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yoongiseesawmp3 · 1 year

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all things end - mingyu

summary: you grew up with mingyu. he was your first kiss. your first boyfriend. the first man you ever loved. some things just aren’t meant to last, but during some time apart you struggle to forget mingyu, and he does his best to get you back. because who could ever love you as much as he does?

word count: 12.7k

warnings: afab reader, some gendered terms. ex!mingyu / childhood friends to lovers so plenty of fluff and angst, uhhhh scheming cheol too

masterlist

“what?” cheol groans, answering the phone despite being in the middle of a workout.

“can i come over?” you ask meekly on the other end, and his heart twists.

“bad day?”

“yeah.”

“sure, i’ll be there in 20. come by whenever.”

“thank you,” you sniff, and he hangs up, finishing his last few reps before rushing to get back to his apartment. this is your third bad day this week. your breakup is, understandably, hitting you hard. cheol can’t help but wonder, if you’re so torn up about this, why did you leave mingyu at all? maybe one day he’ll finally ask, but for now he just heads home and shoots you a text asking what kind of ice cream you’ll need tonight.

“so i was walking my dog,” you say, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth before you continue, “and you know how gyu always liked taking him by that lake at sunset?”

“sure,” cheol nods. “was it sunset when you walked by and it made you think of mingyu?”

“well. yeah.”

“and that’s what prompted today’s spiral?” he asks, grabbing the ice cream from your cold hands so he can hack at it with his spoon.

“i am not spiraling,” you say, trying to swoop your spoon in but getting knocked away by your best friend. “rude.”

“you spiral every time something reminds you of mingyu,” he says, “or when someone mentions him, or, the most idiotic part, when you see him because someone thought you should stay friends despite the messy breakup.”

“i hate when you try to be the voice of reason,” you complain.

“i’m not trying, i am.”

“it’s annoying.”

“stop having problems then,” he says with a mouthful of ice cream. you get up and toss the blanket in your lap back onto the couch, and cheol whines, “where are you going?”

“you’re obviously no help so i’ll just go back home and cry myself to sleep or something.”

“no fair! don’t make me feel bad for you! you put yourself in this situation! i don’t even know why you and mingyu broke up in the first place!”

“i’ve told you a million times,” you whine, sitting back down and tossing your head into the armrest of the couch. “we just weren’t meant for each other anymore.”

“god, why does your answer get more vague every time?” cheol teases, kicking you lightly with his foot. “am i ever gonna get the real reason? did you have a big fight? he doesn’t want kids? you called his mom a hoe?”

“we didn’t fight, i didn’t call mrs. kim anything mean, and we definitely didn’t fight about kids,” you reply, and cheol smiles like the cheshire cat.

“lemme guess. you’ve both already agreed on baby names?”

“shut up.”

“is one of them at least seungcheol? cheol junior? come on, i deserve it,” he pleads, finally getting a laugh out of you.

“if by some act of god mingyu and i get back together and decide to have kids we will consider naming a potential child after you,” you say just to appease him, your heart twisting because you know you and mingyu won’t be together again for that to even be a possibility.

“i’m holding you to that,” he says smugly, and you roll your eyes, leaving it at that. you’re both quiet for a while, passing the ice cream back and forth. you like that cheol doesn’t take you too seriously when you’re like this, because you need the break from your own thoughts. but it’s nice like this too, just being around each other. you decide to break the silence when you notice what time it is, getting up for real. “where are you going now?”

“home,” you sigh. “i have to get up early tomorrow to take fred to the vet, so i should go to sleep.”

“ok,” cheol nods. “text me what flavor you want tomorrow night and i’ll pick it up on the way home from work.”

“i’ll try my best not to need this tomorrow, but thank you,” you say. “i appreciate it more than you know.”

“anytime y/n,” cheol smiles. “let me know when you get home!”

“will do. night cheol.”

you’re up bright and early the next morning to take fred in for his appointment before you have to go to work. it’s allergy season, and no one warned you that your sweet little man could have allergies worse than any human you’ve ever met. fred has a rash on his back that he keeps trying to lick, bite, and scratch, so your vet gave him some medicine and a cone of shame to keep him from bothering the area for a while. you’re laughing to yourself as you take him home, eager to put the cone on him, just to see what it looks like. once you have it on, you laugh again and snap a picture because, yes, he looks silly. you post it to your story and forget about it as you go about the rest of your day.

a little after lunch, mingyu is taking a break from staring at his computer and goes to check his phone. after refreshing instagram, his heart leaps when he sees your icon at the top of his page, alerting him to what you’ve posted. yeah, yeah, he shouldn’t still follow you technically, but he can’t help himself. he only lets his conscious stop him for a couple seconds before he’s tapping your icon and viewing your story, which is fred in his cone of shame. mingyu, who loved you so much but quite possibly loved fred more, freaks out. something must be wrong, and before he thinks better of it he texts you to ask what’s wrong.

you’re in a meeting when you get the text. you’re bored out of your mind, otherwise you would’ve just let it be. but your mind keeps wandering and now that you’ve heard the buzz of a message come through you can’t help yourself. you lift your phone just slightly to take a look, and you slam it back down when you see mingyu’s name lighting your screen. you do your best to ignore it through the rest of your meeting, but your mind keeps wandering back to him.

your lack of a reply has mingyu freaking out even more. he texts a couple more times, asking questions so hopefully when you do reply mingyu will get the information all at once. but all of those go unanswered too, and he can’t take it anymore. he calls you, biting his lip anxiously as he waits to find out what’s going on.

your phone rings as you’re leaving your meeting, and your heart drops when you see that it’s mingyu. you haven’t had time to read his texts, but if he’s been bothering you this much it must be serious. you take a breath, preparing for the worst, and then you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask meekly, and you hear mingyu sigh on the other end.

“y/n,” he says, relieved. “finally. what’s going on?”

“uh, nothing?” you reply. “i’m at work.”

“huh? why?!”

“it’s a wednesday? most people with jobs work on wednesdays,” you explain.

“no, i mean what’s going on with fred?” mingyu clarifies, and that’s when you notice the worry in his voice. you used to be able to pick up on his emotions instantly, and it sends a jab to your chest that it took you this long to realize he was upset.

“oh, he has allergies,” you laugh. “he uh, he was bothering a spot on his back so the vet gave him that collar to stop him from licking it.”

“so he’s ok?” mingyu asks, and you nod as you respond.

“he’s fine, just inbred probably,” you joke, earning a little nose snort from mingyu. “listen, uh, i’m at work, so-”

“yeah, yeah, go, sorry for bothering you,” mingyu replies. “give fred a hug for me.”

“will do. bye mingyu.”

“bye baby,” he says without thinking. he hangs up, realization hitting him a second too late. he thinks about texting you to apologize, but he’s bugged you enough today. maybe you didn’t hear it? he can just ignore it, right? it’s not like you’ll be talking to each other soon anyway, so maybe you’ll forget it eventually.

the first time mingyu called you baby was an accident, too. you were really close friends, but nothing more. you’ve known mingyu since you were five, when his family moved in next to yours and your parents made you play together because you were both around the same age.

for you, he was the stinky neighbor boy who would make your heart flutter when he pulled up weeds and handed them to you like a bouquet of flowers. for mingyu, you were the pretty neighbor he wasn’t quite sure how to talk to, so he did things like pull up weeds for you. he usually showed his love for you like that, in more physical ways than verbal. one time, when you were about ten and he was almost twelve, you told mingyu you really liked another neighbor’s bike and you wished you had one like it for yourself. he still remembers asking poor dokyeom if he could borrow it, and he also remembers how much his parents yelled at him when they found out he had given it to you as a surprise. you teased mingyu about that constantly, still laughing over the memory of him walking the bike back to dokyeom’s house with the saddest look on his face. that was the first time he realized he only wanted to do things that made you happy, and it was the first time you realized mingyu was more sweet than he was stinky.

the first time he called you baby was late one night at his house. you had been friends so long your parents weren’t worried about leaving you alone together (secretly hoping you would wipe the idiocy from your eyes and fall in love already). you were in the basement at mingyu’s, sitting comfortably next to him on the couch and watching a scary movie, despite your protests. mingyu wasn’t usually a scary movie guy either, but your friends at school had talked about this movie so much that mingyu got teased for not watching it.

he had summoned you like he always did, standing on the fence in his backyard and shouting your name until you opened your bedroom window. your houses were so close you didn’t have to yell once the window was open, so you spoke normally as you told mingyu firmly that you would not be watching that with him. it only took a few seconds of him pouting for you to cave, and once you were settled on the couch he said passively, “don’t worry baby, i’ve got you if it gets too scary.”

that one little word had haunted you for days, by far scarier than the movie you watched that night. mingyu had called you baby. that’s not what friends call each other, that’s boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. and that definitely wasn’t you and mingyu.

at least to the two of you it wasn’t. to everyone else, you were an item. it was so obvious you liked each other that guys wouldn’t approach you, and girls knew not to fall for mingyu because he would never fall back. it took ages for you two to notice, but once you did, your life had never been more lovely. to love mingyu and be loved by him is one of the best things you’ve ever done. his love is deep and he loves hard, and for some people that kind of passion can be a little scary. it was definitely scary for you, even if took a while for you to notice.

just like the first time he called you baby, that one slip up on the phone stuck with you. you couldn’t tell cheol about it, because he’d just question the whole break up again, so you sat with it quietly as you played the sound of mingyu’s voice over and over again in your head.

days later, mingyu had already forgotten about it. he was worried at first, but when the world didn’t implode immediately after he basically let it go. you’d assume it was a mistake, not him still pining for you despite what happened. so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

that weekend, you found yourself at hoshi’s for a party. his apartment was packed, so you were prepared to get tipsy and then head home. cheol wasn’t there yet so you were bothering seungkwan instead, and he was doing everything he could to get rid of you. that includes pushing you into someone’s firm chest on accident, and you almost fall through the floor when you look up and see mingyu staring back at you in shock. you’re just drunk enough that you want to have a little fun with him, a mischievous smirk slowly forming on your face.

“hey, baby,” you emphasize, watching as mingyu’s face starts out hopeful and then falls slightly.

“oh, haha,” he laughs nervously. “hey. um, so you noticed that the other day.”

“i did.”

“s-sorry,” he stutters. “old habits die hard.”

you nod in agreement as you take a sip of your drink, not so sure now, with his big brown eyes staring you down, why you thought talking to him was a good idea. you usually spent these parties pressed up against mingyu’s chest, back to front, his arm wrapped around you lazily. suddenly you’re cold just at the thought, and you ache to feel mingyu wrapped around you again.

“how’s fred?” he asks, trying to keep you next to him for as long as possible.

“he’s good,” you nod. “doesn’t need the cone anymore.”

“aw, lame, those pictures were funny,” mingyu pouts, and you have to look away so you don’t have the urge to kiss him.

“yeah, well, i still have it so i can put it back on him if he ever gets annoying.”

“that’s good,” mingyu nods now, awkwardly looking around for a way out of this conversation without being rude. he misses you, and he was totally aware of that, but it’s easier to push it away when you’re not standing so close, your perfume encasing him in memories of when you were his. now you’re not, and mingyu wants to go home. he’s searching the room for someone to talk to so this moment won’t be so pathetic, but cheol comes to the rescue.

“hey ex lovebirds,” cheol teases, bumping into you enough to make you stumble. mingyu reaches out to steady you, but cheol grabs you by the waist to keep you in place, and mingyu has to look away or else he might light on fire with anger. it’s a simple touch, he knows cheol doesn’t mean anything by it, but it always bothered him when other people tried to take care of you. that was his job, and he didn’t like anyone getting in the way of that. “why do you both look so miserable? it’s a party. drink, have fun, maybe kiss a little-”

“i do need another drink,” you say, taking the first chance to leave this situation. you look to both guys before asking, “do you need anything?” they shake their heads, so you escape to the kitchen and mentally mark the living room off. you can’t go back out there now. maybe it’s time for you to just leave.

“so,” cheol says, smirk hiding behind his cup. “how’s your plan going?”

“what plan?” mingyu asks, obviously confused.

“your plan to get y/n back,” cheol replies nonchalantly. “you have one, right? otherwise i don’t see why you aren’t leaving my friend alone after such a devastating break up.”

“i’m your friend too?! what about me and my feelings?”

“you annoy me more than y/n does, so i’m on her side,” cheol jokes, and mingyu groans. “but seriously. what’s going on here? she won’t tell me anything.”

“we broke up.”

“i know that. elaborate.”

“no,” mingyu says stubbornly, crossing his arms. “that’s between me and y/n. she won’t tell you so neither will i.”

“god, forget it. i’m on no one’s side, you’re both annoying,” cheol scoffs. “match made in heaven, you two.”

it’s quiet between them for a moment, both men just sloshing their drinks around in their cups, looking around at their drunken friends ruining hoshi’s lovely home. mingyu thinks for a second, deciding if he’ll actually admit this to cheol or not, but he slams the rest of his drink and turns to his friend before he can change his mind.

“i don’t have a plan,” he starts off. “yet. i’m trying to feel things out. i tried giving y/n space, and that’s not working for me. i love her, dude. i’ll only ever love her.”

“then go get her!” cheol says incredulously, motioning for the kitchen. “she’s hiding in there so she doesn’t have to see you, she’d be easy to corner-”

“but,” mingyu interjects. “but. i don’t know if she wants me back. she broke things off, so i’m trying to respect that. i just...i don’t know if she loves me anymore, man. so i want to make a plan, i want to get her back, but i’m afraid of what would happen if it doesn’t work. if she really doesn’t love me anymore.”

“hm,” cheol hums before he finishes his own drink. he takes a minute, smacks his lips, then turns to his idiotic best friend. “get her back. as soon as possible, actually. she’s a wreck without you. whatever happened for her to break up with you, i’m sorry. but she hasn’t stopped talking about you since. she still loves you man, no doubt. so i think you should try. and let me know how i can help, because, man, she’s really been bumming me out lately being all sad like this.”

“she’s sad?” mingyu asks, sadness appearing on his own features, making cheol roll his eyes.

“i said a whole essay and that’s the only thing you picked up on?”

“no, i get it,” mingyu nods. “i’ll think of something.”

“good,” cheol nods, then points to mingyu’s cup. “you want a refill?”

“do you mind grabbing it for me?” mingyu asks sheepishly.

“no,” cheol says in disbelief. “you can’t be hiding from her too.”

“what if i am!”

