#they have a special room booked for the person

[crazyintheeast]

Oh I think I can help with this. I love watching movies in the theater but I hate sharing it with other people and I found a way to avoid this with great success. So here is what you do if you have the opportunity.: Find the biggest multiplexes around. Look if they have any noon or afternoon screenings which are the most inconvinient for people with jobs .Go only during the week for obvious reasons. Go to the register 20 minutes after the screening has started and asked to look at the free seats. Bingo. If you do this the second or third week(the fourth for really popular movies) there is a huge chance you will get an empty theater or yourself. Like maybe 70% of the time I have tried this I have gotten the theater all to myself and the other 30% I shared it with maybe one or two people And of course if there is online booking make sure to check beforehand so you don't waste your time going there in person. If you are willing to fork over a little more money and your theater has those special theater rooms with a recliner they are even more likely to be free

It can be hards if your job has a strict schedule but if you have free time it works really well

Something I miss from the start of the pandemic was being able to watch movie theater releases from home.

I know why they’ve gone back to in theater only releases, but as someone with multiple disabilities and a compromised immune system that makes movie-going hard, it was the first time in years I got to enjoy new releases as they came out.

I didn’t even particularly mind that it was costing me $20 to rent it for a single viewing. To me it was just another disabled tax, but one I was actually happy to pay for the price of finally feeling included in the experience of enjoying new media. (Not to mention actually going to the movie theater costs something closer to $40 these days.)

Factor in that I got to control my environment (not too dark or loud to avoid migraines. No nerve compression from sitting in chairs not designed for my body. Access to food I could eat and bathroom breaks as needed without missing anything.) the sheer joy alone of being able to talk to my friends about movies as they came out was really something I hadn’t realized I was missing until I had it back.

Normally by the time I get to see new media it’s several months later and everyone else has moved on.

It’s alienating.

The whole experience of being disabled alienates you from most of society, but it always tends to be the big things you think about and not the little. And that was one of the little things I missed.

And now there’s a new Superman movie coming out next year that I’m actually so, so excited to see. But barring a miracle of Biblical proportions, I know I’m not going to be able to hobble my butt into the cinema without risking my health.

So, I’ll be watching it months later when the hype has already died down. And my enthusiasm for it won’t be counted in box office figures despite being the type of person who would go see a movie multiple times in the cinema if I enjoyed it.

I dunno, man. It just sucks. I wish they had like, memberships or something you could pay to watch things at home.

And before anyone is like “just pirate it” — that’s not the point of the post. The point is people are excluded from things in ways you don’t even think about and the pandemic made it really clear that there were always ways to accommodate people like me.

People just don’t want to.

[d-emeter]

Secret Santa on base (but the entire 141 is desperate to pull you) — plus-size!fem!reader x task force 141

CW: christmas (?), the boys being a little bit creepy but they're just in love leave them be, allusions to sexual activity

So this somehow ended up from Laswell's pov for the most part lol but it switches to reader for the end! Also happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! <3

When Laswell had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa on base — well, it had been her wife who said they needed some more holiday cheer, and who was she to deny that? — she had not expected it to become something akin to a battlefield. Maybe she should have known better, the soldiers surrounding her were competitive by nature. Winning was always the main goal.

But this time, there was no enemy to defeat, no intel to gain, no hostage to save. No, this time, you were the objective. Laswell was not stupid, in fact, it was her job to be observant, to figure out that which others could not. And to her, Task Force 141 was an open fucking book.

It was in the way Price would leave his hand on your shoulder after offering you an encouraging pat, and how that hand would move lower down your arm or back while he talked to you. It was in the way Ghost would always prepare an extra cup of tea to bring to early morning briefings, trying to subtly push it your way while you were rubbing at your eyes. It was in the way Gaz would lean over you when you asked him to come look at something on your laptop, arms on either side of you and practically caging you in. It was in the way Soap would always find a way to touch you, without fail, calling you 'bonnie' or 'love' in that obnoxious Scottish accent as he threw an arm over your shoulders. It was especially in the way the other three would scowl at whoever had your attention for the moment. It was clear as fucking day — they all wanted you.

Laswell knew this and, in hindsight, should have taken that into account when organizing the gift exchange. This realization came when Price knocked on her door just after the announcement had made the rounds. He had inquired if she was going to be the one to select the secret santa's, and if he could maybe take a look with her — just to make sure they weren't pairing up people that disliked eachother and causing issues, he explained. When she told him no, some random online generator would do just fine, Kate got her confirmation that he was lying about his motives — she'd never seen the captain look that disappointed.

After the secret santa's had been given out, she realized that maybe it was time to do some damage control. She had walked into the rec room to find Gaz grilling everyone in there on who they pulled, seeming more agitated each time they did not answer with what he wanted to hear. A few hours later, he had apparently found the one he was looking for, as Laswell overheard someone talking about how Sergeant Mactavish had offered the person in question nearly 100 bucks to switch. Then the report came in about Lieutenant Riley threatening that very same person, and Laswell had had enough.

REMINDER: SECRET SANTAS ARE FINAL AND CANNOT BE EXCHANGED.

She pretended not to hear the huffing from Price as he read the email she had sent around.

Kate had hoped the situation had been subdued with that, yet still couldn't shake the weird feeling in her underbelly when the base christmas party came around. Everything seemed fine, at first; there stood a sadly decorated plastic tree in the corner, lights were strung up around the room and the secret santa table was overflowing with badly wrapped gifts. Everything would be fine, right?

—

Wrong.

You had been excited about the gift exchange. It was a fun way to interact with some of your coworkers that you hadn't done so with yet, and you had always liked giving out presents. You tried not to beam too bright when Kate unwrapped the gift you had got her, and got up excitedly when your name was called. It was nothing special, really; a cute mug with a bar of chocolate inside, courtesy of some random private you had never really had the chance to talk to. You were grateful nonetheless.

But then your name was called again. And again. And again. The flush of embarrassment grew with each one. By the end of the night, you had five gifts in total, somehow. The second gift was a bottle of perfume, and you had to stifle a gasp as you saw the brand — it had to have been close to three figures in price. You tentatively spray some on your wrist, and- Hadn't you smelled something similar on Gaz when he greeted you earlier?

The third gift was a basket filled with goodies; all your favourite sweets and snacks, a pair of fuzzy socks, a book you had had on your wishlist for a while, and, wait, was that..? You're so preoccupied with using the socks to hide the box of XXL condoms that you don't notice how Ghost's fingers move to adjust himself in his pants.

You start to feel really flustered when your fourth gift is handed to you, trying not to flounder under all the stares you're getting. The box looks expensive, and reveals a gorgeous pearl necklace when you open it — God, that must've been at least triple the given budget. You have to hide the added note from view when you read it: 'Just a placeholder until I can give you a pearl necklace of my own -S'.

You don't even open the fifth gift, choosing instead to quickly accept it and ushering the announcer into calling the next name. You feel a little faint when you actually open it once you're in the privacy of your room — it's a fucking vibrator. The little instruction manual says something about it being remote controlled — so where is the controller?

