#some of them here. some of them in a personal way.
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Note goals post
50 notes: I will go on a walk for my mental health Will do when I have time
100 notes: I will tidy my room
200 notes: I will draw something and share it here
tadaa lmao
500 notes: I will read a book i will try soon
1000 notes: I will make a diary type blog (and include one good thing about each day so it's not too negative) @jasper-jots-shit-down ur so welcome.
2000 notes: I will buy some punk badges/clothes or start properly saving for a sewing machine
5000 notes: I will do a voice reveal and/or a face reveal (might not actually do this but we shall see)
7500 notes: I will ask my mum if I can get a binder and ask my parents to use they/them for me
10000 notes: I will ask my parents to call me Jasper (again, might not do this, I'm very scared about how my parents will react)
15000 notes: You pick!!! As long as it feels safe and okay to do, I can do it! This might be getting me to do an art challenge or practice my guitar or make an ask game or whatever.
Rules: 5 notes per person, 10 if you're a moot. <33 (no cheating, people have done over 50 notes despite me saying this)
Goal unreached
Goal reached
Goal completed
Notes from me don't count by the way. I have currently added 11 notes to this post so those won't be counted. Will edit this.
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life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.
so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.
and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.
he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.
gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.
and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.
maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.
you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.
it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.
he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.
your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.
“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.
“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.
because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.
“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.
it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.
“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.
“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.
“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.
of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.
you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.
“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.
“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.
gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.
almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.
and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.
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the space between.
PAIRING. heeseung x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS. It was a mutual agreement between you and the boy with high status and reputation to say that the kiss you both shared was a mistake and meant absolutely nothing. But while trying to win over your crush, you were distracted by that mistaken kiss from the boy who's won over your heart.
WORD COUNT. 16.3k
GENRE. smut, slight love triangle, rich!heeseung, basketball player!heeseung, flower shop worker!reader, angst, hurt, fluff, bickering, some themes inspired by f4 thailand
WARNINGS. 18+ only. MINORS DNI. profanity, kissing, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected intimate sex
—
I. THE SPACE OF HIM
Everywhere he went, his presence was distracting, almost intoxicating.
It was pretty typical to say that Lee Heeseung had an infamous reputation of being the golden boy. Taking the captain spot of your school’s basketball team, the privilege of freedom to do whatever he wanted, and a lot of money based on the fact that he came from a pretty well-off family.
He had everything you didn’t.
He tended to get everything handed to him, considering how admirable he was to other people. They looked up to him as if he was a god, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it had to do with how rich he was. Everyone in his way stepped aside and would let him walk through wherever.
And literally everything was handed to him. A true spoiled kid, his mom hired a personal maid so he wouldn’t do a thing himself.
You didn’t live a life Lee Heeseung did. He lived easy in luxury, unlike you, who had to work your ass off. While he was out celebrating the win of the basketball game with his team, you were either studying for your exams or working your shift at the flower shop. You were a hard-worker, a perfectionist who simply wanted to please your strict parents. A life without luxury costed your social life, and it was difficult to make friends as freedom never came your way.
You were grateful to have your cousin Mina, who often helped to break you out of your shell with her popularity as one of the head cheerleaders. After much convincing to your parents, she would invite you to hangouts at her house which were merely cover ups to sneak out and attend parties.
Mina insisted that you both should attend tonight’s party at Park Sunghoon’s house. After working an eight hour shift at the shop, you were tired and didn’t want to attend. You let out a frustrated groan when Mina practically drags you inside the house.
The school’s basketball team won another game that made them advance into the playoffs — a step closer to championships. Of course, the players wanted to celebrate, or throw a rager perhaps.
The only thing that you were looking forward to tonight was seeing your crush who was one of the players on the team. Oddly enough, Park Sunghoon is aware of your crush on him because of Mina’s little slip up. It took a few weeks to forgive her but now that he is aware, Sunghoon began to initiate conversations with you and became your friend.
Based on the small interactions, it seemed like he didn’t find your feelings for him weird. It was also hard to tell if he felt the same way.
"I'm going to find Chae," Mina raised her voice over the loud music, "Go have fun."
You slightly rolled your eyes watching Mina disappear. "How fun," you mumbled after taking in your surroundings. There were a lot of people making out, drunk people running into you, and it smelt like piss. You’re starting to regret coming here.
Exploring the house, you try to find the kitchen to get a drink and hope to run into Sunghoon, but you were suddenly pushed and ended up on the floor.
“What the hell?” You exclaimed, looking up to the person who pushed you. It was a girl, someone you recognized because they were on the cheerleading team with Mina.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going bitch,” she laughed while leaving you on the floor, not bothering to help you up. You quickly brought yourself to your feet and grab the cup from the girl’s hand, throwing the alcohol towards her. But unfortunately it lands on someone else.
You cover your mouth with a hand, glaring at no other than Lee Heeseung who was looking down at his soaked shirt and already feeling a stickiness on his skin.
“Shit,” you mumbled, glaring at the boy who turned his attention to you. Surprisingly, he didn’t look pissed off — unlike the girl you wanted to cuss out who tried to drag him away. Heeseung still had his eyes on you but not one word came out of his mouth.
The crowd was beginning to build up as you scan the room, making you incredibly anxious.
“Are you okay?” announced a familiar voice who then stood in front of you blocking your view from Heeseung. It was Sunghoon, thank god, you thought. And before you knew it, he was pulling you away from the crowd of people and leading the way to the kitchen.
You finally got what you wanted tonight, a chance to talk to Sunghoon. But rather than excitement, you feel like shit. You were embarrassed about throwing alcohol into Lee Heeseung’s face. Out of all people, why’d it have to be him?
"Did you see everything?" You groaned out while washing your hands then whispering a 'thank you' when Sunghoon handed you a paper towel.
Sunghoon shook his head, "I heard there was a fight- or something going on, but then I saw the crowd with you in the middle and wanted to make sure that you were okay."
That giddy feeling was back again. “Thank you for checking up on me," you gave a smile. "Someone ran into me which made the alcohol spill.”
Sunghoon laughed, "Is that all what happened?”
“Heeseung's shirt was practically soaked." He didn't believe your half-assed story.
"No," you shook your head, holding in a grin.
"Everything's fine, Heeseung will get over it," Sunghoon declared after remembering how defeated you looked when he first found you.
Park Sunghoon was always the one to make you feel better. Even with the smallest acts from him, it was impossible not to like him.
You recall when your coding class test results were out and you failed, it was clearly evident in your face. Sunghoon noticed and approached you before giving you words of encouragement. “This is only the second test, Y/N, you’ll do better next time,” you remember him saying.
"So, congratulations on the game tonight." You changed the topic of conversation, hoping that he'll keep you company the entire night.
"Thanks," he grinned. "I haven't seen you at the games yet, you should watch us play." You sighed, "I've been so busy with work, but l'll the catch the next one. Playoffs right?"
Although it was exhausting, you were already thinking of another lie in your head to tell to your parents so that you can attend the playoff game.
Sunghoon nodded his head before reaching for the cooler in front of him, grabbing two drinks, handing a soda to you. "I'll try not to show off."
He carefully watches your reaction as you roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his remark. You wanted to ask more about Sunghoon's position on the team, just to get the conversation flowing but he took your chance to speak.
"Someone's looking for me so I have to go. You should look for Mina," He says after finishing his beer. “Don’t run into anymore trouble," was all Sunghoon said before he left.
Your cheeks heat up watching Sunghoon leave.
The conversation was short, but it made your entire night. You don't feel so terrible anymore about the incident earlier.
You get out of the kitchen and search the entire house for Mina. She was in the living room dancing with a drink in her hand, having the time of her life. She was your ride home so you'd hope that she was sober enough to drive when it's the time to leave. You decided to wait for her outside, but before you could leave, you noticed Sunghoon standing in the corner near the DJ.
He wasn't alone. Your heart palpitates, watching as Sunghoon leans to whisper into a blonde girl's ear with a red solo cup in his hand. The girl reciprocated his action, whispering into his ear.
"If you stare too long, he's gonna notice," Mina murmurs when she catches you staring at the boy from across the room who was now dancing with the girl, bodies close and on each other.
"Is that his girlfriend?" You ask, hurt evident in your voice. Mina nudges your arm, bringing your full attention to her. "Do you want to go home?"
You thought about it for a while, "No, I'll just wait for you. I don't want to ruin your fun."
“Are you sure? We can go.”
After convincing Mina to stay, you sat on the stairs in front of house. You didn't want to make assumptions but the way that they were close and when Sunghoon was in a rush to leave makes you believe that they have something going on.
As you sit alone in your thoughts, you realize that it's getting late. You've only been at this party for an hour and so much shit has already happened. You had a feeling that Mina was already drunk so she was unable to take you home.
With this given circumstance and your parents expecting you to be home, you had to take an uber. As if your night couldn't get any worse, a couple started making out next you while you were trying to get wifi on your phone.
You walk upstairs and knock on a bedroom's door, hoping that inside was empty. Walking in the room when no one answered, your eyes widen unconsciously, looking at the one person that you didn't want to run into. Heeseung was sitting on the couch alone with a different shirt on, and the one that was soaked by you was laid out on the bed.
"Are you here to apologize for getting me wet earlier?" he broke the silence, not one hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Please don't say it like that," you scoff and cringe at the ambiguity. "And no, but if you want an apology you'd have to ask."
Heeseung paused at your response then tilted his head quizzically, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?" He teased, trying to get a reaction out of you.
"He's not my boyfriend," you walked closer, taken aback. "He's with someone else tonight."
"So you wanted to find some company?"
"I'm trying to find signal since there isn't any in this house," you peered intently at him. "Mina is drunk and I have no ride home, I'm trying to get an uber," you say while taking a seat next to him.
You weren't sure why you stayed but Heeseung was probably right, you wanted some company.
As you try to order an uber you feel his stare, "Why are you here alone?" You ask.
"Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?" You think back about the girl who pushed you, who laughed about it then attempted to drag Heeseung away.
He let out a low laugh, "She's not my girlfriend.”
You turn your gaze to him, "Why not?" Your arms were crossed to taunt him, "Because Mr. Perfect doesn't do girlfriends?"
There was a long stretch of silence after your comment, Heeseung avoiding your eyes until he gains the courage to meet your gaze again. "If anything, you're Ms. Perfect.” He retorts.
"How?” Confusion crossed your face.
“Hmm,” Heeseung placed his hand on his chin as if he was thinking. “Perfect grades, working everyday to help your parents, and refusing to go out because you don't want lie to them."
Your brow furrowed, "How do you know all this?"
"Your cousin talks too much."
Of course Mina would tell him. Maybe it's best to not tell her anything from now on, you thought.
"My parents have given me a lot and I don't want to disappoint them," you explain the perfectionist side of you. "At the same time, they're always pushing me and sometimes I can't handle it."
"I get it," Heeseung stared at you, eyes filled with mutual understanding. You shake your head, not having a clear comprehension of his response.
"My mom pushes me to be this perfect business partner,” he starts. "I'm expected to attend these business meetings every week and listen like I understand what's going on just because I'm the son and future owner of the number one real estate company in the city."
"And honestly, I don't know shit. But I want to make my mom happy so I try my best to understand," Heeseung finishes and watches as you listen attentively without saying a word. "Sorry," he lets out low laugh while scratching his head, “You probably don't care-"
"No," you interject, "I-I didn't know that."
"You must have a lot of pressure. Especially balancing that with school and basketball. I'm sorry you have to go through this," you voice out your sympathy. You and Heeseung were more similar than you'd thought, and it was as if you were on different sides of the same coin. You felt sorry for how he has to run a huge business at a young age, but you can also relate with having to please your parents and expecting to be perfect.
"I'm also sorry for throwing alcohol in your face," you rush out, deciding to lighten the mood. He laughs, "It's fine, I should've seen it coming.”
Your phone then buzzes, it was a text from Mina.
mina: just saw park leave with a girl. i didn't see who it was but i’m sorry babe :(
Your expression flipped like a switch.
“What’s wrong?” Heeseung asked with an obvious look of concern on his face.
You shake your head and try to plaster on a fake smile, ignoring the heavy feeling in your chest, “It’s nothing, everything’s cool.”
He notices your pout and disappointed expression, “Nothing? You seem upset.”
A low sigh leaves your mouth as you place your phone on your lap. “It’s really stupid but Sunghoon left with a girl,” you shrugged while trying to forget the image of your crush leaving with someone else.
“He probably took her home.”
You try to meet Heeseung’s eyes, waiting for his reaction because you expected him to laugh in your face and make a stupid remark. Instead, he’s looking down and returning your same pout, possibly collecting his thoughts and words.
It was then too silent for a few seconds, except for the sounds coming from downstairs. You left Heeseung speechless but what was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even considered your friend.
You were maybe too open about your crush and Heeseung was probably tired of hearing it. You took his silence as a hint and decide to go back downstairs to wait for your uber. You stood from your seat and Heeseung finally looks up.
“How about we forget about him tonight?”
You return his stare, taking your seat back on the couch. “What do you mean?”
Your straight brows furrowed when he wasn’t answering. You almost flinch as Heeseung straightens his posture and moves closer to your face, training his eyes to yours then to your lips.
He’s leaning in and every second that he gets closer, you feel your heart stop. You were supposed to focus on your crush on Sunghoon. Kissing someone else wasn’t on your table.
“Heeseung, we can’t.” You shyly responded and guiltily avoid his stare, choosing to turn your attention to your hands.
“But you want to,” Heeseung softens, gently holding your hand to stop you from leaving. You look into his rounded eyes, filled with desire.
“All you have to say is ‘stop’ then I’ll stop.”
You subtly take a deep breath and study his face. Being this close was new and you can tell Heeseung wants this, he wants to kiss you so bad. You were uncertain if you wanted this too, but his look of desperation was almost too gut churning that you didn’t want to pull away and leave.