“i’m so close to revoking my offer to help,” cheol complains as he snatches mingyu’s cup from him. “i’ll be back.”

mingyu’s conversation with cheol set his mind in motion. he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since, as if that was new. but now he has a reason to spend all his time thinking about you. truthfully, mingyu isn’t sure he knows why you broke things off. at least, he doesn’t know how to explain it to people. he knows it must have made sense to you, and to him, enough for him to let you go. but he just remembers one very tearful conversation where you told him you couldn’t do this anymore, and that was it. he’d steal the sun to make your world brighter, so if he wasn’t making you happy anymore he wasn’t going to stick around if you didn’t want him there.

but now. now he’s wishing he had fought back. asked questions. tried to fix things instead of just running away. he still loves you, and if cheol’s right and you still love him, then what the hell are you doing?

your first date with mingyu was simple. since it took you both years to realize your mutual feelings for each other, there wasn’t much you hadn’t already done together. you already tried out new restaurants together, went to arcades and movies and concerts just the two of you. you even forced mingyu to get a membership at your favorite museum so you could drag him along anytime there was a new exhibit you were dying to see. so when mingyu finally asked you out, he wasn’t sure what to do. he wracked his brain for the fanciest restaurant he could think of, or searched for romantic movies playing around town, but none of it felt right. none of it felt like you.

that’s why your first date was simple. he knew he didn’t have to do something grandiose to impress you, so instead he invited you over to his dorm and made you dinner. he wouldn’t tell you what he was making, but when you walked in it smelled familiar. not just because mingyu’s scent wafted up around you when he welcomed you in, but because the food on the stove instantly reminded you of home. you tried peeking at the pots to see if you could figure out what it was, but mingyu cutely pushed you away.

“you’re gonna ruin the surprise!” he whines, childishly pushing you out to the living room. “you can’t be in here!”

“so you’re telling me i can’t be around my boyfriend on our first date?” you challenge him, and his force falters. “i want to spend time with you gyu, let me at least be in the kitchen with you.”

“promise not to look at the food though,” he says with a finger in your face. you grab his hand and wrap yours in his sweaty, warm grasp.

“i’ll keep my eyes on you, deal?”

“deal,” he smiles shyly, squeezing your hand before pulling you behind him into the kitchen. he starts working with just one hand, so you let go of his other one to make it easier for him to cook. “why’d you do that?”

“do what?” you ask, leaning against the counter so you can sit back and watch.

“let go,” he pouts, reaching for you again.

“you have to use both hands to cook, baby,” you laugh, and you watch with love in your eyes as he blushes a deep pink.

“right,” he nods. “ok. it’s almost done, but if you’re hungry there’s snacks in the fridge.”

“i’m good,” you say quietly, watching as mingyu returns to chopping something. you silently admire him as he works, your heart warming as it settles in your mind: mingyu is finally yours. your first love. your only love, probably, is your boyfriend. how amazing is that?

“baby?” mingyu repeats, snapping you out of your trance. there’s the hint of a smile on his face as your eyes meet his. “did you hear me?”

“no, what did you say?” now it’s your turn to blush. mingyu takes a step closer, carefully placing his hands on your hips.

“i said it’s ready,” he smiles. “you were staring at me.”

“yeah, i told you i was gonna do that.”

“what were you thinking about?” mingyu barely whispers, his face incredibly close to yours now.

i was thinking about how much i love you.

“um, you?”

“what about me?”

“i was mentally critiquing your form,” you tease, a smile breaking out across both your faces.

“and how was it?” he asks, close enough now that you can feel his breath on your lips.

“you’re gonna chop a finger off one day,” you reply quietly, eyes drifting down to mingyu’s lips as you speak. he notices and the side of his mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“how’s my form now?” he asks before hastily pressing a kiss to your lips, pulling back almost like the touch sent a shock through him.

“could be better,” you squeak out, and he nods before leaning back down to capture your lips in a real kiss. it’s warm, delicate but strong, and it’s mingyu. you can’t seem to wrap your head around that part. mingyu is kissing you right now. you’re kissing mingyu. and he’s really good at it. sooner than you’d like, he’s pulling away again.

“how was that?” he asks, lips just barely grazing over yours.

“better,” you reply breathlessly. “you take criticism well.”

“i’m just here to please you baby,” he says, his words dripping with double meanings. you feel a chill run down your spine as you notice the hungry look in his eyes, and you clear your throat before speaking.

“so, um, can i see the food now or do i have to eat with my eyes closed?”

“depends,” mingyu replies. “you want me to feed it to you?”

“stop being weird,” you laugh, pushing him away playfully but instantly missing the warmth of his chest against yours. you ignore his smile and lean over the stove, heart picking up as you try to see what he made. mingyu puts his arms around your waist fully and moves you out of the way, back to his childish shoves and whines about ruining the surprise.

in a few minutes, you’re sat on his couch, eyes closed with a bowl of something warm in your lap. mingyu was serious about feeding you, at least the first bite, because he wants to keep the meal a surprise. as you complain about it for the millionth time, mingyu brings a spoon up to your lips and quietly asks you to open your mouth. you welcome the food, and your eyes shoot open when you immediately recognize the taste.

“chicken and dumplings?” you ask, and mingyu smiles proudly. “how’d you learn to make that? it tastes just like home. i can’t...i don’t believe you made this.”

“please,” mingyu scoffs. “i was over at your house enough that i saw your grandma, your mom, even you, make this a million times. i made it the exact same way.”

“i can’t believe this,” you shake your head. “i...this is perfect, gyu. thank you.”

“no problem baby,” he smiles as he cuddles into your side, handing you another full spoon. “your turn.”

“what?” you ask, confused, just to turn and see mingyu waiting with his mouth open. you laugh, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “you’re embarrassing.”

“yeah, but you love it,” he laughs along, taking the spoon back so he can start eating too. as he goes on about how perfectly he cooked this, he misses the way your face heats up as you think, yes, you do love it. you love him, and you’re trying to figure out how soon is too soon to tell him that.

part one of mingyu’s plan is a little concerning. he’s not following you, no, he’s not doing anything that would make you uncomfortable, but...he is hanging around your favorite coffeeshop in the mornings. he knows he’s bound to catch you here at least once this week, and he doesn’t mind doing a little work in such a cozy place anyway. if he sees you, great. if not, also great. he’s been more productive the past two days than he has all month.

he gets lucky on the third day, because he hears a familiar laugh at the door and his ears perk up like an excited puppy. he sees you holding the door open for someone, and he tries to not make it obvious that he’s staring. you’re wearing one of his hoodies. if he had any doubts about this, now they’re all erased, because you’re wearing one of his hoodies. he didn’t even remember giving it to you, so it must have been one you stole from him. it’s old too, he can tell there’s a hole near the wrist that you’re trying to not accidentally slip a finger through. he keeps flicking his eyes up to you as you ask for your usual, mouthing the words along with you just to make sure he’s still got it. café con leche, sprinkle of cinnamon. when you turn around after paying, mingyu ducks his head down and goes back to work. he won’t approach you just yet, so he tries to lay low.

but you saw him the moment you walked in. a big dude like that? he sticks out immediately. your blood ran cold when you caught him staring at you, mentally cursing yourself for not changing shirts before you left the house. it might be a little pathetic, but you slept in this hoodie last night. the heat in your place hasn’t been working well and it was unusually cold, so you needed the extra coverage. this hoodie was the first thing you pulled from your closet, and you were too lazy to find something else. you won’t admit being wrapped up in mingyu’s scent helped you have the best sleep you’ve gotten since the break up. you try to ignore the feeling of mingyu’s eyes on you as you order, and when you turn back to the seating area you laugh to yourself seeing mingyu look away like he wasn’t boring holes into your back. you scan the room for an empty spot and find one, but your own eyes pull back to mingyu. you wait at the counter for your drink, and take a deep breath before walking over.

“should i go ahead and sit with you, or did you wanna stare a little bit longer?” you ask once you reach mingyu’s table, his head snapping up in shock at you approaching him without noticing.

“uh, i, um, i wasn’t, this isn’t what it looks like,” he blubbers, and you roll your eyes.

“you know if you wanted to talk to me you can just call,” you mumble as you pull the seat out and sit down.

“hey, i’m actually working,” he says, sliding his laptop around to prove it. “maybe i’m just here to enjoy the ambiance.”

“fine,” you nod, sipping your drink and loving the way it instantly puts you at ease. “don’t let me interrupt.” you start pulling out your own things, setting up your laptop before deciding you might want to read instead. you compromise and send some emails first, the rapid sound of your typing somehow comforting to mingyu. he resettles himself, accidentally bumping your leg with his under the table.

“sorry,” he whispers.

“it’s okay,” you reply, a sympathetic grin on your face. “with your long ass legs i’m used to it.”

“still,” he tries not to smile back like an idiot. “sorry.”

you fall back into silence, both of you working on your own things and “enjoying the ambiance.” you’re not sure how much time passes before mingyu interrupts the quiet.

“hey,” he whispers, grabbing your attention. he nods to your laptop and asks, “what are you doing?”

“i’m working, mingyu,” you laugh. “what are you doing?”

“working,” he replies quickly. “been a busy week for me.”

“hm, same here.”

“cold too,” he tries, smiling proudly when you shift in your seat. he caught you. “did you magically lose all your other hoodies and jackets, or does someone miss stealing my clothes?”

“i didn’t steal this,” you counter, accusing finger pointed in his direction. “you insisted i take this one because you didn’t want it anymore but you said it was too sentimental to donate. i did you a favor by taking this ratty old thing.”

“but you kept it,” he says happily, finishing his coffee and pointing to your long empty mug. “you want another?”

“sure,” you reply sheepishly, “a café co-”

“café con leche, sprinkle of cinnamon,” mingyu finishes in unison with you. then a sly smile as he says, “i remember, baby. be right back.”

“what the hell did you say to mingyu?” you bark at seungcheol over the phone. “why was he at my coffeeshop this morning? and why’s he suddenly calling me baby all casual like we’re still dating?”

“this is news to me,” cheol says, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “i didn’t say anything to him. at least not anything i think he heard. that boyfriend of yours can be an airhead sometimes.”

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you grumble.

“but he bought you coffee this morning?”

“he told you?!”

“i’m not at liberty to say,” cheol laughs. “just enjoy it, y/n. whatever he’s up to, it can’t hurt to see where it goes.”

“i hate you both,” you groan, hanging up as cheol mumbles a “right, sure.” when the call is over, you fall back down onto your bed, mind working top speed to decide what to do next. you could move and change your name, leaving mingyu and cheol behind. that’s a bit dramatic. you could tell cheol to get fucked, but he’d find a way to bring mingyu into it. and mingyu. you don’t know what to do about him. you could just ask him to leave you alone, and you think he would. but a little part of you does want to see where this goes.

you wake up the next morning to the smell of something coming from your kitchen. you rush up, afraid you somehow left dinner on the stove and you’re seconds away from burning the building down. but when you crash into the kitchen, ungracefully, you’re met with mingyu’s muscular back as he looks for something in your fridge. at the sound of your frantic movements, he looks over his shoulder and grumbles out a good morning in the deepest voice you’ve ever heard. you’re stunned, not totally sure how he got here, and totally confused as to why he’s shirtless.

“um, whatcha doin?” you ask casually.

“i was gonna make french toast,” mingyu starts out, coming closer to you. “but you’re out of milk. so now it’s just eggs and toast.” as he gets closer, his hands reach out for your waist, and you let him pull you against his warm chest. “is that ok?”

“mhm,” you nod, not sure what to do with your hands. you don’t want to put them on his chest, afraid the skin to skin contact would ignite something dangerous in you. you also don’t want to put them around his neck because that territory feels just as dangerous. so that leaves you with your hands bunched up by your chest and mingyu looking on, amused.

“afraid to touch me?” he asks, a smirk on his stupidly kissable lips.

“no, um, i just-” you stutter, but what sounds like a phone alarm cuts you off. was mingyu baking something?

“you gonna get that, baby?” he asks, seemingly referring to the alarm but you don’t know where it’s coming from.

“what? it’s not mine,” you say, and you miss what mingyu says next as you’re jolted awake by something furry laying on your chest. you carefully open your eyes, afraid that maybe mingyu just forgot to shave and somehow he would be the one on top of you right now. but it’s just fred, and the alarm is yours. your phone is going off, reminding you that you’re probably gonna be late to work. you scramble to get up and start your day, but you can’t stop thinking about mingyu.

about halfway through the day, you get a text from cheol asking if you want to get dinner that night. his friend jeonghan, who’s always kinda scared you, has tickets to some concert out of town and cheol wants to make it into a big trip. cheol wants you to come, and he knows you two will be the only ones competent enough to plan the whole thing so he needs you as back up tonight. you agree, eager to get a break from work and from mingyu. going out of town will be a nice distraction, and even though jeonghan is intimidating he’s still really fun to be around.

speak of the devil, he’s the first to wrap you up in a hug when you get to the guys’ table that night, and he whispers something to you about mingyu being annoying and you’re better off without him. you smile at the condolence and let him drag you into the open seat next to him. he and cheol start filling you in on the plans, when you’ll leave, where you’ll stay, day of the concert, etc. you give some advice on things to do in your free time, and jeonghan types it all into his phone while cheol price checks your options.

“so there’s one airbnb with enough beds for each of us, but it’s $100 more a night, compared to this one with a queen, a twin, and a sofa bed, which is the cheapest option and also closer to everything we want to do,” cheol says, nose still in his phone.

“book the cheap one then,” you shrug. “one of y’all can take the queen bed as long as i don’t get put on the pull out.”

“i can take the pull out,” jeonghan offers. “i’ll sleep wherever.”

“and i’ll take the twin,” cheol says. “gives me my own room.”

“so we won’t be able to hear you snoring?” you ask. “thank god.”

“ignoring that,” cheol mumbles, writing something down on his napkin. “so that would make it $80 even for each of us for the whole weekend. i can book it and you can send me your money whenever.”

“sounds good,” jeonghan nods as he pours you all more soju.

“wait, that makes no sense,” you start. “it’s only $80? for the whole weekend?”

“yep,” cheol nods, waving the napkin in your face. “wanna check my work, teacher?”

“no, jack ass,” you laugh, pushing his hand out of the way before graciously taking the glass jeonghan hands you. “just shocked you found such a steal.”

“speaking of stealing things,” jeonghan says, “whose car are we taking?”

“mine is in the shop,” cheol sighs. “and y/n doesn’t drive.”

“guess we’ll take mingyu’s then,” jeonghan decides. cheol’s eyes flick over to you on instinct, and when he doesn’t see a reaction from you he smiles.

“cool, i can pick everyone up on friday then?” he asks, and you nod. with everything planned, your conversation can stray off to other topics while the drinks flow, and that’s how you end up flipping through jeonghan’s tinder for him later in the night. you’re maybe too tipsy to be doing this, but jeonghan likes the chaos of it, and cheol is just happy to see you having fun. he hopes this trip will help with that too.

cheol comes to pick you up, as promised, but he texts you when he pulls up that you’ll have to sit in the back. you get out of your building and recognize mingyu’s car immediately, tossing your bag in the trunk before grabbing the door to the backseat. when you slide in, you almost jump out of your skin when you see mingyu sitting back there too.

“told you it’d surprise her,” you hear cheol and jeonghan laugh, but you’re too busy trying to sputter out a question.

