#the other two items on the floor are from growing together i think

[cerubean]

wcif the toys in the hallway of this post? i love how it’s decorated !!!

toddler play tunnel | pandasama

toddler drawing supply | pandasama

doll camping van | ats4

[fxstpace]

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. 

[whatswrongwithblue]

Lick You Clean

The smutty companion piece of my Girl Talk series. See Part 1 and Part 2 for context. Angel Dust may have his suspicions but what is it exactly that Alastor x reader get up to behind closed doors?

TW: blood and gore, oral (both receiving), light anal play, biting, p & v, creampie, squirting, shower sex, overstimulation, tentacle suspension play. You know the drill. Rampant demon horniness. MDNI!!!

You found Alastor in the bathroom of your hotel suite with the shower already running behind him, stripping his bloody clothes off one item at a time, letting them fall into a pile on the tiled floor. By the time you stepped into the humid room, he was down to just his trousers, the scarred skin of his torso on display and covered with random streaks of red that his clothes must have left on him as he took them off. His hands and everything from his chin up were a different story. Those red and black locks of his were literally dripping blood onto his shoulders and the floor, and the bottom hems of his pants were wet enough to leave red tracks across the tops of his hooved feet. 

He looked pissed off, his smile strained, his eyes narrowed, ears straight up and rigid. The Radio Demon, covered in the remains of his slain enemies, and in a visibly foul mood, as if his bloodlust was far from sated.

He looked . . . delicious.

“You’re going to have to get a better poker face,” he said after a brief glance up at you before he started undoing his belt buckle.

You frowned, confused as to what he was talking about.

He rolled his eyes at your expression.

“Angel Dust,” he explained. “Still asking questions, I see.”

“I haven’t told him a thing,” you defended.

He stepped out of his pants and sauntered over to you, his height towering over you. Even with just his black briefs on, he was terrifying. But you didn’t feel threatened, only more aroused.

“You don’t need to,” he said and tapped his index finger against the tip of your nose. “Your blushing gives you away every time.”

“You think my blushing is adorable,” you countered.

He had your jaw in his hand, his bloody grip wet and sticky against your skin, and tilted your head up. You stood on tip toe to meet his gaze and felt your face flush with desire.

“No one else needs to know the things my shadow has done to you,” he said, his voice low and warped with warning.

You only grinned like a brat and used your own hands to peel his off your face before you brought two of his long, clawed fingers into your mouth and sucked on them, licking the blood from the digits as you teased them with your tongue.

“He doesn’t know about any of that,” you say, feeling proud of the way Alastor’s glowing eyes burned brighter at the feel of your mouth on him. “But he does know what I came up here to do.”

You pressed yourself up taller, kissing Alastor’s neck and sucking on his pulse. He responded to your touch and both of you wrapped your arms around each other, pulling your bodies together as you reached your fingers into his wet and messy hair.

“I said I needed to lick you clean,” you say as you ran your tongue along his jaw line, tasting the savory blood and the saltiness of his own sweaty skin beneath the layer of thick red that was painted there.

You felt Alastor’s body shudder against you and you grew bolder, reaching between your two bodies to cup him at the seam of his briefs, feeling a familiar hardness growing at your touch.

“You just look so tasty right now,” you whisper to him, rubbing his clothed cock as you licked another path up from his cheek to his hairline. “I couldn’t hide how much the sight of you like this turned me on.”

He crashed his lips down into yours and he was bloody, even there. His tongue found yours, greedy and demanding, and you could taste the lingering essence of internal organs and flesh on him, telling you he had devoured and eaten well before returning to the hotel. It made you moan, thinking of him morphing into one of his more terrifying forms, and eating Sinners whole.

His sweet and doting nature, his attentiveness to you, and charming chivalry were what made you fall in love with him. But it was this side of him; the monster within that he could unleash on a whim, a dominating and blood-thirsty beast that could tear you in half should it ever choose to – that was what made you attracted to him in the first place.

Like you told Angel, you two were complicated.

Maybe it was fucked up, but you liked having a hand to hold in the streets and a fist to choke you in the sheets.

Those hands, messy as they were, had you undressed far more quickly than he had undressed himself, leaving your body with bloody streaks to match his own.

You trailed kisses down his body, using your mouth to clean up every sticky clot of blood as you went. His shoulders, collar bone, and chest all received thorough attention before you lowered yourself down, peppering the middle of his abdominal muscles with small kisses as you went. 

Once on your knees, you pulled down his briefs and his cock bobbed free of the restraining clothes. You kissed him at his base as the underwear slid the rest of the way down his legs and he stepped out of them, kicking them behind him, before grabbing two fistfuls of your hair and guiding your mouth onto him, making you take as much of his length as you could before his tip was at the back of your throat.

You gagged for a second until you made your throat relax for him and began properly working the heavy and thick member in your mouth just the way you knew he liked.

When you looked up and made eye contact with him, you saw him smiling, pleased with what you were doing, and he loosened his grip a bit on your hair. A bloody thumb stroked your cheek for a moment, a small showing of tenderness, before he was back to thrusting into your hot and ready mouth.

The musky taste of his cock on your tongue made you salivate and you pulled away for a second to let the moisture gather at your lips before you let it drip onto his tip, and stroked him with your hand to coat the rest of his length with your spit. You earned yourself another soft moan from your lover as you used your hand to pump him at the wide base of his cock and your mouth continued to suck and caress as much as you could fit.

He was pent up and angry, full of rage and overstimulated by his lack of control over his emotions. It took him a while to cum, but you didn’t mind and took your time to let his pleasure build, knowing he had earned his right to having his dick sucked good and proper. Normally when he was this upset, he was totally touch adverse, so you were pleased that he was allowing you this and knowing him, he would be more than willing to reciprocate once he had finished.

You moaned, a lusty needful sound when he finally came, his seed hot and salty and you swallowed every bit of it, even taking your time to lick his cock clean as he began to soften and just like when you had started, you pressed another little kiss to the curly black hairs at his base when you were done.

And then he was pulling you up by your arms, making you squeal and laugh as he slammed you into the closed bathroom door, and cut your laughter short when he pressed his lips to yours and his hand into your cunt.

“You got that wet just sucking me off?” he asked, sliding two fingers through your soaking wet folds. His hands, still covered in not quite dry blood, were treating you to long slow strokes, sliding over your clit and labia and mixing your fluids with red until you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

You were dead and didn’t menstruate anymore but that’s exactly what it looked like and when Alastor looked down at the red tinted fluid now covering his hand and your mound, wicked desire luminated his ruby eyes and he visibly salivated at the sight. You knew he wasn’t sexually attracted to you, at least not in any usual sense of the term, but he was obviously turned on by the sight of you covered in blood, just as you were him.

Without a word, he was on his knees and draping one leg of yours over his shoulder, using his tongue, now unnaturally long, to lap at your soaking wet core.

You felt the sharp edges of his teeth lightly grazing your clit, just enough to feel the threat of them, as he gave your little bud a hard suck that would have had you falling to the ground if you weren’t propped up between him and the door.

His tongue worked back and forth, circling the entrance of your dripping center and then stroking up to your clit, alternating between tongue work and hard, aggressive suction.

You were seeing stars, panting hard, and gripping onto his blood covered locks of hair like it was the only thing that could keep you anchored to this world.

Then he started tongue fucking you, letting his hot slick tongue penetrate the depths of your swollen cunt and you clenched against the muscle as it curled against that sweet spongy spot of your inner walls.

Claws traced up your inner thigh, grabbing hold of the gentle swell of muscle right before the apex of your legs, and you nearly screamed with pleasure as you felt the deadly sharp nails dig into your flesh. And then his hand was gone, trailing even further up, and with his tongue still pumping into your pussy, he pressed the flat tip of a finger against your ass, massaging your tight hole with gentle circles and you came so hard and fast the knee of your one supporting leg really did give out and Alastor had to practically catch you, his hand holding tight to your ass cheek as he braced his shoulder into the leg that he was holding up.

“Oh fuck . . . okay, okay, okay!” you begged, trying to pull yourself away from him as he chased your overstimulated clit with his tongue as you did so. You finally won, getting your leg off his shoulder and standing on your own and he chuckled, kissing the skin of your lower belly just above your mound, his hands gripping your backside as if you would try to move any farther away than you already had.

“I do enjoy the noises you make, my dearest,” he said as he stood, his lips and chin glistening with lightly tinted red fluid. He wiped a bit of it away with his hand but then you grabbed his head and pulled him down, eagerly tasting the combined mixture of your own sex and his victims’ blood on his lips.

He kissed along your jawline and down your throat, open mouth wet kisses that felt like he was both marking you and licking up the blood his hands had left on your skin.

You suddenly realized how hot it was in the room and looked over his shoulder just as he sunk his teeth into the base of your neck, a love bite that was just hard enough to break skin, making you gasp in a lung full of steamy air.

The shower had been running the whole time.

Alastor pulled away and you realized with the exception of a little bit of blood still left on one of his hands, you had managed to get him decently licked clean. Except his hair and his feet. And while you found his strange two-toned locks and hooves to be beautiful, and as kinky as you were, you were not about to suck on those parts of him.

“Shower?” you said breathily, still panting and trembling a bit from your recent orgasm.

“Ladies first,” he replied with a bow, letting one arm extend out behind him and towards the shower. His flamboyant flourish of body language was extra amusing considering he was stark naked, but his smile was as deviant and arousing as ever.

You stepped into the shower with him following close behind and you turned to face him as the hot water soaked your hair and ran down your body. Taking him by the hand, you stepped further into the shower and guided him under the cascading water. He bowed his head as you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as the torrents of water that fell down his chest and body began to turn a diluted shade of red. It spiraled in the drain at your feet and splattered on the tiled walls and you wondered if you would have to clean the shower once it was done cleaning the two of you.

There were a few chunks of clotted blood and what looked to be bits of liver and strings of torn flesh still stuck to the tip of one antler and you pulled them off, hoping they would make it through the pipes of the hotel without causing a clog somewhere.

After the thickest bits had been removed, you lathered some shampoo in your hands and worked the rest of the mess out of his hair, taking extra time on a few particularly rough strands that had become hard and crunchy. You were so focused on your task that when you glanced back at Alastor’s face your heart skipped a beat. His eyes were closed and his smile soft and relaxed as you carefully and gently cleaned around the base of his ears and antlers. He must have been enjoying this treatment in more ways than one because whenever you had to stand on tip toe and press yourself a little closer to him to reach a further spot up in his hair, you felt the warm and velvety touch of his cock against your belly, and it was getting harder by the minute.

“What happened exactly?” you asked, a teasing tone to your voice though you couldn’t help feeling a little concerned. Alastor was the single most powerful Overlord you knew but he still had his enemies.

He sighed and his eyes darted to the side for a second before meeting yours again.

“Oh it was nothing serious. I may have lost my temper . . . just a bit today. Nothing that any Sinner can’t respawn from eventually.”

You nodded, understanding, and just relieved it wasn’t something else. Alastor enjoyed violence – as did you - but he didn’t enjoy not feeling in control of himself. If he truly lost his temper over something that he later felt hadn’t warranted it, he was probably struggling over a rare moment of guilt and didn’t want to talk about it.

Knowing him, he would be looking for another outlet, either at the bottom of a glass of whiskey . . . or you.

You were satisfied he was properly clean now and you brought your hands down from his hair, putting one around his back to pull him close while the other reached for the hardness pressed between your bodies.

He sighed against your lips before kissing you, the feeling of him warm and inviting, and you got a few strokes in, feeling his cock twitching eagerly in response. But then he was grabbing you by your forearms and shoving your hands off his body, pressing you into the tiled wall of the shower. It’s coldness at your back made you gasp as much as his rough handling of you did.

Before you knew it, he was gripping your backside and your body responded, muscle memory responding faster than your thoughts did, and you jumped into his embrace, wrapping your legs around him as he supported you between himself and the wall.

