something out of the plastic grocery bag and hands it to you. Putting the mixing bowl down, you take what seems to be a box, and your eyes widen to Toji’s amusement. “I’d take those before leaving if I were you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you put the box of birth control to the side with a flustered face. “Thank you…” And before you can process it, Toji sneaks a kiss on your cheek with you distracted. The older man cackles to himself when you slap his arm and push him off. Thankfully, none of the kids notice.

“Uncle Toji,” Nobara grabs the man’s attention. “Is it true you slept with Uncle Nanami?”

The question takes him aback, but Toji’s quick on his feet to reply. “Yeah, I did. Your dad looks like a dead man when asleep, Yuyu.”

The pink-haired child nods along to the nickname. “Mhmm! Even when he comes home from work, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, like some kind of vampire.” You snuck a glimpse at the sand-haired man, who rolled his eyes before bringing plates to put on the table.

“Anyways,” he diverts the conversation to a different subject, placing a plate full of food in front of the boys. “Be ready for the zoo after breakfast, Yuuji. Didn’t you say you wanted to see the new tiger cubs?”

The Fushiguro siblings brighten with interest at the mention of the zoo, turning to their father, who instantly shuts them down with crossed arms. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already takin’ you two to the aquarium tomorrow; you want me to pay for more tickets for some animals?”

The joy in their eyes diminishes in seconds. “Cheapskate,” Megumi mumbled under his breath, earning a blueberry to be thrown at him by Toji. But the siblings smile when Nanami says that they can come along.

“Momma,” you dreaded hearing your daughter’s voice during this conversation, hesitantly peering at the dark-haired girl after being given her breakfast. “Can I go, too?”

Oh, goddamn it. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t keep going back and forth from the house and wherever. Besides, you have karate today.”

“I can skip!” Your mouth drops at her enthusiasm. “Besides, we can just sleep over again!”

This girl! “Nobara, you can’t just go making those decisions like this is your home. Did you ask Yuuji’s father if it was okay to stay another night?” You probably shouldn’t have said that, as the girl immediately asks the blonde father the exact question. And to your shock, he says they’re free to stay another night. You’re not helping! “You don’t even have an extra pair of clothes!”

And to make it worse, the onyx-haired man beside you says this, which makes you facepalm with a groan. “I can drive you two home and back. Saves ya some gas.” You’re not helping either, and you’re just losing gas for my sake!

Mornings were supposed to be an easy thing to deal with. And yet here you are, dealing with a predicament. Shit like this is precisely why you don’t stay for too long during Nobara’s playdates and sleepovers; now you’re backed into a position where saying no seems futile. Nothing wrong with the children wanting to hang out more, but fuck does it throw the routine off. However, it wasn’t all bad. Because the whole point of this was for the little girl to have fun with her friends, who are you to be a Debby downer on her parade?

Plus…you’d get to hang out with Toji and Nanami for another day; that alone has your stomach running laps right now. Not only did you have your feelings reciprocated by the two men within a single night and then some, but you’re now invited to stay another day and enjoy the weekend in their company. You can sense their gazes on you, awaiting your answer – your approval to spoil and please you for one more night. And what makes your heart skip into flips is that there would probably be more days and nights to deepen this relationship between you three…

So, with a heavy sigh, you slide your hand down your face.

“…Can we at least go get some spare clothes first?”

14K notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 1 year ago

Text

HESITATING // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After a trip to Hogsmeade, you realize that Theo seems to get an awful lot of attention from girls. To avoid getting hurt, you start to distance yourself from him to rid yourself of your crush. But Theo is not having it. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! No protection - piv, praise kink, slight body worship, biting (one time), fem reader, language, one time skip, dom!Theo (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

more than friends - Isabel LaRosa

---

Your eyes found the clock on your bedside table. You were supposed to meet Theo in the Great Hall in ten minutes, yet you stood completely still in your dorm, switching back and forth between two outfits. It was a Saturday, and you didn’t have the usual crutch of your school uniform, hence the inability to decide.

As the year progressed, the temperature dropped outside as well as within the castle. When chills were scattered across your arms in class, your teeth were almost clacking together. At the thought, a small shiver went through you.

You decided on a heavier sweater and jeans, noting that if you were cold in the warmth of your dorm, you’d likely be cold in the stone Great Hall.

You slipped the outfit on, selecting a thick pair of socks and a ratty pair of shoes you’d had since fourth year. It wasn’t the most stunning style, but it was efficient and comfortable. Five minutes to go.