“hey y/n,” mingyu says shyly.

“hi?” you reply, looking to cheol who’s staring at you through the rearview mirror. “um? hello?”

“hey,” he smiles. “you buckled?”

“no she’s not,” mingyu replies for you, and you roll your eyes before you put the seatbelt in place.

“sorry, but what’s he doing here?” you ask. “you stole the car and the owner?”

“no, he’s coming with us,” jeonghan replies. “i thought i told you i had four tickets to the show?”

“no?” you say, voice at a higher pitch than you’d like it to be.

“is there a problem, y/n?” cheol asks, looking at you through the rearview again so if you really weren’t comfortable with this he would see.

“no,” you sigh after a second. “just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“for the record,” mingyu whispers, leaning close to you, “this was not part of my plan. i swear.”

“but it was part of mine!” cheol jokes, and mingyu kicks his chair. “hey, don’t make me pull this car over.”

“you mean my car?!” mingyu screeches back, and you lean up to whisper in jeonghan’s ear.

“why did you think bringing these two on a trip would be fun?” you ask loud enough for cheol and gyu to hear, making the car erupt in whines and cries while jeonghan laughs. it’s gonna be a long ride, you think to yourself.

you’re able to sleep most of the way there, only getting interrupted every once in a while when mingyu moves his long limbs to get comfortable. each time it’s an awkward half smile in apology, and you just nod in recognition. you don’t really want him here, to be honest. this trip was supposed to take your mind off him. now how will that be possible?

mingyu feels bad for surprising you like this, really. cheol asked him to come on this trip and didn’t say you’d be joining them until it was too late for mingyu to back out, so he wants a minute alone with you to explain. he wants to tell you that he can hang back, if you want to enjoy some time with the guys sans your ex boyfriend. he’ll do whatever makes you happy, like usual.

mingyu’s desire to talk to you is what leads him to follow you to your room at the airbnb, saying he’s looking for the bathroom but really he wants to apologize for the ambush. you turn back to the door once you’ve placed your things on the bed, jumping when you see his large form cowering in the doorway.

“bathroom’s not in here, gyu,” you tell him. “think it’s the next door on the left.”

“i’m not looking for the bathroom,” he says, taking a careful step into your room. “i wanted to say i’m sorry, for this. i didn’t know you were coming either, or else i would’ve backed out. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“i’m not uncomfortable around you, mingyu,” you say firmly. “i just-”

“you forgot your stuff dude,” cheol says, popping up behind mingyu and handing him his bag. then he looks at you quickly, smiling before he teases, “i see you’ve found the honeymoon suite?”

“the-what?” you ask, confused.

“you ended up with the biggest bed, y/n, so you gotta share with the friendly giant over here,” cheol explains as he nods in mingyu’s direction. “he’s definitely not fitting on the twin with me.”

“and i don’t like him enough to share a bed with him!” jeonghan shouts from somewhere else in the house.

“you’re fucking kidding me.”

“no time to complain right now,” cheol says as he checks his watch. “we’ve got dinner reservations. mingyu, bathroom is next door, you might wanna change your shirt before we leave. i don’t wanna stare at y/n’s drool while i eat.”

“my what?” you ask, looking at mingyu to see what cheol is referring to. there’s a spot near mingyu’s collarbone that looks slightly wet, and your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp, “i drooled on you?! how? why didn’t you push me off?!”

“you were asleep!” mingyu replies, voice an octave or two higher. “i felt bad! you just kinda fell onto my shoulder, and i didn’t wanna wake you up!”

“we’re leaving in five minutes, whether you’re ready or not,” cheol tells mingyu. he walks away, and mingyu grabs a new shirt out of his bag before heading back to the door.

“uh, gyu?” you call, and he turns immediately. “s-sorry..for, that, i guess,” you say, pointing to his shirt. “next time you have full permission to push me. promise i won’t get mad.”

“it’s okay,” he shrugs. “you know i don’t mind.” and with that, he leaves for the bathroom. you can tell there’s a blush on your cheeks, so you close the door and lock it while you take a minute to chill out. you decide to change too, not wanting to wear your old sweats to dinner even if it��s supposed to be laid back. you’re afraid now that you’ve got drool on your own shirt, so you change into something casual quickly and then join the guys in the living room.

once you’re there, cheol checks that everyone’s good to go, and you all walk out to the car. you don’t catch the way mingyu stares at you the whole time, or maybe you’re just ignoring it. you’re wearing a matching set with a jean jacket, nothing extravagant, but mingyu has the exact same outfit packed in his bag. you bought the sets together, for a last minute trip you took a year ago. mingyu wanted to get matching vacation shirts and you vehemently refused, so you compromised with a his and hers loungewear set. once again, mingyu’s heart soars at the little nod to your time together, because clearly you’re not as detached from it as you claim to be.

at dinner, jeonghan insists on sitting next to you again, so you’re squished into the booth next to him while mingyu looks on in not-so-hidden jealousy. he’s sitting across from you, scanning the menu and trying not to flick his eyes up to you. jeonghan starts talking about what he wants to try, and cheol asks if they should just order a bunch of plates and share everything.

“eh, you guys can do that, but there’s really just one thing i wanted to try,” you say, pushing the menu away now that you’ve found what you want.

“lemme guess,” cheol says as his eyes scan the menu. “you’re gonna get something lame, like chicken alfredo.”

“no,” you shake your head. “i’m trying something new, but it’s not as tomato heavy as the stuff you want, which all sounds nasty, by the way.”

“why’d you agree to come to an italian restaurant if you think the food is nasty?” cheol counters.

“you all seemed excited about trying it,” you shrug. “and like i said, there’s one thing i want. that’s enough.”

“what’s that one thing?” jeonghan cuts in, trying to stop cheol from bickering further.

“let me guess this time,” mingyu smiles. your eyes meet his and you blush under his gaze, thankful for the low lighting at the table. hopefully the guys don’t catch it. you nod and encourage mingyu to take a stab at it, and he pretends to look at the menu again even though this was the first thing he noticed. “you’re getting the gnocchi in the truffle sauce, but you really agreed to italian because you want to get tiramisu for dessert.”

“i, yeah, you got me,” you stammer out.

“what drink is she gonna get?” cheol asks with a smile, head leaning on his hand as he watches in amusement.

“hm,” mingyu looks at the menu seriously. “maybe an espresso with the tiramisu, but i bet you’ll try to make us order the digestif spritz thing at the end of the meal.”

“shut up,” you say, kicking his foot lightly under the table. “i was gonna try it myself, i won’t force y’all to try it if you don’t want to.” jeonghan, not picking up on the eyes you and mingyu are making at each other, joins in.

“i thought about trying that too,” he nods, looking at cheol and asking what he wants to order to share. while they discuss an inordinate amount of food, you’re just staring at mingyu, who’s looking at you smugly. finally you just shake your head and look back down at the menu, judging whatever the other boys decided to order. when the waiter comes back, mingyu smiles proudly as you order exactly what he predicted. mingyu nudges your leg playfully under the table, and you’re about to fight back when jeonghan cuts through your thoughts. “wait, did i tell you guys about the dream i had in the car?”

“i didn’t know you fell asleep,” cheol shakes his head.

“i did, when you were complaining about that girl who wouldn’t call you back.”

“hey!”

“anyway,” jeonghan starts again. “i had a dream that i was at work and y/n came in,” he smiles at you. “i guess you complaining about your job made me subconsciously think we should hire you at my office?”

“anything is better than my job right now,” you laugh, imagining how nothing would get done if you and jeonghan worked together.

“but you came in, and i was going to start training you, and then mingyu comes out of the boss’s office and is like no she’s here to take your job-”

“wait, mingyu was there?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“yeah, i was there?” mingyu teases. “you in love with me or something?”

“y/n why is that so shocking,” cheol asks more as a statement than a question. “i told you about my mingyu dream, we’ve all got one.”

“please don’t bring that up again,” mingyu groans, head dropping. you smile at the memory of cheol’s legendary mingyu dream, which was basically just dream mingyu being so drunk he somehow climbed a telephone pole and got stuck so he called cheol to come help because he’s “strong and manly.”

“y/n do you have a mingyu dream?” jeonghan asks, and you blush deep enough that they can clearly see it this time, despite the lighting.

“um, i don’t really remember any from when, uh, from recently,” you start. “i guess i had one the other night, but it was one of those dreams that i barely remembered when i woke up. i just know mingyu was there.”

“where was i?” he asks, totally invested now.

“yeah, where was he?” cheol parrots.

“um, my kitchen?”

“can he even fit in there?” jeonghan jokes, but you ignore him.

“so i was cooking for you?” mingyu pesters you, and you nod.

“well, kinda,” you reply. “i don’t really remember.”

“was it a dirty dream?” cheol jokes. “is that why you don’t remember?”

“no, asshole,” you reply. thankfully, the first round of plates arrives to the table then and everyone is distracted for a while. you have to shake the feeling of mingyu staring at you though. it’s like he knows there’s more to the dream than you let on, but you’re not gonna unpack it with the other two sitting right here.

“y/n,” mingyu calls your name quietly. you look up and find him holding a small plate out very politely, and then he gives you his sweetest smile before asking, “can i try a gnocchi?”

“sure,” you nod, scraping one off your plate onto his. “it’s really good.”

“give me one,” cheol says, and before he can even finish you shake your head.

“nope,” you say as you pop another piece into your mouth. “you didn’t ask nicely.”

“whatever,” he grumbles.

the rest of dinner is nice, the food is great, you got your tiramisu and your weird drink at the end of the night, and cheol and jeonghan got sloshed on an expensive bottle of wine. you’re laughing with mingyu as you guide the two drunkards back to the car, struggling to get cheol to put his seatbelt on. once the toddlers are settled you turn to ask mingyu if he’s gonna drive, just to see him waiting for you by the passenger side.

“what are you doing?” you ask quietly.

“being a gentleman,” he replies simply, opening the door for you and handing you the jacket you almost left in your seat. you thank him quietly, heart picking up speed. he closes the door for you before he gets to the driver’s side, and then you’re on your way back to the airbnb. mingyu wordlessly hands you the aux, and you take it as you shuffle your library, not concerned with whatever song comes on. the first one to play is mary’s song by taylor swift, a song that has always reminded you of the way mingyu loved you. for a second, you let yourself reminisce and feel the warmth that mingyu’s love always gave you. absentmindedly, your hand reaches for his on the center console, and when you realize what you’ve done you just pull back like it was an accident. mingyu knows it wasn’t, though. he drives on in content, happy just to be sharing this moment with you, regardless of the circumstances.

back at the house, the guys let you take the bathroom first so you can shower. you promise to be quick, but while you’re in there you relish having a moment to yourself. it’s always nice, even when you’re with people you love, to have a second to yourself on a trip like this. it turns out doing you dirty this time, because the longer you’re left to your own thoughts the more they wander back to mingyu. back to how much you love him, how much he loves you, and how much that scares you. it wasn’t like you left because you didn’t care about him anymore. you were afraid you cared too much, and that it would end up hurting you one day. as all these thoughts pass through your head, you notice you’ve started crying. the shower quickly wipes your tears away, so you finish up and try to collect yourself as you get dressed. you take a couple extra minutes to pamper yourself, using the products the airbnb host left out for guests to try and steady your breathing. you take note of the fancy lotion, contemplating whether or not to steal this one, when jeonghan yelling in the hallway brings you back to reality.

clean and ready for bed, you emerge from the shower with your things in your arms. you almost drop them when you bump into mingyu leaving your room, arms laden with blankets and pillows. you look at him confused before asking what’s going on.

“where are you going?” you ask as you move further into the bedroom, noticing that mingyu has moved all of his things.

“i’m setting up my bed,” he replies.

“i thought you were sleeping with me?” you say, noticing too late how that sounds. “i mean, wait, sorry-”

“yeah, i was supposed to sleep in here, but jeonghan said i can make a bed on the floor and sleep in the living room with him,” mingyu explains with a small smile.

“why?”

“i don’t wanna bother you, y/n,” he says. “i don’t mind.”

he stands there, staring at you, almost like he’s waiting for you to say something. you want to tell him he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor, you want to tell him it’s not a bother, but above all you want to tell him not to leave. with an aching heart you realize, you really want him to stay. but he takes your quiet demeanor as a sign to go, so he turns around and steps back into the hallway.

“mingyu,” you call out quickly, pulling his attention back to you.

“yeah y/n?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“mingyu,” you repeat, this time with a touch of sadness in your voice. “just come to bed with me.”

his heart jumps into his throat for a few reasons, first, because you asked him to come to bed with you. to share space with you after so long. he could jump and clap with joy right now, but the sad way you said his name is the other reason his heart is in his throat. that’s when he notices your puffy eyes, and he asks quietly, “have you been crying?”

you don’t need to respond. mingyu already knows. he drops everything in his arms, kicking them out of the way so he can wrap you in his arms instead. you sigh into his chest, willing the tears burning at your eyes to go away, but you let a few slip through as you whisper “i’m sorry” over and over again right above where mingyu’s heart is.

“baby,” he says, pulling your gaze up to his face, then, when your eyes meet his warm ones, “my love. what are you sorry for?”

“for running away,” you whisper. “i got sc-scared, and i’m s-sorry,” you explain as the tears start to fall again. mingyu wraps you back up in his embrace, awkwardly waddling you both toward the bed. his sounds of struggle make you giggle, a happy reprieve from the heart breaking cries mingyu so deeply wishes he could stop for you, but he knows you need to get this out.

“what were you scared of?” he asks as he helps you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands wrapped tightly in his.

“you,” you laugh lightly, making mingyu whine. you smile and put your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his soft skin as you continue. “it was like one day i woke up and realized how much you loved me. and that was scary. you’ve always been my mingyu, you always will be, but life has just changed so much from when we were kids. things aren’t as easy anymore, and i guess i preemptively got scared that we wouldn’t be easy anymore. the idea of losing you,” you take a deep breath, “of you not loving me anymore one day. that scared the shit out of me.”

“things haven’t changed that much then,” mingyu says with that teasing lilt in his voice you know so well. he looks at you mischievously as he goes on, “you’re still that little kid who runs away when our games stopped going your way.”

“don’t be a dick,” you laugh, head falling onto mingyu’s shoulder. “i know it was silly. but it’s like, once i made that decision, once i decided i had to leave, i couldn’t just come running back the next day when i missed you. i had to sit with it. i made the decision, i needed to face the consequences.”

“you missed me the next day?” mingyu asks, and you scoff.

“you haven’t changed either,” you tell him. “you’re still the world’s best selective listener.”

“i heard what you said,” he nods. “and i won’t say i understand it, but i still love you, y/n. i can promise you that will never change.”