With expert grace and precision built around years of knowing each other’s bodies, his cock found your entrance and quickly slid into your depths, filling you up until his hips pressed against yours and you felt the deep pressure of his tip pushing against your cervix. Even after all this time you could just barely take him and you willed your body to relax, your pussy and its inner walls still swollen and puffy with arousal from your first orgasm minutes before.

He allowed you just the first few seconds to adjust before he pulled back and thrusted forward, his claws digging painfully into your ass as he fucked you, slamming your lower back into slick tile behind you with every forward motion of his hips.

You moaned and said his name with a breathy sigh, feeling the sting inside your cunt turn to marvelous pleasure, his cock pressing hard against your g-spot with every movement, making you wet enough that even in the shower you could feel it running down your inner thighs, your slickness coating the base of Alastor’s cock every time you felt the brush of his black short curls tickling against your clit.

It was heavenly when it was like this, when you could feel his need for you burning your insides; when you knew he was fucking you for himself rather than just to appease your own desires. You got off on it enough that even if he wasn’t preoccupied with your pleasure, you still felt another coiling knot forming deep in your core as another orgasm built itself up.

You had your arms around his shoulders, mostly for balance, but without really thinking about it, you were digging in, gripping him hard enough to leave scratches.

A mistake.

Sometimes he liked that; in fact, he usually did. But you should have been able to read his moods well enough to know that was not the kind of affection he needed from you in that moment.

Cool appendages wrapped around your wrist and had the backs of your hands hitting the shower wall above and behind you before you had processed your mistake.

“Don’t touch me,” he said through gritted teeth, his words frustrated but almost apologetic, even as you felt the tentacles begin to coil down around your arms and wrap underneath your shoulders, suspending you by your arms and keeping Alastor well out of your reach.

You struggled against them but it was just for show, anticipating them tightening around your limbs more, keeping you from being able to budge even an inch in any direction. A shudder ran through you, a wave of muscles tightening from your cunt to your chest, as you felt your body responding to the restraints.

Alastor’s face was buried into the crux of your neck, his breath coming in needy, quick pants that heated your flesh and when he sank his teeth into that sweet spot where shoulder met throat, you came with a guttural cry, your moans and whimpers escaping with every exhale as your body tightened impossibly more around his cock.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow or change his rhythm, just pounded mercilessly into you as your orgasm racked your body until you lost all control, all sense of anything else but him and his cock ravaging your insides. Alastor bit you again and overstimulation took over, and you whined and cried, almost trying to pull away but there was nowhere to go and you felt the sudden flood of your own release, squirting until both your bodies were drenched with more than just the water from the shower.

Your ears picked up the sound of one satisfied and malicious chuckle from your lover before his breath hitched and he moaned, the movements of his hips becoming shallower and erratic. Then you felt the first warm spurt of his seed inside you and his thrusts became slower and gentler as he pumped you full of his cum.

The tentacles released your arms, dissipating into thin air, a wordless welcome for you to touch him again. As soon as your skin met his shoulders, he sighed into your neck, and you felt him relax into your hold on him.

Alastor carefully let your legs down, shaky as they were, and you leaned against his strong lean form, your eyes closed and face buried in his chest.

You both stood like that several minutes, holding each other close and letting the ceaseless hot water from the shower relax your now tired and aching bodies. He rubbed your back, cradling your head to him, and kissed the crown of your hair; a silent thank you for understanding exactly what he had needed.

Then he cleaned you up, washing your hair and your body in much the same tender and carrying way you had done for him.

Once the humid heat from the shower and the exhaustion of the rough fucking you had taken became too much and you felt your head begin to spin, Alastor turned off the water and wrapped you both in fluffy clean towels.

You lay together in bed, on top of the covers to let the excess heat dissipate from both of your tired and trembling muscles, with you curled into his side.

Sleep was just beginning to claim you, your eyelids heavy and feeling impossible to lift, when you felt Alastor shift just a little next to you.

“If Angel Dust asks you if I used tentacles on you tonight, I swear I’ll kill him.”

You lifted your head to blink sleepily up at your love, and saw a mix of seriousness and teasing glint in his eyes, though his smile was unreadable as ever. You laughed softly and settled back down into his side.

“Go easy on him,” you said with a yawn as you draped your arm across Alastor’s chest and hugged him close. “He’s just jealous of me because he thinks you’re hot. He’s into Shibari so he can’t help but be a little curious.”

“Hmmff, fine,” Alastor said, though you could still pick up on a note of irritation on in his tone.

And then after another moment  . . .

“. . . so what is this Shibari you speak of?”

Part 4

Tag list: @eris-norwega, @i-keepmyideals, @readergirlstuff, @thereallsaturnstar, @somefancybb, @forestfruits1, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 007 ! a statement

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note i was out all day to the point i almost forgot ab this smau ngl. + in honor of my fav @/hannicorpse bc she turns 18 today!!

previous <> masterlist <> next

“y/n? its rinnie. lets go out. you havent gotten out of bed in days. its not the end of the world. ill take you to a nice cafe.” haerin said as she knocked on the bedroom door.

“dude, too soon. no cafes.” you heard danielle mutter as she lightly hit haerin’s shoulder.

“y/n, its dani. please come out?”

hesitantly, you got up slowly and unlocked the door. behind it, revealed danielle, haerin, hyein, and minji, all holding essential items they knew would comfort you. ice cream, tissue, ramen, all sorts of stuff.

“oh, poor yn..” hyein pouted with sympathy as she pulled you into her arms. she wasn’t wrong, poor you. your eyes were puffy and red from crying, on top of your heavy eye bags due to the lack of sleep.

“y/n? someone’s here to see you.” hanni informed as she came up the stairs.

your stomach dropped to the floor. you felt your heart pounding out your chest, it almost came out your mouth.

“tell him to leave.” you scoffed, turning to go back into your room.

“it’s not him.” minji cut you off as she pulled your arm to turn you around.

slowly, the five girls moved out the way to reveal jungwon and jake, standing at the bottom of the staircase. “hey y/n.” jake politely waved.

“we’ll give you some time.” minji and danielle nodded as they took the others into the second bedroom.

“i know what you’re thinking. and before you say anything, riki didn’t deny it by choice. if it was up to him, the whole world would have already known how much he loves you. but the manager insisted it was this way. even bang pd wanted your word for the article, yet they just wanted to leave you out of it.” jake spoke slowly to you as jungwon wiped away your dry tears with a wet tissue.

“where is he right now?” you whispered. you were almost unsure if they could hear you or not.

“still locked in his room. you two are in the same boat right now. he’s just like you, he refused to leave his bed.” jungwon chuckled as he attempted to lighten the mood. “we talked to the manager this morning, and last week after the scandal first came out. but there’s nothing we could do.”

“thank you for trying. i had no idea. i just, i really can’t face him right now.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead in annoyance.

“we understand. take your time. i just hope you two are back in shape for music bank, when you guys have to go on in two days.” said jake, before he got up to get more water from the kitchen.

“wait- then, who covered for us five days ago? if i didn’t show up, i assume he didn’t either.” you furrowed your brows.

“eunchae and sangmin came back temporarily due to the circumstances. but you two are required to be back by this next airing.” jungwon informed.

“jungwon, we should get going. but it was lovely talking to you. see you around.” jake politely interrupted as jungwon followed him out the door.

you remained sat on the couch in silence. “what am i gonna do..” you murmured.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[heartfullofleeches]

Day At The Pool

Yan Casino staff + G.N Reader blurb

-

They've been staring at you all day....

Four members of the hotel staff you have the sneaking suspicion have been following you since you checked in. An extravagant and luxurious hotel spanning roughly the size of a small town - yet you saw their faces at nearly every corner.

It was reasonable to see them from time to time. Your first instance of meeting the group was on your travel to the floor you'd be spending the duration of your stay when you had returned a pendant one of them had dropped after you found it by your door during the confusion. They thanked you profusely as the other members of their team peaked outside the rooms they'd be searching to see the cause of their crewmate's tears.

A few words and hugs of gratitude, plus a few dessert to show how deep their appreciation ran and you thought that would be the end of your tale. You saw them a couple times when you ordered room service - then again when you went out to explore the rest of the resort. One worked behind the register of a gift shop you visited while another escorted you to your seat after you discovered free tickets to a show added on with your purchase of the room. There was always one to cheer you on with whatever recreational actives you indulged in and one to refill your drink.

Even now, as your vacant days drew to a close and you spent one of your final afternoons by the pool your little entourage wasn't far from sight. Two had taken up lawn chairs beside you and politely, but firmly told other guests this area of the pool was closed. Another swam by in a pool float as the last continued to sneak you items in between their stops at other table. Eating one of the snacks they left as hunger lapses your judgement - you shrink into your chair as the two at your shuffle closer.

"Um.... Is there something I can help you with?"

Their eyes grow wide. One mutters in the other's ear, waving the remaining two offer. Joined by their doubles - the four look between themselves and you. They huddle together, whispering to each other and sneaking the occasional glance at you. Ever so often, you hear a soft giggle.

"Are you always that cute?..."

"Or is it just the lighting."

"Your skin looks so soft...."

"Can we touch it?..."

You pull your towel over your legs as the one from the pool reaches out. "... Do you guys do this with all your guests?"

"Course not!"

"You're different - you helped us."

"Nobody ever does that around here - we like you!"

"Wanna keep you safe...."

"Safe? Safe from what?"

The quietest of them gasps, multiple hands shooting over their mouth. The quartet drop their voices to a whisper once more hushed to complete silence as they look at you. Holding a finger to each of their lips, they beckon you closer as they signal to remain quiet.

"Shhhh - not supposed to tell."

"You don't belong here. No human does."

"Boss tries real hard to make this a place for everyone, but not everyone wants that. Demons, angels, others - some don't like mortals treading their territory."

"Cute thing like you would get gobbled right up, but we won't let that happen. You'll our little secret."

Despite the grime tale - the group laugh to themselves at their teammate's final words. Something about the usage of the phrase "ours" tickled their brains. You, on the other hand were having none of it and wrote it off as some fucked prank while recognizing the terror of what it could really be. Examining the identical maids - you notice one of them are wearing name tags.

"Can you at least tell me who you are?"

Pointing at their faces, the group shouts in unison - "Ace!"

"Wait- so you're saying you're all named Ace?"

"Yes!"

Your head throbs. "I.. think I need to go lay down."

"Would you like one of us to carry you?"

"I'll manage, thanks." You squeeze past the maids and towards the elevator. Thay was strange, but you'll be out of here soon as it's not your problem. As soon as you leave, the closest to you pulls out your phone. They all shake hands for a job well done, crowding around your phone.

"Great job, Ace!- That was close."

"You said it Ace. Luckily I was able to watch them unlock their phone a few times so we should have access."

"Oh! Maybe they have more pictures of themselves!"

"Focus. We need to make sure nobody knows where they are.... but it couldn't hurt to check.

The demon in possession of your phone unlocks it on the first try and with the others scours the device for any little detail they could find.

"So cute~ I wanna kiss their cheeks."

"Think Boss will let us keep them?"

"Course they will! We've been good lately, and given all the stuff we do already - we can take care of them better than whatever their old life was like."

"They'll be so happy with us.... Let's go make them a gift basket to welcome them home~ ♡"

[xjaylyn]

*EDITED* PART 1 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance.

…3 DAYS EARLIER…

"Pl-please-please…i-i-i promise I'll fix it! I'll fix it ju-just please."

The helpless man begged on his knees in the center of the church foyer. The dim light shone through the broken painted glass, grazing the man's bruised and beaten face. Begging for mercy to the devil himself.

"Just give me a day I'll fix it I promise…please."

A loud bang echoed through the foyer, causing the people watching to flinch. Said devil looked down on the unfortunate man, shaking his head.