You slipped your wand into your back pocket and headed toward the hallway, slipping the dorm door closed behind you. Theo was likely already there with his group of friends, ones you liked to call friends, as well. The sons of big names around Hogwarts and the wizarding world, in general, though they were just boys to you.

As you arrived at the grand doors of the Great Hall, the boys in question caught your eye and shot excited waves at you. While some of them had a bit more pride than others, they always seemed happy to see you. A smile broke across your face as you walked over to the Slytherin table, claiming the space between Theo and Mattheo.

“Hello there, darling,” Theo purred in your ear when the group went back to their conversation. A twinge of heat flared in your chest. You hid a smile.

“Miss me?” You asked, voice low. He smiled.

“Of course I did.” He threw a playful arm over your shoulder. Though it seemed to be a friendly gesture, it felt like a claim to you. A claim by him placed onto you, alerting all who you belonged to. It made you embarrassingly happy.

“Any plans today, boys?” You asked. The group turned to you.

“Actually, we were thinking of heading down to Hogsmeade for the day,” Mattheo said. “We were going to ask if you wanted to go with us?”

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not forcing myself on the group,” you said, only half-joking.

“Of course not,” said Enzo, a sweet smile on his face. “We love hanging out with you.”

“Yeah?” You teased. Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“You know we like you,” he joked, running a mean hand over your head, tousling your hair. You exclaimed and pushed his hand away, laughing along with the dark boy.

“We definitely do,” Theo laughed, pulling you tighter against him for a moment.

“Well, alright,” You laughed. “Heading there now?”

“Yes!” Enzo clapped his hands together and stood, already headed toward the door. The rest of you laughed and made to follow him.

“What about jackets? It’s cold out there!” You exclaimed, rubbing your hands over your arms.

“Ah, I’ve prepared for that,” Theo said, picking up two jackets that had been placed beside where he’d once sat. You hadn’t noticed them originally.

He selected the smaller brown one and slipped it over your shoulder while he pushed his arms through the black one.

“Theo!” You exclaimed, running your hands over the nice corduroy material. “Where on earth did you get this? Whose is this?”

“Yours, of course,” he laughed as the four of you exited the castle and headed down the cobblestone path to Hogsmeade.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Call it an early Christmas gift,” he said, smiling smugly.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I am,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I saw it in one of the shops last weekend and thought of you.”

If you weren’t the wiser, you’d have thought your heart had melted and poured down through your rib cage. A blush filled your cheeks and your stomach at the thought of Theo thinking of you and then buying something.

“Thank you, Theo,” you sighed. He laughed and shrugged it off as if he hadn’t just made your whole week, if not your whole decade.

The whole way down to Hogsmeade, your heart refused to let go of your brain. The pink filter that had been placed before your eyes glowed brightly. This little crush of yours seemed to have elevated a bit, but you’d never admit that, of course.

The group stopped before the Three Broomsticks, eager to slip into the cozy building’s warmth and order several rounds of Butterbeer.

The four of you pushed through the door and selected a round booth near one of the back windows. Enzo and Mattheo headed to the front counter to order for the group.

“Have you got any plans for the rest of the day?” Theo asked, naturally sliding his arm around the back of the booth behind you.

“Well, if you’ll have me, I’d love to stick with the three of you,” you suggested.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled, playfully tugging on a piece of your hair. He was hoping you’d say that?

“Here we are!” Enzo cheered, placing two pints of Butterbeer on the table before the two of you. Mattheo was close behind him, carrying two for the both of them. They slid into the booth beside Theo, with you and Mattheo on the ends and Theo and Enzo between you. It felt comfortable.

Between each of your smiles, all with different personalities, you’d found a very safe space to stay. Every moment with these people made up a memory you knew you’d remember until you could no longer. Nothing could have ruined this evening.

“Oh, my God!” A loud voice said, drawing the syllables out. The four of you turned to look at the unfamiliar face standing before your table. “Teddy? Is that you?”

“Teddy?” You asked, wrinkling your nose at the nickname.

“Holy shit. Laverna!” Theo laughed. “How long has it been?”

“A while! I’ve just been visiting recently and thought I’d stop by Hogsmeade after not having seen it for so long.”

The girl standing before your table was incredibly gorgeous, with flowing platinum hair that reached the bottom of her spine and shocking blue eyes. Her skin appeared flawless and luminescent beneath the comforting lights within the restaurant. A fire of jealousy broiled in your chest.

“Guys, this is Laverna,” Theo introduced her. “We were pretty close before her family moved to France, and she transferred to Beauxbatons.”

“That’s me!” she giggled. It sounded like she even had a hint of a French accent. You struggled not to roll your eyes.