“but-”

“no buts,” he cuts in, pushing your head off his shoulder so he can cup your cheeks and make sure you’re looking at him as he says, “i’m yours. till the end of forever.”

when you were maybe fifteen - that awkward age where you wanted a boyfriend but didn’t want to admit it - mingyu was over at your house. you were so into him, but didn’t realize it yet. mingyu was warming up to the idea of you being his girlfriend, but he was afraid of asking and you turning him down. so you just remained closer than friends, and kept doing what you always did together.

that day, you were trying to do homework, but mingyu kept going through this pile of things under your desk. your mom made you clean up the storage closet, and you had found y/n relics that you wanted to keep. one of which mingyu was digging for.

“i’m telling you, it’s not in there,” you say for the millionth time, laughing when he bumps his head somewhere underneath your desk.

“ouch,” he whines, and you kick his butt to add to the pain. “ouch!”

“get up!” you whine back, pulling at his ankle. “even if you find my diary i’m not gonna let you read it.”

“yeah, but,” he says as he crawls out, “i am bigger and stronger than you, y/n.”

“so?”

“so i could throw you if i wanted.”

“then i’d tell your mom you’re being mean to me.”

“she knows you probably deserve it at this point in our relationship,” he mumbles. your ears warm at hearing him call this a relationship, but the way he’s not moving his right hand from under your desk is more important to you right now.

“whatcha got there?” you ask calmly.

“nothing,” he smiles the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“show me both your hands.”

“no.”

“mingyu!”

“y/n!”

“why do you even wanna see it,” you whine as you join him on the ground, trying to swipe for your diary in his hand. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i’m looking for something,” he says as he starts flipping through the pages of your pink velvet powerpuff girls diary. you laugh together over the many different ways you spelled diary as a child, until he stops on a page that makes you sick to your stomach.

it’s a picture. of you. and mingyu. on your wedding day. you’re in a big poofy dress and you’ve drawn mingyu with...a ponytail? and a bowtie bigger than his head. it’s clearly the two of you, because baby y/n took the courtesy of labeling you both for future historians (mingyu) to use against you. then down at the bottom, in horrible handwriting, are the words “me and gyu till the end of forever.”

after you’ve both taken a moment to stare at the page, you in disbelief and mingyu in complete adoration, he tears it right out.

“wha-”

“bye y/n,” he says, standing up and heading to your door.

“where are you going? give me that page back!” you shriek. you want to get up and take it from him, but he was right: he’s bigger and stronger than you, so that wouldn’t end well. you kick at his ankles instead, but he just folds the paper up and puts it in his pocket before making a face and leaving.

you didn’t think about that day, or that drawing, until just now. until mingyu said those words to you again. you watch in shock and admiration as he finds his wallet amongst his things and pulls out a small, folded piece of paper. he hands it to you, but you already know what it is. you rub it between your fingers, letting every moment that you’ve known mingyu, that you’ve been loved by mingyu, wash over you. you want to cry again. his love is so strong that it makes you feel the most intense emotions, but right now you just feel...content. you hand the paper back to him, and wave away the questioning look in his eyes.

“like i said, i’m sorry gyu,” you start out. “i’m sorry i ever doubted how much you loved me. i’m sorry i ever doubted how much i love you, too. it’s just scary. we’ve got so many big life things ahead of us, and i know i can’t do it without you by my side, but i don’t want our love to change. i always want you to be my playful, clumsy, perfect mingyu. and i just let my thoughts..and my pride..get in the way of that. so i’m sorry, lovebug.”

“lovebug?” he smiles, his whole face blushing at your favorite nickname for him resurfacing. he stares at you deeply, his hands itching in his lap to hold you again, and you think for a moment he’s going to kiss you. instead he lets out a breath and says, “i’m sorry too.”

“what do you have to be sorry for?” you laugh nervously.

“for ever letting you think for a second that i don’t love you as much as i do,” he replies. “i’ll work harder from now on.”

“no,” you say quietly, and you watch the confusion wash over mingyu’s features. “let me. i think it’s my turn to show you how much i love you. you’ve been doing it for years.”

“well if you insist,” he smiles shyly, eyes flicking down to your lips. you don’t have to nod for him to know it’s ok, and then he’s kissing you again. when you pull back, mingyu’s eyes are still closed, savoring the feeling of having your love all to himself again.

“cmon lovebug,” you whisper over his lips, “let’s go to bed.”

the next morning, you wake up sweating. your body amazingly forgot what it was like sleeping next to your mingyu shaped space heater, and it’s made worse by the fact that his arms have been tightly wrapped around you all night. you laugh when you wiggle and he pulls you closer, surprised that you can still breathe despite his tight grip. you get a hand free from his hold and try your old trick to get mingyu to unwrap you, lightly flicking his nose until he brings an arm up to swat you away.

you use this as a chance to slide out of bed, determined to make it to the kitchen to make good on your promise to mingyu last night. you want to show him how much you love him, and the first step to reminding him of that is to make his favorite breakfast. you think there’s enough ingredients in the kitchen, cheol packed groceries so you wouldn’t have to rely on take out all weekend. so you find one of mingyu’s sweaters and pull it over your pajamas before heading to the kitchen. you put your mingyu playlist on so you have some quiet background noise, careful not to wake jeonghan up in the next room. as you’re searching the spice cabinet, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“why are you awake right now,” mingyu’s groggy voice whines into your neck. “come back to bed.”

“no,” you say simply. “i’m hungry. you can go back to bed and i’ll be there in a minute.”

“no,” mingyu replies. “miss you too much.”

“baby.”

“yes?”

“no, i’m calling you a baby,” you laugh, turning in mingyu’s arms once you find what you needed. “can you at least let go so i can cook?”

“what are you making?” he asks, loosening his grip but not letting go completely. you shuffle back to the kitchen island, mingyu coming with you, his hands still lightly on your waist.

“french toast,” you say shyly, feeling the warmth of mingyu’s smile without having to look at him.

“i love you, you know that?” he whispers into your ear, kissing your cheek quickly before he lets you go. you hear him shuffle to the sink, water running as he asks, “how can i help?”

“can you slice the bread for me?” you ask. “and warm the pan up.”

“yes chef!”

your giggles at mingyu’s behavior are what finally pull jeonghan out of his deep sleep, and he smirks when he sees you two moving happily around the kitchen together. he doesn’t want to ruin the moment so he just snaps a picture and texts it to cheol, hearing the man react with a cheer once the text goes through. jeonghan laughs and rolls back over, falling asleep to the sound of mingyu humming a song to you as the sweet smell of breakfast fills the house.

when it’s time for you all to head back home, mingyu offers to drive and the other two insist on you taking the front seat. mingyu starts planning who to drop off first, beginning with jeonghan, then cheol, then you.

“you’re dropping y/n off last, hm?” cheol says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “starting the honeymoon already?”

“shut up,” you groan.

“yeah, shut up,” mingyu mimics you. “it just makes sense though, y/n’s place is closest to mine and i need to drive my own car home. so it works out.”

“sure,” cheol nods. “no ulterior motives.”

“really!” mingyu shrieks, his ears turning red so you know this is getting to him. “i mean, i want to see fred too, but-”

“babe, stop talking,” you say quietly, placing your hand on his in the center console. “you’re just egging him on.”

“please listen to her,” jeonghan grumbles, obviously trying to sleep.

“she called him babe though,” cheol whispers to jeonghan, and they start giggling like little girls.

“ok, now everybody stop talking!” you say, looking at the boys in the rearview mirror. “quiet game, starting now. first one to speak has to buy lunch.”

“and gas!” mingyu adds.

“hey, doesn’t that mean mingyu just lost?” cheol asks, and you shake your head. “but he spoke first!” you just stare harder. “you’re playing favorites.”

“no i’m not,” you reply. “game starts now.”

after mingyu drops jeonghan and cheol off (who bought mcdonald’s and filled mingyu’s gas tank), he finally takes you home. when he pulls up outside your building, he stalls awkwardly at the wheel, unsure of what to do with his hands. you watch in admiration, a smirk playing at your lips. when mingyu looks over to you at last, he smiles shyly.

“hey.”

“hey,” you laugh. “you gonna come in?”

“really?” he asks, whole face perking up.

“either come in with me or kiss me goodbye, it’s up to you-”

“what if i come in with you and we make out in your apartment?” he asks with a smile of his own.

“deal,” you smile, “let me just get my bags.”

“nope. i got em,” mingyu says as he rushes out of the car, running around the front so he can get to your door in time to open it for you. you start to protest, and mingyu’s response is, “complain and i won’t come in!”

“you’re a liar,” you laugh.

“maybe, but i’m still not letting you carry anything,” he says while you get your keys out. when you’re done you turn and see him staring at the bags in the back really hard.

“what are you doing? trying to solve a math problem?” you tease, and mingyu looks at you with a blush on his cheeks.

“um, no, sorry,” he shakes his head, pulling your things out of the back before reaching to close the trunk.

“you’re not bringing your stuff?” you ask nervously.

“you want me to?” he asks hopefully, and you nod. he smiles and grabs his bag too, hoisting everything onto one arm before joining you by the door. his sweaty hand reaches for yours, squeezing it tightly as you open the door.

you make the familiar walk back to your apartment, mingyu’s heart beating out of his chest the closer you get. he’s waited for this moment for weeks, coming back home with you. but that’s just it, he’s been racking his brain over what could’ve scared you into running away, and he finally figured it out on the ride here. right before you broke up with him, he started talking about moving in together. he hadn’t asked you yet, but he was planting the seeds for it, and that must have scared you off. now he’s worried that once he walks through the door, he’s won’t want to leave ever again. he just hopes this time you’re ready for him to stay.

when you get to your apartment, you try to shake mingyu’s hand out of yours so you can open the door, but he just whines and tells you to deal. laughing as you stumble into your place, mingyu looks around excitedly only for his face to fall.

“fred’s not here,” he says with a growing pout.

“nope,” you shake your head. “he’s at my mom’s because i was gone for the weekend. sorry i didn’t tell you.”

“you tricked me,” mingyu says accusingly as he places the bags on his arm on your kitchen table.

“yeah, well,” you shrug. “you would’ve come up anyway.”

“how is your mom, by the way?” he asks as he walks toward you “missing his favorite person?”

“hm, no?” you reply. “she actually said you were stinky and she never liked you.”

“she did not,” he says with a smile, snaking his arms around your waist. “tell her i say hi.”

“and mrs. kim?” you ask as you drape your arms across his broad shoulders.

“she’s good,” he nods. “thrilled that you didn’t give up on me. i got chewed out after the break, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“you’re welcome,” you tease, kissing his chin. mingyu smiles without letting it reach his eyes, and he takes a deep breath.

“speaking of,” he starts cautiously. “the..break up.”

“the bad time, yes,” you nod. “have i said i’m sorry about that today?”

“can we..talk about it a little more?” mingyu asks, and your heart clenches. “if you don’t want to, that’s fine, i just...have questions before we go back to being us.”

“go ahead,” you encourage him. “do you wanna sit down?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i’m good right here,” he says, squeezing your hips. “i just need to know what made you freak. was i coming on too strong with the moving in thing?”

“the what?” you ask, obviously confused.

“baby, i’ve been dropping hints since new year’s about moving in together,” he laughs. “you didn’t notice?”

“no?” you cry out. “why didn’t you just ask me?”

“i was scared!” he cries back. “why did you break up with me?”

“i was scared,” you joke in return. “i had no clue you wanted to move in with me.”

“well, i did,” he sighs. “i already have an extra key for you.”

“really?” you smile. he nods, and you lean your head on his shoulder as you reply. “you know my lease is up next month.”

“is it?” he replies, leaning his cheek on your forehead. “how convenient. i’ll make room in the closet then.”

“cool,” you smile, comfortably floating at the idea of living with mingyu. when mingyu clears his throat above you, you know what he wants. you pull him over to the couch as you say, “i know. i’ll explain.”

“kiss me first?” he asks, and you think about it.

“just one,” you say with a stern finger in his face, mingyu bites it, and then with your finger between his teeth he says, “no promises.” you pull away from him just for mingyu to reach back and cup your face, pulling you softly toward his lips. as soon as your lips meet you melt into him, his arms grabbing you so you’re sitting on his lap. “hey,” you say into his mouth, mingyu trying to kiss you deeper. “hey!” you giggle, pulling back. “i said one.”

“and i said no promises,” mingyu replies. “now cmere.”

“no,” you laugh, holding him at bay. “we need to talk.”

“i’m listening,” he says, playing with your hair.

“i was serious before when i said i was scared,” you start out. “but no, the move in thing wasn’t what scared me. i was, uh, i was out to lunch, with some of my friends, and one of them just got engaged-”

“who?”

“mingyu,” you whine. he mumbles out a sorry and let’s go of your hair, placing his hands on your hips. “she just got engaged, and we started talking about..wedding..stuff, and then the girls all turned to me.”

“oh?” mingyu asks with a smirk.

“yeah,” you nod. “and um, that freaked me out. they started asking why we hadn’t..weren’t..um, whatever. they started asking me questions, and i didn’t know what to tell them, and that just made me go down a very dark hole.”

“how dark?” mingyu asks with concern laced through his voice.

“dark like, what if you didn’t want to marry me? what if we got married and everything went bad? what if-”

“and you never thought to talk to me about it?” mingyu cuts you off.

“did i mention how sorry i am?” you try sheepishly. “that was the big life stuff i mentioned the other night. moving in, getting engaged. starting the rest of forever together. that’s scary stuff, and i forgot how easy you make things. i just got scared of the concept, i guess, and didn’t consider how you make everything feel okay.”

“i do?”

“yeah,” you nod. “you’ve made my life so wonderful, gyu. even though everything ahead of us scares the shit out of me, i can’t wait to do it all with you.”

“let’s wait on all the scary stuff,” he says, grabbing your hands to play with your fingers as he speaks. “we’ll take it step by step. starting with moving in together?”

“starting with that,” you agree. “i love you, kim mingyu.”

“i love you too baby.”

#kim mingyu #seventeen #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #kim mingyu one shot #kim mingyu fic #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen one shot #mingyu one shot

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my-love-is-sunlight · 21 days

Text

Wedding bells

Sanji x gardener!reader

This is an amazing request from @secretlife028

Warnings: from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, fem reader in mind but no pronouns used, WCI spoilers? But very vague, angst to fluff, good ending

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: In which you say I love you to Sanji in the worst scenario

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

You were in love with Sanji

That was something clear for everyone that had spent time with both of you. Your eyes following his mastered hands as he chopped the ingredients for dinner, the soft glances and sweet thank you’s you’ll grace the cook with whenever he offered you his delicious meals, your presence after midnight as he cleaned the kitchen a reminder of your unspoken love and affection.

You never thought about whether he would love you the same, the love you gave away was honest and non refundable. You loved because you wanted to

Something the cook was not used to, he was the kind of person to melt at any bit of attention, sign of affection or even acknowledgement, but he allowed himself to be loved by you

But that felt like a lifetime ago. Simpler times where you’ll wake up in the Going Merry, your crew mates laughter in the distance and the smell of fresh breakfast in the morning.