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

—————���—————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

gen ; 871 words of pure complete caleb fluff for my personal comfort because i can't get this man out of my head (wow roxie posting fluff? girl what happened to you)

to be loved is to be seen.

a long day passed; he's there at the door. you can smell something simmering from the kitchen, the scent of comfort filling the room and maybe getting to your head a little... it's your favorite dish. you'd know that smell anywhere. and you've always liked it best when he cooks it...

he knows that.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he's pulling you in by the waist, not quite a hug, but rather a little bit of a once-over as he leans back to take a good look at you.

there's a pause.

the look in his eyes is gentle; fond. his head tilts, and there's something unsaid, unspoken, in the air between you...

you know the words on his lips before he says them.

"look at you, all pretty like that."

it's quiet, with a little bit of a chuckle.

"welcome back, pipsqueak."

typical caleb.

and this time there's a kiss on the tip of your nose, before he reaches a hand up to fix your hair— there's a piece of snow settled into it, and he knows that you don't like that. he'd brush it out for you, leave your hair neatly.

just the way you prefer it to be.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he knows more than you think.

you're an open book to him; maybe it's scary, and maybe it's a little unnerving, but—

maybe it's nice.

no words need to be shared.

he's happy to keep his arm around you, happy to wrap you up in blankets as you snuggle together on the couch and your favorite movie is playing softly on the screen in front of you. it's snowing outside, but you barely notice it; barely care. he keeps you warm from the cold. it's cozy. your head rests on his shoulder, and he hums quietly into your hair—and it's nice.

"it's been a long day," you murmur.

you blow your hair out from your face, and he fixes it right then for you. neat; the way you like it to be.

"oh, yeah? i could tell," he says. he chuckles—a little bit of a nudge in the form of a joke.

but he smiles.

"tell me about it, pipsqueak. i wanna listen."

to be loved is to be seen.

and maybe you scoff at him, but maybe you speak as he inclines. and maybe the movie's drowned out in the background, maybe all that you care about is the soft rumble of his chest when he laughs at the stupidest joke you've ever made in your life...

because deflect with humor, right? you've always done that. and he laughs, because you want him to laugh. and he reaches up to flick at your forehead. because he knows.

"you can be serious about it if you wanna, y'know," he shakes his head. "don't always gotta put on a strong front, 'specially not with me. so hit me. i'll take you seriously."

i'll take you seriously.

a safe space.

and they're simple words, because maybe you're not used to expressing yourself—

but he knows that.

he's used to it.

and he'll push you, a little, and you trust him to.

he knows that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and caleb knows a lot of things—what gets you angry, what gets you sad... the things you do to distract yourself, the things you like to eat. what makes you happy. when you're happy. your favorite show, your favorite song... that one article of clothing you'd always wear if you could, that book you keep on your shelf because the cover looks nice, but you haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

and he knows when you're tired.

he knows when all you need is for him to be there beside you, he knows when you've got something to say but you don't know how to say it.

he knows when you're pretending, too. when you want someone to breakthrough that little shell of yours, and say the words you want desperately to hear...

he knows.

because he sees you.

he sees you more than anyone else has, more than anyone else does. and not just with his eyes—with his heart. he knows you. he's engraved every little thing about you into the depths of his soul and he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he can hold you like this.

not when he knows how to.

not when he knows you want it to be this way.

and it's why he has his fingers running gently through your hair, peppering soft, tiny little kisses all over your face and relishing in the giggles that fall from your lips...

to be loved is to be seen.

"i love you, pipsqueak."

a soft murmur, a kiss into your hair.

"i love you a whole lot."

he knows you needed to hear that today, too.

and he means it.

because maybe there's no one else who could love you the way that he does; so whole, so loving, so pure, so... real.

you know that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he sees you, and you see him.

to you, there's no greater love than that.

an : you know, real talk......... i really am truly sorry that the nuance of the caleb/mc relationship can't be translated into more western cultures that aren't used to this, i do believe it's kind of a shame 😭 because you have to understand that it's such a beautiful thing to be seen.... and i really feel that caleb encapsulates that especially given the nature of their relationship :( just. there's something so beautiful and comforting and warm about it and i had to get this out of my system before i go to bed 😭 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE 😭

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association ++ also obligatorily tagging @unluckywisher (love u)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[pickinglilahs]

Okay, let's unpack this response here

TL;DR: 'weak and surface' level is exactly how I would describe prevs "obliteration". I'm not convinced THEY read the books. Or maybe they're just another TERF, considering that's how it reads. I completely disagree with Harry naming his kid after Snape. The ONLY explanation I can think for it is that JKR has no idea what love is (which is also cannon, as far as I'm concerned)

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

Lastly: yes, comparing CHILDREN who DID see the error of their ways to an ADULT who had to be CONNED into doing the right thing is laughable.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Our Christmas | Christmas Special 2024

PAIRING || Fiancé! Tony Stark x Fiancée! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 7.6K

SUMMARY || You've been working on preparing the best Christmas celebration you have ever had with the Avengers and other loved ones, and tonight is the night that all your hard work will come to life. From a delicious dinner to the most fun game of Secret Santa you've ever seen, it will surely be a night that will go down in history as one to never forget.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || Established relationship, former sugar relationship, age gap romance, lots of domestic fluff, lots of PDA, use of mistletoe, explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Teasing, hickeys/lovebites, quickie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, spanking, hair pulling, cream pie, biting, begging, dirty talk, breeding kink, pregnancy kink.

A/N || Merry Christmas! I'm incredibly grateful for everything that my time on Tumblr has brought me this past year, and I'm happy to be able to share my stories with you all, too. I also want to give my special thanks and love to my best friend and the person I love the most on this earth - @ccbsrmsf1. I love you bestie, thank you for everything you have done for me this past year! 🤍

EVENTS @anyfandomfluffbingo || Edible underwear @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || (Catching) fire @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Queer cat parent @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Free space + “Be gay, do crime.”

@fictionaldelightsbingo Under The Sea || Finding safety at their lovers side + Free space + Gift exchange @julybreakbingo Post-JBB || Found family + “We shouldn’t do this.” @seasonaldelightsbingo Sweater Season || Cookies @tonystarkbingo Round 8 || Marriage

All the graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Sugar Daddy! Tony Stark

“Can you hand me that ornament?” you ask your fiancé, Tony, as you’re standing on a step stool to decorate the Christmas tree in the communal living room you share with the Avengers. You might as well have been talking to a ghost because he is much busier ogling you than he is with paying attention to what he’s supposed to do until you snap him out of it.

“Tony, hey! My ornament, please?” You snap your fingers a couple of times in front of his face, a chuckle audible as he shakes his head to return to reality. He had drifted off into a daydream when he saw some skin on your back as your Christmas sweater had lifted, and he immediately thought back to the way his fingers grazed that spot earlier today as he had you bent over on the bed.

“I- uhm, sorry,” he says shyly, reaching for the red and gold ornament you’ve asked him twice for. His cheeks are flushed with a deep red color, making him look adorable as you take the ornament from his hand, your fingers brushing past one another as you do. Your lips curl into a smile as you take a moment to take in the sight before you - a shy Tony whose cheeks have turned redder than ever before, all because he got caught in the middle of a daydream.