"A DAY-I fucking-" another loud bang could be heard followed by the sounds of glass shattering as they hit the floor.

"Look at me-" grabbing the helpless man by his neck. "I gave you a fucking month to do this one simple job and you fuck it up," watching the drool spill from the man's mouth and land on his suit jacket. Taking a deep sigh, quickly dropping the man to his knees, listening to him struggle to catch his breath. Slowly walking back to the podium where a selection of items laid.

The faint sound of metal being picked up caused the helpless man to panic.

"N-no-no-no PLEASE PLEASE LORD HAVE MERCY ON ME PLE-" the helpless man's body dropped to the floor. His blood splattered everywhere, forming a thick puddle beneath him.

"Clean it up," watching as no one moved to the request. Irritation filled the man's veins.

"CLEAN THE FUCKING MESS UP," running a hand through his long hair in frustration.

"And not just the body…fix what the fuck he couldn't…NOW."

--------------------------------------------------------

…MIAMI…PRESENT DAY, 2026…

"Happy birthday to you."

The soft giggles of a baby could be heard in the singing crowd. The Stevie Wonder version of the birthday song played lightly in the background. Megan, Marcus's daughter, walked into the dim dining room where the crowd was with a gleaming smile on her face. Gently, sitting the birthday cake with the big number 1 on it in front of the small family sitting at the table. Mike holding the chubby baby girl in his lap and Christine, Mike's wife, next to them recording.

"Baby girl, don't get your baby drool all on the cake. Uncle Marcus wants to enjoy a slice or two, okay."

"Marcus, you're not getting no cake. Back up," Mike looked up at his best friend cooing at the little baby staring down at the cake, causing the man to stop smiling.

"Mike, it's a special occasion. I can't just not eat the cake. That's rude, ain't that right, baby girl?"

Both men watched as the little girl squeezed her little hands and jumped towards the cake. Big little eyes targeting the pink frosting.

"Woah, calm down girl," Mike stood up, wiping the frosting on her chubby cheeks. "Acting like your uncle when he sees Skittles."

Almost two years had passed since the two were on a mission to clear Conrad's name. Not long after its success, things went back to normal. Christine fell pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Amara Marie Lowrey. Mike was ecstatic to become a father. Feeling blessed to have been given the opportunity to raise his child. Something he had missed with his first son, Armando, whom he had not heard from or had contact with since his farewell when he got on the boat.

"You wish he was here, huh?"

So deep in his thoughts, he didn't notice everyone had left and Christine took their daughter out of his arms. It was only him and Marcus in the dining room. "What?"

"You do that every time you think about him. You know he can take care of himself…hell, he has better survival skills than us, making fires and shit," patting the taller man's shoulder.

Shaking his head, he sat back down in his chair. "I know, but it's been 2 years and nothing. As fucked up as it sounds, at least I knew where he was when he was in jail."

Sighing, Mike looked out the window and watched as everyone was outside laughing. His wife holding his precious daughter with the biggest smiles on their faces. Love was seen all over. He couldn't help but wish to experience that with his son or at least have his son experience what it's like to be around the people you love to celebrate you.

The sudden sound of a cell phone going off disturbed the silence between the two partners. Quickly looking at the phone and seeing that it was Rita, their Captain, calling. Knowing it must be urgent because she knows today is his daughter's birthday and strictly a family day, he answered the phone.

Marcus watched as his partner's face scrunched up in confusion. "Woah, slow down, what happened…yeah…yeah…okay, we'll be there, bye."

"We gotta go," grabbing his keys and heading to the back to inform the family of their dismissal. Marcus followed behind, "Yeah, I got that before you hung up. What happened?"

"I don't know. Rita just said she needs us in the office now. Something about a murder," walking back towards the front to head to the car.

"But Mike, hold on, let me get my slice of cake," Marcus says turning towards the kitchen.

"Nigg-" stopping in his tracks to look back at the man.

"Come onnn. it'll be gone before we get back!" Marcus pleads with his eyes wide.

Mike rolls his eyes and grabs the man. "Man, carry yo grown ass to this car…too damn grown to be acting like a little-ass kid over some cake."

"Aye, now I'm a grown-ass man, Mike. Don't talk like I'm not one. I just wanted a piece of cake, okay? That a crime?"

"Marcus, let's go."

Whining before getting into the car. "Fine, damn."

a/n: Sorry y'all, I suck at descriptions. But yayyy, I decided to write a Bad Boys fic for the first time. Just please excuse the poor writing, I did not edit AT ALL, and it's been a minute since I wrote anything (literally back when Wattpad had no ads😭). So, we're just a lot rusty. I hope y'all enjoy because I have no direction in which this is going; we just gon go wherever the wind takes us. Feel free to comment! I love feedback, and active readers make the experience fun! And to my silent readers, hey pookies🫶🏼.

[niki-phoria]

hello, i hope you're well and taking care of yourself 💗 if it's not too much to ask for i want to request enha reacting to their 8th member bf being shipped/paired with another member? not exactly angst but them being jealous and petty, i read your rules before requesting and i don't think it's against them, but i understand if you decline for whatever reason! hope you have a good week <3

⋆｡°✩ enha reaction - their bf being shipped with another member

includes: established relationship, 8th member reader, these are less petty and more the boys needing reassurance lol, mentions of insecure enha

a/n: thank you for requesting !! this isn't against my rules at all, but thank you for checking. i hope you like it :))

feedback is always appreciated <33

male 8th member reader (he/him pronouns)

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

(word count 221)

heeseung furrows his eyebrows as jake shifts slightly closer to you. your shoulders brush against each other as you raise a hand up to complete a hand-heart with the other boy, causing a new wave of cheers to erupt from the audience below.

the stage lights are nearly blinding as they shine down on you. heeseung can feel stares from the audience below. he’s hyper aware of the cameras following his every move as he takes a small breath in an attempt to hide his growing jealousy. 

“unfortunately this is our last song for tonight,” jungwon begins apologetically. 

“it’s been an honor to preform for you all. we hope to see you again sometime soon,” you say. heeseung smiles softly at the way you brighten up at the second wave of cheers through the crowd.

you wander over to sit beside him on the stairs, leaning your head against his shoulder. heeseung’s arm finds a familiar place around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. he leans over to press a kiss against your forehead as the first few notes of shout out begin to play. 

“my life without you is a misery,” you bring a hand up to cup heeseung’s cheek, turning to face him as you finish singing your line. “my heart is racing like it’s gonna explode.”

⋆｡°✩ jay

(word count 214)

you tiredly rub the last remnants of sleep out of your eyes as you quietly enter the kitchen. jay stands with his back towards you, scrolling through something on his phone. even from behind you can see tension in his shoulders. 

“jay?” you walk closer to him, hesitantly resting a hand against his waist before you pull him into a back hug. he startles slightly at the contact but doesn’t move away. your arms rest gingerly wrapped around him as you peer over his shoulder to see what he was reading on his phone. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he whispers. 

you bring a hand up to rest against his shoulder, gently massaging the tension out of his muscles. you softly smile when he relaxes against you. “jay,” you sigh. “you know you can tell me anything.”

he twists around in your hold so he’s facing you; his back is now leaning against the counter. “it’s just a dumb article from dispatch.” 

“about?” 

“...you. and sunoo. people think you’re dating.” he glances down at the floor, almost ashamed. “i just don’t like the idea of my boy dating someone else.”

“you have nothing to worry about,” you whisper. you bring a hand up to cup jay’s cheek, quickly pulling you into a sweet kiss. “i promise.”

⋆｡°✩ jake

(word count 223)

you adjust the thin, black mask on your face as you sleepily watch the cashier continue scanning the miscellaneous items the other members had asked you to pick up from a nearby convenience store. another yawn escapes you as sunghoon brushes against your side, sliding yet another bag of chips towards the worker. her long, black hair has been messily tied back into a low ponytail. a thin pair of glasses frame her features. 

sunghoon’s arm gently brushes against your waist as he stands beside you at the register. the woman smiles softly at both of you as she finishes scanning the last of your items. “you two are cute together,” she says. 

“oh, we’re not-”

you’re cut off by a gentle but stern voice from beside you. jake’s arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you away from sunghoon and against his chest. “he’s mine, actually.” 

sunghoon stifles a small chuckle at your embarrassment as he takes the bag from her, handing her a few bills in return. “thank you,” you murmur as you turn to leave the store. 

“so, jake-hyung,” sunghoon teases as you begin walking back towards the dorms. “are you perhaps… jealous?”

jake remains silent, though you notice the way his grip around you tightens slightly. “shut up,” he mumbles, hiding his reddened cheeks behind his own mask.

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

(word count 220)

sunghoon softly smiles as you step closer to the crowd as you reach down to pick up a small penguin plush laying at the edge of the stage. you hold the plush up to your cheek, playfully posing for the cameras. 

heeseung chuckles softly, stepping closer as he reaches up to adjust the cat ears a fan had carefully placed on your head a few minutes before. you lean down slightly to give him better access as he adjusts your hair around the faux ears on your head. 

a small wave of cheers echoes through the crowd at the interaction. despite sunghoon knowing it was completely platonic from both you and heeseung, he can’t help the jealousy that immediately spreads throughout him. it curls around his heart and constricts in his chest as a small frown tugs at the edge of his mouth. 

you step back away from heeseung after he finishes adjusting your hair, wandering back over to sunghoon’s side. you gently uncross his arms from over his chest - something he had done unconsciously - before leaning back against his chest. his arm finds its familiar place around your waist as he holds you against him. 

“don’t be jealous, hoon,” you whisper. sunghoon simply playfully rolls his eyes in response; though you can tell he’s silently grateful for the reassurance.

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

(word count 218)

sunoo furrows his eyebrows slightly as he continues scrolling through the comments on a recent dispatch article. you can’t help the way your own eyebrows furrow in concern as you quietly close your bedroom door and set your things down before joining him on your shared bed. “what are you reading?”

he sighs slightly as he hands his phone to you. you scroll to the top of the article, reading the headline: enhypen’s y/n and niki are seen holding hands on a possible late night date.

“it’s stupid, i know,” sunoo begins. “but it’s been bothering me for the past few days.”

“it’s not stupid,” you whisper. you set his phone aside, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. your hand falls to cup his cheek as you gently tilt his face up so he’s looking into your eyes. “sunoo, you’re incredible. you’re sweet, and kind, and handsome,” he chuckles softly, playfully pushing your hand away as he denies your compliments. you lean over him with a small smile. “and everything i could’ve asked for in a lover.”

a small blush spreads across sunoo’s face as you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead. then his cheek. nose. and finally, his lips. “you mean everything to me, kim seonwoo.”

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

(word count 223)

jungwon curiously pushes his still-damp fringe back as he steps out of the bathroom, tugging your t-shirt over his shoulders. you stifle a small grunt when he walks over to you and lays down with his head resting against your back. 

he laughs as he rolls off of your body to lay next to you. “what are you doing?”

“searching my name.” jungwon furrows his eyebrows slightly in concern as you hand him your phone. “it’s nothing bad. just more dating rumors with jay.”

“more?” the word sounds akin to a whine as it leaves his lips. you stifle a chuckle at the small pout threatening to tug at his lips. he tosses your phone aside, relishing in the feeling of curling up beside you. your arm rests gingerly around jungwon’s waist as you pull him even closer. “why don’t you ever get dating rumors with me?”

“sorry wonie,” you murmur. “you know i would stop them if i could.”

jungwon lets out a soft sigh. you bring your hand up, slowly beginning to rake your fingers through his hair. you twist the soft strands in an attempt to soothe the boy laying in your arms. “i know,” he whispers. he softly smiles as he leans up just enough to press a kiss against your jawline. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

(word count 204)

niki’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he continues scrolling through his weverse feed. there are hundreds of posts, each of them about a recent interaction between you and jungwon. he had simply brushed some of the hair out of your face - a common interaction you often shared with the other members; himself included. though seeing so many posts about his boyfriend with someone else made an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy cloud his mind. 

niki jumps slightly when you enter your shared bedroom, closing the door behind yourself. he shuts his phone off, setting it on your bedside table. 