You cupped his cheek and made the move to meet your lips on his. First it was soft and languid, his lips tasting like cheap vodka. His fingertips were holding your chin as he sweetly returns your kiss. He was gentle like he wanted to take his time, but you were eager. Maybe it was the adrenaline from reading Mina’s text because you ended up on his lap with his hands on your waist.
You look into his eyes for any signs of discomfort, but his sure grip makes you continue. You reached for his nape to pull him in a deeper kiss, feeling the corners of his mouth raise into a grin. Your eyes roll knowing that he was thinking about your eagerness and how desperate you seemed. He was just smart enough to not comment about it.
A sound comes out of your mouth when Heeseung kisses you harshly before biting and licking on your lower lip, asking for entrance. His grip becomes more firm when you accept. The feeling of him on your mouth causes you to roll your hips, and Heeseung lets out a forced laugh.
You feel his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt and you almost freak out, not knowing what this is leading to. Before you both were able to do anything further, your phone next to you buzzes.
You broke the kiss, catching your breath to reach for your phone to check the notification.
“Ignore it,” Heeseung slurs out before trying to bring his lips on yours once more while adjusting his seated position with you still on his lap.
But you gently push on his shoulder, checking the notification on your phone. “My uber‘s here.”
It was all quick movements when you completely pull away your body and escape his grasp before standing and making yourself look decent. There was a slight delay in your thoughts, not surely processing that you kissed Heeseung.
Your flustered cheeks and beating heart causes you to hesitate, but you managed to move your feet and try to leave until Heeseung’s hand quickly wrapped around your wrist.
“Wait,” Heeseung lets out after a moment of catching his breath, his grip still holding onto you. You turn around to face him as he speaks.
“Let me take you home,” he pleads.
Afraid to look him in eye, you watched as his throat bobbled before moving your eyes to his contact on your warm skin. You’re shaking your head, refusing his offer and at that, he lets go.
“My uber’s already here and you‘ve been drinking, I can taste it,” you retaliate while licking your bottom lip, the taste of him lasting on your lips.
“What about your parents?”
You finally meet Heeseung’s gaze through half-lidded eyes, not noticing a hint of disappointment on his face. “I’ll be fine. Bye Heeseung.”
You left the party and lie in your bed, surprised that you’re not mentally cursing yourself out for initiating the kiss. It was difficult not to replay how his lips were perfectly in-sync with yours and the way he held your body.
You were in disbelief, not expecting yourself to makeout with anyone tonight — someone who wasn’t Sunghoon but let alone, Lee Heeseung.
With everything that happened tonight from Sunghoon leaving with someone else, to Heeseung practically comforting you with his surprisingly good kissing skills, it was unsure to you if what happened was a mistake.
Another notification sound from your phone interrupted your thoughts and you decided to turn off the ringer before checking the message.
Your eyes began to widen while reading Mina’s text.
What the hell? It was another moment of shock, the message confirmed that the girl Sunghoon took home tonight was his sister.
—
It was playoffs day, a few days after your kiss with Heeseung and the confirmation of Sunghoon not having a girlfriend. After finding out that Sunghoon was not dating anyone, that kiss with Heeseung long forgotten to you. It was a stupid mistake due to a rush of hurt feelings.
You were looking forward to the game tonight in which Sunghoon technically invited you to. It was also the first game of the season that you were actually attending, so tonight was going to be fun. With Mina’s help, as usual, you managed to convince your parents that you were going to study at her place.
Now you’re at your school’s gym, lining up to buy a ticket for the big playoff game. Since Mina was cheerleading tonight, you both arrived super early. Taking a seat in the student section, the junior varsity team’s game was starting which meant that the varsity team’s was after. Across from your peripheral vision, you see Sunghoon sitting near the bench. He gave a small wave which made the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile.
You feel your smile drop when you notice Heeseung taking a seat next to him. Sunghoon whispering something in his ear, Heeseung shot his head up and met your gaze. He barely moved a muscle in his face, not expecting you to be here.
You turn your attention to the game and fought the urge to not look in the direction of the two boys. However throughout the game, you didn’t miss the all times Heeseung moved his eyes towards you.
The junior varsity game was over and thankfully, they won. There was a small fifteen minute break until the next game started and the varsity team was getting ready to warm up. Walking back to your seat after taking a trip to the bathroom, you felt a small tap on your shoulder.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your brows raised when the boy in front of you was not on the court where he was supposed to be, “Shouldn’t you be warming up?”
“We kissed the other night,” he spat out.
You’d hope the conversation that you were avoiding wasn’t happening so soon, especially now before he’s about to play. “We were drunk-“
“I wasn’t drunk- I was tipsy but you certainly weren’t,” he interjects, trying to meet you eye-to-eye but his height causes him to easily hover over you. “I remember everything.”
“Then try to forget about it,” You dismiss his words, “If you’re afraid of me telling anyone then don’t be. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Heeseung finds your remark funny as it was evident in his laugh. “I don’t care if you tell anyone,” he says, looking back to check how much time was left before the game started.
T-8 minutes until the game starts.
You sighed, “Heeseung, what do you want?”
“Why’d you kiss me?”
You feel a lump in your throat, recalling the moment when you initiated the kiss. “Why’d you kiss me back?” You asked, also recalling the moment when he was the one practically begging you to kiss him.
“Wait- you’re the one who actually started it.”
“I asked first.”
You let out a groan, “I was upset about Sunghoon and wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry that I kissed you, promise me that you’ll forget because it was a mistake and meant nothing.”
He was silent, his expression unreadable but you didn’t care to try to figure it out.
“Promise me,” You looked up at him with your pleading doe-eyes — now you were the one practically begging on your knees for a mutual agreement to forget the kiss ever happened.
“I promise.”
“Thank you,” You let out a big sigh of relief before noticing the clock had 5 minutes left.
“The game is about to start, captain.”
Heeseung left without saying another word and you head back to your seat. The game was about to start and you take out your phone to take a picture of Mina as she was cheering on the baseline in her cute uniform.
You watch Sunghoon play, or at least attempt to, since your eyes unconsciously land on Heeseung throughout the entire game. You noticed that something was off. He looked distressed and he wasn’t making any of his shots. It was probably his mother and the business on his mind, you thought. Heeseung’s look of frustration continued until the buzzer of the final second went off.
At the end, your school team won the playoff game and you can’t help but feel worried that something happened to Heeseung.
Once the team headed to their locker room, you and Mina walk back to her car to go home.
“Y/N, Mina,” a voice caught both of your attentions, and it was Sunghoon who was out of breath with sweat glistening on his forehead. He was in casual attire now, his uniform assumingly in his bag that was over his shoulder.
“You did so well tonight! How many points did you score?”
“I think it was 12- I don’t know, I wasn’t counting,” He laughs as a huge smile appears on your face. “Thank you for coming to watch. We’re going to the pizza place down the street.”
You turn to Mina, trying to hide the confusion on your face. “The team usually goes out to eat after the game to celebrate the win,” she tells. “I’m too tired to go, but I can drop you off there?”
“I can bring Y/N there,” Sunghoon murmurs to Mina before turning to you,” If you’re okay with that of course.”
“No- yeah, that sounds great.”
Fighting the urge to scream in excitement was difficult. Park Sunghoon wants to hang out with you? And he’s offering to drive you?
The drive was literally down the street, but the gesture was sweet and your heart felt warm. You weren't sure how you were going to go home but that was problem for later.
“Thank you for letting me hang out,” you say before entering the pizza place with Sunghoon behind you.
Sunghoon then catches up and leads the way, “You came to support the team, of course you’re welcome to hang. I’m glad you came to watch.”
You hold on a big grin, “I’ll make sure to watch more of your games,” your voice was surely going to crack soon.
“I’d like that,” he says before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.
You found Heeseung who was in line to fill his drink and approach him, “Hey, what happened out there captain?” You spoke to him softly after noticing the look of frustration still on his face.
But his expression quickly changed when realizing that it was you talking to him. “I think that was the worst I played all season,” he laughed.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No everything’s cool,” he shook his head, “I-I was just off today.”
“I think that you played well and helped the team advance to the championships.”
“Thanks,” He grins. “Where’s Mina?”
“She’s at home. She was too tired to come so Sunghoon gave me a ride,” you say while trying to hide the wide smile that slowly crept on your face.
Heeseung raised a brow, “He did?”
You nod. “I also forgot to tell you,” your eyes lit up, “The girl Sunghoon brought home was actually his sister. She was super drunk so they went home.”
Heeseung studied the light in your eyes, “You feel relieved?”
You nod.
“And you still like him?”
“Yes,” you nod again, hearing a breathy laugh coming out of Heeseung’s mouth.
“That’s- great,” he smiled, “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”
Heeseung quickly left the conversation and you by returning to an empty table. You watch as a girl who was still in her cheerleading uniform shows up and sits next to Heeseung. They’re in the booth laughing and you immediately recognize her.
The one who humiliated you, who called you a bitch. You feel a hint of bitterness and don’t have an exact idea as to why you felt this way.
“Who's that girl?” You turn to Sunghoon, “I remember you saved me from her at the party.”
“That’s Ji-ho,” Sunghoon says. “Her and Heeseung have always just been… friends, but I guess they’re finally dating now.”
His girlfriend? Dating? You think back to your kiss and knew how messy things were going to be if she’d ever find out.
—
A week goes by since the playoff game and the night when Sunghoon gave you a ride home, and still, no progress with Sunghoon. It’s as if everything went back to normal. Heeseung and his girlfriend seemed happy (not that you cared) and that kiss was never mentioned again.
The scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as were surrounded by vibrant petals. Working with flowers wasn’t just a job to you, it was a canvas for your creativity. You especially loved working with customers and hearing their stories, knowing that you were part of their special occasions.
It was an everyday routine to organize the cherry blossoms, and overtime, they became your favorite flowers and you hoped to visit a cherry blossom garden someday.
“Hello! This is ‘Our Happy Florists’ located in Seoul,” your voice rang through the phone. “How can I help you?”
“Hey, am I speaking to Park Sunghoon’s girlfriend?”
You jumped out of your seat, “I’m sorry, who is this?”
“The one you kissed at the party, does it ring a bell?” The voice laughs in amusement.
“Heeseung?” You raised your voice then lowered it, “I told you not to mention it again. I will end this call right now.”
“Wait- don’t hang up. Sorry, I won’t mention it again,” his laugh remains.
“Um,” you cleared your throat,” How do you know where I work?”
“Your cousin.”
Of course Mina would, you groaned. “Why exactly are you calling?”
“I need advice. Please,” he pleads.
You put the phone down for a second to look over at your supervisor who was busy putting away flowers. “I’m trying not to get fired right now, Heeseung,” you say, almost whispering. “But if it’s urgent you can stop by during my lunch break.”
“Really?” he sounds surprised, almost elated.
“I’m not gonna repeat myself, but my break is in an hour.”
You find it odd that he went out of his way to ask you advice, but you also found it odd that you accepted without hesitation.
And so exactly one hour later, you were on your break and Heeseung was standing outside with his hands in his pocket and eyes roaming around the shop.
“So why can’t you talk to me at school? Why come to my work?”
He crosses his arms, “I’m a busy person and you know that.”
You roll your eyes, “Yeah, busy at parties.”
“Ha-ha,” he says with sarcasm, “I’m free after school on Tuesdays so I’m not busy today.”
“Whatever, you said you needed advice?”
You weren’t sure if he was worth your time. Were you considered his friend? Friends don’t kiss right? Stop — Why are you thinking about the kiss?
“You’re a good girl right?”
His choice of words cause your eyes to squint and he notices while exhaling a laugh, succeeding at trying to get a reaction out of you.
“I meant that you have perfect grades and you’re a good daughter to your parents. I need help with my mom.”
“I want to work on bigger projects and show her that I am responsible enough to handle them. And maybe even speak at meetings, but she doesn’t trust me. How can I earn her trust?”
Now you furrow your brow, intrigued while also in thought.
“Be consistent and confident. If you show her you’re working hard, she’ll start to trust you.”
“But does that work? Do your parents trust you?”
You shrugged. “They definitely trust me, but they’re just overly protective.”
“That makes sense,” Heeseung replied, nodding slowly as he processed the advice.
A period of quietness hung between you two, the noise of the wind fading into the background.
“Anything else you need?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.
Heeseung shook his head. “No, nothing else. I will take your advice, thank you.”
“Sure,” you said, trying to gauge where this was heading but he simply left and you returned to the shop.
He took his own precious time to drive to your work and have a conversation about advice on how to handle his mom. Weird, you thought.
—
A cold Monday morning, you were irritated and stressed out. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed, and the weight of expectations — both from school and your part-time job — felt heavier than ever. However, your parents seemed to leave you alone and minded their own business lately, which was a glimmer of peace amidst the chaos.
In the bustling hallway, you spotted Sunghoon leaving his locker as soon as he spotted you. He started waving and approaching you.
“Y/N, hey!”
“Hey.”
“Have you started on Ms. Kim’s project yet?” he asked.
“No, not at all. I haven’t even found my partners yet.”
“You’re friends with Heeseung, right?”
You hesitated. “We talked a few times.” And kissed, but it was a mistake and we’re supposed to forget that it happened. “Did he say that?”
Sunghoon nodded. “We’re looking for a third person to join us, and he suggested you since he says we’re all friends.”
Friends? Does he mean it?
“Yeah, sure, I’ll join you guys. We can work on it tomorrow at my place? Since I know Tuesdays are free for you guys. And my grandma will just be at the house, not my parents.”
“That sounds perfect, just text me your address! I’ll let Heeseung know. Thanks, Y/N.” Sunghoon replied, a grin spreading across his face.