“It’s okay, Handsome. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?” A wink follows your words, and Tony nods before quickly turning around and grabbing two more ornaments for you to use. Your two cats, Sun and Moon, are napping in one of the countless cat beds you have strewn all over your penthouse and communal living spaces, and he melts a little at the sight.

“Aren’t they adorable like this?” You come down from your step stool as you stand beside your fiancé. He hums in approval, and you two stand there for a few more moments before you grab one of the ornaments from his hands and return to decorating the tree because there’s still much to do before your Secret Santa tonight.

“Do you want to help me bake the cookies once this is done? I want to make a few different kinds, and I think they-” motioning at your cats “-will be napping for a while longer. She doesn’t need another bottle until dinner either, so I think it might be fun to make some Christmas cookies together.”

“Hmm, there’s nothing else I would love more than to help you, Sugar,” Tony says as he comes to stand behind you, his hand lying on your ass as he does.

“Can you two keep your hands to yourselves? Not everyone wants to see you two touching each other like that every time they walk into a room,” a familiar voice says. You laugh loudly, and Tony doesn’t move his hand as he turns his head.

“Careful, or I’ll tell Laura you’re staring at us while we’re having an intimate moment!” Tony quips back at Clint, who picked up one of his arrows that stayed behind after cleaning them earlier. The archer flips him off with a chuckle before leaving you two to what you were doing. You have gotten rather close with all of the Avengers, and it isn’t uncommon for Clint to call you two out during moments like this, but you don’t mind because you know it comes from a place of love.

After one more squeeze, Tony lets go of you to grab the last ornaments needed to finish decorating. When you’re done, you take a step back to admire your hard work in full. You feel your fiancé’s hands slipping onto your waist and his chest pressing against your back, and a flutter of butterflies goes wild in your stomach at the closeness.

“You did an amazing job as always, Sugar. ‘M so proud of you!” His words are emphasized by a few soft kisses on your head that have you smiling wide. As you’re standing here together, you take a moment to bask in the closeness, and Tony can’t help but do the same as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, your sweetly scented shampoo reminding him of some amazing things you’ve shared.

“I love you, Tony, but we’re on a bit of a tight schedule, so it’s time to bake cookies now!” you let him know, and he chuckles before letting you go, his cheeks still showing the flush from earlier when you turn around. Your hands cup his cheeks before standing on your tiptoes and kissing the tip of his nose, which warms his cheeks under your fingers.

“I love you too, Sugar. Thank you for brightening my days,” he whispers, and you smile at him before letting go and making your way to the kitchen. Tony gently picks up the bed that Sun and Moon are lying on. They don’t seem to be disturbed as he takes them to the kitchen where you’re getting some supplies ready, and the oven is already preheating.

Over the next two and a half hours, you and Tony spend some much-needed quality time in the kitchen - from preparing the different kinds of cookie dough to cutting them out, baking and decorating them, it’s like you two are a well oiled machine with the way you two are going at it.

“Ready for the last batch to go in?” you ask Tony as he’s finishing a few sugar cookies that are being piped to look like snowflakes. Never in a million years would you have guessed that someone like him would be good at decorating cookies, but in hindsight, you’re not surprised at all - he has very skilled hands after all.

“Absolutely! And when they’re in, I think it’s time we take a small break until they’re done!” The enthusiasm with which he says it has you raising your eyebrow in a questioning way, though you also can’t help but melt a little at how excited he is at the thought of taking a break with you.

“It’s not like I could every say no to you and your cute face,” you tell him with a chuckle, which makes a dark red flush appear on his cheeks. While he has the art of complimenting you down to perfection, he still has a long way to go when it comes to receiving compliments, and you can’t help but look at him in awe when he turns into the shy boy you’ve come to know and love, too.

As soon as the cookies are in the oven, Tony guides you to sit on the bit of space on the counter that he cleared. He steps between your legs before pulling you towards the edge.

“Much better,” he murmurs with a small smile before trailing some kisses over your jaw and down your neck, his teeth sometimes nipping at your sensitive spots as you moan only loud enough for the two of you to hear. His fingers dig into your thighs while yours are tugging gently on his chocolate brown locks, the moment making it feel like you’re floating and going to heaven.

“Tony,” you moan softly, his lips curling into a smirk as he nips at your jaw. Your entire body feels like it is on fire from the time he spent leaving his marks. Unfortunately, the moment is rudely interrupted by the dinging of the oven, letting you know that your last batch of gingerbread cookies is ready to be taken out.

As soon as your fiancé steps away, you feel like a piece of you is missing, and the room has turned significantly colder without him being this close to you. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long for his return because as soon as the cookies are on the cooling rac, he’s back in his original spot, his hands now cupping your cheeks.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” Even though it’s a relatively straightforward question, you can’t help but feel like your entire body is catching fire as he asks it. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, every last bit feels like it’s blushing as you try to hide your face in his neck, but to no avail - he won’t let you hide that easily.

“Oh no, there’s no hiding from me, Sugar! Now that you’ve said yes to marrying me, I will tell you even more how much I love you and how beautiful you are. So I suggest you better get used to it while you can.” The smirk on his lips makes you melt in his hold, and you lean forward to kiss his lips gently. It’s followed by a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then Tony steps back, ready to help you off the counter.

As soon as your legs are steady again, Tony kisses your head, making you smile like an idiot, before turning around to get ready to do some more decorating of the cookies. Tonight, you’ll be doing Secret Santa with the Avengers and tasked to ensure there are plenty of snacks for everyone, and baking for them is a love language you’ll happily indulge in.

“If you continue the sugar cookies, I’ll do these gingerbread cookies while Sun’s bottle is warming up, okay? I saw she’s awake again, so I think I’m giving her an early bottle today,” you tell Tony, who wholeheartedly agrees. Soon after, the bottle for your kitten, Sun, is warming while she and Moon are playing with a toy already in their cat bed, making the most adorable of noises as they do.

Once all the cookies are done, you let out a sigh of relief as you look at them, pride flowing through your body as Tony places his hands on your shoulders while standing behind you. Neither of you can stop smiling as you let yourself melt into his touch for a moment, the warmth of his body welcomed more than ever.

“I’ll get our blanket ready if you get her bottle, okay? Then we can maybe watch a movie as we cuddle with our babies,” Tony offers, and you happily agree with his idea. Once you’re on the couch - both your and Tony’s legs are covered by a large blanket, Moon is in Tony’s arms, and Sun is in yours as she drinks from her bottle of milk - you feel a moment of peace come over you as you put your head on your husband-to-be’s shoulder.

“Where do you want to get married?” Tony asks, and for a moment, it’s completely silent. You’ve thought of many places where you could tie the knot, but lately, one place stands out when you think about it.

“Well, I have some thoughts, but you can always say no if you don’t want to do it, okay?” you ask, and he nods in agreement.

“It may sound silly, but ever since I proposed to you, I’ve been secretly doing some wedding planning on the side - nothing major, of course, just figuring out where I want to get married, what type of dress I like, things like that - and there’s one thing that I think will make our wedding day perfect. I’ve been going through many files and found out that your Mom and Dad got married in Italy, and I think it would be a beautiful honor to get married in the same place as them.”