“is everything okay?” you ask, moving to sit on the bed beside him. niki remains silent. he lets you reach over to coax him closer to you until his head rests in your lap. you rake your hand through his hair, twisting the strands between your fingers. 

“‘m fine,” he finally hums. he lets his eyes slowly flutter closed, exhaustion slowly beginning to catch up with him as he nuzzles his body even closer against you. 

a comfortable silence falls over the room for a few minutes as you keep playing with his hair. “are you sure?” you finally whisper.

“i’m just… glad you’re mine,” he smiles.

[ezlo-x]

“Wow I hope BotW gets a sequel someday…” - my TotK summary <3

It’s been a year, and honestly. I did not complete that game at all. I watched lets plays and cutscenes in youtube and a few playthroughs of my friends. And every time, my regret of buying this game grows ever so slightly. I know I sound mean and harsh but I prommy I got nothing against ppl who actually enjoyed TotK. This is more of my personal experience of how my excitement playing this game completely burned me out less than halfway through the game.

Gameplay

I’ll start with gameplay first, as I have issues with it. Let’s start with the physics of the game itself. Ngl, there was a small worry in the back of my mind when I realized there would be in-game physics and that you have to rely on those said physics. I personally don’t have a good experience with game physics and they usually tend to frustrate me. Which somewhat happened when playing the game. It didn’t happen too often, thankfully, maybe because the zonai parts didn’t tend to last long. Speaking of Zonai parts and builds

I wish building Zonai stuff was a bit more fun. Or at least give us more time to experience our builds. We already have a disadvantage by having a limited amount of batteries that you have to slowly upgrade throughout the game. So, seeing that one of your Zonai pieces starts to flash and disappear is annoying. I understand we can obtain more zonai parts throughout Hyrule, but I wish it lasted long enough. Also, the fact that you can’t really travel a lot in many of the builds, oh how disappointing it was to build a cool Zonai truck with big ass wheels but get frustrated that it couldn’t pass through a few bumps on the road. I feel like the Hoverbike is the best Zonai build of the game.

The Ultrahand is fun when trying to solve puzzles or merge random items. Fusing weapons, on the other hand, is my favorite thing in the game. There’s something really satisfying about fusing a really powerful weapon together. I really don’t mind that the weapons are breakable if that means I have a spot to make a strong weapon. Weapon durability never really bothered me. Both games push you to explore around to look for weapons. I think it would be boring if they weren’t breakable.

The shrines are a big improvement from BotW's shrines. I wished there were more challenging Shrines over the many King Rauru blessings. I can't really say much about the dungeons as I only completed two out of the five. But I think there was a bit to be desired; it's almost a Zelda dungeon.

Sage abilities. I want to speak to the game designer who thought it was a great idea to activate the sage abilities with the same button you click to pick up items on the floor. A total downgrade to the way you’d activate the Champion abilities in BotW.

Rupees. I would like to speak to the game designer who thought it was a great idea that you now have to manually press A to pick up rupees from the floor rather than casually walking in front of it to automatically pick it up. From my previous point, do you know how many times I’ve tried to pick up rupees only for Tulin’s ability to fly them away from me?

The sky islands, ohh boyyy, finding out that they had to reduce the amount of sky islands is disappointing, but I understand in a game design aspect. BUT it is disappointing that the game was advertising itself for the sky islands, only for there to be very few in the final. Like remember back in 2021 when they were advertising SkSw HD, and then i think a year later a totk teaser dropped and Link was falling from the skies? Good times ❤️

The Depths: I enjoyed the Depths a bit more than the Sky Islands. But it does get boring after a while if you’re not there to fight monsters or look for treasure, which is also disappointing. I love the OST descending down a chasm and entering the depths. Also, don’t get me started on how frustrating it is to use Zonai builds there compared to the surface or sky islands.

I think those are all my thoughts on the gameplay. I still have a few more issues with it but I feel like it mixes with the story so lets get that over with

Limitation vs Freedom

My biggest issue with this game is that it gives you the freedom to do whatever you want. However, there is still a story attached, and the story still wants to play out linearly. So, we have a game that grants you total freedom on how you want to play this game, but the story is still linear. But even if you decide to experience the story while doing dungeons and shrines. The game doesn't update with the piece of information that you discover.

The Dragon Tears are a really flawed way to experience the story. Zelda's memories are scattered across Hyrule; the number of times I've seen ppl say they accidentally got the tears out of order cause they thought it was similar to BotW's way of getting the memories. Basically, if you happen to be near one memory, you might as well get it cause it'll get annoying to go back and forth. Only to the person's shock, they got a cutscene meeting the Queen and King and then going up the Hebra region as that's the closest memory from the previous one. Just to see Queen Sonia dead on the floor.

What also bothers me is that the game doesn't update when you make a discovery in these memories. For example, I found out that Phantom Ganon can transform into Zelda in the memories and walk up to the NPCs in hopes of a change of dialogue. But getting nothing, walking up to Purah, Tulin, then Yunobo, and seeing no change of dialogue got really tiresome. It's as if the game doesn't believe you're smart enough to connect the dots.

Also, for people who decided to explore and get the Dragon Tear memories before entering any dungeon. There is very little change of dialogue, suddenly the game strangely punishes you by not letting the npcs acknowledge what you just discovered. While it's not an actual in-game punishment, you're stuck with characters asking a million questions that you already know of. Suddenly, the game's freedom to do whatever you want gets put to a halt because you decide to have the freedom to experience the story however you'd like.

NOW I get to move the part that I’ve been waiting (dreading) for!!

Lore

Sheikah Tech…I don’t care how simple the explanation is on why they are gone. It is probably the dumbest explanation I’ve seen. The fact that it wasn’t even questioned in-game and by the developers baffles my mind. How does it vanish in thin air? Their explanation is that the Calamity no longer exists doesn’t make sense to me either. The Sheikah tech has been there for more than 10k years but only in a dormant state. I don’t want to ask any more questions, or I’ll be here all day, but it drives me up a wall how the lore of the Sheikah got shafted to the side for the new stone technology aesthetic. Speaking of which-

Zonai in general. The fact that WE DONT EVEN GET LORE from the Zonais aside from being viewed as gods is sooooo ughhhhh I wish there was more. Why are there two remaining Zonais? (This probably got answered tbh but idc to look) Who’s the ancient hero and how come he looks like a Zonai or just in fact a different race we’ve never seen before?

Draconification…god. I have many thoughts and also many thoughts about the secret stones. It is an idea that I find interesting and could’ve worked for me. If it didn’t contradict itself in many aspects, as in how becoming a dragon, you will lose your sense of self. I think it would be a nice foreshadowing of the fate Zelda could’ve had. I think making the other dragons take a role in that and expand on it would’ve worked. Idk I think instead of implying it, it could’ve been expanded and shown a lot more severity of the situation.

Apparently I don’t got much on lore, but you know what I got much of????

STORY

This one is going to be a FAT one so bear with me. God where do I even begin here, I'm going completely omit the part where the game feels like it’s gaslighting you through the npcs cause I feel like everyone knows that.

My biggest frustration with this game is that it has such interesting story concepts and cinematic moments. But I can’t but feel like these moments were there first, and everything else was built around it. However, whatever suspicion I feel about how they created this story, only to my shock and horror that there isn’t a credited group of people in the credits, only an outside team (company?). Before I continue, I think it’s dumb when people say TLoZ didn’t have much of a story when previous Zelda games had a storyline to follow (OoT, MM, WW, TP, fucking…even Link’s Awakening, and more). So yes, TLoZ does have stories. It’s not just about the dungeons if I'm being honest.

What I find so odd is that Monolith Soft has games such as the Xenoblade games, where the latest game of that series does have a credited team of writers. Hell, BotW had two credited writers. But I won't go far speculating why they decided to hire a company outside the team to write TotK; it is only interesting to me why they did that. Since there really isn't a solid team of writers, I will focus my issues on Fujibayashi as a story writer; after all, he is the director of this game. And I've seen multiple interviews after the game's release where he explains a lot of the game's "lore" and story that should've been easily explained in the game in the first place. I think this will be me sharing my opinions rather than critiques... boy where do I even begin...

Sages—the ancient sages, not counting Mineru, are pointless. I felt no connection seeing the Ancient Sages meet their predecessors. Can't believe Age of Calamity made me feel more strongly about the Champions meeting their predecessors than the ancient sages did. - I also think they really don't share anything important. Maybe the first time, yes, but you could easily remove their cutscenes and just have Mineru explain how everything went down, and nothing will change. - Now, to the present Sages, I can't really say much, sadly. Tulin and Yunobo were the only characters for whom I completed their quests, and I enjoyed their character arcs, especially Yunobo's. If I could pick up TotK again, I would try to do Riju's arc, as it seemed really fun to play from the playthroughs I've seen my friends do. I don't really care for Sidon. Before I dropped the game, I was going through his quest and got really irritated fast for many reasons that I have mentioned here previously.

King Rauru and Queen Sonia – There has never been a character that I've enjoyed where I think they deserved much better than what they were there for. I get it; Sonia was only there as the character to be killed off to move the plot forward, but oh my god...I could've saved her. I wished we could've seen her more involved in the story than just standing by Raruru's side. - King Rauru, my brain turns foggy when I think of this man, and sometimes there are too many words to explain my issues. But to water it down, I feel we centered ourselves too much on these characters who don't even affect the main protagonist to some degree. Sure, King Rauru first appears at the beginning to show you his magic hand abilities. But I guess I was hoping something like how the previous TLoZ games had your companion help you throughout your journey and are the key fact of many things in the story (Midna and KotRL appear in my head when I mention this).

Zelda—sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I think this game would've been 10x better if she had been the protagonist. I know it probably wouldn't make sense because she turns into a dragon by the end but Idc. What frustrates me about Zelda is that she's given very few options. It's a war or nothing. It's becoming a dragon or being stuck in the past forever. I guess that's the tragedy of her story, but instead of me feeling sad, it frustrates me.

Link—Oh god, here we go. Link has a very small role in this, and you can disagree with me. But how is it possible that this is one of the few Links that has little involvement in the story? Link just happened to stumble into a bigger mystery than it already was. Link didn't even prove himself to Ganondorf why he's a threat to him aside from the first cutscene and Rauru.

Ganondorf - .........I hope this is the last time we see Ganondorf in the series. I know that sounds shocking, but if Fujibayashi is going to take the lead in storytelling for future games, I don't want him to make another iteration of Ganondorf. To me, Fujibayashi works better by making completely new Zelda villains. Ghirahim and Kohga are perfect examples. Ganondorf in this game was so underwhelming and disappointing. He never directly confronted himself with either Link or Zelda. Gameplay wise, he's great, but the story? What is he doing here? Literally, it feels like they only brought Ganondorf back because people questioned about Ganondorf back in BotW.

Conclusion

There are many aspects of the game that I enjoy; however, in my case, the bad outweighs the good. That's why this game frustrates me: There was a lot of potential to be seen. There is probably more for me to say that I'm either intentionally leaving out or just forgetting cause there are many things. Happy one year TotK 🎉🎉🎉

[munchkin1156]

Mycelium Menace

Well, first time writing hermitcraft g/t, and I’m still pretty nervous! I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

@arc852 hi I’m that sparkly anon who offered you cookies here it is

Word count: 1,266

. . .

Well, the humans, who had taken to the name ‘hermits’ instead, so that is what we’ll call them, think the two are ghosts. Ghosts who left sticky notes for reminders or shopping requests, ghosts who took random small items with no explanation, ghosts who found lost keys and earrings when needed. Which they just accepted, and moved on with, so that already gives you some idea to what these hermits are like.