As he turned to leave, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and sent a quick message to Sunghoon, your heart racing at the thought of him being at your house.
sunghoon: thanks for your addy!
sunghoon: can’t wait for tomorrow!
—
Today was your study date- or should you even call it that? You stood in the living room, glancing around with a mix of excitement and nerves. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the space.
You set to work, your science textbook and notebooks were stacked neatly on the coffee table, and you arranged some colorful pens nearby for good measure.
With a quick check of the clock, you raced to the kitchen to grab a plate of snacks — sliced fruit and a few bags of chips. You set everything out on a small tray, arranging it carefully to look inviting.
You were glad that your parents were away for the weekend at a work trip and that your grandma, watching you, was super chill, not minding that two boys were coming over for a project hang out.
The soft sound of the doorbell sent a jolt of nerves through you. You hurried to answer and as you opened the door, you glanced at Heeseung, who stood shifting on his feet with a tray of drinks in his hand.
“You’re 10 mins early,” you said, raising an eyebrow.
“I can leave then come back,” he replied with a half-smile.
“Get inside.”
He walked inside, peering around your home and following you into the kitchen before speaking.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For the drinks? Thank you.”
“No, your boyfriend is coming over because I suggested that the three of us should work together,” he places the tray of drinks on the countertop. “And I figured that if I leave early, you guys can spend time alone.”
You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well, I thought it’d be nice.”
“Also your advice worked, my mom’s slowly but surely finally letting me handle the big projects and she even wants me to attend training workshops.”
“I’m glad to hear that my advice worked,” you chuckled, running a hand through your hair.
“It took a bit of convincing, but I didn’t think she’d actually take me seriously at first.”
“Well, you just need to show her that you are committed, that you could handle it,” You said, your eyes sparkling with encouragement which makes Heeseung smile.
“I have a few questions,” he suddenly says.
“Hmm let me guess,” you replied. “It’s not about the project or your mom?”
“Did you kiss him yet?”
You raised an eyebrow, confusion flickering across your face. “No, nothing’s happened between us.”
Heeseung chewed on his bottom lip and let silence pass by.
The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as Heeseung suddenly walked towards you. You could feel the electric pull of his proximity, a magnetic force that had been intensifying ever since he’d stepped inside your house. Your heart raced as you looked up at Heeseung, it felt like deja vu when his doe eyes are searching yours for permission.
You try to hide the fact that you were panicking when Heeseung leaned closer. You had nowhere to go, feeling the kitchen counter behind you. His breath was warm against your face and he licked his bottom lip. You knew he wanted to kiss you again and for a second, you would’ve let him.
“Heeseung,” you said, your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. “I still have feelings for Sunghoon.”
You reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm, “And you have a girlfriend.”
He laughs. “You’re trying to find excuses to not kiss me right now even though you want to.”
Your hands meet his chest as you gently push him. “You’re annoying,” the hint of a smile tugging at your lips, “You know that our first kiss was a mistake right? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”
You watched as he took a hesitant step forward. “So you’re saying that if I was single, you wouldn’t be opposed to kissing me again?”
You try to find your voice, a simple response to reject him, but couldn’t.
“I’m not dating Ji-ho,” he shakes his head, “We’re just-“
The sound of the doorbell interrupts him.
“We’re just friends, it’s nothing serious.” He admits.
“That’s probably Sunghoon at the door,” you turn away and head for the front door, trying to keep your cool and shake off what just happened.
“Hey, glad you made it,” you greeted as Sunghoon stepped into your home.
“Thanks again for letting us come over. I think Heeseung should be coming soon,” he replied, glancing around.
“Oh, he’s here already- he’s in the kitchen,” you said, motioning toward the back of the house.
“Surprised he’s early, he’s usually late to things like this,” Sunghoon remarked with a chuckle.
You lead Sunghoon into the kitchen and he greets Heeseung. You all moved into the living room to brainstorm ideas for the project.
“So our assigned topic is biomechanics. Does anyone have ideas? Or something creative that we should do?” you asked, sitting on the floor leaning forward on the coffee table.
“I was thinking we can go the simple route with a presentation. It doesn’t have to be super detailed, but it can include our information or maybe we can show the concept with a video,” Sunghoon suggested.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agreed.
“Since Sunghoon and I are athletes — no offense, Y/N — we can record a video of us playing basketball while explaining the mechanism,” Heeseung added.
“That’s actually a good idea,” you said, your eyes lighting up.
As you continued to brainstorm ideas for the project, the weight of your feelings began to feel less daunting. With every shared laugh, casual touch, or agreement with Sunghoon, you found yourself enjoying it more than you should. Maybe this project would lead to something even more.
And after a while of working on the actual outline of the project, Heeseung stood and stretched, checking the time on his phone.
“I got to head out,” he said, glancing at you as he made his plan to leave early, hoping to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.
“I have to go too,” Sunghoon then chimed in, clearly wanting to leave together with Heeseung.
Sunghoon was oblivious, but by the look on your face, Heeseung could tell that you were disappointed.
“My mom is calling me to go over training, but Sunghoon, you should help Y/N clean up.” Heeseung suggested, still pushing to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.
“No, it’s okay, Sunghoon says he has to go.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Sunghoon replied.
“It’s fine, there’s barely anything to clean up.” You couldn’t deny that you were disappointed, but there was no point in trying to force something that clearly wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m glad we were able to get a majority of the presentation done,” you exhaled, leading Sunghoon and Heeseung towards the door.
“Definitely. We make a great team,” Sunghoon said, looking back at you, his eyes sparkling. “We should definitely hang out again, just for fun.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached the door, opening it wider, you wanted Sunghoon to stay, to prolong this moment, but he left with a simple ‘goodbye’.
Heeseung lingered for a while and and you followed him onto the porch. “Sorry, my plan didn’t work.”
“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you managed to reply, forcing your lips into a smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. “You can keep out of this, you know? It’s all too complicated, so I’d rather have everything play out without any scheming.”
He nodded, but just as he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at you.
“Have a good night, Y/N.”
“Thanks, Heeseung. You too,” you said, your voice soft.
As Heeseung disappeared around the corner, the quiet of your home settled in around you.
You sighed, knowing that the day had been fun and special, but feeling a bittersweet sting. It’s only been two months, but longing for him has felt like forever. Sunghoon was only meant to be your friend, he has always been clear about that.
With a heavy heart, you have accepted the fact that Park Sunghoon doesn't like you back and possibly will never catch feelings for you.
—
Two weeks later and the project was over with. The presentation went smoothly and you received lots of great feedback about the video portion of the project — thanks to Heeseung for his idea.
It was honestly a great time working with both Sunghoon and Heeseung. They were both smart partners and fun to hang around. You’d wonder if things would be different if feelings weren’t involved. Would you all be best friends?
Sadly, you will never know.
Today felt like a regular Friday, but the excitement in the air was evident as students buzzed about the upcoming basketball championship game tonight. You were at the library, studying for an exam, and in walked Sunghoon, a grin spreading across his face. He was the last person you’d expected to see, but perhaps he did mean it when he said he wanted to hang out more.
“Hey, Y/N!” he called, waving as pulled out the seat next to you and sat down. Although you accepted your one-sided feelings, you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Hey, Sunghoon. What’s up?” you asked, closing your textbook.
“I wanted to see if you’d like to come to the championship game tonight,” he said, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “It’s going to be epic, and I’d love to have you there.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Really? I’d love to, I’ve been hearing everyone talk about it.”
He nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features. “Great, I can save you a seat with my friends. Plus, I could use some support. You know, for luck.”
“Absolutely, I’ll be there cheering for the team,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement. The thought of being there, watching him play, made your stomach flutter.
“Great! See you then,” he said, standing up to leave. But just as he stepped out, he dropped something from his pocket — an old, worn-out bracelet that caught your eye.
Sunghoon!” you called, rushing after him. He turned around, his expression shifting from excitement to confusion as you picked up the bracelet. “You dropped this.”
He took a moment to process it, then chuckled, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “Oh, that? It’s just an old lucky charm. I didn’t think I’d need it anymore.”
“It looks important,” you said, holding it out to him.
He hesitated, reaching for the bracelet but then pulling back. “You know what? Keep it. Maybe it’ll bring you luck at the game too.”
You blinked in surprise. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I want you to have it,” he said, his voice steady. “If you want, you can return it to me before the game. Just take good care of it.”
A warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll take good care of it.”
“Good,” he said, flashing that charming smile again. “See you tonight, Y/N.”
Just as you thought you were sure on where you and Sunghoon stood on feelings, the whole conversation just made you even more quizzed.
Nonetheless, you were still going to give him words of encouragement and his lucky charm bracelet before the game.
T-25 minutes until the game started.
You stood outside the gym, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor and the echo of basketballs bouncing filled the air. You glanced at the time; you were cutting it close, but you had to give Sunghoon his good luck charm.
Clutching the bracelet tightly in your hand, you pushed the door to the locker room open. The space was filled with the scent of sweat and liniment, it was empty except for one person.
It was Heeseung and he was shirtless with a towel draped around his neck.
You couldn’t help but study him, his abs were defined and taut. Each movement he made showcased the hard work he put into training — his core muscles flexing with each shot, the lines of his physique both sculpted and strong. When Heeseung noticed you, his face broke into a grin.
You felt a rush of nerves as you stepped forward. “Hey, I haven’t seen you since in a while. I feel like I only see you during Ms. Kim’s.”
“I’ve been busy. You know that.” He smirks.
“Were you looking for me?” He asked, staring at the piece of fabric in your hand.
“No, I-“
You were silenced as Heeseung suddenly closed the distance, backing you gently against the cool metal of the lockers.
“Heeseung, what are you doing?”
Heeseung was known for his teasing nature, but there was something different in his eyes today. He leaned in slightly with his arms resting on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place. He had a teasing smile on his face as your bodies were pressed against each other.
“Looking for your boyfriend?” his tone was light but laced with something deeper.
You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Shut up. How many times do I have to tell you that he’s not my boyfriend?”
He shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter. “I know. I just like to hear you say that he’s not.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s obvious that you like me. And you’ve been wanting me ever since our first kiss,” he replied, voice dropping to a softer tone with eyes locking more intensely onto yours. “Me and you have something, and you’re aware of it.”
“What?” You don’t understand his sudden change of boldness and cockiness but you give into the banter.
“What about your girlfriend?” you challenged, trying to regain some control of the conversation.
Heeseung sighed, leaning forward which causes your foreheads to touch. “How many times do I have to tell you that she’s not my girlfriend?” His expression was serious. “I told you, we’re not dating. She’s just a friend.”
“A friend that you kiss? Sounds a lot like me,” you said, raising an eyebrow while trying to push him away, but it resulted in him pressing against you harder.
“Didn’t know that you were my friend.”
“Forget what I said. I’m not your friend,” you insisted, but a flutter of uncertainty crept in.
He leaned closer, the tension between you two palpable that you could cut it with a knife. You felt your resolve wavering, caught in the pull of his intense gaze that you’re familiar with.
“Yeah,” a hint of mischief in his eyes.
“You’re not my friend because you’re so much more.”
The air thickened with unspoken words. And for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.
You’re silent as your eyes follow his hand that slowly crept under your skirt and you didn’t make any effort to stop him.
“Can I touch you?” The weight of his body keeps you pinned against the lockers.
You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of uncertainty and thrill, his confession left you speechless. You could push him away, but nonetheless, you nod your head wanting to feel his touch.
“I won’t do anything until you tell me ‘yes’,” his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Yes,” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the tension release.
“Please touch me, Heeseung.”
His hand caressed your tender skin before he lightly pressed down fingers on your core. Even with your panties still on, he could feel your wetness soaking through.
Heeseung felt proud of himself, because even though he didn’t fully touch you yet, his words and body against yours were enough to have you drenched.
You felt him move your panties to the side and his cold fingers dipping into your aching centre.
“You’re wet for me?” He murmured as he withdrew his fingers and lifted them to you, revealing your glistening slick.
You stammered, “Don’t- make fun of me.” Your cheeks flushed, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you, his gaze intense and playful.
“You do this to me too,” he murmured while pressing his obvious bulging crotch against you.
“Why would I make fun of you?”
Heeseung reached under your skirt and dipped his fingers again into your soaking wet cunt. You moan loudly in surprise as one of his fingers enter your heat up to the first knuckle. He starts to slowly finger-fuck you with his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.
The noises you’re making seem magnified because they’re all that you can hear. You feel Heeseung muttering words onto your neck but you can’t tell what he’s saying, all you know is that suddenly he’s stopped moving his finger which drives you insane.
“Need more,” you croaked desperately.
“Hmm?” he exhales, aware that he’s trying to tease you, to try to make you beg for him to keep going — and it’s working.
“Need more, Hee,” you plead, desperately trying to move your bound body to provide some sense of friction. “Please move.”
As soon as you think that he’s stopped completely and ready to leave you in heat, he suddenly thrusts two fingers deep into your cunt. “Oh my, fuck,” you clench around him with a surprised shout.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yes,” you nod, “Please keep going.”
It doesn’t take long for him to build you up to that edge, your body so needy and responsive to his touch, and he’s enjoying it.
You praise him by telling him how good his fingers feel inside you. You’re lost in the sensation of him pounding his fingers into you as he frantically starts rubbing your clit.
“Heeseung, I’m close,” you whined out.
You feel yourself clench around him, and he shifts the angle of his fingers a little bit to hit your sweet spot. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”
“Let go,” he urges.
You let out a lewd moan when you back arches up sharply as you come undone around his fingers. He keeps thrusting, helping you ride yourself through it. You want the feeling to never stop but he halts his movement.
While you catch your breath, he starts to clean up the mess between your thighs with the towel that was around his neck.
“You did amazing, my love,” he praises, which causes your chest to sting. You felt this before except it was now because of Heeseung.
After he was finished cleaning you up, he helps to adjust your skirt. “My panties will be sticky the entire night now,” you laugh with a sense of worry.