Tony’s mouth is slightly agape as he looks at you with an adoring look, tears forming at his waterline as he lets the news settle in that you’ve thought about getting married in the same place as his parents, even though you never had the chance to meet them. Your thumb wipes away some of the tears trickling down his cheek, and he nods enthusiastically as he doesn’t trust his voice right now.

“Without them getting married there, I never would have had the chance to get to know and fall in love with you, Tony, so I think there’s nothing more fitting than the beginning of our marriage to be in the same place as theirs. It resulted in you, after all,” you tell him with a chuckle. He laughs loudly as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. Moon has shifted from his lap to his chest to comfort him as well.

“It’s okay, Buddy, Daddy’s not sad. Mommy just made him so happy he couldn’t hold back his tears,” Tony says gently as he kisses Moon between his ears, who purrs audibly. Your mouth curls into a smile as you look at them, and Tony looks at you before leaning over and kissing your cheek. You’ve been thinking about it for months, and now that you’ve finally told Tony about your idea, you’re even more excited to say yes to him one day.

“What do you think I should wear to dinner?” you ask Tony, holding up two dress options. One is a stunning black off-shoulder dress highlighting all your curves, and the other is a low-cut red velvet dress with gold accessories. While he gifted you both options not too long ago, you’ve been indecisive about what to wear, and you’re hoping that his choosing for you will make it easier, though there isn’t really a choice. You already know which one he’ll pick between these two.

“Hmm, while I know you will look beautiful in both, I think I’m choosing the burgundy for tonight and the black one for when we go out for dinner on New Year’s Eve,” he offers, and your mouth curls into a smile as this is exactly what you anticipated would happen. If there’s one thing Tony loves, it is you dressing in his colors, and the excited flush on his cheeks makes him even cuter than he already is.

“Thank you,” you whisper before pecking him on the lips and turning around, leaving him breathless as he discovers you were hiding some deep red lingerie behind the dresses you showed him. The sway of your hips immediately has him wanting more of you, and he can’t help but follow, the belt he was putting on now being discarded on his way into the large walk-in closet.

Before you’ve had a chance to properly hang up the black dress and lie the red one down, you feel your fiancé’s hands gently digging into your hips, his lips already on the sensitive spot in your neck as he groans softly, his pants growing tighter by the second.

“You’re such a little tease tonight, huh? First, showing me the red dress, knowing full well that’s the one I’d pick, and then revealing you’re only wearing some of your sluttiest lingerie for me? You’ve been serving yourself on a pretty platter for me to enjoy, right?”

His words come out in a breathy voice, his rapidly hardening length already poking against your lower back as your head falls to the side, giving him all the access he wants while your chest rises and falls quicker as your heart rate and breathing are faster than before.

“Tony, we- we shouldn’t do this right now,” you say with a giggle, as he’s already moving to unbutton his pants with one hand, his other hand kneading your breast as he looks over your shoulder at what he’s doing. He hums as an answer, knowing you want this just as much as he does right now. As your eyes slip shut, you can hear the distinct sound of the zipper being pulled down, which elicits a soft moan from you.

“Is that so? Well, I think that if I were to slip my fingers in your lacey little panties, your sweet pussy would tell me something different,” he says, and without missing a beat, he does exactly that. Your legs spread a little to make room for the thickness of his digits sliding through your soaked folds, an excited hum audible as he takes his time to play with your sensitive clit.

“Please!” The word comes out in a soft whine, your head falling against his shoulder as Tony’s cock throbs in excitement, his hand wrapped around it as he gently strokes himself. Without warning, he bends you over the large dresser that’s in the middle of the closet, your ass being beautifully exposed as he does. With the hand that’s now free, he lands two loud slaps on your ass, that have you moaning loudly.

“That’s it, moan for me like a good slut,” he encourages you before pulling your panties to the side and sliding his tip into your tight pussy, still well aware of the fact that even though you two don’t have much time, he doesn’t want to hurt you by giving you more than you can take, either. With clenched teeth, he takes the time to stretch you, your mind slowly going blank as you grab onto the dresser’s edge as he does.

“Such a perfect girl, letting Daddy fuck her whenever his dick gets hard from you walking around like this.”

A brutal pace follows the words as he bends himself over your back, his hand being placed on your throat without squeezing, giving him enough leverage to fuck you senseless. Your moans turn louder and louder with every thrust, his thickness sliding in and out effortlessly as your pussy gushes around him constantly. As your orgasm quickly builds, you grab Tony’s hair to pull on it, which is followed by him biting down on your shoulder while the pleasure builds rapidly.

“D-Daddy, fuck- I’m c-close!” you tell him, your words barely audible as the pleasure is taking over every fiber of your being, your blood feeling like lava inside your veins as the pleasure takes you under until you’re clenching down on your fiancé’s cock, which is followed by his orgasm as he cums deep inside you with a loud groan of your name.

“Take it, fucking take my cum- You’ll get so fucking pregnant tonight, I’m sure of it,” he groans as he’s panting above you, a small layer of sweat on your skin as you’re coming down from your high. For a moment, you cannot say a single thing as you’re shaking and trembling in your future husband’s hold, his cock still nestled deep inside you despite him having gone soft and being overly sensitive.

“I love you, my sweet, beautiful, and amazing Sugar,” he whispers as he kisses the sensitive bite mark he left on your shoulder - it’s not enough to have drawn blood. Still, it definitely will bruise, and you’ll wear his mark with pride as you’re having dinner with the Avengers and all the others soon. With a dopey smile on your face, you get back up before putting your panties back in place, ensuring Tony’s cum will stay nestled inside you for as long as possible.

“Will you help zip me up, Handsome?” you ask Tony not long after you’ve slipped into the dress, though it took you quite some time to finally regain your composure without trembling on your legs like a baby deer. He’d done a real number on you and your body when he took you like he couldn’t wait any longer, but you wouldn’t change it for the world, especially after seeing his fucked out face when he tried to get himself looking decent again.

“Hmm, I’d rather help you get it off, not on,” his words followed by a chuckle as you roll your eyes at his comment, but he still does what you asked. As you take a moment to smooth out the fabric of your dress while looking at yourself in the mirror, he stands behind you, one of his hands sliding from your hip to your belly as he crosses your gaze.

“You’ll be the most beautiful woman ever when you carry my baby.” The words come out as more of a whisper, but they still set your cheeks on fire as you cover his large hand with your significantly smaller one. There’s a comfortable silence between you two as you bask in the closeness and the thought that Tony has thought about the way you look while pregnant. You two have discussed babies before but haven’t ever gotten too deep into it, so while it isn’t a huge surprise, it still makes your heart beat faster from excitement.

After a few more moments together, it’s finally time for you and Tony to go to the communal kitchen, where the dining table has already been set, and the private chefs Tony hired to prepare a delicious Christmas dinner have been working hard to make your evening unforgettable. However, before you two can head there, he has a small surprise for you.

“It might be a bit silly, but I hung up a surprise for us in the living room,” Tony tells you, his cheeks slightly red as he confesses to his actions. While you have a feeling you know what he did, you still go and check it out to be sure - and your hunch was correct. In your favorite spot - in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan - is a mistletoe, which makes you smile broadly. While it might be a simple gesture to most people, it’s a massive one to you as you stand underneath it, your hand outstretched for him to join.