“I was just going to get a drink. Do you want to catch up a bit?” she asked.

Theo ushered Mattheo and Enzo out of the booth. A bit confused, they got to their feet and allowed the boy next to them to slide out and give a hug to the beautiful woman. You sipped your Butterbeer.

The other two boys sat back down and glanced up at you in scattered patterns. You ignored their eyes. You were pretty sure they knew about your little crush. Scratch that. They definitely knew.

Over your shoulder, you could hear the two of them laughing and carrying on. You attempted to ignore the burning in your cheeks. Mattheo and Enzo nursed their drinks, fidgeting randomly.

A few moments of randomized chatting passed before Theo finally came back, a poignant smile still painted over his lips. You looked away from him.

“Sorry about that,” he laughed, scooting in next to Mattheo. You tried not to think about the fact that he didn’t sit next to you. You were being dramatic.

“Alright, where to next?” He asked. The four of you discussed what to do with the rest of your day with random store names circling about. The final agreement was to head over to Honeydukes to enjoy some of their Christmas sales, and so Enzo could stock the small jar that sat beneath his bed. He tended to snack throughout the night as he was tending to assignments, refusing sleep.

You gathered together and made your way through the small town, window-shopping here and there. Every time you pouted over Theo’s seemingly obvious interest in the gorgeous girl, you remembered the jacket currently around you. Theo cared about you. Was it the way you wanted him to? You weren’t sure.

Once inside the colorful store, the four of you split and wandered your separate ways, each looking for different sweets. You always headed right toward the chocolate frogs, eager to extend your vast collection of cards. Perhaps it was a bit childish, but who cared? It was a fun hobby.

You stopped before the rack piled high with the blue boxes and stared. You tried to guess which one would have a card you’d never gotten before, conjuring up every ounce of intuition you had.

With another second of thought, you chose the one sitting on the shelf directly in front of your face. You were excited to open it with Theo; he always loved to see you add to your collection.

You turned the box over in your hands, examining the packaging. Out of the corner of your eye, a flash of red caught your attention. You turn to the left and notice Theo laughing aloud, talking with that same girl, Laverna, and another girl. A dark-haired goddess with blushed cheeks and a perfect figure. Fuck’s sake.

The urge to crush the chocolate box in your hand flashed through your mind. You rolled your eyes and headed further into the store, trying to put distance between the two of you.

Mattheo was standing against a wall, browsing a rack of magazines, occasionally picking one to flip through. You stopped before him, leaning up against the same wall.

“Pouting, are you?” He asks, not looking up from the magazine in his hands. You scoff.

“No, I’m not…I’m just…,” you sigh and close your eyes.

“Just in love?” He asked, glancing up at you with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” you groaned. Was it that obvious? Maybe it was. You didn’t know. An exhausted sigh left your lips.

Uproarious laughter sounded from the corner. You recognized one of the laughs as Theo’s. The others belonged to women. That was it.

“Okay, I’m heading back to the castle,” you said, throwing your hands up. “Tell Theo I wasn’t feeling well or something.”

“What? Are you sure?” Mattheo asked, finally dropping the magazine. “We still want you here with us.”

“It’s okay, I’m just tired,” you said. “I think I’ll just head back for a nap until dinner.” And with that, you paid for your candy and headed back to the castle.

xxx

Over the next week, you made an unintentional decision to skip meals with the group. You weren’t trying to avoid them—or maybe you were—but you found yourself wanting to be alone more and more the past few days.

The thought of having to see Theo after Saturday, when he had the attention of half the girls in Hogsmeade, made you want to vomit. Perhaps it was jealousy pushing you away, but it was your anxiety keeping you there. Every time you thought of heading back to eat with the group, you reminded yourself that Theo hadn’t tried to reach out since you’d stopped seeing them. If he wanted to, he would, right?

With your decision to keep away from the boys for a while, you’d taken to eating in your dorm over your lunch break. Nobody else was ever in there, and it was kind of comfortable, to be honest. You would nibble on your meal and read, or draw, or whatever came to mind, and it was nice and quiet.

You set your book on your bed and gathered the little meal you’d prepared for yourself. Pulling the covers back, you settled in and grabbed your novel. This was absolutely lovely after a busy morning.

Just as you’d begun to settle yourself into the routine you’d started the previous week, two shouts of your name shot through the air. Before the disappointment and onset of anxiety came shock. Was that Theo?

Rapid steps grew closer and closer until the dormitory door echoed a gentle knock as if the person behind it had slowed down just as they’d arrived.

“Um…who is it?” You asked awkwardly.