The hermits just… Hadn’t been surprised in the slightest from what they thought was paranormal activity, since any person, living or dead, who had the guts to stay anywhere near the place, must be pretty brave. After all, the amount of fires, pranks, wars, redstone, and summoning rituals that went around, meant that most people wouldn’t touch the place with a ten meter pole. Honestly, it was likely that one of the hermits had accidentally summoned the ghosts and they just couldn’t leave.

Since the two ghosts hadn’t destroyed or taken anything of too much value, they counted as friends. Sorry, the ‘so called’ ghosts. The hermits had never seen these ghosts, and the conclusion they had drawn was inaccurate.

Grian and Scar weren’t ghosts. They were borrowers, but it was obvious no one had guessed that. No one was supposed to know what borrowers were!

What were borrowers then? Borrowers were… Well, think of fairies. Remove the wings, the magic, the fake, naive, fantasy aspect to them, and make them live in the walls. They ‘borrowed’ things from humans, taking stuff they wouldn’t miss. Scraps of food, bits of cloth… The bare minumum to live, to survive.

They weren’t supposed to get found, seen or caught, but those rules, the Code, hadn’t said anything about leaving sticky notes out. Even if that technically showed the humans they existed. Even if Grian kept getting tangled in the sticky notes. In case you were wondering, he was a bit shorter than one, unlike Scar, who was significantly taller.

And true, it was a lot more terrifying than most human houses to live in, but there was stuff that would go unnoticed if taken everywhere. And it was so much more fun, more exciting. Oh! And the fact they could actually ask for their own food from the heavenly place the hermits got their food from, called a ‘super market’, which was the best thing in existence, also significantly benefitted them.

Everything had been going great for them so far. Nothing had had any reason whatsoever to be changed. Everyone was perfectly content with the situation at hand.

…Until Grian started planting mushrooms, that is.

Scar didn’t understand from where Grian had gotten mushroom spores, and at this moment, he didn’t want to know. But now there were purple mushrooms growing all over the little room in the walls that he called home, and something needed to be done about it. Especially since they’d started growing in the hermits’ apartments as well.

First he’d complained to Grian about it. Grian had listened carefully as Scar explained about the inconvenience of it all, the danger of maybe getting caught, and the sheer reason that he didn’t like mushrooms. His friend had told him to hold out his hands. Then he’d dropped a mushroom in them.

That was where Scar had drawn the line.

He had paced the floor of his mushroomified abode, muttering and thinking. It hadn’t been the first time they had pulled pranks on each other, having stuck together for over ten years now, and they’d been inspired by the residents of the apartment complex they lived in, but Scar had a feeling this was going to be a little more extreme than your typical scheme or trick. This would be a prank war.

A war. He liked the sound of that. And from what little Scar knew about wars, he knew that he needed recruitment to help him win.

So the next day, several hermits woke up to a blue sticky note on their desks. The groupchat, which, while supposed to be used for important things, ended up being literally anything anyone thought was interesting, discussed this.

. . .

XisumaVoid: [insert image] anyone know what this is?

FalseSymmetry: I got one of those too!

ImpulseSV: I haven’t… Can’t read the writing in the image. What’s SG saying?

Mumbojumbo: Who’s SG??

ImpulseSV: Scar Ghosts!

MumboJumbo: Is Grian GG then…?

ImpulseSV: …

XisumaVoid: It reads: Mayor gtwScar needs YOU to stop the mycelium that’s spreading throughout the apartment complex! The ~bor~ ghost known as Grian is the one causing this spore infestation, and that needs to be FIXED immediately! Sign below if you agree and want to join:

XisumaVoid: I think I know why some of the hermits haven’t gotten one… he’s picked smartly

BdoubleO100: Yeah, I see it clear as day!

RenDog: Hey! Rude

ZedaphP: Hi! Why have only some people got a letter then? (Won’t sign mine because my house is still recovering from the last prank war we had)

BdoubleO100: Because MOST of you WANT another war instead of peace and prosperity from our amazing ghostly mayor!

ZedaphP: Thanks!

StressMonster101: Wait who’s mayor? Xisuma??

CubFan135: Scar is apparently

TangoTek: eyyyyyyyy war!!! Are we only fighting G-ghost?

ImpulseSV: Why are you on Scar’s side!?

XisumaVoid: Judging from past experiences Tango, no.

GeminiTay: I know I haven’t officially moved in yet but why can I see a window burning? Standing outside btw, can someone let me in?

XisumaVoid: That’s a good question Gem

XisumaVoid: I don’t know

RenDog: Be right there Gem!

XisumaVoid: @DocM77

DocM77: Don’t put it out! It’s all part of the process!

GeminiTay: …

XisumaVoid: …

MumboJumbo: …

FalseSymmetry: Meeting dismissed?

XisumaVoid: Right. Meeting dismissed.

. . .

While Grian didn’t have access to the Hermitcraft groupchat (as it had been dubbed), being a bit on the small side to use phones, he did know Scar was up to something. And he definitely noticed the removal of his beautiful mushroom gifts in some of the hermits’ apartments. What did Scar take him for, some kind of fool?

It had taken a couple of eavesdropped conversations to figure out the gist of it, but only once he’d found one of Scar’s extra sticky note copies did he properly understand what was going on. His eyes shined, reflecting the chaotic fire that had begun to burn inside of him.

Scar wanted a war with the mycelium? Then Grian would happily oblige. Jimmy would be glad to know the spores of his had not gone to waste. And if the next day, several handpicked hermits received their own special sticky notes? That was none of Scar’s concern for now. Grian was ready for a resistance. As he grabbed some supplies to go borrowing, as he was beginning to run low on some items like string, and oh, some paper clips would be nice, he heard voices on the other side of the wall. Voices who were discussing the right kind of thing, not whatever Scar was calling his thing, the HEP or whatever. Voices that were discussing the mycelium, and in a good way too.

Grian was ready for a resistance. And as he shouldered his satchel, he knew the hermits were too.

. . .

I should tag my taglist………

@i-am-beckyu , @da3dm , @brick-a-doodle-do , @faeiyn-cant-write , and please tell me if I’m missing you or you want to be added!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 3 Teaser

If you gave him your heart, your soul, your body- what would he do to those things? Maybe it's time to see if he can handle your love for once, and not just the other way around.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, mild Angst, fluff, slow burn but we'regetting somewhere, they have chemistry but mc has trust issues, mentions of past domestic abuse (mental), Outercourse (basically non-penetrative sex), toys, Cumplay, it's messy smh

Length: ???

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜.♡

A/N: I'm busy in the kitchen come get your snack

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

He's got the audacity to laugh over your shoulder, front pressed into your back, hands teasing your sides as they sneak up your loose shirt.

"Bought one that's about my size." He purrs sensually, almost like he's mocking you. But it's not malicious- playful, if anything, but not mean ok any way. "So you can call it.. practice." He explains, while you stare at the nearly clear pink dildo that's staring at you, still packaged together with other things in the black plastic bag in your lap.

"Jungkook.. when did you even buy those things?" You wonder, feeling almost scared to touch any of the things inside.

"Earlier, when you were napping." He shrugs easily, hand reaching past your body to shamelessly dump the contents of the bag on the bed, bag flying somewhere on the floor. "Anything look like an absolute no-go to you?" He asks curiously, and you look without touching.

There's an egg-shaped item there you're not too sure of what it might be. The dildo explains itself, clearly- and the other massage wand is also pretty self-explanatory. There's two bottles of lube- one pink, the other blue. A.. plug, with a pretty pink gemstone on one end of it. Leather handcuffs, with soft looking fur on the inside. Overall, nothing immediately makes you uncomfortable.

You don't know what gives you the confidence for your next comment you blurt out though.

"Dont you have any toys?" You ask him bluntly. "Like, for yourself? Or do you just.. use your partner's body for stuff?" You wonder, and he looks at you with a sharp gaze, a smirk growing on his lips.

"I wouldn't mind using your body, that's for sure." He flirts, leaning his head a bit to the side. "Why would I need toys if I've got you?" He fakes innocence as he asks that question without expecting any answer-

And for a moment, you don't give one.

But something about his flirty comment bothers you. Maybe because you hear someone else in your head again- all the men who've degraded you over the course of time.

Your ex. Your friends. Your father. You hear them laugh yet again like you're pathetic and worth nothing.

"I don't want to be used." You deny with a flat tone, and it's clear from the slight change in his eyes that he's now on high alert at your every word spoken by mouth and body language, so he can figure out what happened to change your mood like that. "I don't just want to be.. a toy you get bored off and toss away at some point just to pick it back up once you're interested again." You say, drawing a clear line.

You're not sure how he might react to this. You didn't want to make a statement like that, but you can't mask the truth. You really are scared of getting hurt at the end of this- you don't want him to just play around and then let you go.

You don't want to go. You want to stay-

You want him to want you to stay.

He says your name to gain your attention, voice low and steady, horribly gentle- and it makes your eyes sting as you realize that this is the first time a man has ever spoken in such a tone to you. He notices the way your eyes begin to gloss over- and it hurts him too, the fact that you're hurting.

"This isn't just something fun to me. I think I might not have made it clear." He says, staying away from you as to not invade your little bubble you're in,eating you have your safety. "I don't know what happened to you in the past to be so full of distrust towards anything good offered to you-" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "-but I promise you, this isn't just a game to me."

"Then what is this." You say quietly, scared. "I'm scared that we're not on the same page here and that we're walking down to entirely seperate paths." You complain pitifully with your back hunched over and head hanging low.

"That's because we are." He chuckles softly. "I'm trying to hold your hand here so we don't lose each other- but you're not holding it." Jungkook offers.

"I don't understand-" you shake your head, when as you look up again, his face is right in front of yours, eyes looking at your lips.

"Then let me help you." He hums towards you, before his lips press onto yours.

And your body freezes.

Because he's never kissed you like this before- tender, calm and without any lust in it whatsoever. In fact, your realize only now that you've never been kissed without any hidden intentions or something to gain in mind. This kiss is soft, it's no words needed, it's love confessed in physical form.

You've never been kissed like this.

Ever.

[igetthedisneybox]

Tomás Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's Encanto AU, and her own character headcanons.

Third image made using https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1558575

Fourth image made using https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana

Fifth image is a model of one of the Encanto kids I edited.

Tomás’ full name is Tomás Sol Madrigal.

His first name means “twin” and his middle name means “sun”. 

He is the first adopted child of Luisa Madrigal and Juana Aguado.

He has straight black hair, brown skin, and brown eyes. He looks identical to Rómulo.

He is ten years old.

He has a younger twin brother by seven minutes, Rómulo, and a little sister by five years, Zoe.

He is currently uninterested in romance and sex.

His gift is telekinesis, so he can move objects with his mind. The object still weighs the same amount as it would if he was lifting with his arms, however, so he can only lift lighter things until he gets stronger. He adores his gift, and uses it to cause mischief and play around the Encanto. 

His door portrays him concentrating, with his hands on his temples. Many little wiggly lines are coming off of his head.

His room is a basic bedroom resembling the nursery, with teal walls and a wood floor, except for the fact that the bed and amenities are all floating high above. There are several floating staircases that lead to each furniture item. The floor is usually covered in dirty laundry.

His symbol is a brain, with three rounded waves coming off of it.

Luisa is an anxious and overprotective mother, which does annoy Tomás from time to time. But he gets his work ethic (or lack thereof) from her.

Juana is a bit more chill, and therefore, is the favorite parent of both twins.

He has no memory of his birth parents, as he and his twin were adopted when they were three.

Tomás and Rómulo are like two peas in a pod. They like the same things, think the same way, and do everything together. This changes as they grow up, but for now, they’re inseparable.

Both twins are very protective of their baby sister, and often let her tag along on their shenanigans so she doesn’t feel left out.