“It appears a mistletoe has suddenly appeared, so it’s only fitting we honor the tradition that comes with it,” you say. Tony smiles brightly as he steps in front of you, his fingers intertwining with yours before he ducks his head slightly, kissing your lips softly, making the world around you feel like it’s fading. There’s nothing other than you and Tony, your lips on his, and your souls connecting right now.

You two are only pulled from your moment when you feel a familiar feeling against your leg as your cat Moon pushes his body against it, wanting some attention, too. He follows it with a few soft meows, and you can’t help but smile as you pull away from your fiancé’s lips. Your black cat, Moon, is known for interrupting moments like this when he feels like getting attention, and he’s too spoiled not to do it, seeing how you give in every time.

“I believe someone else might want some attention, too, don’t you, Moon?” You ask as you let your hand glide over his back, a soft purr audible as you do. Tony takes a step back to admire how you interact because even though he prefers to be with Tony most of the time, he also loves getting attention from you, and you’re more than happy to give it to him every time he asks for it. Your mind flashes back to when you first rescued him when he was a little kitten, and he has come from far to be where he is now - a spoiled, well-loved cat with all his heart desires and more.

“Shall we take you and your little sister to dinner with us? Maybe Bucky will bring Miss Alpine too, and all three of you can have some fun, too,” you ask, and Moon immediately meows in response. He always brings a smile to your face, making you fall in love with him more every day as you look at him and the cat he has become since you rescued him a few years ago.

“Let’s head to the kitchen, Sugar. I’m starting to get hungry after you’ve worn me out the way you did,” your fiancé says with a small smile, though you both know it was him who wore you out when he fucked you the way he did not too long ago. Still, you happily agree before taking his hand and leading him to the elevator, Moon following closely behind.

While you open the elevator doors, Tony picks up a cat bed from the couch, where Sun is napping. Moon is patiently waiting for his Dad to join you both. Your face splits into an excited smile as soon as he comes into sight, and as usual, your happiness cannot be contained as you look at how handsome he looks in his black suit. He often wears suits for work, but something about him wearing all black has you squeezing your thighs in excitement.

He pecks your lips softly as the elevator doors close, and soon, you find yourself getting the last things ready in the dining room, which is already lavishly decorated with every last bit of Christmas decoration known to man. Just as you’re about to light the last few candles on the table, you’re suddenly stopped by your best friend and Avenger, Natasha, as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“I know you two have a thing for marking one another, but this…” Natasha says with a small smirk. “...I approve,” she follows with a wink, making your cheeks set on fire as she examined the bite mark Tony left earlier. It’s less red than before, but the bruising is already starting to happen, making it more evident than you thought. You still wear it with pride, showing your commitment to the man you love. It also gives you a mental note to mark him up like this at some point so he can walk around wearing your marks, too.

Once everything is ready, everyone slowly shows up. Steve and Bucky come in wearing simple black-and-white suits, their fingers intertwined, while Bucky carries Alpine in his free arm. Clint and Laura walk in looking beautiful in their matching purple dress and suit. Thor and Loki are dressed in the finest Asgardian clothing, making them look out of this world, and Bruce and Natasha have gone for classic black.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Tony asks as he stands up, the conversations between everyone slowly dying down before there’s nothing but silence - apart from the soft purring audible from the three cats that are having the time of their life during this Christmas dinner with all the attention they’re getting.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight because it wouldn’t have been as fun if some of you were missing. If there is one thing that the past year has taught me, it’s nothing more important than being with the people you love, and I’m happy to see you all. Everyone here tonight has a special place in my heart, and I’m happy to say you’re all part of my big, found family. None of us would be here tonight without one another,” he says with a slight smile, and everyone agrees.

“One thing I don’t say nearly enough times is that even though some of us may have had our differences before, I love you all deeply. And I love the furry babies - Sun, Moon, and Alpine, too. They brighten everyone’s days in ways they’re probably unaware of, but they are playing a big role in our lives, and I can’t get enough of their silly moments.”

“But there’s one person who I want to mention especially. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to believe I was worthy of being loved, and I wouldn’t have been able to love myself. Sugar, I cannot thank you enough for showing me every day what it is like to be loved and being with me throughout everything we’ve been through. It’s surely not been easy, but without you, I wouldn’t have gotten through it at all, and I’m thankful that you’re the love of my life. You have made me believe in love again, and I cannot wait to marry you in a few months. I love you,” he finishes his little speech, which has brought tears to your eyes as you smile up at your future husband.

“I love you too, Tony,” you whisper before getting up and kissing him, sealing his words with a promise of loving him for the rest of your lives together. He may be quite a few years older than you, but you’re still looking forward to spending your best years with him as you grow your family. And you know he’ll look very handsome as a silver fox. Applause slowly erupts around the table when you two pull each other into a tight embrace, and there is not a single dry eye in the room when you’re sitting down again, ready to finish dinner before getting ready for Secret Santa.

Once everyone is done having dinner, it’s finally time for the main event of the evening: a gift exchange in the form of Secret Santa. Everyone is spread out on different colored loveseats brought in from any place anyone could think of, ample chairs, and the floor around the fireplace, which burns in the communal living room area. There’s a comfortable atmosphere as everyone sips on a drink and converses until Tony grabs everyone’s attention again, wanting to get started.

“So, it’s only right that the first person to give their gift away will be this beautiful woman next to me, as she has graciously put this evening together for everyone. Will you do the honors, Sugar?” Tony asks softly. You nod before pecking him on the lips and getting up. The present is wrapped in a cylindrical package and topped with a large purple bow.

“Merry Christmas, Clint,” you say as you hand him the present, but you can’t get too far as he pulls you in for a hug while murmuring his thanks to you. With a large smile, you walk back to the loveseat you and Tony share before getting comfortable with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Once seated, he kisses your cheek before looking at Clint, who’s quickly unwrapping his present.

“Oh my god-” is all he can bring out before he’s out of his seat and running over to you, pulling you in a hug while you’re still half in Tony’s hold. He uttered about a hundred thank yous as you two hugged. You have thought of the perfect gift, so make a mental note to thank Shuri when you speak to her again. When he finally lets you go, he cannot stop smiling as he looks at the Vibranium arrows he received from you, which were specially made by Shuri. He’s wanted some for a long time, and these will be perfect for taking on missions with him.

“Okay, now it’s my turn! Here you go,” he says to Bucky, who’s sitting one seat over. After a small thank you, he takes the tissue paper out of the bag he’s been given and pulls out two presents that make him laugh and nod in approval. He receives a mug with the text ‘Queer cat parent,’ as well as a shirt that reads ‘Be gay, do crime.’ It’s like they were made just for him.

After gently putting the presents to the side, he grabs a small package wrapped in black and gold paper and hands it to his oldest friend—other than Steve, of course—Natasha. She takes her time opening it, and when she finally does, she gasps loudly as she examines the set of custom Vibranium knives that Bucky has gifted her. The blades are of different lengths and all black, while the handles are deep red, resembling blood.

“I- wow. Thank you, Bucky,” she says as her cheeks turn dark red. While she would have been happy with any other type of knife, too, something about these has her appreciating him even more than she already did. They match her black widow aesthetic beautifully, and she’s either looking at them or doing tricks with them the rest of the night, showing off her expert knife skills.