“Baby, it’s Theo,” a breathless voice came from behind the door. “Please open the door. Please. I need to talk to you.”

Baby? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? The shocked mantra rushed through your head as you shakily ripped your comforter away, ignoring your food and book.

You slowly pulled the door open, seeing a nervous Theo. His eyes were shot with blushed red, and his lips were swollen. Had he been crying?

“Theo, what—?”

“Please, can I come in?” he asked. His breath exited his body in short, rough pants. You nodded wide-eyed and moved out of the way. He pushed into the room, walking to the center of the room. His hands pushed through his hair repeatedly.

You pushed the door closed and pushed the lock. When you turned, he did the same, eyes on yours. His eyebrows were furrowed together, desperation painted on his face. His lips were parted, his eyes wanting.

“What is it—?”

“You have to tell me what I’ve done,” he begged. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Where have you been? You’ve been gone for days; the boys say you’re mad at me, that you might not come back—what the fuck are they talking about?” he demands, his eyes wide.

Your lips parted stupidly. No words came, no matter how hard you searched for them. The only thought that could process within your brain was how you were gonna kill Enzo and Mattheo for saying such stupid things to him. If anything, they were likely trying to get him to come and talk to you—which, it seems, has worked.

“Theo,” you cave, “it’s not that I wasn’t returning or mad at you…I was…” You could barely get the words out. He watched you with intent and pressure. It felt as though you were about to suffocate.

“What? Please tell me. What’s wrong?” He begged, his voice cracking. He moved toward you, his hands raising to touch you, then hesitating and dropping. A line of shimmering tears pool within his eyes, and the pure shock of seeing Theo about to cry had your lips parting again.

“I was…,” you groan, “…jealous.” You practically whispered the last part.

“Wait, what?” He gasped, his eyes widening even further.

“Theo, please don’t make me repeat it,” you sighed, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m embarrassed as is, I was jealous of those girls from last Saturday. I felt like every time I saw you, you were making another girl laugh, and they were all fucking perfect, of course, and I-I like you so much, Theo—”

His hands pressed to either side of your face, his fingers tight and warm. His eyes were widened, his breaths heavy.

“No more,” he breathed, “please, tell me to stop, and I will, but I have to…”

His lips pressed roughly to yours, his breath more like pants. He kissed you like you were air, his lips desperate and biting. The sound he pressed against your mouth was like one of relief. You gasped against him, finally realizing where you truly were and what was happening. Your fingers tightened in his hair, begging him closer to you.

“I n-need you,” he shivered against your lips, breath shuddering. You nodded fervently, barely having time to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands placed themselves around your thighs. He yanked you into the air and placed himself on your bed, settling you over his lap. The way he’d forced you to straddle him pressed his firming core against yours, sending a shock of excitement through your body.

His fingers began to quickly work the buttons of your shirt apart. When the fabric was finally split down the middle, he pressed his mouth to the top of your breasts, mouthing hot kisses against the soft flesh there. You sighed softly, letting your head fall back to allow him all the necessary room.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbles against you. Your fingers brush through his curled hair, gently scraping against his scalp every so often. The feeling of his lips against you made your heart race to the point of beating against his tongue.

Much to your dismay, he pulled away and shoved you back. You fell against the foot of the bed, completely helpless as he climbed over you. The domineering air he carried with him spread over your body, rendering it pliant beneath his searing touch.

His fingers gently cradled your hips as he worked his mouth over your stomach, dipping his tongue across every curve and dip, savoring the taste of sweat that slid down your skin. As his lips heated your skin, the shaking breaths he blew through his nose cooled it down and had you reeling. The ceiling above you was all but spinning.

He followed the curve of your body all the way up to your mouth, allowing his tongue to learn every inch of your abdomen. When his lips found yours again, the both of you were panting. The only thing standing between the two of you was your uniforms.

With a burst of confidence thanks to his session of worship, you gently cradled him in your hands, applying slight pressure against his most sensitive area. At the touch, he choked against you, sucking in a rough breath.

“Please,” he moaned. “Let me fuck you. I'll do anything.” He whispered your name. Over and over and over. Begging and begging.

“Anything?” You smirked, watching as his eyes seemed to well up with the same liquid. He nodded quickly.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you whispered. And if it wasn’t like giving someone a million bucks.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a wave of relief washing across his face. The obvious desire written across his face and actions had you feeling wanted and gorgeous. The confidence built by the second.

His fingers quickly found the hem of your skirt and pushed it up over your thighs. At the sight of the thin bottoms you had on, a slow moan pushed itself between his lips. “Fuck,” he whispered.