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, genuinely apologizing which makes you grin.
Once you felt completely relaxed, you couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge sticking through his basketball shorts.
“Um,” you clear your throat, “Need me to help?”
He noticed you staring at how hard he is and he gives a smile to break through the tension. “No, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure?” You shifted on your feet, biting your lip. “I mean, I can be quick.”
His expression softened, and he shook his head. “I appreciate it baby, but I need to warm up soon. I know the gym must be packed though, so you should find a seat to cheer me on.”
“You’re right, the game is starting soon,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“You dropped something,” Heeseung pointed to the ground. It was Sunghoon’s lucky charm that you planned on returning to him.
“It’s Sunghoon’s,” you gulped with an unknown sense of nervousness. “He dropped it so I wanted to give it back, but… I’ll just give it at the party.”
Heeseung nodded, his expression unreadable.
Before you exit the locker room, you walk up to him and give a small peck on his lips, hoping he’ll kiss you back and deeply. “Good luck, captain.”
But Heeseung doesn’t. Instead, he murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ and accepts the kiss with a hesitant look on his face, which immediately makes you leave. You don’t think anything of it, though.
The gym was electric, filled with the sound of cheering fans and the rhythmic thump of basketballs. You sat in the bleachers while waving at Mina, who was cheering at the baseline. The championship game had drawn a massive crowd, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. You could feel the energy pulsing around you, but your focus was entirely on what just happened in the locker room.
Suddenly, Heeseung stood near the center of the court, his jersey clinging to him as he bounced the ball, starting his warm ups.
You found him incredibly intoxicating, you couldn’t even focus on the game because the only thing on your mind were his fingers getting you off a few minutes ago.
The game clock ticked down, interrupting your thoughts, and the game started.
You could see the determination in Heeseung’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with pride. This was his moment, and you wanted nothing more than for him and the team to succeed.
As the whistle blew and the first quarter began, you leaned forward, holding your breath with every play. Heeseung darted around defenders, his movements fluid and confident. He made a quick pass to Sunghoon, who took a shot — missed. The crowd groaned in unison, and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach.
“He’ll get it next time,” you whispered to yourself, willing him on.
The tension reached a peak when it was the second half. It was third quarter when the opposing team made a quick drive toward the basket, and for a moment, it looked like they might score. But Sunghoon slid in, blocking the shot with a perfect timing that had the crowd erupting into cheers. Your heart raced as you jumped to your feet and clapping.
Sunghoon turned briefly, catching your eye, and flashing a smile in your direction.
The final quarter ticked down and shortly, the score was tied with minutes left. The pressure was mounting, but the team seemed unfazed. Heeseung received the ball and dribbled down the court, dodging defenders with ease. The gym fell silent as he positioned himself for the final shot, and all eyes were on him.
“Come on!” you urged silently, heart in your throat.
He took a deep breath, the world around him fading into a blur as he focused on the hoop. With a quick flick of his wrist, he released the ball, and it soared through the air in slow motion. Time seemed to freeze as you watched, holding your breath.
Swish! The ball hit the net perfectly, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy. You jumped up, screaming with joy as the realization hit— there was 5 seconds left and you had just witnessed Heeseung’s winning shot in the championship game.
Those 5 seconds flew by and Heeseung turned to the stands, his face lighting up with a mixture of disbelief and triumph. As his teammates rushed to him, engulfing him in celebratory hugs, you felt a surge of pride wash over you.
As the team huddled together, you caught his gaze once more. This time, he pointed in your direction, a wide grin spreading across his face. Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t help but beam back at him. In that moment, amidst the chaos and elation of victory, you felt an undeniable connection.
The gym erupted in cheers and the team celebrated their hard-earned win, you knew this was a moment you would never forget.
You went down the bleachers and ran to Mina, hugging her. “That was insane,” you stressed.
“That game had me stressed, fuck! Are you ready to party?” Mina exclaimed.
—
The sound of music pulsed through the air, reverberating against the walls of the house, which was already packed with students buzzing from the excitement of the championship victory. Colorful lights flickered in rhythm with the beat, casting a vibrant glow across the crowd. You stepped inside, the energy wrapping around you like a warm embrace as laughter and cheers filled the space.
The living room was transformed into a party zone, with decorations celebrating the basketball team’s success—banners hanging from the walls, balloons in the school colors bobbing along the ceiling, and a table overflowing with snacks and drinks. Friends and teammates mingled, some already animatedly retelling highlights of the game, while others clinked cups in celebration.
As the night unfolded, the music thumped louder, and the laughter grew richer. You danced, celebrated, and lost yourself in the jubilant atmosphere. But amidst it all, you kept stealing glances at Heeseung, who was now animatedly recounting the game to a captivated audience. The way he lit up while talking made your heart swell.
As you scanned the room, you also spotted Sunghoon across the way, surrounded by a small group of his teammates. He looked effortlessly cool in a casual black tee and jeans, his hair slightly tousled from the night’s festivities. The sight of him made your heart stop. He was laughing, his eyes shining with excitement, and for a moment, you felt a surge of admiration.
You made your way through the crowd, weaving between familiar faces and beaming friends. The atmosphere was infectious, and Sunghoon caught your eye with a grin spread across his face as he waved you over.
“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the music. “Come join us!”
You smiled back, your nerves easing as you stepped closer and noticing Heeseung also joining in. “Congrats on the win! That was so nerve-wracking, but you guys did so well,” you said, genuinely impressed.
Sunghoon shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. “Thank you! I’m glad it was exciting.”
Heeseung nudged him playfully. “Yeah, and don’t forget your lucky charm.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but the laughter that followed was infectious, and soon everyone was caught up in the moment.
“Oh shoot, here’s your bracelet” you take the bracelet out of your pocket and give it to him.
“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Sunghoon said, ignoring the bracelet in your hand.
“Why can’t you talk to her here?” Heeseung asked.
You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Sunghoon grabbed your hand and led you outside in the backyard.
You stirred your drink, lost in thought, when you noticed him fidgeting. His usual calm demeanor had been replaced by something more vulnerable, and you sensed that something was off.
“Look, Y/N,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“What? Why are you sorry?” you asked, genuinely perplexed.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been leading you on. I was aware of your feelings, but got your hopes up by flirting a bit and never taking it further.”
“I realized that I’ve been leading you on, but I also realized that I caught feelings.”
Your heart raced as you processed his words. “Sunghoon- wait.”
“Before you say anything,” he continued quickly, “It’s not out of pity. I caught real feelings.”
“Y/N, I like you.”
Your mouth was open to speak but no words came out, it was a sudden confession. The boy who you liked finally reciprocated your feelings.
Before you could process your thoughts and whirlwind of emotions, he started to lean in.
His eyes searching yours and his lips approaching yours. But you instinctively recoiled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” You shook your head. “I- I caught feelings for someone else.”
The words hung heavy in the air. You could see the realization dawning on him, his expression shifting from hope to disbelief and disappointment.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, a forced smile creeping onto his lips. “I guess I’m too late.”
You looked down at the ground, your mind racing. You had always admired Sunghoon, enjoyed your moments together, but recently someone else had entered your life — someone who made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. You were just too afraid to admit it.
“I’m sorry, Sunghoon. You’re such a good guy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve liked you for a while, but I think… I’m a bit confused right now.”
He nodded, arms crossed tightly. “It’s okay, really. If you have feelings for someone else, I understand.”
The moment stretched painfully, silence enveloping you both. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the truth hung between you both like a chasm.
“Who is it?” he finally asked, his tone curious yet guarded.
“It’s someone-”
“Heeseung,” he answered for you.
“I don’t know- yes,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s complicated and I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just did.”
He nodded slowly, “Heeseung’s a good guy. I’m not surprised that you caught feelings for him.”
“Please don’t tell him,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I still haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he chuckled, a sign that he wasn’t too saddened about the situation and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”
“Me too,” he said quietly. “But maybe this is just how it’s meant to be. You and Heeseung are good for each other, you’ll realize it soon enough.”
With that, you both fell into a silence that spoke volume. You realized that you had a choice now. No matter what had transpired, you still admired Sunghoon and your feelings didn't just disappear, but now your heart was also longing for Heeseung. What’s important now is figuring out your feelings.
The conversation was left after your realization and you needed time to yourself. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the front porch of the house. You leaned against the cool brick wall, your heart still racing from Sunghoon’s confession. The laughter and chatter of the party faded into the background as you pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. Just then, the doe-eyed boy emerged from the house and walking towards the lot.
“Hey, captain,” you stop him in his tracks.
“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” you asked. “You know this is your party, you won the game. And that last shot was insane,” you beamed proudly.
Heeseung laughed, “I’m glad you were there to see that. I played well today, probably the best I played all season. Maybe because you were there.”
“And I’m actually heading home. I have a meeting in the morning and need to prepare for it since it’s the first time I get to speak,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he scratched his neck.
“Why are you outside alone? Are you okay?” He stepped before you, his expression softening. “I was looking for you after Sunghoon dragged you outside. What did he want?”
You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
“Sunghoon almost kissed me tonight.”
Heeseung’s eyes widened. “What do you mean almost?”
“I don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… I rejected him.”
“Why? Don’t you want to kiss your crush?” Heeseung’s tone was a mix of disbelief and surprise.
“I’m not sure anymore,” you admitted, feeling a knot of uncertainty tighten in your stomach. The thrill of your moment with Sunghoon had turned into confusion.
Heeseung stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “Y/N,” he said softly, “What’s going on?”
You grabbed the bottom hem of his leather jacket and pulled him closer. “Heeseung, I need you to kiss me.”
The words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you both. You visibly see his cheeks heat up as your heart pounds louder than ever.
“You want me to kiss you?” Heeseung asked, uncertainty lingering in his voice.
You searched his eyes, feeling the pull between you two intensifying. You knew that there was so much at stake — potential heartbreak or the possibility of something new.
You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “Yes.”
Taking a leap of faith, Heeseung closed the distance, you hesitated for a heartbeat before leaning in, your lips brushing softly, igniting a spark that sent electricity coursing through you. The kiss deepened, a mix of urgency and tenderness, and for a moment, the chaos of the night faded away.
You cling to the back of his neck and pull him close, mouth and lips mixing with his tongue and teeth.
You didn’t know how bad you needed his lips on yours again — it’s something that you’ve been craving ever since that party when you first had a taste of his lips.
Before you could press your body against his, wanting to experience the same feeling as what happened in the locker room, you feel him pull apart.
“We should stop.”
“I don’t want to stop,” You desperately urged, still feeling the remnants of the kiss linger on your lips.
“I want you.”
“I want you too,” he paused, “So fucking bad, but you’re confused about your feelings.”
You shake your head, “You're the one making me confused. The things you did to me in the locker room, this back and forth that we keep doing, and the way you keep-“ you groan in frustration.
“I want this Heeseung.”
Heeseung watched as you shifted nervously, concern etched on his face. “Do you still have feelings for Sunghoon?”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. He just confessed that he liked me too, and a part of me wished I hadn’t rejected him. But I’m so glad I did because I’m here with you now.”
You process your own words, realizing that what you are doing wasn’t fair to him. “I’m sorry, I guess- yeah, I’m a bit confused right now.”
Without another word, he reached out and gently grabbed your hand, grounding you. “I’ll take you home.”
You felt a rush of warmth at his touch, the familiarity of his hand in yours bringing a sense of comfort when he led you to his car.
He opened the passenger seat and you sit down with a pang of regret.
“Heeseung, I didn’t mean to make this complicated,” you said softly, “It wasn’t fair to ask you to kiss me.”
“I know,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But whatever you’re feeling, I know you’ll figure it out. It will take time, but that’s okay. I can wait.”
“You’re willing to wait for me? Why?”
Silence passed by.
“It’s been a long night. We can talk tomorrow, okay?” He shows reassurance through his eyes, and you appreciate his understanding.
The car ride was silent, both of you falling deeply within your thoughts of each other. Every now and then, you’d glance over at him. There was something about the way he held himself — so easy and entirely present — that made your heart skip. You weren’t sure if it was the quiet of the night or the way he seemed so at understanding with you, but in that moment, everything felt still.
The car slowed as he approached your house and he stopped at the curb. He turned to you, his expression softer now, a quiet sincerity in his eyes.
“Thank you for bringing me home,” you said, breaking the silence.
His lips quirk into a smile before he kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”
You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you, heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. You opened the door and stepped out of the car, but before you closed it, you looked back at him. He was watching you, his hand resting on the wheel, his expression a mix of fondness and something more, something hopeful.
The world outside was quiet, but inside your mind, it was anything but. You lay in bed, your thoughts were racing and tumbling over each other like waves crashing against the shore.
Every little moment from Sunghoon’s confession to admitting wanting Heeseung seemed to replay in your mind, each one a gentle reminder of the feelings that simply can’t be ignored. You turned onto your side, staring out the window, trying to make sense of the whirlwind inside.
The idea of something more with Heeseung doesn’t scare you anymore. You made your choice and for the first time in a long time, it felt right.
—
The gentle chime of the doorbell signaled the arrival of a customer, pulling you from your thoughts as you arranged a bouquet of vibrant daisies. The flower shop was a cozy haven, filled with the sweet scent of fresh blooms and the soft rustle of leaves. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful displays, but today, your mind was elsewhere.
You glanced out the window, lost in thought as you watched the street bustle with life. It was one of those quiet days at the shop, and as you worked, your thoughts inevitably drifted to Heeseung. You couldn’t shake the feelings that had blossomed between you.
You finished the bouquet of daisies when a familiar voice broke your reverie. “What are you thinking about?” Mina asked, plopping down on the stool across from you, a curious look in her eyes.
You hesitated, feeling the weight of your secret pressing down. “I... I need to tell you something,” you said, your heart racing.