“Before I give my gift away, I need to thank someone very special. Tony, thank you for helping me out with this present because, without you, I still would have been deciding what to give. You’re the best friend anyone could wish for, and Detka, you’re a pretty lucky lady with a man like yours,” she tells you, and then grabs her significantly sized gift from the pile in the middle of the circle you’re all sitting in.

“Merry Christmas!” Natasha practically drops the gift in Bruce’s lap because it is so heavy, a loud huff audible as it lands on his thighs. His glasses slide down his nose, and he quickly slides them back up before tearing the wrapping paper off to find a collection of science books he’s been dreaming of for years.

“I know you don’t like to spend money on yourself, so Tony figured it would be the perfect present-” is all she can say before her words are cut off with a kiss - it might not be the first one they’ve ever shared, but it is the first one they’re sharing in front of everyone. Other than you - Natasha told you as soon as they became official - no one knew that they’ve been secretly dating for a few months now, and tonight is the night they’re finally coming out with their secret, even if it wasn’t planned this way.

As you look at them with a smirk, Tony pulls you closer to him before whispering, “You knew about this, didn’t you?” With the same smirk on your face, you turn to him as you nod proudly, as you want nothing more than to see your best friend happy and in love. Then, when all the excitement in the room died down, it was Bruce’s turn to gift his present, and he got a beautiful pair of diamond earrings for Laura after Clint recommended that he get some.

“They’re lovely, Bruce. Thank you so much,” she says shyly, a blush on her cheeks as she takes in their beauty, almost forgetting that it’s now her turn to give someone their present. It turns out that now it is Tony’s turn, and he would never in a million years have been able to prepare for the gift he has gotten. Inside the bag is a set of edible underwear for you and him to enjoy as an engagement present, as well as two Santa hats - one for him and one for Moon - and a brooch with a matching tie pin in the form of a Sun, so you two can always carry your little girl close to your heart.

It doesn’t take long for Tony to put on the Santa hat and the one meant for Moon, even if he isn’t the biggest fan. Eventually, he warms up to the idea. Happily, he returns to his cuddle pile with Alpine and Sun while wearing it, which means everyone takes countless photos of the inseparable trio.

“Now that you’re wearing the Santa hat, does that mean I get to sit on your lap tonight and tell you what I want for Christmas?” you ask as you gently rake your nails over his chest, making goosebumps appear all over his body. He quickly nods in approval, not trusting the words that’ll come out of his mouth if he opens it. Then, as most drinks are now empty, you and Tony offer to fill up some drinks, and he quickly pulls you out of the room to get away for a moment.

“Tony?” you say as you’re in the kitchen, waiting for him to grab a few cartons of egg nog. He pokes his head around the fridge to look at you, his Santa hat swinging as he does. You smile as you look at his adorable expression.

“I know I asked you if I could tell you what I want for Christmas, but I already have everything and more right in front of me. I have an amazing future husband who takes care of every need and two amazing cats that are the light of my life,” you say, and Tony blushes deeply as you tell him. He’s still getting used to you saying things like this, even after being together for as long as you two have now.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” he asks before closing the fridge door and walking over to where you’re standing. He leans in to kiss you softly, taking your breath away as he does. It’s a sweet, loving kiss that has your heart beating faster and the butterflies in your mind go wild. While you’re unsure if it’s possible, you love him even more than you did before, and his sweet words will melt your heart every time.

When he pulls away, you’re both standing there with wide grins on your faces, wanting the moment to last just a little longer as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“I love you so much, Tony. Thank you for choosing me every single day.”

“Thank you for being with me through my good and bad days. I love you more than I can ever describe.” His words make tears gather in your eyes as he pulls you in for a hug, sealing his words until it’s finally time to head back.

Before heading back to the gift exchange, you grab a few cartons of egg nog to ensure there is enough for everyone, and it is divided rapidly among everyone, allowing you to sit on the couch again. Tony pulls you to his side, where your fiancé feels safest. He knows he can always find safety at your side, and the ease with which he sinks into your body shows it.

“So, uhm- My turn?” Tony asks as he rakes his fingers through his dark brown locks, and everyone hums in agreement. He gets up with a small gift, but you know exactly what’s inside as you smile broadly. Thor is the recipient this time, and as he rips open the package, he finds a silver necklace with a thunder pendant on it and a voucher for a lifetime supply of his favorite pop-tarts.

“You two are the best, thank you!” he says, his Australian accent thickening as the night progresses. When he gets tired, it always gets more noticeable, and it never fails to make you smile. It’s Thor’s turn to give the gift he has gotten, and it is Steve’s turn to open it. Inside is an extensive palette of the most beautiful paints you have ever seen, and Steve can’t stop smiling as he examines every color with a careful eye.

“Thank you, Thor. These are amazing! I can’t wait to get some use out of them as I finish the portrait of Bucky I’ve been working on!” Steve says proudly, though his partner is less impressed as he turns bright red, knowing that Steve is working on a nude portrait of Bucky. Still, he smiles as he looks at the colors, too, and they’re some of the brightest, most beautiful colors he has ever seen.

“At this point, only two people are left to receive a gift, and I’m sorry to say you’ll have to wait a little longer, Y/N!” Steve says as he hands Loki a square package, which he graciously accepts. You smile in appreciation at Steve’s words, though you don’t mind being last because you enjoy everyone else opening their presents just as much as you love opening them yourself.

As Loki gently opens the package, he finds a large, handmade cloak with an emerald green lining, a black outside, and a beautiful pattern of swirls in thin gold thread. The clasp that keeps it closed is gold, which matches his other garments beautifully. He immediately tries it on, getting many nods and words of approval as the gold detailing shimmers in the light coming from the fireplace and Christmas tree lights.

“Now, I hope that I will have saved the best for last,” Loki says as he gifts you a square gift wrapped with emerald green paper, letting you know exactly who it came from.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he says as you take it from him, the anticipation nearly becoming too much as you’re excited to see what is inside. Once you open it, you immediately gasp at the sight. Inside is a customized stethoscope that has your initials on it, but instead of the initial of your maiden name, it’s an ‘S’ for Stark because you’ll soon be Mrs. Stark, of course.

“I am speechless,” you say as you pick it up to examine it closer, the silver shining back at you as you fight the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t often happen that someone gives you such a thoughtful gift, but it warms your heart to know Loki had it made for you to use in the long run, as it’ll proudly show the initial of Tony’s last name.

“Thank you, Loki. It means a lot that you got me this,” you say as you get up to hug him, too, wanting to give him an extra special thank you. He then whispers another Merry Christmas before letting you go and sitting back down, the stethoscope proudly hanging around your neck. Once everyone has opened their gifts, it’s time to thoroughly check them out until it’s time for everyone to call it a night and head to bed.

As soon as you’re back in your penthouse with Sun and Moon - vast asleep in their cat tower - Tony pulls you to the bedroom to get some much-needed cuddles. The past few days have been nothing but stress and running around to get everything ready on time, but now that you have had a successful Christmas dinner and Secret Santa, you can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“I think I’m going to sleep the entire day tomorrow because I’m not getting up for anything or anyone after the days I’ve had,” you say with a chuckle as you take off the dress you’re wearing. Once you’re left in your lingerie, Tony unhooks the bra before you let it fall to the floor and walk over to the dresser, where you have your comfortable cotton panties, together with Tony’s shirts, waiting for you.