Now here you stand, in front of the man you had wrapped your heart in a bow for, leaving

“Why are you doing this?” You looked at Sanji who was just a feet away but felt like he had left already, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours

“That doesn’t concern you” your heart clenched once more at the stern voice leaving his mouth, that tender tone he once spoke to you with long gone, like a hazy memory

Vines grew on the cooks legs, like you were begging for him to stay and comeback to himself, holding him in place before you, breath shaky like you were about to break

“Sanji speak to me!” You were making this awfully difficult for him, he knew you’ll try and fight but didn’t expect you to be this fierce. Your voice echoed trough his thoughts like a haunting lullaby trying to wake him up from this awful nightmare

“There’s nothing left to say y/n” liar, Sanjis heart held so much unspoken feelings, words, intentions, so much love for you. You frantically took his hand in yours as you wrapped it around in blooming flowers grass and branches, like a grounding spell

“Stop this” you begged

“You’re the one that should stop”

“You want me to stop loving you Sanji?” His breath hitched, the air in his lungs trapped in his throat, he couldn’t have missheard you since you spoke loud and clear, unafraid and so certain. What once was difficult now felt impossible, of course you decided this was the time you’d let the L word roll out of your tongue, now that he couldn’t answer, that he couldn’t say a word of how he actually felt. His heartbeat accelerated in fear, he had dreamed of this moment of you before him saying this, but it didn’t quite went this way

“Because you know damn well I can’t” was the last thing you said before the blonde pulled away from your hold, loosing your balance at the force in his movement, breaking both of your hearts

“Too bad, because you have to… please stop”

So you stopped, standing silently as the love of your life left

You had never admitted this to anyone before, but as Nami held your sad trembling frame in a tight hug you couldn’t help but to say

“Why am I always left behind?” every single word spoken in a broken whisper, merely making it out of your parted lips, but Nami catches it and she can’t help but to wince, like she could feel the deep cut in your heart

“I promise you we’ll get him back”

And you did, but walking into a wedding wasn’t exactly how you expected this rescue would go

The lights jumping from the white garments fry your brain, the wedding bells making your ears bleed and your vision blurry with water that falls from your eyes. Why her? Why now? You knew there was a possibility for Sanji to not reciprocate your love, but reality just hits you now as you see him holding another woman’s hands in his, as he is about to make a promise that you wished accompanied your name after it. Thorns growing out of your frame like venom

But, you got him back

Not a word is exchanged between the two of you in the ride back to The Sunny, your minds busy replaying the mix of emotions you both had gone trough the last few days

Sanji cannot get your voice saying I love you out of his

Your mind flashing images of Sanji and Pudding at the altar

What was there to say after that?

“Thank you for saving me, flower” he whispers as he settles at your side, Nami’s eyes open like dishes as she listens quietly, praying to whatever god is out there that the blonde doesn’t screw things up more with you

“No problem” the icy tone and your numb expression makes him miss your sweet smile, warm laugh and twinkling eyes he was once graced with to see everyday

Another silence follows, a painful one. A silence that makes him realize what he had made you feel

But he’s lucky you’re the most understanding, kind and benevolent being that has walked this earth

His eyes lock in your fidgeting hands, flowers growing from the inside of your palms in anticipation. With the outmost delicacy, he breaks trough them and takes one of the flowers making you gasp, his skin against yours sending electric shocks around your body

He gets on one knee like the dramatic fool he is, the navigator face palming knowing this was to expect from her friend. You stay still

“I am sorry… I have hurt you, an unforgivable sin, I deserve whatever punishment you wish to bestow upon me” his words waiver, as if trying to formulate the best way to get his feelings across and make you come back to him, to open like a sunflower under the beaming sun

“However” your eyes travel to his, getting lost in the endless sea behind them, praying for him to say the magic 3 words

“I hope my confession suffices as an offer worthy of your forgiveness” he pauses as he places the flower in your waving hair, so tender like you were made out of the most precious porcelain that could break at his touch

“I love you y/n, and I hope your love for me remains in your heart… at least a little”

You stay quiet, the expectancy making poor Sanji’s heart to jump like a firecracker, breaths heavy with hope and nervousness. And you break, because how could you not? You knew everything that happened was not to blame on him, in fact, he was much of a victim as you were, if not even more tragic for his own past to come and haunt him down just after he had found a life he could enjoy. With another batch of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile

A smile that melts Sanji like an ice cream on the hottest summer day, a smile he had prayed for to see at least once again, even if he wasn’t the reason behind it. Yet here you were smiling at him, for him, with him

You jump down to his arms, holding him tightly as your hearts dance in opposite directions of your ribcage’s, finally complete

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met” you say between half sobs half giggles, you pull away to look at him again “But you’re my idiot”

Usually Sanji would be nothing less than a gentleman and had asked you for permission, but today, he decides to indulge and just crash his lips into yours

Finally

Nami just rolls her eyes and Luffy laughs, content to finally see his dearest friends make up

Sanji’s finally home

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Had an absolute blast writing this hope you like it as much as I do, ty for the request

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lowgothree · 3 months

Text

001. ༺...OR JUST LOOK LIKE ONE༻∘

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

the apartment is a lot quieter without tina. she made a lot of noise. you could still vaguely hear her terrible singing as she’d shower, cook, or clean; how she’d wake up early in the morning to make elbarote breakfasts that caused pots and pans to fall…very often; and the fact that she’d watch anything on her phone at max volume.

in retrospect, she was kind of annoying.

but she was nice and you lived with her for almost a year. you’d gotten so used to her.

but now, it’s quiet. and the only thoughts you had were thoughts of not being able to afford rent next month. luckily, sean, your best friend knows basically everyone on campus and kindly agreed to ask around for you.

you’re in your car after stopping to get fast food. you shove a few fries in your month as sean shuffles through his phone to show his instagram conversation with a potential roommate for you.

“okay, so…” sean shoves his phone in your face. “this…is ellie. she’s looking for a roommate and –– ”

“i slept with her…” you mumble after seeing the username. “didn’t end so well…”

“damn…okay, next.” he swipes through his phone again. “okay…this is emily. she’s a straight a student and wants to know if you’re okay with pets?”

you hum. “what kind of pet?”

“um…let’s see.” he shuffles through the text conversation and chuckles. “oh, a twelve inch snake?”

“no thank you…”

“aw, really? it’s kinda cute actually…”

“nope.”

“okay, next candidate.” he takes a big bite of his burger, chews for a while then takes a sip of his drink before he slides through his phone again. “alright, we have paige…it seems like she’s coming from a similar situation to you. roommate kicked her out after getting married at 19…yikes.”

you peer over at his phone. “give her my number…”

“already trying to sleep with her too?” sean snorts and you roll your eyes.

“so that i can text her about the place, idiot.”

“oh, yeah…” he taps on his phone a few more times and then you feel your phone vibrate.

FROM: PAIGE

i got ur number from sean

you’re looking for a roommate?

TO: PAIGE

yes!!

just have a few questions first

FROM: PAIGE

like what?

TO: PAIGE

do u smoke?

or own a ten inch snake?

and do u wash ur dishes?

FROM: PAIGE

nope

no??

yes

TO: PAIGE

*address*

are you able to come over tomorrow?

FROM: PAIGE

yes

what time?

TO: PAIGE

whatever works

FROM: PAIGE

i’ll come over around 12:30 then?

you smile at sean, relaxing for the first time since tina moved out. “thank you so much, sean. seriously.”

“hey, i would’ve let you stay with me but i live in a tiny ass dorm so…” he chuckles. “besides, if you became homeless, where am i supposed to go when my roommate need the room to fuck his boyfriend?”

you snicker. “good point. is it really that bad, though?”

“they’re like feral rabbits…” he mutters.

the next day, you hear a knock at the door at 12:27. she’s punctual, that’s a good sign. you open the door, breath catching in your throat when you see her. she smiled at you and you died a little.

damn, why didn’t sean tell you that she looked like that?

she’s tall, definitely athletic by build, pretty eyes, and a warm smile. you’re fucked.

“hey, i’m paige.” she holds her hand out for you to shake and you have to physically refrain from shuddering. hello, paige. her voice…welcoming and warm, you hand to clear your throat to stop yourself from screaming.

it’s a great terrible idea to fuck your roomate. you remind yourself over and over again as you take her hand, tell her your name which she already knew, and invite her into your apartment.

“nice place…” she steps inside cautiously.

“thanks.” you stop yourself from checking her out any longer, not wanting to be creepy. stop being fucking creepy.

she looks around, you’d just finished cleaning.

“so you’re an athlete?” you clear your throat, trying to politely strike up conversation.

“yeah, basketball.”

you internally groan at the slight smile she gives you when she answers your question.

“that’s –– ” hot. “cool.”

she nods, turning to face you. “so is there anything i should know before i agree to move in?”

“oh…well, my best friend sean comes over sometimes. he sleeps on the couch occasionally but he’s really clean and respectful.” she nods, not looking bothered by that information. “and, um…i’m gay if that sort of thing bothers you…”

she snickers, shaking her head to herself. “doesn’t bother me at all…”

“oh? are you…?” “yeah.”

damnit. she looks like that and she likes girls? you’re so fucked.

“what about you?”

“what about me?” she licks her lips.

“anything i should know about you before i give you the key.”

“well, i’m kind of in…a relationship. kind of, not really.” fuck, that sounds complicated. too complicated. “it’s…i dunno…but, uh, she might come over if that’s okay?”

you swallow thickly, yes that sucks goodbye!! “no, i get it…no problem as long as you pay your rent on time.” you die a little on the inside again.

she smiles again, it’s painfully beautiful. “i can definitely do that.”

you hand her the key and clear your throat again. “alright, roomie.”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

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princessmisery666 · 3 months

Text

Just Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean is trying to embrace his emotions and look to the future. Part 3 of 3. Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, mentions of cheating.

W/C: 4,901.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mentioned: Jody Mills.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: ”Would you please, shut up, I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

A/N: Obviously this was supposed to posted on a certain day (you'll get what I mean when you read) but it just wasn't where I wanted it to be at the time so I waited. Two-ish weeks later ain't bad though.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

Pulling off the highway, Dean grumbles, “This is stupid,” to himself again. Yet, he had called Jody to make sure you weren’t working, made the two-hour drive, and hadn't veered off route to the nearest bar.

It’s been a few weeks since he saw you at Jody’s cabin. You’ve spoken on the phone a few times and met him halfway to Kentucky to give him a lore book Claire had borrowed. But no in-depth conversations have been had, which he’s okay with because one, it’s a conversation to be had in person and not while he is neck deep in a case, and B, he doesn’t know what to say or how to tell you what he wants because he’s still not sure himself.

So, in the safe confines of Baby, he asks himself again why is he driving to your house on Unattached Drifter Christmas or ‘Valentine’s Day’ for the schmucks?

Before he can do a little soul-searching and find the answer, his cell phone rings.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” he answers.

“Why are you in Sioux Falls? Something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine. Wait, how do you know where I am?”

“You were way too vague about where you were going. You always have a plan for today,” Sam explains, “figured you were up to no good and better keep an eye on you in case you get into trouble like last time.”

“Last time was almost five years ago, and for the hundredth time, I didn’t know she was married,” Dean snarks.

“Plus, you didn’t turn off your GPS,” Sam says as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s argument. “So why are you in Sioux Falls on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He falters for a second, thinking of an excuse, and before his pause becomes suspicious, he blurts, “There’s a new bar opened up. Wanna try it out.”

“This bar called Y/N’s, by any chance?”

“What? No!”

Sam laughs, and that all-knowing chuckle reminds Dean that Sam is onto him and there’s no point in denying anything. “It’s a good thing, Dean,” his brother assures him. “You may not have told her outright, but she’s smart. She’ll recognize you showing up today, of all days, is your way of telling her you want…” Dean waits, hoping that Sam will impart the answer that eludes him, but huffs in defeat when his brother adds, “Whatever it is you want.”

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbles, “I’m being stupid.”

“No, it's not,” Sam scolds. “I’m sure today will be tough for her. So, just being there for her is a good thing. It doesn’t have to be deep conversations. Showing up and supporting her is enough.”

Dean considers that Sam is probably right, but it doesn’t make him feel any less insecure. “Maybe.”

“Have fun,” Sam says before hanging up.

Five minutes from his final destination, his phone chimes, alerting him to a text message.

Jody: She’s at Lucky Shots, fifth wheeling it.

“Dammit, Sam!” he snarls, but he’s not really mad, saves him a trip to her empty house.

The break at Jody’s cabin was revitalizing, and the feeling has stuck for the few weeks you’ve been back in your routine. It probably helps that you removed every trace of Luke from your life the moment you got home. The confrontation with Dean was cathartic, too. You’ve analyzed what he’d said about not wanting you to meet someone new and that he missed you, and asked Jody for her opinion, too. She’d wistfully smiled as if aware of something you weren’t, “Maybe you gave up on him too quickly.”

You didn’t want to admit that Jody was probably right. Yet you had made assumptions, choosing to believe that he didn’t want anything serious, and after admitting to yourself that you wanted something more, you had decided to go out and find it somewhere else.

That realization turned out to be at the forefront of your mind today. You're thankful to your friends, Laura and Sara, for the invitation and for not allowing you to stay home and eat your emotions. Being the fifth wheel isn’t the issue. It doesn’t bother you, even on Valentine’s Day. They chose a lowkey, casual games bar, not some romantic, candlelit restaurant, and for that, you are eternally grateful. The issue is Luke is there. It could be worse. He could be with her, but fortunately, he’s with two of his buddies.

The bar has darts, beer pong, pool, skee ball, knock down a clown, and a few other amusements. You're locked into a tight game of girls versus boys beer pong - the beer having been replaced with tequila shots - and you can feel Luke’s every glance as if he’s waiting for an opportunity to approach.

It’s the last thing you want, and your friends were kind enough to offer to leave when he arrived, but you stubbornly refused. You had no reason to leave. He should be filled with so much shame and regret that he can’t bear to face you, but he has the audacity to look like a wounded puppy, and that makes you angry.

The game is down to the wire, and the final ball is down to Chris and Dylan, your friends' partners. Dylan massages Chris’ shoulders, “Come on, buddy, you got this. For the win!”

You all hold your breath as Chris releases the ball, and the boys celebrate the victory with loud cheers as it lands in the cup, having barely touched the sides. You, Laura, and Sara shoot another round of tequila. The sourness of the lemon you suck on adds to the disapproving look you catch Luke throwing your way.

Asshole. How dare he judge you!

“I demand a rematch!” Laura declares.

You agree. “My turn to buy the drinks.”

Sara escorts you to the bar. Though she masks it as helping you carry the drinks back to the table, you know she’s doing it to protect you from an unwanted visitor.