“I have feelings for Heeseung.”
Mina’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “What? Since when? What about Sunghoon?”
You sighed, “Sunghoon made me realize that I like Heeseung. Heeseung and I kissed at the party, then again last night after Sunghoon confessed to me.”
“And yeah, I rejected Sunghoon because I like Heeseung.”
“Oh my gosh,” Mina leaned back, processing your words, her expression a mix of shock and excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
You glanced around the shop, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I’m sorry, but you have a big mouth. And I needed to figure my feelings out before it turned into something bigger.”
She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you’re certain about your feelings for Heeseung?”
“I am,” you said, the confession feeling like a weight lifting off your shoulders.
Just then, the door swung open again, and you looked up, holding your breath. There he was —Heeseung, with his easy smile and a carefree energy that filled the shop. He looked around, his gaze landing on you.
“Hey, got any good recommendations for a perfect flower for a pretty girl?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.
“It depends, who might that pretty girl be?” Your heart raced as you stepped forward, trying to sound casual despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s a secret,” he says, which makes your eyes roll playfully in return.
“Sure, I have the perfect one.” You gestured for him to follow you to the back of the shop, where the blooms were arranged in an array of colors.
As you guided him through the flowers, you couldn’t help but notice how the sunlight caught his hair, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I think a pretty girl would love cherry blossoms,” you said, pointing to a delicate bunch of pink blooms.
Heeseung’s expression brightened. “Cherry blossoms? Those are beautiful. Perfect choice.”
You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his approval. “They symbolize the beauty of life and new beginnings,” you explained, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Plus, they’re just really pretty.”
“Definitely,” he said, nodding. “I’ll take a bouquet of those, then. When are you off?”
“In about ten minutes,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement at the thought of spending more time with him.
“Wanna get some ice cream after?” Heeseung asked, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of hope that made your heart leap.
“Ice cream sounds great,” you said, unable to hide your smile.
“Perfect. I’ve been craving something sweet since the game yesterday,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair.
You nodded, feeling your nerves fade as the idea of ice cream and time spent with Heeseung sank in. “We can go right after I finish up here. I’ll just wrap these up for you.”
As you moved to prepare his bouquet, the air felt charged with excitement. Maybe this was the chance you’d been waiting for to explore your feelings with him.
“Thanks for the recommendation,” Heeseung said, watching you intently as he gave you his card.
“Just doing my job,” you replied playfully, though the compliment made your cheeks warm. You carefully arranged the cherry blossoms into a beautiful bouquet, tying it off with a simple ribbon.
“Alright, all set!” you announced, handing it to him. “I hope she loves them.”
“I’m sure she will,” he said, taking the bouquet and flashing that charming smile of his before giving them to you. You try your best to hide your big smile at his cute gesture.
“Let’s get going then,” Heeseung said, motioning toward the door.
After clocking out, you stepped out into the warm afternoon, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of ice cream and a chance to spend time with him. Maybe this was the perfect way to discover where your feelings could lead.
The ice cream shop buzzed with laughter and the sound of scoops hitting cones. The sunset streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the pastel-colored walls.
Heeseung leaned against the counter as he waited for his mint chocolate chip ice cream, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched you asked for a cup with a swirl of chocolate and strawberry.
“You already got me flowers, you don’t have to pay for me,” you said, glancing over as he handed the cashier his card.
“I’m the one who invited you on this date, so I should pay for it,” Heeseung replied, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Thank you,” you said, your eyes softening.
As you both took a seat at a small table, the sun warming your skin, you couldn’t help but be distressed, the memory of last night swirling in your mind.
“Heeseung, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for bothering you about my feelings. I was confused, but I’m certain now.”
“Hey, you didn’t bother me,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I kept teasing you about Sunghoon and actually helped to get you with him, but then tried to convince you to get with me. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” you replied, a hint of warmth in your cheeks. The memory of his playful jabs at your friendship with Sunghoon felt less burdensome now, more like a teasing lightness.
Heeseung took a deep breath, glancing around the shop as if searching for the right words. “Let’s save this conversation for later. We’re supposed to be enjoying ice cream, right?”
You chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Right. Ice cream first, feelings later.”
“Deal,” he said, his smile returning, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I want to show you something at home. My mom went on a trip and doesn’t get back until tonight.”
Your eyes squint in uncertainty, “You’re making it sound like-“
“It’s not what you think,” he laughs, “I made sure to make it look clean this morning.”
You chuckle at your own ambiguous thoughts.
“But just so you know, I’m not letting this go. You owe me a proper discussion about your feelings.”
“Fair enough,” you replied, enjoying the banter.
—
You stepped through the grand double doors, your breath catching slightly at the sight before you. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft glow on the modern art that adorned the walls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you followed Heeseung inside, feeling the weight of the place — the luxury and the quiet elegance.
Heeseung hadn’t said much since you arrived to his home, but there was an excitement in his eyes, an energy that made you curious.
"So," you said, breaking the silence, "what did you want to show me?"
He glanced at you with a half-smile, his fingers brushing against yours before he took your hand fully, his touch warm and steady. "Follow me," he said, his voice low, almost secretive, like he was leading you to something special.
You felt a flutter in your chest as you let him guide you to the back of his house. Eventually, he led you to a small archway, its intricate woodwork twisted into delicate, curling patterns.
The air felt cooler here, more peaceful, and as you stepped through it, your breath caught in your throat. It was a garden unlike anything you’d ever seen, a sprawling space filled with vibrant flowers in every color imaginable.
"Wow," you whispered, taking in the sight. "It’s beautiful."
He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes softening as he watched your reaction. "It’s a butterfly garden," he explained, his voice filled with something like reverence. "My dad had this built for my mom on their tenth anniversary."
The butterfly garden was a kaleidoscope of colors, delicate wings fluttering against the backdrop of lush greenery and blooming flowers. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms and the soft rustle of leaves. You and Heeseung wandered along the winding paths, the sun filtering through the leaves and casting dappled light on the ground.
You turned to him, surprised by the tenderness in his words. "This is... incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this."
He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. It’s been here ever since I was a kid. Every time I come here, it reminds me of them."
You glanced around, taking in the beauty of the garden — its winding paths, the quiet trickle of a small fountain in the corner, the vibrant flowers, and the butterflies that seemed to dance through the air, so effortlessly. It felt intimate, serene, like it held memories in the air itself.
"It’s perfect," you said softly, your gaze lingering on a butterfly that had landed on a nearby flower. "It’s like you can feel the love here."
He nodded, his fingers still holding yours, his gaze not leaving you. "Yeah. It’s a place where everything feels still. You know?"
He looked at you for a long beat, his expression soft but serious, as if weighing something important in his heart. Slowly, he stepped closer to you, the world around you fading into the background.
"It’s my favorite place in the world," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "When things get hard, I like to come here and escape from everything. I wanted to share it with you."
You felt your heart flutter at the words, the weight of his honesty settling in the space between you. This wasn’t just about a beautiful garden, it was about him trusting you with something deeply personal, something precious.
"I’m honored," you said quietly, looking into his eyes. "Thank you for showing me."
A gentle smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in that sacred space — no words needed, just the quiet, steady beat of your hearts. As you stood there, hand in hand, surrounded by the butterflies, you knew this was a memory that would stay with you forever.
“So, Sunghoon confessed,” Heeseung spoke, glancing at you.
“Yes,” you replied, your voice slightly subdued. “It was so sudden and made me even more confused. He was sorry for leading me on and I didn’t expect for him to return his feelings even if I wanted him to, but I appreciated his confession and honesty.”
“Bringing me home last night was a good idea,” you continued. “I was being messy the entire night and before I went to sleep, I thought for a long time.”
You remembered how you’d spent hours thinking about your feelings, trying to make sense of everything.
“Earlier, you mentioned that you were certain,”Heeseung began, looking at you, his expression earnest. “I’m certain about my feelings too. I’m certain about you, so whatever you tell me, I won’t be mad. I know I was an ass getting in the way of your feelings for Sunghoon, but just please be honest, and I’ll figure it out and leave you alone.”
“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” you said softly, looking directly into his eyes.
“Heeseung, I like you,” you blurt out without hesitation. The words hung in the air between you, bright and clear, like the vibrant butterflies flitting around. “I was trying to win over Sunghoon, but you kept distracting me.” You let out a playful scoff, trying to lighten the moment.
“You made me really confused and it was annoying — but in a good way. After being around you and knowing what you’re going through, I started to care for you and wanted to be there for you. And when we kissed or when you’re simply around me, I couldn’t handle it. I’ve always wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.”
“I want more with you,“ You confess,” If you want more with me.”
Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing across his face before a grin broke through. He stepped closer, the warm sun illuminating his features, “I do want more with you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but obviously didn’t know if you felt the same.”
“I like you a lot… probably since our first kiss,” he laughed, a sound full of relief and joy, before leaning over, his forehead resting gently against yours. “If you give me a chance, I promise I will try my best to be good for you, because you deserve it. And even when things get complicated or messy or when shit gets in the way, I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere."
You swallowed hard, feeling your stomach flutter. His words were beautiful, something that was never said to you before.
“I know that especially for you, things will be hard but I’m not going anywhere either,” you promise.
Unable to think of anything else to say, you found yourself closing the distance between you and him. You reached up, your hand gently cupping the side of his face, feeling his warmth beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, and his gaze softened.
Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the pulse of his heart beating in time with yours. You kissed many times but this one felt different, it was slow, tender, full of warmth and everything that had been unsaid between you for so long.
When you pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you smiled.
“I’ve said this many times, but I want you, Hee.”
He nods and lets out an exhale, “You have me.”
Without thought, Heeseung led you upstairs. You both haven’t spoken yet, the desire of wanting each other too strong. The heavy wooden door swung open with a smooth, almost imperceptible motion, revealing a room that seemed more like something out of a dream than reality. Your eyes wide as you take in the sprawling space before you.
You reach out and pull Heeseung back in, kissing him fiercely desperate. You move before him, making him walk backwards until he’s sat on the edge of his bed.
When you released from his mouth and pulled back for air, Heeseung’s eyes were glowing, shifting between yours in silence. He knows exactly what you’re asking him.
“Can I?” You asked, eyes drawn upon the tent in his pants. He nods in approval, and slowly, you begin unbuttoning his jeans and kneeling before him.
Your fingers drag lightly against Heeseung’s hips before pulling his pants and underwear down.
As your breath hitches with the reveal of his cock that sprung free, you feel him studying you intently. Your eyes widened, he was thick and big, and you weren’t sure if he was going to fit.
“Are you sure you want to?” Heeseung asked.
You nod, “I want to make you feel good.”
Heeseung let out a small noise once you took hold of his cock and started stroking him slow. Then you guided it to your mouth, the taste of his pre-cum salty but sweet.
You watch his eyebrows pinch together as you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and circle the head with your tongue without breaking eye contact.
“Oh, fuck baby,” his groan sounds strangled, almost pained. You continue to wrap your lips around the head, tongue teasing around it before tracing along the slit.
“Been wanting to feel your mouth,” Heeseung’s voice, shaky when he reverently admitted. “Please don’t tease me, you feel fucking good.”
You take his praise as motivation when you slowly sink your mouth down on Heeseung’s cock, swallowing the tip deeply into your throat, trying not to gag, and holding it there before bobbing your head and repeatedly continue the motion.
You didn’t want to stop after hearing the pretty whines and moans spilling out from him. Heeseung guides you a bit, holding onto your head and pushing it down so you can take him even deeper.
You felt his dick twitching as if he was almost there at release so you continue to move up and down, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose.
“Doing great baby,” he praises, “I think I’m close.”
Heeseung clutches onto his sheets with a hand as he grips your head tighter with the other. Your movements are getting faster, more frantic, you want him to let go already and spill in your mouth.
But he releases his grip and tries to stop you.
“Hold on, I don’t want to cum yet,” Heeseung brought a hand down to cup your face, his thumb tracing where your lips stretched around his length.
“I want to cum while I’m inside you,” he says.
You pulled off of Heeseung with a pop, an eager look in your eyes as he brought you towards him so that you’re straddling him.
“Thank you, that felt amazing,” he brought both hands back to your face, cupping your cheeks. Heeseung leans towards you and kisses you again, taking his time to savor it as he tastes himself.
He nips at your bottom lip, running the tip of his tongue alongside the edge of your mouth. You melt against him, responding in kind.
Heeseung lifts you, turning both of you around until your body is placed gently on his bed. He hooks his fingers through the elastic of your waistband and then slides down your pants and panties, leaving you naked from the waist down. You’re uncomfortably wet, all from getting a taste of him.
He pauses for a second just to admire you with a soft look in his eyes before glancing back at you, and your heart starts pounding intensely in your chest. You’re suddenly nervous, but desperate to feel him in every single way.
As you lie there on his bed, you’re unable to take your eyes away from him. Heeseung leans down to place a soft kiss on your hip bone before starting to undress, wanting to be completely naked, and you follow his lead.
Heeseung kisses your neck and drags his mouth down to your bare breast, then your stomach. He pauses for a moment before ducking down, and suddenly his mouth is on your cunt, leaving a kiss. His breath and mouth warm, wet, and, fuck, he hasn’t done anything yet but it feels amazing.
You feel him placing a hand flat against your stomach, strong and steady, keeping you still as his tongue begins to slip in and out of you.
“Heeseung,” you breathed, hands immediately darting out to grab the sheets on either side, fabric clenched between your fingers as you felt his tongue confidently lapping up and down your cunt.
“Fuck… shit, fuck,” Your words came out in soft mumbles as you screwed your eyes shut, feeling Heeseung nudging your clit with his sharp nose.
He sucks rapidly and noisily, and his grip around your thighs tightened when your hand traveled down to tangle amongst his messy locks, tugging in appreciation as his tongue rolled against your clit in circles.