“Hmm, as long as you’ll be awake long enough for me to gift you one last present tomorrow, then we’re all good,” he says with a chuckle before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom, ready to do his nighttime routine. You follow shortly after, wearing nothing more than the panties and Tony’s shirt you picked out, ready to brush your teeth and call it a night.

“I think I’ll be able to manage that. But I don’t want to be awake before 10 AM, okay? A girl deserves to sleep in now and again.” He looks at you through your mirror, and you smile as he raises a brow in response. Still, he wouldn’t dare go against your wishes because he is always willing to give you everything you’ve ever asked for, and if sleeping in until 10 AM is what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.

Once you’re finally in bed and tucked away under the soft sheets, you quickly fall asleep with your future husband against your back, his large hand splayed over your belly and his face buried in your neck. The following day, Tony is up bright and early again, but he won’t wake you up before 10 AM, just like you asked, instead going to the kitchen to do some meal prep for you and the two long shifts you have ahead of you before New Year’s Eve, as well as making breakfast.

Then, at precisely the time you mentioned, Tony wakes you up as the smell of pancakes and coffee fills the air, and the sheets feel tighter by your feet, which means Sun and Moon have joined the two of you.

“Good morning, Sugar. It’s 10 AM, and I have one more surprise for you,” he says. You smile before nodding and getting comfortable in bed, your back against the headboard as a pillow supports your lower back. Soon, Tony is back on his side of the bed, with a present in his hand wrapped in gold and red wrapping paper, just like the colors of his Iron Man suit. After a whispered thank you, you quickly unwrap it to find a golden necklace with three charms. There’s a red ‘T,’ a small black Moon to represent your oldest cat, and an orange Sun to represent your kitten.

“Sadly, we can’t be together all the time due to me being gone for long missions sometimes, and you are working long shifts as the best surgeon SHIELD has ever known, but this way, you can carry us wherever you go, Sugar.”

“Tony… I love it. Thank you so much,” you say as your fingers glide over the beautiful charms, complementing each other perfectly. He has thought this gift through to the last little detail, and it’s the best present he has given you - apart from your engagement ring, of course. You lean in for a few kisses, his facial hair tickling your skin as he does, but you can’t stop smiling while holding the present.

“Would you like for me to put it on you?” You immediately nod, and it doesn’t take long for him to have the clasp closed, making it official. You’ll always be able to carry your husband-to-be and your cats with you, no matter where you’re going. While your Christmas was fantastic, it has become the perfect holiday. Now, you can finally look forward to being spoiled by your fiancé on New Year’s Eve, as it promises to be one never to forget.

[valdeswan]

Cale is so touch starved that when someone gives him a hug, he legitimately doesn't know what he needs to do with his hands. So he just stands there, awkwardly waiting until the person lets him go.

It's painful to watch how he gets stiff as a board when someone touches him by surprise. It's obvious to everyone how he prepared himself for the pain that never comes. The fact that he looks confused is even worse.

So now, after a family meeting, they decided that they would start with little gestures like pats on the shoulder and high fives. And then maybe fast hugs from the kids.

[aria0fgold]

FINALLY DONE WITH THE ISAT OC! SOLEIL!!!

The creature... So first things first is some info about them pre- disappearance of The Country. They're a loyal follower and avid worshipper of The Country. They love the Universe sooo much that they made a wish to be able to read the stars, and the Universe answered. I like to think that the stars are talkative, some can predict what will happen in the near future, some are just "chatting" to each other about the stuff happening in the world they overlook. It's a somewhat useful ability that Soleil used to use to be able to either predict someone's future (rarely though, the stars hold many different futures and it's hard to figure out which is whose) or use it during funeral rites to have a more reassuring experience to the ones mourning that their loved one arrived safely among the stars.

And then they found out about The Cursing of Chateau Castle-- they kiiiinda got Really obsessed with the book series that they wanted to know more about it but there wasn't any more copies of it in the Country's language so what better way to deal with that but teaching itself how to understand the Vaugardian language, and by doing that they got to learn more about the Vaugardian culture and was really amazed by it (considering that they spent most of their life with the Country's culture instead, learning about a different culture is a great feeling). One thing led to the other and it also led Soleil to travelling to Vaugarde (something that their family wasn't all that happy with but they stay silly).

And so we're back at the present time! Now to talk about some details on its appearance.

Its Craft type is Scissors! The eye on the center of its chest and the eye by its nape are in fact EYES and not just accessories (although they did try to make the eye on its chest appear to be like a mix between a star shape and the Change Symbol).

After spending some time in Vaugarde, they learned about Body Craft in which case they decided to experiment with it in regards to its eyes.

Since being in Vaugarde, there wasn't much use to its star sight and there also isn't a way to "turn it off." So instead, they decided to separate its Normal sight from the Star sight by adding another pair of eyes on its body.

The eyes on its face are blind. They can't see through it anymore but they Can still see the stars (they can't read it anymore however cuz of the Country's disappearance).

If they focus on the stars using those eyes, they'd get a REALLY bad headache and a star sign appears on its eyes. Nothing to be afraid of probably, its head just Really hurts.

The glass covering the eye on its nape is a one way mirror. You won't be able to see the eye but the eye can still see you.

With its vision split, it actually took them awhile to get used to that. It takes a lot of concentration and focus to see both from behind and from the front. When Soleil gets tired from doing that, they either close the eye on its nape (if the place is safe enough) or unfocus it enough to the point that most of its vision becomes blurry with only being able to see blobs of shapes and shadows which helps them be alert enough in case something comes running at them from behind.

All the round objects you see on its body are Bombs. They found out about Bomb Craft in Jouvente and was so fascinated by it that their inventor brain (inventing, crafting, and repairing stuff is a special interest of theirs). They now like making bombs and inventing new ones (only they have the recipe of those).

The bombs they invented only detonates via a Craft spell, it's basically as safe as an ordinary ball to handle unless detonated. Also the scissors at the top of their head has a cover on its tip. It's Very Sharp. They mainly use that (either the tip or the scissor blades itself) to cut the bombs dangling on its body.

Despite the multitude of bombs they carry, they aren't actually much of a fighter (they just like bombs). Most of its Craft spells are basic/beginner level. The one and only Powerful Craft spell they have is a shield/defense spell that they practiced several times. It's capable of negating all damage for 2 turns with a 5 turn cooldown, they wanted to master that spell to make it so that bombs won't hurt them no matter the close proximity.

Its hand signs are "broken." They used to mimic the hand signs that the Universe (I'm mainly referring to my design of the Universe) makes. But after forgetting about everything in regards to it, they can't remember what hand signs they used to make but the familiar feeling was still there.

A huge fan of The Cursing of Chateau Castle, to the point of practically making it part of its identity now that a HUGE chunk of its memory is missing. Its outfit is a modified version of what they think Lady Irene-Janine-Karine wears.

Its personality is a mixture of Lord Josephandre, Pierre-Jacques-Erneste, and Lady Irene-Janine-Karine (aka the Chateau Trio!!! Love those three...).