“I need the bathroom, but I’ll meet you back here,” Sara tells you, “if he comes over before I make it back, stomp on his foot and poke him in the eye.”

You laugh, really belly laugh, because she’s totally serious, and it’s also hilarious to think he’d have the balls to actually approach you.

“Who’re we looking out for, honey?” the elderly woman beside you asks, lips pursed and looking sassy.

Sara tells her, “Other end of the bar, tall white guy, blond hair.”

“Green shirt?” she asks for confirmation.

“That’s the one.”

“Uh-huh,” she tuts, “I know the type, handsome as an angel, spirit of the devil. You go on to the bathroom. I’ve got your friend until you get back.”

You don’t doubt the lady’s confidence. You wouldn’t mess with her.

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Call me Beverly,” she introduces, and Sara shakes her hand before skittering off to the bathroom.

You wait your turn to be served, listening to your protector tell you all about her first husband, “the devil incarnate.”

If only she knew.

You face forward, not even side-glancing in Luke’s direction, not wanting to give him any inclination you may want to talk. You don’t. Beverly turns and rests her back against the bar to see the whole room without looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, sweetie,” your new friend says, “there’s another one of those handsome-as-an-angel men walking this way, and I think he’s looking for you.”

You still don’t turn, but look up into the mirror behind the bar and see him. Dean maneuvering around people and tables, coming straight toward you.

Unintentionally, you gasp, a sheepish smile creeping in as you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

“From that reaction, I don’t think you need help with this one,” Beverly says, sweetly taking a step to the left to make room for Dean.

“Hey,” he says, a half smile making him look a little awkward.

“Hey,” you say as he leans in to kiss your cheek, and when he’s close, you whisper, “Everything okay?”

He pulls back, nodding with a slight frown as if the question was offensive or something. “Yeah, everything is fine, just passing through and wanted to say hi.”

“Passing through?” you ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

His frown deepens, clearly trying to sell the lie, pretending to be confused by the suspicion.

You smirk. “Just happen to be passing through on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “How much do you and Sam talk?”

“A lot,” you confess, “emails, phone calls, memes, and then there’s the weekly newsletter.”

“Busted.” He laughs, and it shakes off whatever anxiety he was feeling.

The bartender comes over and takes your order. You add on whatever Beverly is drinking for the rest of the night, which reminds you Sara has been gone a while. You turn around to look for her, and Dean looks over his shoulder. Sara’s back at the table. All of them are staring at you but quickly and comically turn around as if they weren’t when Dean finds them.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, “they’re just looking out for me cause Deputy Dick is here.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. “Is me being here going to be a problem?”

“Probably, but that's his problem.”

Dean laughs, and you really have missed it. The easy relationship you had seems to be a thing of the past, but you want it back. Maybe not the sex because you’ve realized that's where the problem lies. You want more from him than you'll ever get, but at least the friendship could be mended.

“But don’t waste your Christmas on me, Dean,” you say. It's subtle but enough to tell him that hooking up is off the table.

That disgruntled frown appears again, and he looks genuinely offended. “I’m not here ‘cause I think I’m gonna get laid.” He explains, shrugging. “Running into you isn’t a coincidence. I was on my way to your place because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight. Jody told me where you were.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that?”

“Take it for what it is,” Dean suggests. “I’m trying.”

You can work with that. Trying to be friends sounds like just what you need. No pressure or expectations from either side, so you quickly squash the thought that it means something deeper that he’s choosing to spend time with you instead of finding a warm body to lie with.

“Okay.” You smile, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Well, can part of that trying be helping us win at beer pong?”

“Girls versus boys?”

“Obviously.”

He scoffs, “Absolutely not! And you get an extra shot for asking me to rig a sacred game.” He hands you a shot off the tray of drinks, and you knock it back.

He watches you, grinning the whole time, and you shake your head as if it will shake away the taste. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t try and soften me up, Winchester,” you warn, “I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

He shrugs, “Was worth a shot,” and walks away with the tray of drinks.

Chris and Dylan merrily call his name as he approaches, and you follow, smiling fondly.

“Now the odds are even. Prepare to go down, ladies,” Dean says, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow.

The games continued; the boys won at Beer Pong, but the girls won two rounds of darts. Once Chris and Dylan had gushed over the Impala, you said your goodbyes in the parking lot. Each of your friends hugged you. Dean got a kiss on the cheek from the ladies, and the guys gave him a firm handshake before pulling each other into a one-armed hug. It looked natural and easy, and you love how well Dean slots into the group.

You realize you’re staring as he drives, and he glances over when he feels your eyes on him. “Are we still social distancing or something?” he jokes, reaching a hand over to tug on your leg, requesting you get closer.

You oblige, sliding over the leather seat, and he slips an arm behind your shoulders to rest on the seat back. “Thank you for that,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“For what?” he asks.

“Pretending like you couldn’t hit that bullseye with your eyes closed.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a mechanic, right? Not sure a mechanic would have perfect marksmanship.”

“If you’re not sold on the mechanic thing, you can always tell them you’ve changed your profession,” you suggest, and with a teasing wink, add, “but they all already know you’re good with your hands.”

“Would you, for once, get your mind out of the gutter?” Dean jests, “I already told you, no sex for you.”

“Sorry, Mr Winchester, sir,” you joke, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He laughs but looks out at the road. His fingers lightly brush your neck. You aren’t sure he realizes he’s doing it. When you were sleeping together, it became a thing - absentmindedly, he’d lightly stroke your skin while watching a movie or falling asleep. It's familiar and comforting, and you lay your head on his shoulder the rest of the ride home.

Dean follows you up your path, and while you search your bag for your keys, you notice him looking to the left, eyes squinting, trying to see something too far away.

“Wanna come in?” you ask, distracting him from whatever has caught his attention.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says, giving you his full focus, “I meant what I said, Y/N. I didn’t show up cause I was expecting to get laid.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered throwing caution to the wind and jumping into old habits. And you're surprised by Dean’s rejection. He could have followed your lead and taken you to bed without any objections.

“Presumptuous much?” you counter, smirking.

He smiles, all charm and smug joy, because he knows he’s right. “Don’t try and pretend you weren’t thinking about it.” He steps closer, crowding your space and gripping your hips to pull you against him. “You’ve been flirting with me all night.”

“I can stop,” you threaten, but it falls flat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He grins, “No, you can’t,” against your lips, kissing you before you can claim otherwise.

The kiss is not hesitant; it’s deep and long, but you feel him holding back. His hands don’t roam, remaining wrapped around your waist, but he takes his time, savoring the shared warmth, each brush of your tongues, every breath shared.

Dean is the first to pull back. “I gotta go,” he swiftly kisses you again. “I told Jody I’d be there before midnight.”

“Gonna turn into a pumpkin, Winchester?”

He laughs, pecking your lips again, but then his features soften, something close to pleading, “I’m trying,” he grumbles, but you're not sure if it's to remind you or himself.

He doesn’t say exactly what it is that he’s trying, but you know he means he’s trying to do things the right way, and that’s enough. “You're doing great,” you assure.

He kisses you harder, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and you let him in. He walks you backward until your back hits your door, and he groans when he presses himself into you. “Nope,” he scolds himself, pulling back and comically jogging away down the path, but while you're still laughing at him, he turns back. “Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile, and it widens to a knowing grin. You spare him the OMG shock when the realization hits you, but you do ask, “Are we dating?”

“Only if you say yes?”

“Pick me up at ten.”

He winks, unable to contain the boyish grin, and just as he opens his mouth to say something, a siren blasts, and a sheriff’s car pulls up to Baby’s bumper.

You walk a few feet to stand beside Dean as Travis, the rookie, and Luke, in plain clothes, step out of the vehicle.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean says.

Luke and Travis stand beside each other on the sidewalk but don’t approach you.

“Ten out of ten for dramatic flair,” you snark, clapping once.

“But should have done it while I was kissing her,” Dean adds, “would have been way more dramatic.”

“I think you meant douchier,” you suggest with a confused frown.

“You’re right,” Dean clicks his fingers as if you're right on the money, “I meant douchier.”

“Funny,” Luke says. “Travis, this man has been driving under the influence. Please breathalyze him.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm to keep him in place should he decide Luke deserves another punch to the face. After all, he’s not in uniform. Travis is wise enough not to move. You're his boss. Luke has seniority over him but not over you.

“Really?” Dean sneers. “That's all you got?”

“Go home, Luke,” you tell him, “you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“So what if I am,” he says, “I just wanna talk.”

“We’ve talked,” you remind him. “You talked, I listened to your piss poor excuses, and it changed nothing.”

“We were going to get married.”

You raise your voice, “That was a reaction to your cheating! You only asked me because you felt guilty, and I only said yes because…” you cut yourself off, but Dean looks at you, knowing what you had been about to say.

“We were good together,” Luke says, seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation that passed between you and Dean. “He’s just a,” Luke sneers at Dean. “What did you call it? A situationship.”

Dean tenses under your grip, and you know the comment had the intended effect. You’ll have to address it later.

Clenching his jaw, he briefly looks away before leveling a glare and taunting, “Dude, have some dignity. She’s already told you it’s over.” He practically growls his next words. “So leave.”

Luke ignores Dean, looking directly at you. “You're angry, I get it. But don’t make any rash decisions, please.” he implores.

“I was angry,” you agree, “I was furious, but now I’m indifferent. You were a rash decision, Luke, and I’m not saying that to be cruel or get back at you. It’s the truth.”

Saying those words aloud drives home your previous thoughts of why you started dating Luke. Getting engaged was a reaction to your feelings of rejection from Dean’s honesty about commitment. You release a breath as Luke’s face drops, finally seeming to understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head, blasting out a breath filled with disbelief. “We were never going to work out,” Luke realizes aloud, “you were too hung up on him.”

“Travis, I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you sigh, “but please take Luke home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luke stares for a second longer, but chooses not to say anything further, allowing Travis to usher him into the car.

Dean doesn’t move, watching the car disappear from view at the end of the street. Your heart pounds in your chest; you’ve just gotten to a good place, and now that might have all been unraveled.

Though you suspect not a lot of it is surprising to Dean. The day you told him about Luke, he’d begged you not to tell him you loved him and he was right for the assumption that you did - or do or might. You can not say it even reject the idea if anyone suggests it, but you can’t deny it to yourself. You sought out Luke to replace the emotions you felt weren’t reciprocated by Dean.

“Maybe I should take you to breakfast,” you suggest, with a nervous chuckle, “to make up for that. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you, but he’s looking you over like he’s trying to read the emotions behind the words. “You okay?”

Quickly, you reply, “Yeah, of course.”

“You sure? You look like a bit of ‘deer caught in headlights’.”

“I’m okay,” you sigh, taking a deep breath. “Just a little worried that's undone all the progress we’ve made.”

“It hasn’t,” he tells you, slipping a hand on your hip and pulling you into him. “This situationship can handle an ex-situationship.”

You grimace, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, nonplussed, “Don’t be. I’ve been called worse.”

He silences your next apology with a deep kiss and slowly, seemingly reluctantly, pulls back. “I’ll pick you up at ten for breakfast.”

You're rambling again. Since Valentine’s Day, it’s been happening a lot. Dean knows why you're doing it. He can see it in your expression every time you catch yourself and stutter over the words, changing it to something else and hoping he doesn’t notice.

The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, Dean thought he misheard you. You were both breathing heavily, your thighs pressed against his ears, holding him in place, writhing while you rode his tongue. He watched your face as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your body twitched, and your climax coated his tongue and wet the sheets, “I love yo…when you do that.”

Three days ago, after a double date with Sara and Dylan, Dean woke you up in bed with coffee and French toast. Still in the haze of sleep, you smiled contentedly, and it almost slipped out. “I love…” you coughed to cut yourself off, correcting it as you sat up, “I love French toast.” But he could see it in eyes, the adoration tainted with the fear of saying it aloud.

‘I love you’ is on the tip of your tongue, and it almost escaped a moment ago.

A car accident had kept you late at work, so the dinner reservations had to be canceled, but Dean wouldn’t let it ruin the night. He’d ordered pizza, knowing you’d be starving when you got home, run a bubble bath (with the ulterior motive of joining you), popped open a bottle of your favorite wine - he hated it, thought it tasted like vinegar - and was waiting in the middle of the living room for you with the glass in hand.

Taking the glass from him, you lazily kissed him. He could feel how tired you were. Listlessly, you mumbled, “Oh god, I love yo…” but had stifled it so quickly that the rim of the glass clinked against your teeth.

Clearly unable to think of an alternative, you began rambling about your day while unnecessarily blitzing around the already clean kitchen with a dishcloth.

He wants you to say it. He figured out how he felt about you when it finally sunk in after you’d told him you’d met someone else. It was more than physical, and it always had been. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have hurt so damn much when you told him about Luke.

He hasn’t said the words to you, but you have to know that’s how he feels. He told you he’s trying. Although, there haven’t been any conversations about exactly what that entails. He’s been more communicative. He’s made future plans - okay, only a week or so ahead at any given time, but that tells you all you need to know, right?

But the way you keep avoiding the phrase sets off a little ripple in his heart. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll hightail it out the door like last time if you say it aloud. Maybe he needs to expand his communication skills. He says your name softly, but you either don’t hear him or pretend not to, afraid of what comes after.

“I should get you a key cut,” you blabber in. “Save you having to pick the lock next time I’m not home. Don’t want the neighbors calling it in. Mrs Brooks next door is always twitching her curtains.”

He tries again, “Y/N,” louder this time.

“I need to put a load of laundry in,” you say, striding into the laundry room.

“I did it already,” he calls after you.

“I’ll put it in the dryer then.”

He follows, trapping you inside the smaller space so you have no choice but to turn and face him.

“The laundry is done and folded in the basket in your room.” he continues, speaking to your back. “The kitchen is clean. Pizza is on the way. The bath should still be hot.”

You finally look up at him, and there’s that apprehensive smile again, but your eyes are aglow with the words you chew your lip to suppress.

“Just say it,” he sighs, trying to hide his smile.

“Say what?”

He steps closer, crowding your space and using a gentle touch to tilt your head up to keep your eyes on his. “You know what.” He smirks, teasing, “You can’t bite your tongue forever. So just say you love me.”

“I wasn’t biting…” you stammer, “I never…I only meant I was going to get a key cut for you. I didn’t mean anything….”

“Would you please, shut up?” He silences your rambling with a hard kiss, grabbing your hips and hoisting you to sit on top of the dryer. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sigh placidly, but he pulls back and grins, “I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

You drop your gaze, avoiding eye contact. “Please don’t.”

He notes your avoidance of looking at him, and panic sets in that maybe he’s got it wrong, again. But he hopes he’s right, so he chuckles, “giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

You shake your head, “No. I don’t need to hear it, and you don’t have to say it ‘cause you think it's what I want to hear.”

“That’s not what…” he tries, but you raise your voice to speak over him.