You felt him let out a moan against you, which makes your vision blurry and your core clench tight — you felt yourself close.
“I’m- gonna-”
Your fingers grasp his hair tighter, and you desperately pull him closer once you come undone on his tongue. Your legs tightened around him, hips started bucking wildly which made it hard for him to stay in place.
Heeseung pressed soft kisses along your inner thighs, watching you relax under his touch. He waited a few moments until your eyes met his own, the sight was something that you wished to engrave forever.
He was too pretty, too cute. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy — bambi eyes glowing. You were lucky to see him like this.
“Was that okay?” Heeseung broke the silence.
You nod, trying to steady your breathing, “It was perfect.”
“I want you inside me now, Hee.”
Heeseung felt the same way, wanting to be inside you. He pressed his lips against yours before a small smirk formed.
He reached to the dresser next to his bed and opened the drawer to find a foil packet. You left a watchful gaze as Heeseung opened the packet and slowly slid the condom onto his cock, pumping it a few times until he was shifting his hips.
He began to line it up his cock with your entrance and sliding his head along your soaking slit a few times for full preparation.
“Tell me if it hurts okay?” He murmured. He takes it slow, stretching you out and allowing you to get used to the feel of him, while carefully searching for any discomfort on your face.
The feeling was unexpected, due to his girth and size. But you nodded your head and kissed him, giving him the approval to bottom you out. Heeseung didn’t expect you to feel so tight around him. Your cunt clenching his cock so perfectly that he could have sworn that he came already.
“Baby-“ he gulped. “I don’t think I’ll last,” he lets out a chuckle mixed with a soft whine.
“Me neither,” you breathlessly laugh in response.
“I’m going to move now.”
You felt Heeseung begin to roll his hips, starting a rhythm, settling a hand at your neck. All it takes is a nod and mumble of the words, “Go faster,” from you for him to pick up his pace. You don’t have too much difficulty matching it, and soon, your hips meet messily and erratically. The pace is fast and the feeling indescribable.
“Hee,” You moan out, “Just like that-“
One of your hands unintentionally makes a mess of his back, nails scratching when he snaps his hips and hits your deep spot, and Heeseung’s brows furrow at the feeling.
"Oh my fucking god," you felt the his breath against your ear as he groaned out. You were approaching your high and Heeseung can feel it too.
You continue rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm while biting down on your bottom lip to try to stop the sound that's trying to escape from your throat. "Heeseung," you finally let out a whine, "I'm so fucking close."
"I know," he felt your walls clamp around him, watching your face scrunch up, unable to hold it in any longer.
His rhythm gradually gets faster, and you feel him get deeper causing you to clench even more tightly to the point where you start digging onto his shoulder with your fingertips.
"You can cum now," he grunts while bucking up his hips. Just from your face alone, he notices how much you want to let go. He removed hair out of your face before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.
"Go ahead, my love," he whispered.
You feel yourself let go and your body spasming. He carries you through your orgasm with small shallow thrusts until he follows, eventually releasing himself into the condom.
The condom gets thrown in the trash and Heeseung grabs a towel from his bathroom. He cleans you up, and you watch with a smile on your face. Heeseung rejoins you, pulling you into his arms under the covers. You curl up into him, feeling relaxed and happy in his embrace.
“What are we?” You ask, unsure of the new status between you two.
“We can be whatever you want to be,” he kisses the top of your head, “But I want you to be mine.”
“Well, before we officially become boyfriend and girlfriend,” you began, hesitating slightly, “I want to know more about you. I want to know what goes on other than basketball and partying. I just want to know about Heeseung.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You’re asking a lot. But I want to know everything about you too. We can start tomorrow. Let me take you out on a date.”
“Another date? I’d love that.” A flutter of excitement stirred in your chest, but reality pulled you back.
“I want to stay here forever and I don’t want to leave yet, but I promised my parents that I’ll be home by 8.”
“Okay, let’s get ready. I’ll drop you off,” he said, his tone shifting to one of determination.
You shook your head, a playful frown on your face. “No, don’t worry. I know your mom is coming home soon, so- so just let one of your drivers take me home.”
Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a mixture of frustration and understanding. “I don’t like the idea of you going home alone. Just let me drop you off. I promise I’ll have you back before my mom comes.”
You could see the concern on his face, and it made your heart swell. “Heeseung, I’ll be fine. I appreciate it, really. But I think it’s better this way.”
“Fine,” he relented, but his expression remained serious. “But we’re definitely going on that date tomorrow. No arguments.”
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Okay, it’s a date.”
—
”This is Seojoon,” Heeseung said, his voice casual but with a hint of authority. "He’ll be driving you tonight."
Seojoon gave you a polite nod, his eyes steady and respectful. “Miss,” he greeted, his voice smooth and professional, with just the right amount of warmth to make you feel at ease.
You gave a smile, feeling a little out of place in such a world of luxury, but his quiet confidence made you relax. “Hi, Seojoon. It’s nice to meet you.”
He opened the door to the waiting car, a sleek black luxury vehicle that looked like it could glide on air.
Heeseung’s hand rested briefly on your shoulder, his fingers warm. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow and everyday with you,” he leaned closer, his voice low and sincere. ”I want to know everything about you too, and I promise to share more than just basketball and partying.”
The moment lingered, the air thick with unspoken promises and the thrill of what was to come. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, giving him a kiss on his lips before getting inside the car.
“Call me when you get home,” he replied, his smile brightening as he closed the door.
On your way home, the world outside was still buzzing, but the night felt different now — calmer, and more intimate especially after the day with Heeseung.
You felt happy.
—
As soon as Heeseung returns inside, a sharp voice sliced through the warmth of the moment.
“Who’s that? You never bring anyone home,” his mother demanded, her eyes narrowing at him.
Heeseung straightened, determination flashing in his gaze. “She’s my girlfriend— well, soon to be. But I like her a lot, and she’s special.”
His mother’s expression darkened, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Heeseung, we cannot allow this.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Heeseung shot back, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice.
“Me. The company. Our family,” she replied, crossing her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features.
“But, Mother, she’s the first girl to make me feel this way. I’m actually really happy.”
His mother sighed, her expression softening for just a moment before steeling again. “Heeseung, we already had this conversation a long time ago. And I don’t want to have to have it again.”
Heeseung’s eyes bore into his mother’s, a mix of frustration and desperation. “Can’t you just try to understand?” he pressed. “I know what our family’s expectations are, but she makes me feel like I can be myself. Isn’t that what you want for me?”
His mother hesitated, her facade cracking slightly. “You know how things are in our world, Heeseung. It’s not just about feelings. There are expectations-”
“Expectations that make me miserable!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m not asking you to approve of her right now, but I need you to at least try to see why I like her.”
“I need time to think about this,” she said, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips.
“Then time is all I’m asking for,” Heeseung replied, his voice firm but gentle.
As the air slowly eased, Heeseung gave a glance with a mixture of hope and apprehension.
—
hee: can’t wait to see you, my love
hee: wear something warm :)
The next day was your and Heeseung’s date. He texted you that he was going to take you to a park that had pretty cherry blossoms, which is something you’ve wanted to do for so long.
As Heeseung stood at your front door, the afternoon air thick with anticipation. The soft glow of porch lights cast a warm hue over the two of you, and the world around felt still, as if it were holding its breath.
“Hey, you look cute in your scarf,” you giggle. “Is everything okay?” you asked, your brow furrowing slightly at the uncomfortable look in his eyes.
“Yes- no,” he replied, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his voice. He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I just want to kiss you. I missed you.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his confession, feeling warmth bloom in your chest before leaning in to kiss him. “I missed you too, Hee.”
Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
“What’s wrong?” your tone shifted, concern creeping into his words.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he admitted. “I know you said we shouldn’t rush into being official, but I just want to be yours already.”
Your eyes widened, the spark of surprise quickly morphing into determination.
“Can I be your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of hope.
“Yes, Heeseung, you can be my boyfriend,” you replied, your words tumbling out with an undeniable certainty.
A grin broke across his face, and in that moment, all the uncertainty from the past few days melted away. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until he cupped your face in his hands.
“Really? You mean it?”
“Of course,” you said, smiling widely.
Heeseung leaned in, closing the gap, and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as the warmth of his mouth sent a thrill through you. You melted into him, feeling his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as if he were afraid to let go.
When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. With a renewed sense of excitement and belonging, you took his hand, intertwining your fingers. The future for you suddenly felt bright and full of possibilities.
As for Heeseung, he knew that whatever the future held, it was just the beginning of something even more complicated and uncertain.
But he knew that everything would be okay as long as he had you in his world.
—
© 2024, fairyofhee on tumblr
note, any reblogs and feedback is appreciated! if enough feedback, a continuation will be in the works. feel free to share your thoughts, thank you <3
#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#heeseung smut#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung fic#heeseung x reader#heeseung x you#heeseung angst#kpop fic#kpop smut
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Arcane Characters Make Food for You
Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, kissing, making food, teasing
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters
A/N: I already wrote this on my old blog but now is a good time to re-write it.
Jinx knows how to cook pretty well, surprisingly enough. Or maybe not so surprisingly given how she's always the one making things and experimenting. However that also means she might make some really weird meals.
It's something you'll have to deal with if you're with her and might have to develop a strong stomach. She already has it because she grew up in Zaun and ate a lot of different things. For you she wouldn't recommend some of them yet and she will try her best to make something that you'll like. And she won't get too offended if you don't eat her cooking right away.
"I made ya some breakfast, ta-da! It's a little sticky but don't worry, eat your fill and I'll clean up the mess later. Don't look at it like that, it might not look pretty but I promise ya it's so good. I could eat this every day. I hope I'll get to eat it together it with ya every day, sugar."
Vi doesn't know how to cook because she never had the opportunity to learn. The first few dishes are bad, like really bad, almost burn the toast and eggs type of bad but Vi she isn't the kind of person to give up. She'll keep trying until she gets it right.
There have been times where she did burn things and she won't let you eat it since it's not right. She wants you to have the best of the best, even if she didn't. Might get a little distracted when you're in the kitchen with her so she prefers to cook by herself even if you're there with her. Regardless of how many times she gets it wrong she at least wants to learn to cook your favorite.
"Yes, this is burned toast but this time it's not my fault, it's yours. Well you're the one who walked in here looking all cute and distracted me. One kiss is all it takes if it's from you, sweet stuff. Sit down and let me do this right and if you do you'll get something sweeter than this."
Caitlyn knows how to cook really well. She did grow up with people doing the cooking for her however she was curious and wanted to learn how to do it on her own. She's a very hand-on learner, now she can use some of her skills to make you happy.
She gets up really early anyways so she might as well make breakfast for the both of you. The first time she brings you breakfast in bed she thinks your reaction is cute, the way you stare at her, eyes wide and drooling over the food. For her it's not odd to have breakfast in bed. And if you stick with her you'll get used to her pampering you. Be sure to tell her how the food tastes.
"Good morning, darling, I brought you something. See, I didn't just brag about my cooking skills, this is me showing you I can cook. Showing off? Suppose I am a little bit, it's not my fault you didn't really think I would bring you breakfast in bed."
Maddie can cook some dishes but she can cook them well. Her skills aren't anything impressive but they don't need to be because she can get take out too. But she is more than happy to share what ever she makes with you.
She falls back on take out more often than she would like to admit. However not when she invites you over to her place, then she will put her best foot forward. A lot of that is because she wants to impress you hard, but it also gets her to work on her skills either way she wins. She keeps looking at you very intently while you take that first bite. Thankfully she doesn't seem to do a bad job if your smile is anything to go by.
"I'm not weird for watching you eat, it's called being smitten, gorgeous. Anything you do is interesting to me, you know that by now. This isn't empty flattery. I already got you to eat my cooking, I don't need to butter you up at this point."
Ekko isn't the best cook out there, he will be completely honest with you. While he does know the basic things you can't really expect anything fancy. If anything he focuses more on the dish being filling than tasty.
The thing about him cooking for the two of you is that he can only do it on his free time, which isn't a lot. Therefore he wants to make it a bonding activity. A cute date of sorts, mostly in the late evening when the rest of work is done. Sometimes he will try to surprise you but its hard when his living space isn't that big and everyone knows everything in the Firelights. The gesture counts.
"There wasn't much time so it's pretty simple, but at least it's your favorite, Firefly. No, I actually finished the new project, I had extra time to kill. Please, don't thank me! It seemed only right for me to make you something after you cheered me up this morning."
Vander knows how to cook really, really well. He kids to raise, and he was on his own for a very long time, he had to become a good cook. Plus he makes awesome drinks, being a good cook was a bonus skill for him.
He's always the first one to wake up and start the day in the Last Drop and he always makes breakfast for everyone. Not just breakfast but every meal, his kids need to eat a lot, there's always a little left over for later. Even if he feels a little sleepy himself he at least wants to put something on the table. It's the dad instincts in him. And husband instincts, hopefully.
"Don't ya even think about sneaking up on me right now, darlin'. I've got a pan full of sizzling hot oil in my hand, I don't want it all over us. Hugs are fine, I always love ya being close to me, but keep your hands to yourself. We both know ya get handsy in the morning."
Silco didn't know how to cook before he adopted Jinx, since then he's had to learn. It wasn't easy but now he does know a lot and he can impress the woman he's dating. Now when you stay over you can expect good for for your date, and good food when you wake up.
When the dating gets more serious he lets you help him cook, but until then he pretty much does it on his own. Jinx will go nowhere near the kitchen alone, not after that one explosion. He does have a list of recipes that he makes the most. And a few that he made up. Sometimes ingredients are hard to come by so he needs to improvise.
"Pass me the flour would you, love? This time I will follow the recipe, yes, the last time there was a bit too much sugar in there. I know you liked it but it's not the healthiest thing now is it? Fine, call me a worried dad, I know you think it's attractive."