Its name, "Soleil" is just something they found in a book and decided to use for itself. They don't remember its name anymore.

[fictionadventurer]

All the tour groups in Springfield should be very proud of me for how well I refrained from sharing all my fascinating Lincoln facts.

[pierog]

i joined a lesbian library today it was so cute 😭😭😭 lots of lezzies my age but also realised it was my first time ever speaking to old lady dykes. soooo cute. and got to converse heaps on my queer history hyperfixation over coffee and biscuits yayay

[blueboyluca]

This was a fun read, an enjoyable journey through the alphabet of famous dogs.

[etherealspacejelly]

I'm autistic and I currently feel like shit checklist

Hi there. Are you autistic? Do you currently feel like shit and don't know why? Try this checklist to see if you can Fix The Problem!

When was the last time you used the bathroom? If you answered "I don't know" or "at least 3 hours ago", go now!

Do you need a drink? Go get one if you don't have one in front of you.

When was the last time you ate? If you haven't eaten yet today, consider eating A Meal, or perhaps A Snack. Something is better than nothing, eat whatever you feel able to!

Is there something in your immediate surroundings that is bothering you? If the light is too bright, turn it off. If there is an annoying sound, make the sound stop or reduce your ability to hear it (earplugs, headphones, etc.). If your clothes are bothering you, change them.

Is your space messy? Pick one area of your room and clean it up as best you can. Clean your whole room if you have the energy!

When was the last time you did An Activity? Scrolling on social media doesn't count. Try actively doing something fun! Play a game you like, read a book, make something, or go for a walk.

When was the last time you Spoke to a Person? Consider talking to a person you like if it has been a while.

How long has it been since you did something Special Interest related? Make some time to do that today. Infodump to a friend, have a nice long research session, look at related images or gifs, make art about it, whatever works best for you!

Try stimming actively! Put on some music and dance, spin in circles, go to the park and use the swings!

If you still feel like shit after trying all of these things, you might be tired or sick. Go to bed early and get some rest. Hopefully you will feel better tomorrow!

Hope that helps :)

[guinevereslancelot]

is there any worse feeling than when you feel like someone is mad at you bc they literally are mad at you

[tojbnuy]

mini part 4 for gojo day 🧁 next part will probably be the finale. thank you for showing best friend toru so much love even tho he is fairly toxic. art by @ _3aem on twt!! part one part two part three

warnings: a very vague birthday bj, some feelings? MDNI

birthdayboybestfriend!satoru who waits with his phone in his hand ignoring all his other messages and skipping to your contact because he knows you’ll say it at bang on midnight. he is then smiling so hard at his phone suguru actually gets worried.

bestfriend!satoru who obviously has party of the century going on at his place. being the star boy he is, he is soaking up the attention. however he has been dyingggg for your arrival, he makes sure to tell every girl that approaches him that he is booked and busy for today.

bestfriend!satoru who tackles you into a massive hug when he sees you and picks you up just to make sure everyone else sees this. you’re wearing white (his favourite) and he knows for a fact you did that on purpose.

bestfriend!satoru who disregards everyone else’s presents for the time being so he can give you and your presents his full attention. unfortunately he is nosy and had scrolled through your google tab last week so he already knew what two of them were going to be.

bestfriend!satoru who (staying true to character) asks you for a birthday kiss. ‘can i have my last present now baby?’ and then he’s pressed up against you and his familiar taste is all you can take in. ‘toru people can see us’ ‘let them see baby’

bestfriend!satoru who wraps your ponytail around his fist whilst you’re talking. sometimes even pulling you back a bit so he can take a long inhale at your neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is actually very annoyed that he got a hot tub because now there were multiple gawking at you. suguru even wolf whistles at you at one point just to rile him up and he got a mouthful of tub water because of it.

bestfriend!satoru who catches you whispering to suguru and finds he definitely does not like the look of that. you had a worried expression which he made a mental note of to ask suguru about later.

bestfriend!satoru who casually gropes at your chest. (you allow him of course) (however you put an end to it when his fingers start to creep into the material of the lace covering your breasts.) (there were simply too many people present but satoru was content with just holding your tit) (stressball >__<)

bestfriend!satoru who makes his closest friends go round the tub and say what they like about him most. suguru is the only one who gives him a slightly heartfelt message, sukuna calls him ugly, toji calls him an airhead, nanami says he is ‘special’ (whatever that means?), shoko says he makes her want to smoke. and then it’s your turn and gojo actually tears up at your beautiful words. your voice and your eyes staring only ever at him saying that he is your person and you really do think he the strongest individual you know. (then he grabs your face and kisses you and the crowd boos until he stops)

bestfriend!satoru who is dead set on you staying with him for the night. ‘you’re not gonna cuddle your best friend on his birthday?’ and how could you everrrr say no to that.

bestfriend!satoru who has his head on your chest, you hands running through his hair and scratching at your scalp. his thighs are covering yours and he lazily kisses at your collarbone. the tension in the room is thick. you can both feel it. it was simply a game of who would move first. satoru knew you wouldn’t, always the more timid and shy one of the two so he took it upon himself to drag his fingers across the waistband of your shorts. ‘wait toru we can’t i’m, i’m your friend?’ god you were too sweet for this earth. ‘it’s okay baby. we don’t have to, but no one’s gonna know. just us.’ and he litters even more feather light kisses to the spot right below your ear until you were letting out soft little sighs. ‘then. then i want to do it, yk since it’s your birthday.’ he knew you weren’t the most conventional best friends but this, this was further than anything you’d ever done before. and he was on cloud nine.

bestfriend!satoru who was now realizing that he had never experienced true joy before this moment. before he had felt your velvet soft lips wrapped around his tip. your tongue licking at his crown so softly, so sweetly. he’s always been a moaner but now he had no shame in the sounds that were leaving him. ‘that’s it baby, just like that. that’s my girl’.

bestfriend!satoru who was a head pusher. he let you set the pace in the beginning but he was growing desperate, something he hadn’t experienced before. your little mewls as he holds you in place right at the base of his dick. your nose nestled against the faint hairs there, and your tears dropping directly into his skin. he had given you the chance to move but being the amazing best friend that you were you swallowed everything he gave you, even opened wide and let him take a look, that to make sure. ‘fuck baby that was the best gift ever’

bestfriend!satoru who snores like a truck directly into your ears and grinds his hips into your thighs whilst he sleeps.

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @sukuxna0 @suechii @whozeurdaddy @purp1eha1o @greensunflowerjuna @jjkysnk @tibibibi123 @missthatgirl @macchiatoast @adanfore @namjooningera @jaeminsmilk @tojicvmslut @hachichann

[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. 

[fearandhungies]

sorry im rambling nonstop tonight but i am excited to actually be able to figure collect because im doing it in a very reasonable way (theres many figures i Want but have no desire to like... buy and display, so its not like impulsivity is grabbing me constantly just cuz i like a figure which is like, yaaaay go me healthy relationship to my collecting of things, thats genuinely new) because theres a very specific Look in my mind i want for my shelf and many figures i like and want dont fit the vibe. not sure What the vibe is but its shaping up to be insane.