He mainly hangs out with the other littler kids, Mariana, Avila, Amada, José, and Héctor, and will also spend time with Carlos.

He gets along best with Bruno, Isabela, and José.

He likes to juggle things midair. He thinks it’s impressive, but anyone who can actually juggle knows otherwise.

When he actually can be convinced to help around the town, he uses his gift to pass people things while they're on ladders and stuff.

He’s (slightly) more calm and collected than Rómulo, and that is the primary way to tell the twins apart. 

He dislikes loud noises, so he had to learn early on in his gift how to gently place things on the ground.

He often works in Carlos’ “store,” which he gets an allowance from. He spends it all on toys and candy.

His favorite colors are teal, dark green, dark blue, and viridian.

[jennay]

My Best Friend (5)

Authors Note: I’m working on this and Im ok with taking some requests id you guys have them too! Just read the rules please ❤️

Summary: Noah meets readers family and suddenly things make sense.

Words: 3400ish

Chapters- 1/2/3/4

Master List

You watch as Noah checks himself out in the full-length mirror by the door. His face is etched with worry, and you can hear the panic in his voice. “This isn’t it,” he mutters, tugging at his oversized white graphic t-shirt. He ruffles his dark, short hair, hoping it will fall into place and not look like he just rolled out of bed.

You stand up from the bed, your feet hitting the cold wooden floors as you lazily walk over to him. “We’ve been lounging in bed for two hours. We should’ve gotten up earlier if you were going to be this picky.” You stand beside him, bringing your hand up to the back of his hair. You run your fingers through the thick, silky strands, trying to tame the random waves. His eyes close, and he almost purrs under your touch. “There,” you say, slowly dropping your hand to your side. “That looks better.”

“I’m not prepared to meet everyone. Look at my clothes…” Noah chuckles, rummaging through his duffle bag with a playful grin. “I’m gonna be honest, Jolly made it sound like we were just chilling with your sister, and now I’m meeting your other siblings and your mom. I’ve only had 24 hours as your fake boyfriend—I need more practice!” He pulls out a few items, tossing them onto the bed with a dramatic flick of the wrist. “I just have to act like myself, right?” Noah’s eyes land on you, pleading for reassurance. “Right?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him. “Right. God, I’ve never seen you this nervous. We’re just meeting them for pizza,” you assure him. “It’s not like you’re asking them to marry me or that we need to have a full make-out session. Just be yourself, maybe add a little more affection.”

Noah looks down at his outfit, a mix of an oversized white graphic t-shirt and bright, mismatched socks—one with black and gray polka dots and the other with black and gray stripes. “Do you think they’ll notice my socks?” he asks, wiggling his toes.

You giggle, “They might, but it’ll just add to your charm." You let out a deep sigh, "I should’ve told them I married Jolly. That would probably be more believable at this point."

Noah pretends to be hurt as he roughly grabs his plain black shirt and slides it over his head, “I can’t believe you’d even say that to me, as your fake boyfriend I’m offended.” He teases placing his hand over his heart. “Alright help me out, does this scream perfect boyfriend?” His laughter fills the room with warmth making you smile.

You throw your sweater over your head. “Screams, I’m on a road trip and I packed lightly, which is why,” you gesture to your skinny jeans and sweater, “I’m also dressed like this.” You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of anxiety in your voice as Noah finishes putting on his outfit. “Come on,” you say, reaching your hand out to him. “We can look like trash together.”

Noah smirks, grabbing hold of your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen where Kyle and your niece are waiting with Jolly. “Figured we can follow them,” Jolly says sheepishly, sensing the tension.

You go straight to your niece and scoop her up in your arms. She squeals with excitement as you smother her face with kisses. You laugh, but it’s a bit forced, pulling back as she does the same to you. “I missed you soooo much,” you say dramatically, trying to mask your unease. “Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.”

Lily stares at you for a second, smiling widely before her gaze turns to Noah. She stares up at him with big wide eyes. “You’re big… like a tree.”

You giggle, and Noah nods in agreement. “It’s because I ate all my broccoli growing up. Miniature trees turned me into a giant tree,” he says, laughing and giving her a small boop on the nose.

“That was the worst advice, Noah,” you say, setting her back on her feet. “Not every girl’s dream is to grow up and be 6’3”.”

Lily giggles and looks back at Noah. “Do you have to water yourself too?”

Noah chuckles, “Only when I’m thirsty. And sometimes I need a little sunshine too.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Great, now she’s going to think she needs to sunbathe to grow taller.”

Lily looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Can I have ice cream to grow faster?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, kiddo. But I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Yeah no ice cream yet, sugar.” Kyle says smiling. “We aren’t quite ready yet, your sister and the baby should be ready soon.” He shoves a few more things into his backpack and whispers to Noah, “Don’t rush on the kids part.”

Jolly chuckles, “Noah… kids, yeah right.”

“Hey, I think we’ll meet you there,” you say to Kyle, trying to keep your voice steady.

“She should just be another minute or so,” he responds, glancing at his watch.

“It’s fine!” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of the stress on your shoulders. “I know where we’re going. I’ve literally been going there since I was a toddler…” You pause, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Kyle nods softly, understandingly. “Alright.” He gently places a hand on your shoulder as you walk past, a reassuring touch that momentarily eases your anxiety. You nod, thanking him, but the knot in your stomach tightens.

As you head towards the car, you can’t help but think about the impending gathering. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant event. Your brothers, your mother, and your sister all in one room? The thought alone makes your heart race. Noah and Jolly would fully understand why you stopped visiting once this event was over.

You shut the driver’s side door with a heavy thud, the sound echoing your apprehension. Placing the keys in the ignition, the car roars to life, and loud music blares from the speakers, causing Noah to flinch. He quickly reaches for the volume button, turning it down.

“What was that?” he asks, hopping into the passenger seat, followed by Jolly sliding into the back.

“Yeah, you little weirdo,” Jolly teases, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a deep breath, the weight of the upcoming encounter pressing down on you as you pull out of the driveway. “It was nothing,” you lie, your voice strained.

“Bullshit,” Jolly chuckles, but there’s a note of concern in his laughter. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“I know I’m learning new things about you, but I know when you lie,” Noah says, smiling, though his eyes are filled with worry.

“I love that you guys are excited, but I’m not. I don’t like this at all. Being with my family does not bring out the good in me.” You pause, gripping the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white. “Either everyone is going to fake nice this shit, or all hell is going to break loose.” You stop at a red light, glancing at Noah, then back at the road. “This will be a shit-on-me fest. You’ll know things I never wanted to tell. Like when I was into drugs or using alcohol constantly… all the shitty, abusive boyfriends I’ve had… how I lied, stole, and cheated life.” You take a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “This isn’t fun for me. This is why I didn’t want to come here.”

Jolly places a hand on your shoulder and you cringe under his touch. “You aren’t that girl anymore.” He gently reminds you.

Noah nods, “Yeah fuck em.” He says lightening the mood. “I’m sure their lives aren’t perfect either.”

As you drive, the familiar streets pass by, each one bringing back memories—some good, some you’d rather forget. The closer you get to your destination, the tighter the knot in your stomach becomes. You glance at Noah and Jolly, their presence a small comfort in the face of what’s to come.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Noah assures you.

You force a halfhearted smile as you pull into the parking lot, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. After parking, you turn off the engine and stare at the imposing building ahead. “Ready?” you ask the boys, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stepping out of the car, you wait for them to catch up. As you head towards the door, you’re slightly taken aback when Noah intertwined his fingers with yours. “What?” he asks, noticing your puzzled expression. “Aren’t we supposed to hold hands six months into our relationship?” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you, I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend I can be.”

Jolly chuckles, holding the door open and motioning for the two of you to enter. “I can already feel your brothers’ hate,” he jokes, his laughter echoing in the air.

You playfully roll your eyes as you stride into the restaurant, the familiar buzz of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. The aroma of freshly baked pizza and the hum of conversations create a comforting backdrop. From afar, you spot your family, beers already lined up on the table in front of them.

You wave as you approach, and everyone stands for hugs and introductions. For a moment, you love how normal this all seems. Your older brother steps forward with a confident grin. “Josh, you must be Noah!” he says, extending a hand. You notice the firm handshake but also the genuine smile on his lips.

“Yeah, man. I’ve heard all about you guys. Nice to finally put names to the faces,” Noah replies, pulling out a chair and gesturing for you to sit.

You smile as you take the seat, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Noah sits next to you, casually draping an arm around the back of your chair, while Jolly takes the seat on your other side, already reminiscing about old times. You can almost see the wheels turning in Josh’s head, wondering what kind of chaos will ensue once your sister and older brother start interacting.

“This one looks hella normal. Are you ill?” your little brother, Benjamin, asks with a mischievous grin.

“Normal? That’s a first,” Josh quips, raising an eyebrow. “I was starting to think you only dated weirdos.”

Noah chuckles, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. He nuzzles into your neck playfully and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Did you hear that, babe? They think I’m normal,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Benjamin laughs, shaking his head. “Well, good luck and welcome to the family, Noah.”

Your mother, sitting at the far end of the table, raises her glass. “To new faces and old memories,” she toasts, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

The conversation flows, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. For a brief moment, you forget about the underlying tensions and just enjoy the company of your loved ones.

“Just wait until mom brings out the baby photos.” Josh says to Noah.

“Oh, great,” Noah laughs. “I can’t wait to see those.”

“Just make sure mom doesn’t show him the one where you tried to give the cat a bath,” Benjamin chimes in, grinning wickedly.

“Or the one where you thought wearing a tutu rollerblading was a good idea,” Josh adds, smirking.

“Okay, okay, enough with the embarrassing stories,” you say, laughing. “Before you scare him off.”

“Too late,” Noah jokes, squeezing your hand. “I’m already in too deep.”

Moments later, the door creaks open again, revealing your sister, her husband Kyle, and their two kids. They join the table, and Noah’s hand finds its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles. “Beers?” Kyle asks, pointing to you and the boys.

“I’m good with water,” Noah says, and you nod in agreement.

“Me too!” Jolly adds enthusiastically.

Kyle nods, “Three waters. One beer, one cider, and momma, are you good with your beer?”

Your mother nods, her eyes lingering on you. “No fun? Not even one beer?” she teases, a playful glint in her eye.

Before you can respond, your sister cuts in, “No, because then it turns into 2, 5, 10… blackout,” she says with a laugh that sounds lighthearted but carries a sharp edge, a reminder of your past.

You shake your head, feeling the familiar sting of judgment. “Here we go,” you mutter, leaning your head on Noah’s shoulder, seeking comfort in his warmth.

Noah rubs your shoulder, his touch gentle and reassuring. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m here,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

“Oh god. We had to stop taking her to bars with us. She would just get so messed up and always end up with one of her trashy exes,” Josh says, taking a sip of his beer, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

Jolly glances nervously from your mom to your sister, clearly debating whether he should try to change the subject. But before he can say anything, you sit up straight, your eyes blazing with defiance.

“At least I can admit I have a problem…” you say, your voice steady and challenging. “Wild how all of you do the same thing, but I’m the one who gets shit on for it. At least I’m trying?” You shake your head, the frustration and hurt evident in your expression.

Noah’s hand moves to your back again, his touch grounding you. “Don’t let them get to you,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

Josh, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, points at Noah. “So, are you an alcoholic too?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben mutters, propping his head on his elbows up on the table and leaning his head on his hands. “We haven’t even eaten yet. Can’t this wait until after?”

You’re listening to Ben’s words, but your cold stare still rests on Josh. His blue eyes are ice cold as he clinks his drink to your sister’s, and they giggle.

“C’mon. It’s just a joke,” Josh says, but you know it’s not a joke; it’s just another jab. “It’s all out of love.”

“That’s not love,” Noah mumbles under his breath, his hand still a comforting presence on your back.