Sevika isn't able too cook that well, she never was, she always liked others cooking for her though. However when you tease her about it she takes it as a challenge. And you know damn well that she doesn't back down from a challenge.
Curses a lot when she messes up, though you can bet that she's not gonna let food be the thing that beats her. When you walk into the kitchen it's a mess which will take a while to clean up. But at least she managed to make the dish this time and it's quite good. For her hard work you give her a very passionate kiss and that just makes her wanna work harder. That's the best reward she can ask for.
"One kiss for at that work, doll? I think I earned myself a little more than that, maybe you on the table instead of all this food. Yeah, I know it's gonna get cold, you're right. Can't let all this hard work go to waste, but when we're done we have to work all that food off."
Viktor doesn't have as much time to cook as he could if he worked a bit less. Not that his skills are award worthy but he can make a few things, at least in his opinion. Give his cooking a chance.
When he was a student in the academy he had to learn how to make quick meals and that is where most of his strength is. Just very simple dishes but he knows how to make them well. There are times when he himself forgets to eat so he makes sure he gets a good meal when he can. If you're part of that that's even better. Having you eat his cooking makes cooking more fun.
"If you think cooking this is so easy then you make it will you, beautiful? Ah so now you like it, I see how it is. I'm just kidding, I love making food for you when I can. But if you want to make it yourself please let me do a taste test first. I promise to be brutally honest, just like you are with me."
Jayce has absolutely no skills in the kitchen unless you need him to fix or build things in there. He knows this too and will admit it right away. Trust him he is much better in science than in cooking food.
That being said he will join you in the kitchen when you cook. He takes an interest in it because the way you cook makes his mouth water. When he learns about what your favorite food is he wants to lean how to cook it. However he does this in secret because he wants to surprise you. Sure enough he's able to get the biggest smile out of you when he presents you with your favorite meal.
"I learned it secretly, all for you, babe. Well I am quite good with my hands and I enjoy working, that was just another excuse to learn. Of course I don't have an ulterior motive for it! But if I did... and if it was kissing... would you kiss me for doing a good job?"
Mel is actually an amazing cook and knows a ton of recipes. Including your favorites of course. Do you really think she'd invite you over and offer you nothing to eat?
It's been a long time since she had to cook for anyone but herself but she's not bad at it at all. She has high standards when it comes to good food specifically because she holds herself to high standards. It doesn't matter how simple or complicated the meal is. When she invites you over and offers to make you food you better believe you're eating good that night. Not strictly food either.
"Beloved, slow down a little, the food isn't going anywhere and neither am I. We have all night. Every time I make food I do so because I want to enjoy a good meal, and you should too. And please be careful, I don't want you to choke, on the food that is."
#arcane x reader#jinx x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#maddie x reader#ekko x reader#vander x reader#silco x reader#sevika x reder#viktor x reader#jayce x reader#mel x reader#arcane imagine#arcane headcanon#arcane fluff#arcane x you#league of legends x reader#league of legends imagine#league of legends headcanons#league of legends fluff#league of legends x you#arcane x female reader#league of legends x female reader#x female reader#arcane#league of legends
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Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.
The knocking continues.
It's getting louder.
There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.
Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.
He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.
Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.
The knocking returns less than a minute later.
---
There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.
Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.
Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.
Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.
Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.
Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.
"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.
Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.
It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.
The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.
"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.
"What are you -?"
"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."
---
He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.
"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.
Buck's scowl.
God.
"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."
"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."
Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."
The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.
"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.
It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.
The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.
This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.
Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.
Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.
That he'd forgotten about.
Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.
"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.
That somehow stings just a little bit extra.
Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.
"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.
"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.
"Cut it out, Buck."
Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."
---
The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.
Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.
Buck almost looks triumphant.
"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."
He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.
Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.
The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.
"This isn't everything."
Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.
"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.
He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.
He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.
Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.
"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.
"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."
"That's not fair."
"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."
"I know."
"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."
"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.
Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."
"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.
"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."
He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.
"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.
Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.
Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.
"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."
It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.
"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."
Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.
"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."
---
He goes in for the kill.
"I called Abby, two nights ago."
Right for the jugular. No survivors.
"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."
Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.
"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.
Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."
The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.
"I can't do this."
"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"
"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."
Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."
"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.
"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."
Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.
Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.
He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.
---
There is someone knocking at his door.
Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.
He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.
There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.
#bucktommy#bucktommy fix it#not quite#theyre playing a game#but once these idiots lose the game they'll probably win#with each other#tevan fic
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Hellooooo my favorite catlover/writer
I got another pop up idea this morning (happens way too often)
But first of all ! Don’t wear yourself out ! You write a lot and it’s amazing ! But prioritize yourself first. Don’t let requests put a pression on you ❤️
I know how it feels
Anyways
I’m not a morning person like most of the population except SOCIOPATHS.
And I imagined what it would feel like having the emt!marauders watching you up since they have to go to work early. You know like kisses, shoulders massages, soothing words as they try to calm your rise and everything…
If you don’t like it that’s ok! Don’t write it.
Love you, rest well. (Drink water)
Thanks for your request babe! Hope you're resting well and drinking water too <3
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 654 words
You stir when you feel Remus shifting underneath you. He reaches over to shut off his alarm, hand coming back to rest over your head placatingly. The appeasement doesn’t last long; when he goes to move out from under you, you make a soft whining sound.
“Dove.” His voice is husky with sleep, but there’s fondness to it. It makes you want him to stay even more.
The mattress creaks at the other end of the bed as James gets up. Sirius grumbles, scooting closer to you and shoving his face into your neck in rebellion.
“Don’t let them take me,” he mumbles pitifully.
“Baby.” Remus sounds more exasperated and also more amused now that both you and Sirius are half atop him. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but it hardly matters. “Come on.” His lips touch down on your head. “You can sleep, but we have to get ready.”
The bathroom light turns on. Both you and Sirius moan tormentedly.
James’ laugh is too loud for the early hour; you’ll never understand how he wakes so quickly. “Need some help, love?”
“Please,” Remus replies.
Sirius makes a half-asleep sound of protest as he’s dragged away from you, James speaking to him in a low, amused voice.
“Alright,” Remus murmurs, kissing your head again, “my turn.”
He eases your head off of his chest, setting it gently on the pillow before getting out of bed. You mourn the warmth of his spot next to you.
James is ready the fastest, back to press kisses to your pouty lips and soothe his big hands over your shoulders. “Do you want me to make you something for breakfast, lovie? If you get up now I’ll whip you up a fancy coffee.”
“James,” Remus chides from the bathroom, “let her sleep.”
James sighs but bends to mush loving kisses into your neck, murmuring nonsense at you all the while.
“I know you don’t like the bathroom light on, but if you think about it, we’re the ones who have to endure it. Sirius is in there halfway to a temper tantrum because his hair won’t behave, and you’re here all warm and cozy in bed. You look terribly cute like this, do you know? It’s really cruel of you, it ought to be illegal, and if Sirius were awake enough to form a thought he’d agree with me.” His kisses turn ticklish, and James chuckles when you wriggle. “Really! I mean it, you don’t know how lucky you are getting to stay here in bed and looking so adorable. Remus is about to drive us to work, and Sirius is going to insist on laying down in the backseat and moaning about how much he misses you all the while, it’s terrible. I ought to take a picture of you to console him.”
“Don’t,” you mumble. You find one of James’ hands with your own, dragging it underneath your pillow for safekeeping.
James laughs again, and another chuckle joins him as Sirius comes out of the bathroom.
“What’re you doing to her, you relentless pest? At least one of us should be allowed to sleep.”
James makes a soft grunting sound as the bed dips. You don’t have to open your eyes to know Sirius has draped himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll get him away from you,” Sirius promises. “Jamie, I require one of your fancy coffees.”
“Me too,” says Remus from the bathroom.
James succumbs to the weight of peer pressure and goes, and a short while later the bathroom light shuts off. Remus crouches by the bed, kissing you softly.
“Sleep well,” he says, brushing some hair away from your face. “We’ll see you after our shift, dovey, okay?”
You mumble out a response, already falling asleep again in the returned darkness of the bedroom.
Remus’ thumb skims fondly over your cheek. “Love you too, sweetheart.”
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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.
#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#mingyu smut#seventeen smut#mingyu imagines#seventeen imagines#mingyu x y/n#seventeen x y/n#mingyu x you#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt smut#svt imagines#svt x y/n#svt x you#seventeen#svt#kim mingyu#mingyu
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Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.
Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.
Part 2 Here!!
Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions
Word Count: 640 words
My Master List
Join my tag list : @matthewsroses
Divider by: @anitalenia
A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.
<3 - Billie
The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.
After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.
"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.
"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.
That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.
"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.
"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??
#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt stuniolo fanfic#Spotify
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The Tattoo (part three)
After scarabias overblot, and seeing what Ace and Deuce were willing to do for you, you were so touched that you decided to get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-
If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here
Oh poor Idia, where do we even start for him?... poor guy is absolutely shattered as soon as he saw those two tattoos on you through the cameras. He felt his entire reason to live just shatter. He feels his entire world collapsing in on itself. He completely just, breaks down, sobbing to himself on the floor trying to rationalise how the tattoos were not real, to try to keep his sanity in tact.
The days after that disastrous breakdown, he has been stuck in bed, too depressed to frankly do anything but to sulk. He had not eaten, not drank enough, and his personal hygiene is downright awful.
Once Ortho has convinced him to get up because crowley demanded him to actually attend his classes or it's byebye NRC for Idia, his pity for himself has turned into rage. Whenever he sees the dumb duo he can't help but to want to do anything against them, he sure would LOVE to doxx them...
But after some reconciderence from Ortho (statistics show he would be one of the top suspects for it and therefore make the prefect hate him even more (he believes)) he instead chose to take care of himself, putting actual effort in how he looks as to win you over with that. He sure hope it works, please...
Don't think ortho is just hyping up his brother, cuz he is sure helping on the sidelines. Digging up info the students don't want anyone to know abour sure is easy when you have unlimited internet access (and some illegal ways to obtain the info)
That's the easy way of getting students away from you, but getting you trapped up with them is almost just as easy. He starts calling you his siblings as well, subtly telling you how you and idia would be the greatest siblings ever to him, even backing up and glorifying hos brother in your eyes, anything it takes to get you to chose idia.... you will all be a happy family....
Sebek, for once in his life, is stunned to silence. He cant quite grapple the thoughts and feelings swirling within him is making him feel quite sick, making him quiet for the rest of the day..
Once classes has ended, he bolts over to his dorm only to dramatically lock himself in his dorm room and let out the worst crying session ever. He is sobbing,
The whole ordeal and emotions results in him having the need to constantly watch over you, as a way to show that he too can protect you, he can be there for you, just like ace and Deuce, but better! Please, he needed you, he needs you to need him too, please...
Silver don't quite know what to think about this. He cant blame you, the heroic stunts of your friends sure are nice, but why with something so permanent? He could do what they did and so much more for you, give him an opportunity and he will show you.
After "the talk" the four of them had, he has had a hard time sleeping for the first time in his life. He feels exhausted yet can't close his eyes, pictures of you happily being with ace and Deuce clouding his poor exhausted brain. He will take this on the only way he knows, a duel for your love and your hand.
You're not dumb either, you see how tired he had been and the lack of sleep he has been getting, and feeling bad for him you let him sleep on tou if that would help him. He takes this opportunity and sure is greedy with it, wanting more and more sleep time with you. It's one way to claim you, and at the moment it's enough for him, but don't think he won't demand more in the soon future..
Lilia feels heartbroken. First that the prefect, his beloved, has shown this love that he would love to have for someone else (especially two people), it breaks his heart. What breaks his heart even more is how he needs to go against his own sons for his beloved too. But he will do whatever it takes to secure you for himself.
When he meets you after hearing about the tattoo, he tries act as normal as possible, not wanting to scare you away with his desperation. Despite that though, he will also try to advance, because he is NOT losing to all these youngsters, he's old enough to know exactly how to treat someone right. Let him treat your right, please, he begs of you....
Malleus feels like there's a storm inside him, getting worse by every second he thinks about that forsaken tattoo you have. He activately tries to think less about it, not wanting the whole school to be stuck in a storm for weeks, especially when you're situated in that poor awful old and decrepid building. He will try to smite ace and Deuce if he has the choise to though-
After the anger dies down, that's when the sadness flows in. The fact that he was not your favorite, that he was not worth his own tattoo, frankly brings him to tears. He has never been denied something in his life, especially something that he wants so badly. It's a foreign feeling, and a horrible one at that.
He is an attention hungry dragon, give him what he wants and he will give you the world without question. Just, please, give him the love and affection he both crave and deserves...
Chat, im tired. Let me sleep- FINALLY THIS SERIES IS FINISHED! or so I thought- o will focus on other comics/ideas before I come back for the endings tho, because I kinda wanna do other stuff and not just the tattoo shenanigans yknow :) one again huge thanks to @artdolliewishes for lots of support and help lmao
I hope yall enjoyed this shitshow of a series atleast, was lots of fun to create after all
#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst art#yandere twisted wonderland art#yandere idia shroud#yandere idia x reader#yandere sebek zigvolt#yandere sebek x reader#yandere silver#yandere silver x reader#yandere lilia vanrouge#yandere lilia x reader#yandere malleus draconia#yandere malleus x reader#the tattoo series
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— pocky for the malipo ⭑.ᐟ
⟶ ( kinich x gn!reader )
— in which... hey, does this even count as a kiss...?
— speedran this filler post for pocky day + kinch's birthday.. its single day too LMAO the coincidences are simply uncanny ..
— starts out w mualani + kinich for context , fluff !! reader likes sweets,, ...tw... use of the word orbs..