“Dean, please!” you wait for him to close his mouth. “I like how things are now, and I don’t want to jinx it or have to watch your ass run for the door again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “it will be different this time.”

“We’ve been through this already. I don’t want promises, and we don’t need to open old wounds.”

“I get why you’re…”

The doorbell interrupts him, and you use the excuse to push him aside as you jump down and scurry out of the room.

He leans against the doorframe facing into the kitchen and listens to you thank the delivery guy. You must have given a generous tip because he thanks you multiple times as you say goodbye to him.

The click of the door closing echoes, and he waits for you to appear, but you don’t. He imagines you standing in the hallway, trying to calm yourself.

He waits, counting the seconds in his head with the promise that he’ll go find you if he reaches thirty.

At fifteen, you enter, eyes glued to the floor, pizza balanced like a cocktail waitress. “I’m gonna go take that bath,” you tell him. “Hopefully, it's still warm.”

You’re assuming the conversation is over. Only it isn’t. At least, not for him. He hasn’t been working up to it. He’s never had a grand plan for the first time he says it, but now he knows he needs to say it so you understand and believe him.

Silently, he watches you put a few slices of pizza on a plate - so he presumes he’s not invited to the bubble bath. The stopper gives an audible pop when you pull it from the wine bottle, like an exclamation point on his thoughts.

He clears his throat and proclaims, “I love you.”

The only indication that you heard him is your frozen state, bottle tipped, ready to pour into your glass.

“It took me too long to figure that out, but I do. And saying it or not saying it out loud isn’t going to change a damn thing.”

You continue to pour the wine into your glass but don’t turn to face him, recorking the bottle and resting against the countertop.

You haven’t run away, so he continues, “I always knew we were good together, but now I see that we have a whole future of being good together, not just the here and now.”

Hesitantly, he stalks closer to you, watching you take a large gulp of the red liquid. You must hear his approach because you turn around but jump slightly at his proximity.

“I’m ready to move forward,” he confesses, “and I want to do it with you.”

“Are you done?” you ask, finally looking up at him with a teasing but joyful smirk under a shy gaze. “You’re on a roll there. I just want to be sure before I say anything.”

He laughs but shakes his head once, “Nope.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it beside the bottle. “One more thing,” he leans in closer, tilting your chin up, lips whispering over yours, “I love you.”

You chase his lips as he pulls back, “C’mon, you know you want to,” he teases, making no attempt to hide his smugness. He’s got you right where he wants you. “Just say you love me.”

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seungmoonandstars · 5 months

Text

𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 11k

rating: mature/explicit ಇ

comments: thanks everyone for the likes and reblogs and feedback! (´︶`) knowing someone is enjoying my fics makes writing seungmin so much easier. technically this is the last part, but not really...

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ｡ ⋆

→ Blind Date

→ Second Date

→ Third Date

Part 4 of 4

Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.

You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.

“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”

Counting the days and weeks until Seungmin comes back to you has been excruciating, sometimes anxiety inducing, and the only thing really keeping you together.

As of today it’s been 136 days since you spent the night with him. Twenty weeks, almost, since you looked at him face to face—touched him, kissed him, desperately wanted to confess how you’ve already fallen for him, and you never want to leave his side again.

But he did text you three days ago.

A part of you feels like giving up, because maybe this has gone on for far too long.

It’s nothing that Seungmin has done. He hasn’t said anything to you about things likely not working out. He talks to you in the same sweet, cheery way he always has when he actually has time to text, or call. You don’t resent him for his lack of communication, ever, because you know his lifestyle is worlds away from yours.

But the part of you that’s crazy about him sits and thinks: he can call for a five minute conversation, ask me how I am before I completely fall apart. You think…why hasn’t he messaged back? It takes a few seconds.

You hate having these thoughts. But you’re only human, and you have so much empty time to think about him.

It’s just not the same for him. It might never be the same for him.

Right now you’re staring out of your classroom window, completely lost in thought. The kids are working quietly, and it’s honestly the first time all day where you’ve been truly alone in your head.

There’s a loud knock on the door, and it makes you, and your students, jump.

“Come in…”

The door opens slowly, and the face that peeks through the door is a familiar one.

“Hey,” Choonhee waits a moment, then enters and closes the door behind her. She grabs a chair and finds a spot to sit directly in front of, across your desk.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“I’m on my way out, but I wanted to see you before I left. I keep missing you, and you’re not answering my messages.” The look she gives you is a little bit questioning, and a little bit irritated.

“Sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’m trying to get out of this slump.”

“Slump? The same one you’ve been in for the last…” she gestures vaguely at nothing, “month? Maybe longer, I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” you manage, but it comes out shaky. You feel your throat tighten, and the air is pushed out of your lungs. Your eyes sting with tears. You can’t do this here.

“Hey hey, I’m sorry.” Choonhee starts to stand, “go pull yourself together, I’ll watch the class.”

You inhale deeply and make your way to the restroom. Luckily you have it to yourself, because when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, tears are starting to stream down your cheeks. The result of bottling up until you explode.

Talking to Choonhee about this was always an option, but you haven’t. For some reason, you didn’t want her know how deep the cut is that Seungmin has made in you.

Her blind date was probably never supposed to turn into this; something serious, something you want, maybe more than anything you’ve ever wanted. You feel stupid and childish about it, because you know who he is. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that it was him that initiated date number two, and three, sort of, otherwise you’ll convince yourself you somehow forced him into all of this.

It takes far too long for you to finish crying and clean yourself up, but she’s still sitting there waiting when you return.

“I’ll be over tonight, and we’re going to talk it out. Okay?” She says.

You nod, eyes still red, makeup probably giving you two black eyes.

“I have to get going, I’ll see you later. Your phone went off while you were in the bathroom.”

You watch her as she walks out, then look to your students. In a few minutes, they’ll be dismissed. And you can go home and finish the crying that you’ve started.

First, you sit and poke the screen of your phone. It’s just a text message.

No, it’s not just a text message. It’s Seungmin. Choonhee probably looked, but all she would’ve seen is the contact name for him; SM.

Weeks ago, you almost changed it to Minnie, but you didn’t. The impersonal, secretive SM remained. You unlock your phone and open it.

I hope you had a good day. You’re just leaving work, I think…if I have my time right

And just like that, he pulls you back up, and back in. He says the right thing at just the right time. Although today, he he did miss it by a few minutes.

Now you battle with whether or not you text him back immediately, or wait until you get home. Neither feels like the right thing to do. You stare down at the message until it’s time for you to dismiss your class, thinking of what to say to him.

It’s personal. He took note of the time, and remembered when it is you usually leave.

Part of you feels like crying again, but your heart is fluttering. You hate this.

———

“I got your favorite!” Choonhee starts unloading the bag of food she brought with her. “Don’t look so defeated over there.”

She let herself in while you sat folded up on the couch. You’re still looking at your phone, trying to figure out what to say to him. Should you keep it casual and tell him your day was alright? Lie?

No, you could tell him the truth; that it was a rough day, and you’ve had a lot of days like this lately because you haven’t seen him in such a long time. But you have no idea how he’d react to that. Maybe he would feel guilty about not texting more, or feel bad because he’s been too busy to see you when he is in Seoul.

Or maybe he would feel overwhelmed by it, and decide enough was enough.

Seungmin—the Seungmin you know, at least, has always come off very laidback. Open when he needed to be, but not overly so. He’s a little bit reserved, but so many moments with him have been…cute.

And Chicago. It’s been so long since Chicago—long enough that the memory is fading a little. You have to think back on it and keep yourself there, in that moment, to remember all the detail. It’s all still there, in your head.

Finally, you start to type.

“Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.”

You stare at it until Choonhee clears her throat in an attempt to get your attention.

You read it once more, then send it.

“Okay, dinner is served. Eat and tell me what’s been bothering you.”

You set your phone face down on the table and take a few bites before getting into it. Starting the conversation will be the most difficult.

So you just start.

“This is a little bit my fault, isn’t it?” Choonhee listened quietly, but you could tell she wasn’t expecting this to be about him. “I pushed this on you. I knew he spoke to you back in…June? I think it was June. But I didn’t know you saw each other again after the first date.”

“Yeah, there was a second date. And a third. And, well…ya know.”

Her eyebrows raise, “what? Fourth, fifth?”

“No, we slept together.”

She’s silent for a long moment, but her eyes remain fixed on you.

“When I went home in July. Remember?”

She’s still silent.

“I haven’t seen him since then.”

“Seungmin doesn’t like opening up to people. He doesn’t do that. Or he didn’t, at least. Are you sure you didn’t just…dream it?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t dream about having sex with him and then convince myself it really happened.”

Choonhee throws her hands up and waves your remark away, “okay I’m sorry, I’m just…surprised. I mean, even the multiple dates is a little surprising.”

“Then why did you even set us up?”

She shrugs, and then struggles to find the right words, “I don’t know…you were both here, and alone. I didn’t want you to spend the holiday by yourself. I thought you’d like him…I guess I was right. I’m not usually good with matches.

“So…are you saying I should just move on?”

“No, absolutely not! Text him right now, and tell him you want to see him when he gets home. He doesn’t get to fuck and run. I don’t care who he is.”

She goes quiet for a few seconds, but you can tell she’s frustrated and deep in thought. “I knew you’d like him. I’m sorry, I made this mess. If he doesn’t get himself together and talk to you like he should, I’ll go find him myself.”

———

By the time your text message gets to Seungmin, he’s home, undressed, and about to hop into a very hot shower. He smiles when he reads Minnie, because in the far too few messages exchanged, you’ve mostly called him Seungmin. His smile fades when he reads the rest.

He knows he’s been bad at this. Not just bad, actually—he’s been pathetic. He’s ghosted you, and strung you along for weeks.

No, he thinks. It’s been months of sporadic texting. Every time he was home, or close to home, he ignored you. Not maliciously, of course, and ignored is a strong word. He messaged you, but it really was the bare minimum. Especially after the last time you were together; you gave yourself to him, and Seungmin took all that he could.

Now he can’t admit to you how much it scared him.

He sets his phone down for now, and climbs into the shower—because once again, his mind, body, and everything in between is tired.

He’s so tired, he feels like he could cry. Maybe if he just let go, let himself wrap around someone and cry into their chest, he would feel better.

———

“When did he text you last?” Choonhee is cleaning up the table, throwing things into the sink, and generally doing a terrible job of tidying. But she means well, and you let her at it. “Has it been a while?”

“Three days ago, before today. He sent a message while you were in my classroom earlier.”

“Oh, is that who the buzz was? Did you answer back? Maybe you should just make him wait around.”

“I replied right before we ate, only because it took me a while to figure out what to say.”

You’re back on the couch now, phone in hand, eyes staring at the stagnant message thread. Figuring out his schedule is tough sometimes, and you try (and usually fail) to stay off of Twitter and fan sites. Right now you’re sifting through them, though—looking for anything new.

You pull up a few airport photos from earlier today. Seungmin is hidden behind a mask and a hat, but you can see his eyes. He looks tired.

It makes your heart sink. You return to your message thread again and read through the last few texts; they feel more and more impersonal as time goes on, and that makes your heart sink, too.

Maybe he is pulling away from you.

“I know saying this won’t help, but do not let this take over. Don’t let him get into your head like this.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Choonhee grabs your arm and shakes it furiously, “he’s just a guy!”

———

Seungmin is flat on his back, covers fluffed up all around him, a pillow under his head, another under his feet. No matter what he does, he’s uncomfortable. He desperately wants and needs to fall asleep, but it’s alluding him. His brain won’t shut up.

The room is chilly, and that’s usually what does the trick. Cold room, warm bed, and he’s out like a light.

He picks up his phone and reads your text again.

Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.

If only he could figure out what to say back to you. There are so many things he wants to say, and so few ways he can think of to type it out.

Even if he were to see you face to face, he’d be lost for words. Seungmin is not one to let people in, but he has already let you in.

And now he’s stupidly pushing you away.

He pulls up a photo of you and stares at it. This wasn’t the way he planned on relaxing, but his hand is finding it’s way under his shirt anyway, touching his stomach, slowly moving downward until reaches the waistband of his sweatpants.

Thinking of your one night together, somehow still vivid in his head after all this time, is enough to get him hard. And looking at you…he runs his hand down the length of his cock, grabs tight, and strokes himself slowly. The breath he lets out is shaky. He has to be quiet.

———

“Is he?” You look at her, only slightly defeated. “…just a guy?”

“You slept with him, you should know.”

“He’s not.”

The look she gives you is almost enough to make you rethink what you just said.

“I promise you, beneath everything, he’s like any other guy you’ve dated who got too close, freaked out, and disappeared.”

You shake your head. Then your phone buzzes in your hand, and the feeling makes your heart jump to your throat, and your stomach sink all at once. You don’t immediately move your eyes to the screen—you can’t.

“Was that him?”

Now you look. SM. You nod.

you still want to see me?

You will see him again, and you’ll tell him exactly how you feel.

“What did he say?”

You turn your phone so Choonhee can read the message. She rolls her eyes.

“He sounds like a guy. I’m sorry I got you into this…but, you are going to see him again I assume.”

“Yeah, of course.”

———

It’s not until you’re in bed, hours later, that you open his text in an attempt to answer. But it might be better to do this in the morning, because sending one and waiting for his reply is going to keep you up all night.

You stare anyway, trying to get your thoughts in order; your words, your feelings. Do you want him to know how you really feel now, or when you have him in front of you? Can you even get the right words out when he’s in front of you?

You open your notes app and begin working on a reply.

You know I want to see you, Seungmin. I’m trying to be patient and understanding, but it’s so hard when you’re on my mind every day. I hope you’re getting some rest, and I hope you’re doing well. And I hope I can see you before you leave again.

You fall asleep writing. And in the morning, there he is again. One text message sent at 5am.

I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October, but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse

For a moment, you think you accidentally sent the rough draft of your text in your sleep. You didn’t. This was just him, awake before dawn, finally giving you something sincere. Now you have to rethink your reply.

The typing notification pops up while you’re reading over his message again. Still awake at 6:45.

I remember you telling me you wake up at the same time every morning... Good morning

You feel like crying again. But not like yesterday.

“Good morning” is the best you can come up with this early. He’ll have to wait.

———

Seungmin falls asleep, eventually, but not comfortably.

He gets up from bed to clean himself up, change (he’s warm now, so he opts for less clothes), and hopefully he’ll still be a little bit tired by the time he hits the bed again.

At 4:45am, his body decides he’s had enough. Now he’s awake, eyes still closed, bed far too warm. He throws off the blankets and flips onto his back.

Immediately, and not surprisingly, Seungmin’s thoughts turn to you. You’re sleeping soundly, he hopes, unlike him. He imagines you in the bed he’s never seen; curled up, tucked in. Maybe if he was there with you, he could sleep.

Every time he gets back home, he tries to push himself again, and he fails. He did it in October, and then again in September, right before his birthday. He knows he can’t keep doing this to you.