Your mother, who has been silently observing, finally speaks up. “Enough. This isn’t the time or place for this,” she says, her voice firm but weary.

Josh rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. The tension at the table is palpable, and you can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

Noah’s hand moves from your back to your hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s just get through this,” he whispers, his eyes filled with concern and determination.

You nod, appreciating his support. The rest of the meal continues in strained silence, with occasional forced attempts at conversation. You can’t help but feel a mix of anger and sadness, but Noah’s presence beside you keeps you grounded.

As the evening drags on, you find yourself glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until you can leave.

You feel icy blue eyes land on you again and you’ve noticed the more Josh drinks the more vicious he gets, “You know it makes sense that you’re dating him.” He says pointing to Noah, “He probably has all the conncetions to drug dealers, plus he’s loaded with money.” He smirks and goes back to eating his food like nothing happened.

Your mouth drops. You feel your chest tighten. “I wanna go,” you whisper to Noah. “I can’t do this.”

Noah’s eyes meet yours, filled with understanding and a hint of frustration. He nods slightly, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. You stand up without warning, looking around the table. This isn’t where you wanted to be, and this isn’t where you needed to be. These people weren’t your family; they were simply related to you.

Noah stands up next to you, his presence a comforting shield, and Jolly does the same. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, here we go,” your mother chimes in. “You can’t let us have one dinner.”

Noah scoffs at the comment, his hand placed on your back as he pushes you forward, trying to ignore the comments. “You guys started this shit and want her to stay? Why, to be a punching bag? So you guys have someone to point the finger at to make yourselves feel better?” His voice is steady but laced with anger, his protective nature coming to the forefront. “It’s really not shocking why she never talk about you guys or why she doesn’t visit.” He pauses, his eyes roaming the group of people who look surprised by his words. “She doesn’t need you guys…she has us and other friends in California that treat her a million times better.”

You grab Noah’s hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip, and follow behind Jolly. “Let’s go, it’s not worth it,” you quietly say.

When you exit out the doors, you feel the fresh air hit you, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Two men are staring at you, waiting for you to crack, but instead, you laugh, not believing what just happened.

“You see why I don’t come back? It’s the same shit every time,” you say, shaking your head, frustration boiling over. “I walk in, and it’s like I’m instantly transported back to being that screw-up they all remember. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jolly nods, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “He was harsh,” he softly speaks, his eyes filled with concern.

You shake your head, your voice rising with emotion. “I get why he’s mad. I do. I wasn’t great, and he had to bail me out of shitty situations often. I just kept jumping into it again, time after time—rehab, hospitals, all of it, over and over. But I’m not like that anymore! I’ve changed, and I wish they would look at who I am now. But it’s like all they can see is who I used to be, and it’s suffocating.”

Noah looks at you, his expression softening. “You don’t have to prove anything to them, and they shouldn’t be that way toward you anyway. We’ve got your back, right?” He turns to Jolly.

Jolly nods in agreement. “Right.” He follows you toward the car, his steps light and carefree. “Hey… didn’t you grow up around here? Thrift shop and coffee time? Isn’t that on your list of things to do in every town?”

You laugh at his comment, remembering your pact. “You know the way to my heart.”

“I’m driving,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and pushing his sunglasses back on his face.

As Jolly skips goofily to the car, you feel Noah grab your hand, pulling you back for a brief moment. He places his hand under your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. His eyes lovingly stare into yours, causing a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. “I just want you to know… everything I said is true. Fake boyfriend, best friend… whatever. I got you. Always,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I know, Noah. Thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s catch up with Jolly before he drives off without us.”

You follow him to the car, your mind racing. The thought that keeps replaying in your mind is terrifying. You weren’t growing feelings for Noah. Were you? The idea made you feel ridiculous. This was obviously your brain trying to get over Michael and move on as fast as you could. It was protecting it’s self from feeling any pain and Noah just happened to be there.

As you slide into the car, you steal a glance at Noah, who’s chatting animatedly with Jolly. Your heart aches with the weight of your unspoken emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a phase, a fleeting moment of confusion. It had to be. You couldn’t let it be anything more.

[taatsums]

Kafka Oguro SSR - The Morning After The Rain: A Rainy Day Schedule For The Two of Us

Part 1

📍HAMA Tours, Office Floor

Kafka: Chief-chan, good work today.

Kaede: Kafka, you’re still here? Good work today! 

Kafka: Thanks for supporting Yachiyo today as always.

Kaede: No need to thank me. I’m sure Yachiyo-kun is still having a hard time adjusting, and I’m also doing my best along with him.

Kafka: You’re so reliable. It’s thanks to you that everyone’s getting a chance to grow. I look forward to seeing what’s next for HAMA Tours.

Kaede: You’re overestimating me…!

Kafka: Alright, enough with the formalities. Do you remember what’s happening tomorrow, Chief-chan?

Kaede: Of course. We’re going to the zoo, right?

Kafka: Yup. I’m so excited about our zoo date that I can barely sit still.

Kaede: I don’t know about calling it a date… But I guess that’s what it is when two people go out together.

Kaede: What are you looking forward to seeing the most at the zoo, Kafka?

Kafka: Hmmm, I’d say the okapi. Apparently you can only see them at HAMA’s zoo.

Kaede: Sounds nice! Let’s go see the okapi first, then!

Kafka: Yeah! By the way, it seems like they’ve got a limited-time flamingo drink available right now.

Kaede: Even the name is cute! I wanna try it when we get there.

Kafka: Just leave it to me, Chief-chan. I’ve come up with the perfect itinerary for tomorrow’s zoo tour.

Kaede: Ahaha, I’ll leave it to you. I’m looking forward to it.

Kaede: Oh. Right, I didn’t check the weather forecast…

Kafka: I have, of course. It’s going to be sunny with a 0% chance of rain.

Kaede: You really have it all planned out…!

Kafka: It’s for our date, after all.

Kafka: Alright, let’s wrap things up and go home. No staying up late, or working overtime allowed today.

📍 HAMA House, Living Room

Kafka: It’s raining…

Kaede: The weather forecast was way off…

Kaede: (I know there’s nothing that can be done, but it really is unfortunate. We haven’t had the chance to go out together in so long…)

Kafka: …

Kaede: (Kafka’s so obviously depressed…!)

Option 1: Encourage him

Kaede: I’m sure the rain will pass by this afternoon!

Kafka: The forecast just now said there’s a 90% of rain…

Kaede: (Oh man, he’s seriously depressed…)

Option 2: Join him in his sadness

Kafka: I really hadn’t accounted for this…

Kafka: No matter how advanced our civilization becomes, we can’t control changes in the weather.

Kaede: (He’s so depressed that he’s gone into enlightenment mode…!)

Kafka: …

Kaede: Kafka, you okay…?

Kafka: Alright! Today’s plan will be changed to a rainy day schedule presented by none other than yours truly!

Kaede: Huh?

Kafka: We can’t do anything about the weather, so let’s just go to the zoo another day. I’ll just come up with even more things you can look forward to.

Kafka: Just leave the details to me.

Kaede: (He’s not depressed at all! If anything, he’s having fun…!?)

Kafka: Okay, we don’t have all day. Let’s go, Chief-chan…!

Kaede: (Go where, exactly…!?)

Part 2

📍 HAMA House, Living Room

Kaede: So, what’s that rainy day schedule thing about?

Kafka: Ta-daaah. I’ve prepared all sorts of indoor activities for us to enjoy~!

Kaede: Cat’s cradle, paper clay, board games, even origami…! These bring back memories! This sure is a rainy day full course!

Kafka: How about we start with a round of Game of Life?

Kaede: Sounds good! It’s been a long time since I last played a paper board game. Wait, is that… the same one from back then?

Kafka: Bullseye! I’ve prepared items from back then ♪

Kaede: You took good care of everything, didn’t you? Thanks!

Kafka: We played a lot together back in that hospital room.

Kaede: We sure did! We’d play Game of Life and talk about our dreams for the future. Who’d have thought we’d be here now?

Kafka: You never know what hand life will deal you.

-

Kafka: And my assets total to 1.5billion, and I’ve got 3 cars.

Kaede: I lost… Nothing’s changed. I still don’t think I can win against you.

Kafka: It’s all a matter of luck ♪ Guess I was just extra lucky today.

Kaede: Okay, next… we’re having a paper clay showdown!

Kafka: Fine by me. What should we make?

Kaede: How about Shumai?

Kafka: Sounds good! We can show it to Renga later and have him decide the winner.

-

Kafka & Kaede: And, done!

Kafka: The fur was a little hard to replicate, but don’t you think his face turned out great?

Kaede: Ahaha, yeah! That’s what Shumai looks like when he wakes up.

Kafka: Uhhh, this isn’t supposed to be when he wakes up. It’s Shumai right before he digs in on a snack.

Kafka: But why does the Shumai you made look like he’s going to melt?

Kaede: The antenna on his head looked like it was about to fall apart, so I made him look like he’s sleeping!

Kafka: Haha, so he’s sleeping! I thought he was melting from the heat.

Kafka: We can’t show either of these to Renga.

Kaede: You’re right… I don’t think he’ll even be able to tell these are Shumai.

-

Kaede: It’s been a while since I last did cat’s cradle, paper clay and origami, but they’re still all fun, even now!

Kaede: (And our paper clay skills haven’t changed since/from back then, either.)

Kafka: Right. Anything is fun with you, Chief-chan– But this makes it feel like we’ve gone back in time.

Kafka: The number of Ward Mayors here will increase, so this place will keep getting more and more lively.

Kafka: We’ve got plenty of rooms, and I’d like to think we’ve got lots of things to do on rainy days, too.

Kafka: Let’s say, for example… The theater room would be nice. How about we watch a movie and eat popcorn together?

Kaede: The theater room sounds good!

Kaede: (Kafka looks like he’s having fun… I’m glad. That makes me happy, too.)

Kafka: Oh, the rain’s letting up.

Kaede: Oh, you’re right. I didn’t even notice.

Kafka: How about we go for a little walk outside? Let’s look for a rainbow.

Kaede: That sounds nice. We did that together back then, too.

Kafka: Alright then, let’s go!

Kaede: (... I hope I can find more fun things to do with Kafka, both in HAMA Tours and in HAMA House!)

[my-writings-and-musings]

Mermay related thought: going diving to see a shipwreck but it turns out to actually be a resting mer-transformer and you both accidentally scare each other.

Okay this is so WHOLESOME I can seriously see the entire thing playing out! Human is a professional diver with a love for bringing up treasures and artifacts and has a boat with a sonar sensor. One day they detect some kind of large item within diving range and think "Sweet, new discovery!" before putting down an anchor and suiting up for a dive.

Unbeknownst to this human, there's no treasure or sunken ships awaiting them. A merformer simply needed to rest and found a nice spot in comparatively shallow water for a power down. They're curled up on the sea floor amidst a forest of undersea greenery and stones, making it impossible to identify them as anything more than an apparent mass of metal in the dim light. It doesn't help that they pulled seaweed around themselves like a giant blanket.

Human grows perplexed as they begin to swim around the shape and realize it's not built like any kind of vessel they're familiar with. Eventually they begin to explore more up close, unknowingly swimming around to the bots front where they spot something like arms. Brushing away the seaweed for a better look startles the poor bot, and the sight of two bright optics flashing on in the dim light terrifies the diver just as deeply. Both parties swim away from the other in a panic, but of course the much larger bot sends the human spinning with their wake, something they notice once they get their wits about them and realize there's no threat.

Bot immediately feels guilty and helps human right themselves, and escorts them back to the surface when it becomes clear humans can't speak underwater. A host of apologies are exchanged, and when it's explained what the human was looking for the still regretful merformer produces some trinkets they pulled from an actual shipwreck as an apology. Human is delighted but says no payment is needed, though the bot insists and eventually the two get to talking about the ocean and the sights they've seen within.