“awwww, c’mon!! it’ll be fun, i promise…”
mualani jumps up and down vigorously, her expression slowly growing more and more dejected. “the traveler told me all about it- this otherworldly tradition, y’know, with those little sweet stick thingies, they even gave me a box! it’d be a reallll big shame to waste ‘em, and wouldn’t it be super cool to do?”
recently, mualani had grown very invested in the idea of some date called “pocky day.” these sorts of random hyperfixtations happened just about every other day, but this time the obsession lasted a linger longer than most, all because of some eavesdropping on the traveler, who offhandedly mentioned it in some conversation… anyway, now that the day itself had arrived, 11/11, she was more excited than ever.
“just onnncee..! pretty please, kinich… xilonen? sharky??” seeing that no one here was willing, except for sharky, who wagged his tail in approval, mualani let out a wail.
kinich stared at her with a tired gaze, sighing slowly. “well, i don’t see how-”
“oHHH my aRCHONS, kinich, how are you so BORING?? when i contracted with this stupid guy, YOU, i thought itd be a little more fun than rotting in a cave ALLL day long but APPARENTLY not!!? live a little uGHHGH, you emo little ‘oooohh look at me im so distant and mysterious’ shut UPPP…” ajaw popped out of nowhere, face red and pixelated hands waving back and forth angrily. “c’mooon, surely you aren’t stupid and blind enough to see that this is the literally PERFECt opportunity to smoochy smoochy kiss kiss that one person you've been OGLING with those big ORBS of yours huh????”
kinich opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. mualani watched with bated breath, squeezing sharky in her hands in anticipation, eyes sparkling, gaze screaming “oh????”.
“...well… i guess… hmph, even someone like ajaw makes a point sometimes, huh…?” kinich coughed into his fist sheepishly, a barely noticeable blush dusting his cheeks. “though, i’m not ‘ogling’ them at all, ajaw- it’s- well, i’m just observing them. for a commission.”
“suuuUUUReeee palllll, whatever you say- YOU REALLY DIDN’T THINK I’D SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, DID YOU??? BLABLABLA LALALA I’m RIGHT AHAHAHH THATS RIGHT IM RIGHT IM-”
kinich swatted ajaw out of the air, in the way one would with a buzzing fly. he flew through the air, disappearing into the horizon with a sparkle.
“...ahem. mualani, i’ll be heading out now.” kinich turned around calmly, as if he hadn’t just committed battery. "if i may, could i get one of those ‘pocky’ you were talking about? i’ll repay you.”
"hehe... no need for repayment, just tell me how it goes later!" mualani, smug and beaming, handed over one of the boxes.
..and so the time had come.
"kinich?" glancing up from your work, you flashed him a smile. "what's the matter?"
well, it wasn't as if the saurian hunter didn't see you out often- he did. this little nook you had in the scions of canopy was, as kinich put it, "on the convenient way back" for all of his missions, and so the male found most evenings swinging by (pun intended).
no, him coming wasn't the issue here. but kinich had been uncharacteristically.. avoidant of your gaze. for the past five minutes he had been there, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame like they do in those inazuman light novels, he'd been staring at a crack in the floorboards. and to make matters more concerning, he had something strange in his hands too: some sort of box that he kept flipping around with his fingers.
"hey. kini'. we're both not great at words, so just tell me and get.. well, whatever it is. you wanna say over with." at the mention of his nickname, kinich perked up, clearing his throat.
"ah, that..."
ohh, so there was the problem. the eerily quiet atmosphere was because ajaw wasn't present... pause, now you were even more worried. kinich had somehow gotten ajaw off his ass?? unthinkable????
"is it an emergency? fuck, are we all going to die? tell me this type of thing earlier, kini', i need to pack all my-"
"what? no- i, mualani.. she, no, there's this holiday, today. the traveler mentioned it, and i thought it'd be fun to try out.. you like sweets too, so. here." kinich unearthed some sort of... stick? was he really trying to feed you sticks? c'mon now, you weren't that stupid-
"i can read your gaze. it's not like that. here, it's chocolate, just- hah..." kinich sighed, eyebrows pinched together, wearing the expression of someone watching everything go wrong. "give it a taste?"
you eyed him skeptically, before taking the stick out of his hands and taking a bite.
"...sweet."
"yeah?"
"not a stick."
"...yes."
"...give me another."
"not so fast, we need to play the game first." kinich took one of the sticks and put it into his mouth, all of a sudden looking a lot more... guilty? you couldn't quite pinpoint the expression on his face, something you'd been doing with a 30% success rate (the highest any natlanian had ever achieved). "whoever gets the last bite wins."
"...i'm just supposed to. eat the other end?"
"what, you can't?" the slight teasing edge in his voice reminded you of ajaw (just the slightest) and you immediately became exponentially irritated.
"hah, who said that? bet."
"..."
oh, so now he chose not to break eye contact.
"...a-hey, we're getting a little close, aren't we.."
"...if you wanna break it off, lose."
"...fuck, you-"
you grabbed him by the cheek, pushing yourself forward and, admittedly, forcefully touching your lips against his. whether by the suddenness or whether by the fact that you two had, well, "kissed," the esteemed malipo kinich let out what sounded like a sputter and fell backward, hands barely catching him from falling to the ground. sitting himself down, he looked up at you with flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, and the edge of his lips smudged with chocolate.
"bleh. i win." sticking out your tongue, you motioned with your hands. "the whole box, it's mine now. winner takes all, or whatever they say in mondstadt."
kinich's gaze was observant, and under it you felt your face slowly begin to warm, realizing what you had just done.
"not so fast." kinich stood back up, recomposing himself in a matter of seconds.
"one more round. you caught me off guard."
(a/n) and then reader and kinich smoochy smooch smooch kiss kissed and single day was no longer single and happy birthday kinich really did become happy for kinich fuck when am i going to find me a partner <- has unrealistic expectations
context notes!! :
ajaw purposefully left kinich alone so that he could do his.. idk if you can call it flirting. pocky game w you. best wingman ajaw we all cheer (in reality he was tired of seeing kinich act all lovey dovey whenever you were around and found the tension suffocating so he decided to take matters into his own hands)
taglist (comment to be added / send in an ask on my sb): @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @umiloa, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @intpessimistic, @eutopiastar, @matcha-mintea
#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon#astronetwrk#kinich#kinich x reader#kinich x you#kinich x y/n#x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact fluff#x gn reader#genshin oneshots#genshin impact x you#genshin fanfiction#genshin impact imagines#genshin headcanons#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#genshin kinich#genshin natlan#natlan#kinich genshin#genshin impact kinich#mualani#ajaw
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So if this has been happening for all of human history, let’s say the writing is some kind of mysterious glyphwork, rather than the local written tongue.
It wouldn’t take much for people to notice that people with the same glyphs die in the same way. Imagine the science and the superstition that arises from these. Scholars slowly working out the meaning of subglyphs by comparing causes of depth that share them. Glyphs used to assign personality traits like astrological signs.
There would still be THE CREATURE moments as new ways of dying are discovered. Imagine the paranoia of being blazoned with a glyph nobody recognized. You alone don’t know how you will die, so you don’t know when you are safe.
How much detail does the glyph contain? Could crones tell Macbeth that his subglyphs say no man born of woman can harm him, and that he will not be overthrown until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinae?
What would it mean to wear a hat or a headscarf and hide your glyph? Can you really trust someone like that? Or is it the staus quo, and glyphs are only shown to those you trust? Imagine a multicultural city where each of these perspectives is held by one group, and they cause mutual distrust between them.
Can you obscure it either makeup? Or make a false one? Imagine the youtube tutorials.
A soldier with “in bed” on his head is the butt of many sexual jokes in his unit, but expected to be fearless on the field. He panics inside, knowing a wound can kill slow as well as fast.
How does this change medicine? Triage nurses looking not only at a patient’s status, but also comparing it to their glyph. You can’t trust a glyph for diagnosis, not if you hope the patient will live, but you can try to rule it out. And if the doctor can’t rule it out, do you give in, or try anyway? You may die of a stab wound eventually, but maybe not this one today.
What about religion and philosophy? Here’s fate written out for all to see, constant, never changing. John Calvin would cream his pants.
Murder mysteries. The murderer would have to figure out not only how not to get caught, but have to use a method compatible with the victim’s glyph.
Is it irresponsible to raise children with someone whose shares your glyph? Imagine all the well-meaning busybodies “just making sure” you’ve chosen a guardian for the little one.
Can it be obscured by scars?
everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -
enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.
and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends
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the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]
Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.
1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*
2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"
If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!
If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.
Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.
Some things they might need you to do:
Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)
engage the brakes of the wheelchair
hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)
offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]
If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair
nothing
Something else
Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do
Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!
A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.
ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"
*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).
**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.
TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!
#obviously some people will just be fine and can do it themselves#but for those of us who cannot! thank you for helping#pretty simple honestly. just ask what they need and then do that thing!#don't make assumptions and don't touch them in any way unless they tell you how to#no one piss on the poor please#i know this doesn't cover everyone#no post in the world can#and im a communication disabled person#trying to process falling out of my chair today. lol.#wheelchair#wheelchair tag#wheelchair user#isaacfloofs talk#disability blogging#disability#obviously if a person falls out of a power chair you cant just move it super easy esspecially if the reason is that it got stuck#(power chairs often weigh about 300+lbs)#anyway
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Fleabag
"it will pass... i love you, too... ok"
#personal post#then again i forced myself through finishing Fleabag season 2. Less painful than the first one with my sex repulsion.#yet. more hurting in the deep and bigger skeme of things. mostly about love and how hard it is#she of course is a constant reminding of them. about they struggles. they problems. they caos and drama they life is#i resonate. of course. with the Priest (with a mix up of Harry still) and it hurts#same as the first one; the last episode is packed with a explosion of events that could be seen little in comparison of the first season#but the pain is more deep. less inmediate. as we practically knew. since the start. that was going to end bad for her but not like that#similar to them and me. we reach the same conclusion. basically#i still have things to say. and in order to not let it root and melt my insides i am speaking them up#some of them here. some of them in a personal way.#i want this pain. this confusion. this feelings that i can not control. this desperation. this burning heart. this remindful mind#this HHHHHHHHHHH... this love to pass#and with that. one day. we might be friends. we might be in each other life without hurting the other. we might be able to talk and have fu#we might be happy to see the other happy once again. even if not together anymore. and that will be alright#i have hope. we are weird afterall. for once i do not want to be right and that we can. in fact be friends even after all our history#but if this is the total end. the need for us to cut all connection. that would be fine too. probably for the best of us#i just. want to have hope for a better future for now. let me have that at least#vent post#tw vent
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#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#itadori yuuji#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk 266#fanart#jjk fanart#itafushi#jujutsu kaisen fanart#used th itfs tag bc its implied and this is an itfs piece i said so#i dont think ive seen this parallel made yet??? but its ok if it has#i just had the idea hit at gross o clock last night when i ws alr exhausted n had 2 force myself to sleep instead of drawing it#i just . clutches chest . YUUJI#th char development the emotional maturity..#the willingness to put aside his gojo voice personal feelings in favour of giving megumi agency over his own life#rather than burden him with expectations the way every1 has done fr both of them over the course of the series...#tears in my eyes thats my mc!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway art notes i think lower one is some of the best yuuji hair ive drawn 2 date#it's kind of similar to one of my 265 redraws but i think i struck a better balance in how thoroughly i rendered it here#proud of my me but also SO grateful tht yuuji has not been fighting me lately#so much yuuji content these past chapters i cant imagine th frustration having to Also fight him in order 2 create content fr them#anyway itafushi kaisen is real and canon and alive and yuuji singlehandedly discovered th cure 2 my mental illness w this line
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your personal stories are not data. here are some studies regarding the terminally ill, chronic illness, elderly couples, gender disparities.
unmarried MEN, specifically, in that study. single men have a harder time- a study later in this post shows that it's likely because *women are most caregivers* and *without one, people struggle*
having a partner seems to help everybody, being alone looks like it's worse no matter what your gender is.
in older couples, gender isn't as much a difference. but in younger couples? men are more likely to leave someone who has cancer, or who survives it.
cancer sucks for everyone, though in different ways.
men are more likely to leave if it's mental illness, brain cancer or the like.
(unless you're Nordic)
but yes, more often, women are caregivers:
women are often pressured into this, whereas men get greater recognition for less effort:
so yeah getting old and getting sick is bad for everyone involved; there's different issues for people because of gender, these are generalities and common situations across the population NOT directed at YOU in particular; and yes I will say that someone being sick doesn't mean you have to stay.
we're all going to be either dead, disabled, or just plain old eventually.
note that for every "my dad stayed my grandpa my partner my uncle" post, there's also someone directly saying "if my bitch got sick I'd leave" in the comments/rbs and any place online you find this conversation. so again your anecdotes aren't data. I could go find more and more studies but I'm not a scientist, I'm just telling you what those people have published about this.
#don't shoot the messenger#women do the work#men on their own run into trouble#we all get old#or we die#so there's that to look forward to
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I've never been more normal in my life.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#jin zixuan#jiang yanli#Both LWJ and JZX are failing so miserably at the deception check in this scene.#The maneuvers are wild. I am putting them into a petri dish.#LWJ yelling at the guy he's madly infatuated with. Who is earnestly asking what's wrong and trying to bridge the gap between you.#Absolute fumble. No wonder WWX is fully convinced this guy hated him. LWJ was dropping all the wrong signs.#No really. If you have a fraught relationship with someone and they yell at you -#-You can't really walk back from that. All you can do is go 'Oh I make this person *miserable* huh?' and leave them be.#And JIN ZIXUAN. My GUY. What were you doing here? Was it nerves?#Like go you for knowing so many snake facts (that is real by the way I didn't make that up).#And true. Some people really do go wild for knowledge dumps. I am assigning JYL as one of those people. To help him recover the fumble.#JZX being a little bit (a lot bit) lame is probably the best thing for his character. I like him just a bit more for this.
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