His thumb came down to slowly swipe down the center of your core through your bottoms. You jolted at the soft action, not prepared for it. A smile spread over his face.

He gently pushed the fabric to the side, reveling in the feeling of the white lace against his fingertips. Once he’d revealed you, an even louder moan escaped from him. Only a moment passed before he pressed two fingers to his lips, coating them with a thick layer of saliva. He pulled them from his lips and began to lather you in himself.

Your lips parted in a breathy whine at the feeling. His fingers were gentle but direct, only brushing the most sensitive spots before slowly filling you up to the hilt of his fingers.

“Fuck, you just opened right up for me,” he groaned. His words sent shocks of lightning through your stomach. His skilled fingers stretched you out perfectly, preparing you for what was to come. The want in his eyes was growing darker and darker, imagining the next few minutes. It was all too much; you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, Theo, just fuck me,” you whined, “no more.”

“Yeah, baby? I’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry about that,” he whispered. “‘ve been dreaming about this cunt for months.” He makes quick work of his trousers, roughly ripping the clinking belt from its loops. He separates the button and pushes them down, revealing the dark briefs that framed every muscular curve.

He separated your legs and placed himself neatly between them. His hands reached down to agonizingly trace himself up and down your core. You moaned at the feeling, bucking your hips against his warmth. You attempted to salvage any of his warmth, begging for the feeling of him within you.

When he finally pushed himself into you, there was no resistance. The sounds that left your mouth chorused each other, echoing across the dorm room. He gave only a few seconds for you to adjust before building his pace rapidly. The pure length of him hit everything within you with ease. This time, there were tears welling up in your eyes as he abused every inch of you.

Sweet nothings left his mouth as he pushed roughly into you. His strong hips showed no weakness, and the hands that gripped you branded bruises against your flesh. Every second of this moment would visit you for years to come, promising you’d never find someone like Theo. He was the body made to fit perfectly against yours, with the intent to love and please and hold. And, fuck, if he wasn’t doing exactly that.

As he worked you closer and closer to the end, he reached down and pulled you quickly against his chest. Out of habit, your arms wrapped around his neck. Despite the change in position, he never let up on his speed or brutality. The only thing you could feel was his strong hands bouncing you up and down him. His teeth pressed into your neck, piercing the soft flesh there. And that was what did it for you.

You finished around him hard and heavy, your limbs becoming pathetically weak. As you came down from your high, you could barely keep your hold around him. His arms tightened around you, holding you up as he fucked himself into you, harder and harder, until he was coming, too. The feeling of his release pouring within you and every thrust he performed to push it back within you pulled you out for the final moment.

Stars danced around your head as he finally set you back down against the bed, his touch so gentle in comparison to what he had done prior. The contrast of his touch against you as he pushed the wet hair clinging to your forehead was blinding. You sighed contently as he lay next to you, eyes watching you closely.

“I’m sorry I was so emotional,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you forever…before I’d even had the chance to tell you what kind of feelings I was harboring.”

“What kind of feelings?” you whispered back, turning over to face him.

“That I’m completely in love with you and have been for a long time.” Your heart swelled at the confession. Quiet giggles spilled from your mouths at the realization of what he was saying.

“I’m in love with you too, Theo,” you laughed. “That’s why I was so jealous.”

“Because I’m so sexy?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and placed a playful smack on his arm.

The moments that followed were filled with quiet laughs and sweet kisses. And before either of you had noticed, you’d both drifted off against each other. Afternoon classes were a lost cause, as was the hope of meeting back up with Mattheo and Enzo for dinner, but neither of you minded.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

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fxstpace · 1 month ago

Text

the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

⇢ pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au ⇢ word count: 19.7k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ⇢ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either.

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all.

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that.

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require.

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee.

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought.

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?”

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?”

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider.

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn.

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn.

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots.

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag.

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines.

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?”

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes.

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :)

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him.

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is.

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap.

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

��...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea.

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths.

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago.

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own.

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.”

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones.

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him.

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says.

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused.

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again.

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well.

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?”

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand.

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead.

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants.

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway.

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :)

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest.

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat.

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.”

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence.

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours.

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils.

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching.

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him.

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory.

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back.

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well.

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him.

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying.

He remembers.

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly.

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want?

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?”

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin.

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects.

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm.

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves.

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired.

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow.

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts.

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again.

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon.

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat.

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity.

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table.

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane.

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit.

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him.

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?”

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone.

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly.

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into.

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship.

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan.

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth.

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips.

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily.

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name.

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed.

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause.

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching.

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu.

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him.

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that.

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