As both are quite lonely, this immediately sparks a friendship. The human doesn't relate much to their kind, and the poor bot doesn't have many other merformers to hang out with on Earth. Eventually they decide they'd like to see one another again, and the bot even accompanies the human all the way to their dock to keep the conversation going... If they live on their boat, they might just have a little sleepover.

I can't even imagine how cute this might be. Swimming together, bot giving the human rides and showing them the best shipwrecks, the human bringing them fun things from land... All of it develops into the cutest romance.

[hardstraykidshours]

stray kids fic-mas: day 1

pairing: chan x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, 18+ (minors dni)

summary: your airbnb has a cozy little fireplace, and you tell chan one of your fantasies.

length: 1.4k

warnings: food mention, slight christmas mention, profanity, sexual/suggestive content, wax play, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), implied penetrative sex (please wrap before you tap), afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)

ficmas 2022 masterlist

"you know, i never thought we'd actually use this thing when i first saw the rental listing," chan says as he adds another log to the fireplace before closing the grate.

"what? how could we not use it? nothing screams holiday getaway more than a fireplace and some hot chocolate." you and chan had taken the weekend to go on a little trip to celebrate the holidays together before you each leave to go visit your families. he rented out a cozy little cabin for the two of you and you planned on spending the weekend doing all sorts of festive things. there was an ice skating rink and a lights show in the town nearby, and you downloaded a ton of christmas movies on your laptop for the two of you to watch. you even spent the afternoon putting up a few lights and decorations to make it all feel even more festive and cozy.

"speaking of which, here you go," you cross the room and hand chan the steaming mug of cocoa you just made. "i added peppermint."

he takes a sip before setting the mug up on the mantel and moving behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. "mmmm, you're right," he says while resting his chin on your shoulder. "it is very cozy."

"i told you!" you take a big sip of your cocoa before turning your head slightly to look at him. "you were so resistant to lighting the fire, but i knew you'd love it."

you smile broadly at him, and he pulls away slightly, chuckling to himself.

"what?"

"you have a little cocoa, right..." he reaches forward to slowly drag the pad of his thumb across your lip. "there, that's better." his thumb lingers slightly on your lips and a moment of silence passes as you both stare at each other, the mood rapidly shifting.

"you know," you murmer, setting your mug next to his on the mantel. "i've always thought about what it would be like to make love in front of a fireplace."

"oh? have you now?" he replies, voice barely above of whisper as he turns your body to face him.

you nod slightly, and he leans in close. "i think we can make that happen," his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, tongue caressing yours as he pulls you down to the floor with him. he pauses for a moment to drag a blanket over from the couch and drape it on the floor in front of the fireplace before laying you down.

in between kisses, he slowly removes your clothing, taking his time with each and every item. the experience is so sensual you know your panties are already soaked, and he hasn't even really touched you yet. he gets you down to nothing but your panties when you realize he's still fully clothed.

you slip your fingers under the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body in the same slow, erotic way he did when undressing you. when you pull chan's shirt over his head, you toss it out of the way accidentally knocking into the candle on the side table. some of the wax splashes over, extinguishing the flame and spilling onto the table.

"shit! i'm sorry!" you scramble up from the floor and towards the candle, but chan stops you by grabbing your arm. you turn back towards him, a questioning look on your face. "i need to clean it up before the wax hardens."

"don't worry about it, i'll deal with that later," he says while moving towards the side table to grab the extinguished candle and bring it back towards where you were sitting in front of the fire. "i have an idea i want to try." his gaze darkens and although you're not sure what he's thinking of, you feel your panties growing wetter just from the way he's looking at you.

"lay down."

you comply immediately and open your mouth to ask what his idea is, but the words die in your throat as you watch him set the candle down next to you and slowly crawl up your body. his eyes rake across your naked form as he moves, and hot arousal burns in every place his eyes touch.

he places his knees on either side of your hips and sits up, hovering just enough that he's not actually sitting on you. he reaches down with one hand to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "trust me?" he asks gently as he picks up the candle again.

realization dawns on you, and you have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. you nod in confirmation. he tilts the candle, and you watch the melted wax slowly move to the edge before dripping down onto the center of your chest.

the wax is hot enough to make you jump slightly, but not hot enough to actually burn you. he continues on, moving the candle in a spiral so it drips onto your breast, edging closer and closer to your nipple. when the wax finally reaches the center, you arch your back, moaning at the exquisite sensation of the hot wax enveloping your nipple.

he directs his attention to your other breast, treating it with same slow, torturous movements as the first. he then moves the candle back to the center of your chest and down, slowly trailing drops of wax across your stomach and towards your soaking pussy.

he pauses to set the candle aside for a moment to move down further, sliding your panties off in the process, before resuming his work. gasps and whimpers escape you as you feel the wax trail up the inside of your thigh, stopping just before it reaches your throbbing core.

"channie, please," you beg, unable to take the teasing any longer.

"what, baby girl? what do you need?"

"you," you gasp out as more wax dribbles along your hip bone. "i need to feel you. please."

he immediately complies with your request, pushing the candle to the side before burying his head between your legs. you twine your fingers in his hair and cry out as his tongue swirls around your clit.

just as with everything else tonight, he takes his time, slowly devouring you. his movements aren't rushed, in fact his tongue is almost lazy in the way it drags through your folds as though he's enjoying his favorite meal and wants to savor it.

you try to pull him closer, practically writhing beneath him, but nothing makes him pick up the pace. after what feels like an eternity he slowly adds a finger and you moan loudly, eyes rolling back at the sensation.

after a few strokes, he adds a second, curling his fingers slightly as he draws them in and out of you, his tongue still drawing circles around your clit.

"oh god, channie, yes!" you moan out, a knot starting to build in your core as he starts to increase his speed. even so, he does it slowly, building up your orgasm for longer than you thought was possible. when you think you might lose your mind from the torturous pleasure he is bringing you, he doubles his efforts, starting to suck on your sensitive nub as he reaches up with his free hand to twist your nipple.

it takes only seconds for you to tip over the edge, falling completely apart beneath him. your eyes roll back as your release barrels through your body, pure pleasure filling every nerve. he continues to work you with his mouth through your orgasm, drawing it out as long as possible. the pleasure washes over you again and again in waves. just when you think it's finally over, one more lap of his tongue will bring another aftershock rippling through you.

when you finally ride out ever last bit of your high, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh before sliding up your body to kiss you cheek.

he pulls away slightly and smiles at you, his chin shining with your juices in the firelight.

"holy shit," you finally mange to say. "that was incredible."

his smile grows at your words and he bends down to press another kiss to your lips. "good. i was hoping you might enjoy that. now let's go get all this wax cleaned up." he moves to stand but you grab his arm and pull him back down on top of you, shaking your head.

"not yet. first, i want you to follow through on your promise to show me what it feels like to make love in front of a fireplace."

[abratgirlwholovemommies]

**September 8, 2024**

Today, Stephanie woke up feeling extra cheerful. After a week filled with intense studying, she decided to reward herself by going out for some fun. Dressed casually in a pastel purple t-shirt and comfy jeans, she slipped on her favorite sneakers, grabbed a small bag, and quickly headed out.

Her destination was Pop Mart, a store full of miniature models from famous series, ranging from tiny collectibles to oversized models. As Stephanie walked toward the store, her heart was filled with excitement. She felt like a kid about to get a toy she’d been waiting for. She played her favorite song on her phone and thought about her favorite superhero series, knowing today was going to be her lucky day.

The familiar *ding* of the doorbell greeted her as she pushed open the door to Pop Mart with one hand. The faint scent of new plastic mixed with the cool air conditioning, created an atmosphere she adored. Her eyes scanned the store, searching for her familiar spot—the DC Comics section, the place she had been thinking about all day.

"Where is it...?" she thought to herself as she confidently made her way toward the neatly arranged shelves. After a few minutes of browsing, she found it! Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she picked up three blind boxes from the DC Comics series. The brightly colored blue packaging featured only a tiny image of Superman in mini form, leaving her to wonder which hero could be hidden inside.

“Please be Supergirl… Black Canary… or Green Arrow. I’ve got enough Batmans to fill a shelf!” Stephanie thought with a playful sigh. 

After finding what she had come for, she walked to the cashier. The lights in the store reflected off the packaging she held, intensifying her excitement. The cashier smiled, making small talk about her chosen items, and Stephanie returned the smile as she completed the purchase.

Leaving the store, the bag swinging in her hand, the thrill remained as she headed back to her apartment. The evening air was beginning to cool, but a warm feeling bubbled up inside her. She couldn’t wait to open the boxes and see if her superhero collection would grow with something new today.

__________________________________

When she arrived back at her apartment, she quickly sat on the floor, excitement filling the air. The unopened boxes were laid out in front of her. She grabbed the first one and began to open it. Slowly, she pulled a small card from the box, squinting at it with anticipation. Her smile instantly faded.

...Batman.

Stephanie stared down at the tiny Batman figure in her hand, visibly deflated. 

“Batman again? Does he love me or something?!” she muttered, a mix of frustration and amusement filling her. It was both annoying and, in some strange way, hilarious. Luckily, her roommate Babs wasn’t back yet; otherwise, she would’ve been teased for the rest of the night(She already did). 

She set the new Batman next to the others she had collected from previous boxes. 

"You're filling up my shelf, Mr. Bat!" she complained to the miniature Batman before reaching for the other two unopened boxes.

The small thrill of excitement began to return as she carefully picked up the second box. Her heart beat faster as she tore off the plastic wrapping. 

"Alright… Supergirl …Black Canary… Green Arrow!" she chanted in her head, hands trembling slightly with fresh hope. 

“Please, please, please let me get what I want!” she whispered dramatically, clasping her hands together in mock prayer before opening the box.

As soon as she peeked inside, a deep sigh of annoyance escaped her lips. A flash of green hair greeted her, leaving no doubt who it was.

The Joker. Batman’s eternal nemesis.

“Oh, come on… Batman really can’t live without him, huh?” Stephanie groaned, staring at the Joker figure. She set him down beside Batman, now feeling more defeated than ever.

“Am I doomed?” she thought bitterly, eyeing the growing pile of plastic wrappers and empty boxes around her.

Her excitement had dimmed significantly, but one last box remained on the floor. 

But life, as someone once said, must go on. 

With a mixture of resignation and acceptance, Stephanie picked up the final box. This time, she opened it in a rush, very different from the previous two. She had already given up on expecting anything special. "Another Batman wouldn’t even surprise me at this point," she thought with a shrug as she ripped off the plastic.

But the moment she opened the box, something strange happened. Stephanie paused, her curiosity piqued. She slowly pulled the figure out…

A small character card fluttered to the floor before coming to rest. She glanced at it with little hope. A black costume with bat-like ears reflected the light, and a familiar bitter smile tugged at her lips. 

“It’s probably just another Batman…” she thought as she picked it up from the floor.

But when her eyes focused on the details of the card, confusion flashed across her face. 

"Huh?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow, reading the card: *Batgirl, Cassandra Cain*.

Her heart began to race. This wasn’t a character listed on the box. She hadn’t expected to find a mini Cassandra Cain figure here.

“…Could this be the rare one?” The thought hit her suddenly, and Stephanie felt a surge of excitement she hadn’t expected. She examined the figure in her hand closely, her eyes sparkling just like when she first entered Pop Mart earlier that day.

“Wait…” she whispered to herself, a huge smile spreading across her face. 

“No way… this must be a secret one!” she said aloud, holding the tiny Batgirl figure up to admire the intricate details.

And then something strange happened. The figure moved. Stephanie blinked, thinking she was imagining it. But no—it was real. The Batgirl figure performed a somersault in the air, her tiny cape fluttering behind her, and landed in a perfect combat stance.

Stephanie's mouth fell open. “Woah..Um…well. I think this is way beyond what I expected.” _________________

After I finished this mini Cass I felt like I must write this lol.