He pulls out his phone and opens your message thread.

…I hope I get to see you again soon

Seungmin stops thinking and just types:

“I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October…”

He stops and reads it. October. He was busy with the album release, but if he looks back in his messages again, he can count the number of texts he sent on one hand. You sent just as many…well, one more than him. That last message he didn’t even reply to. You must have been fed up with him and his lack of communication. And you had every right to be.

“…but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse.”

This part is true. Seungmin is almost freezing again right now.

“I don’t know how to explain…”

Now he thinks.

“…how all of this is making me feel. Maybe I’m…”

Seungmin backspaces the last sentence before he even finishes it. And then he hits send.

At 6:45, he’s still wide awake. He remembers you telling him your alarm is always set for this time, so he sends one more message.

And you reply. He was right, you were awake. Just a good morning, though. He’s sure it’s far too early for you to deal with his wishy-washy bullshit.

———

When he doesn’t text again by lunch time, you decide he’s waited long enough. And you can’t waste time, really. He might not be in town for long.

“I want to see you, and I will see you. Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. But I need it to be soon. Neither of us are allowed to be nervous anymore.”

It’s better, you decide, than whatever you wrote last night.

He’s silent as you drift through the rest of the school day (you assume he’s having trouble thinking of a reply to that), and right as the class is gathering their things and leaving, another teacher sneaks in and approaches you. Then you realize it’s not a teacher, but you recognize her. She’s a secretary you’ve spoken to a few times before.

She nods to you and smiles. “I know you’re on your way out, but there’s a visitor for you, a parent who insisted I bring them right to you. It seemed important.”

You have very specific times for parent/teacher visits, and this is not one of them. And there is nobody else who would visit you. You’re confused. “Okay, send them in…I guess.”

You look down at your phone—you doubt it, but maybe you missed a text message or a call. No, nothing.

“Hello.”

The way his voice floats over to you almost knocks you out, and when you turn to meet his eyes, your throat refuses to let you release the air in your lungs.

“Your last text was very insistent. I know this probably is not the best approach…but I haven’t been doing a very good job of anything lately.”

Still you just stare at him, lost for words. You look around your classroom, then down at yourself. This is not how you wanted to see him again, but do you have any room to complain?

He takes a few steps toward you, “was this a bad idea?”

You manage to shake your head and swallow. And then you realize your legs still work, with some effort. Two steps later, your arms wrap around his waist, your face disappears in his sweatshirt, and you squeeze.

His tiny, relieved laugh is music to your ears, and then his hands slide across your back until he’s fully embraced you.

You keep him there for a long time, and he doesn’t protest or try to pull you away. When he does speak again, it’s a question.

“How was your day?”

You slowly release him, but making eye contact is a bit of a challenge. “It’s better now.” So you fall apart when he does show up; no strong words, no looks of disbelief at his absence. You knew this would happen.

“Where can I take you? Home? Or…anywhere you want.”

“Home is good.”

“Okay, there’s a ride waiting for us.” He moves his hands up and over your shoulders, and he rests them on either side of your neck. “I understand if you’re angry with me, and if you stay that way.”

“I am. I don’t want to be.”

Seungmin leans closer, and he moves painfully slow, but eventually he makes it to your mouth. His kiss is light and short, but he keeps going back to peck at your lips, over and over, until you open up and hold him there.

Finally, clear memories of Chicago fill you up. His scent and his touch pull you right back, and you hope he remembers it like you do.

———

It feels like your first date. A quiet car ride, a slow ride up the elevator, an awkward, unsure walk down the hallway to your apartment door. Then walking into your messy living room.

“Are you hungry? I can order something for us,” he says as he’s carefully removing his shoes. “And we can talk while we wait.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll make some coffee.”

Seungmin doesn’t follow you to the kitchen, like he’s done a few times before. Instead, he sits on the couch, situating himself so he can still see you.

You try not to look at him as you work, but you fail, several times. He smiles every time your eyes meet, but it’s a sad smile. It’s not one you’re used to seeing.

“No small talk,” you tell him as you hand him his coffee. “I’ll lose my mind.”

“No small talk.” He nods.

“Where have you been?” You start, staring down at your mug. “Not physically, I know that already. I mean…in every other way.”

“Uhm—“ Seungmin thinks. His face twists a little, probably in confusion. “Where have I…”

“Mentally,” you can’t take your eyes off of him now. “Emotionally.”

“Oh, okay I understand.” He clears his throat, adjusts himself. “It’s been hard to keep my thoughts organized lately. It’s not just that I’ve been busy with work…I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seungmin shakes his head, “I could’ve fixed it, I’m sure. If I would’ve just talked about things with you a while ago, I probably would have slept easier.”

“I kept you up?”

“Yes. Well, thinking about you. I do think about you, all the time, even if I haven’t kept in touch. But I’ve been over complicating things, I think.”

“Talk to me now. Please.”

You think you can see his cheeks turning pink. His eyes are wide and shiny, but he’s unsure.

“I know, Seungmin…it is hard. It’s been hard for me, and I feel like it’s been a little more difficult for you. I kept everything to myself all this time, up until yesterday.”

He gives you another questioning look.

“Choonhee forced it out of me.”

He nods, sets his coffee down, and swings his legs up on the couch. Something about him making himself more comfortable puts you at ease. You remember him mentioning before that he felt relaxed being here, alone with you. "I don’t feel any pressure here." You hope he still feels that way.

“Tell me what you told her.”

“She did most of the talking.”

“Then what did Choonhee tell you?”

“That you’re just a guy, and I shouldn’t let you get to me like this.”

Seungmin actually nods at that—but he’s not looking you in the eyes now, so maybe he’s just…thinking about it. Or maybe he’s agreeing. You don’t know where this is going yet.

“I am just a guy, she’s right. I don’t want to be just a guy, though. Not to you.”

“Oh…”

“I thought I knew what was going on when we were together in Chicago, and I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve been thinking all this time that if this couldn’t be a normal, traditional relationship, you would not be happy, not satisfied. And you’d tell me you weren’t interested in me anymore. I thought you would tell me you couldn’t do it.”

You almost interject; tell him that’s never what you expected of him. You wouldn’t never do that. Why didn’t you say that before? Instead, you used the hypothetical “if you weren’t who you are” question on him. You remain quiet, though, hoping he continues.

“…what I’ve been doing isn’t much better than what I’ve been afraid of. But you’re very smart, and I always knew that.”

You just smile at him, waiting for more.

“That’s why you were so worried when you found out who I was. You know this is much more complicated than that.”

“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”

He’s biting his lip. Tapping his foot. It’s almost touching you, and you want to stretch your leg out until it does, but right as you tell your brain to do it, his leg slides back. He sits up and leans forward, falls to his knees, and crawls across the couch.

Before you can squeak his name out, he’s straddling you, arms on either side of your waist. And then the full weight of his body is on you. Seungmin sets his head down gently against your chest and relaxes.

You freeze for a few seconds. You have fallen asleep on this couch with him before, but this feels like much more.

He doesn’t say anything, not even when you set your hand on his head—rake your fingers through his hair, wrap your other arm around his shoulders. He sighs, though.

When it feels like you’re drifting off to sleep, he finally speaks. It’s muffled against your shirt.

“You just want me, right?”

“What?”

“Even if nobody is allowed to know. And we can’t go out in public, and I have to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Seungmin, I know that we can’t have a normal relationship. I just want you…and to know that you want me.” You say the last part under your breath.

��I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I promise I’ll be better. And that I won’t be afraid to talk to you, and tell you too much.”

“You can tell me whatever you need to.”

“I don’t usually talk much…to anyone.”

It never occurred to you that he didn’t have someone to talk to when he was feeling down, or having a bad day. A bad week. He’s been bottling everything up, just like you have. Maybe for a very long time.

“You can talk to me about your bad days, Minnie, or when you can’t sleep. And about your good days. I would like to be that person.”

“Am I the reason you had a rough day yesterday? Have you had a lot of those?”

“Yeah, I have had a lot of bad days because I missed you.”

“You can tell me about your bad days, too. Even if they were bad because of me.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Seungmin laughs, and it shakes your whole body. “Good.”

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The next morning is almost normal. Your alarm goes off at its regular time—6:45, and you’re tired, which is also normal. The room is chilly, and it’s so warm under the blankets that getting up is nearly impossible. An ordinary morning. The one thing that makes it different is that Seungmin is there when you open your eyes.

The alarm doesn’t even make him stir, but when you finally turn it off, he groans.

“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to work?” He asks, eyes closed, voice raspy with sleep.

“No, not today. I found someone to cover for me.”

He smiles and reaches his arm toward you, and he feels blindly around where he thinks you might be. “Why are you so far away?”

You move closer and grab his arm, “I’m right here. Go back to sleep.”

“I’ll try.”

…

Sleep eventually finds both of you again. When you wake back up a few hours later, he’s still there, breathing deeply, melting into your bed. You need to get up, but you wait a little longer. You really don’t want to wake him right now.

When he eventually wakes up on his own, he’ll feel better.

You close your eyes. And again, you fall asleep.

…

Something warm against your forehead wakes you up for a third time. Your eyes open and all you see is skin; Seungmin’s neck, his shoulder. The collar of his shirt is loose enough that you can see the start of his chest.

You pull him closer and push your face into him. He smells good. He smells like sleep and sweat and whatever leftover cologne is still stuck to him from yesterday.

Part of you still wants to keep your guard up. He’ll be gone soon, and then you’ll have to wait and see if his confidence and trust in you remains, and if he’ll really feel comfortable telling you the things he doesn’t tell anyone else.

“I can start,” you say, face still in his chest. You move up toward his neck and set your lips against his skin.

“Start what?”

“After we were together last, in Chicago, and we didn’t…use a condom. I did get a morning after pill, and I took it.”

He pulls you away so he can look at you.

“My period came really late after that, so I thought it didn’t work. And I was really scared. But I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell you because we hadn’t talked very much that week, and you didn’t need that on your mind anyway.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”

“Everything turned out okay.”

“You can talk to me any time you need to, even if I’ve been quiet.”

You nod, and you really want to believe him.

“Too soon for babies.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear him. He has a little smirk on his face, but he’s avoiding eye contact and staring at the little bit of space between you.

“You want them?”

“Hm?” Now he makes eye contact, and his ears are slowly turning red. “Uhm…yes, I always have. Do you?”

Having kids isn’t something you’ve thought about much (aside from the scare you had in July), because you haven’t met anyone you would want to have kids with. Well, until now, because looking at Seungmin and the sweet smile on his face is making you want them immediately. But you know that’s not possible for him.

“With the right person, yeah.”

“I’m sure someday I’ll be able to do that. Have the time to be there, for both of them. You and baby. I couldn’t be gone all the time and leave you alone.”

He stops for a second. You wonder if he’s even hearing himself speak.

“…Seungmin?”

“It was my turn to tell you something personal.” He brings his hands up to his face and rubs his cheeks, then his eyes. “Just in case I’m the right person.”

The conversation feels like too much, too soon. But you like it. He’s only been open with you like this once before: on your second date, when he admitted to being worried you’d like his friends more than him. You thought that was silly then, and now…you’re not sure you could like anyone more than Seungmin.

“…and if I’m your right person.”

Seungmin smiles and hides his face in the pillow.

———

As the day goes on, you wonder how long he’ll be here with you. Every time he looks at a message on his phone, you assume that will be his cue to get going—to start saying goodbye. But he’s still here, and he seems content.

It was his idea to stay, and he insisted on making breakfast.

“What do you normally do on your days off?” is what he asked as you sat and ate.

So it’s been a regular day off, aside from the fact that Seungmin is also here with you…eating, cleaning, sorting laundry, watching tv, and eventually, catching up with schoolwork.

He sits down next to you on the couch when you open your binder and pull out a stack of papers. He watches quietly as you shuffle though them, putting the pages in order before you start to look them over properly.

He picks the next one up before you get to it. “How old are your students again?”

“They are eight…a few are nine.”

“I don’t remember my English classes being this complicated when I was…older than them.”

“You should see their math homework.”

“Oh, I was very good at math!”

“Yeah?” You look at him, give him your full attention. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“Not even what’s on the internet?” Seungmin leans back against the couch, and pulls you with him.

“I’ve read a few things. But I’m sure you’re a lot more complicated than your fun facts.”

“I hope so.” He grabs you around the waist, “what were you good at in school?”

“English…” you laugh. “And I did pretty good in my German class, and history.”

“Do you speak German, too?” He’s holding you tight, head resting on your shoulder.

“No, I’ve forgotten almost all of that.”

“Why did you come here, to Korea?

You turn yourself to look at him, disturbing his resting head. But he keeps his arms around you.

“So close to Samseong-Dong?”

“I felt like I needed to start over after I graduated college, and this seemed like the perfect way to do it. I actually almost went to Japan.”

“Why didn’t you? Where did you go to college?”

“Northwestern University. And I missed a deadline. Luckily, I already had applications submitted to a few different programs here and nearby.”

“And you chose here?”

Seungmin’s hands wander throughout the entire conversation, stopping when they reach just below where the hem of your shirt hits.

“They chose me.”

“That’s very lucky.” They slide underneath and up your back, “maybe we were meant to meet each other.”

“I’m not sure I believe in things like that.” You move yourself closer to him, until your face is inches from his.

“I don’t either, really. Fate, and soulmates. I’ve been called a…uhm, I don’t remember the English word. A negative person.”

“A pessimist?”

“Yes. Maybe sometimes I am, but…not always. I can be positive. I just like to be realistic.”

“A pragmatist.” You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Mhm, both of those P words. I did get lucky, though.” He pushes forward, gently coaxing you to your back.

“Was it there before?” You ask. He’s hanging over you, studying your face. “Before Chicago, after I asked if you would date me?“

“Was what there? You mean, did I like you?”

“Yes, but…more than that. Or was it spending the night together?”

“It was before that. That’s why I wanted to spend the night with you.”

You nod, trying hard not to beam up at him. But his hands are on your sides, and his fingertips are moving so delicately over you, you can’t help but smile.

“When was it there for you?”

Your heart starts beating a little faster. You have no answer ready for him except the truth.

“When you gave me Pochacco.”

“On our first date? At the coffee shop?”

You throw your hands over your face and nod, “yeah, at the coffee shop.”

“I felt kind of silly giving him to you, I thought you would think it was silly, too.” He pulls your hands away so he can see your face again.

“It wasn’t.”

“So PuppyM wasn’t silly either?”

“No, I love him. And your denim jacket you left, that’s hanging on my bedpost. I love all of your gifts.”

“Oh, I forgot about that jacket!”Seungmin comes down and settles himself against you, face in your neck, hands wondering more.

“You can have it back, if you want.”

“No, you keep it. But I do need something of yours to keep with me.” His hands slide under your shirt and across your stomach. He tickles your side again, then stops when he reaches your hip.

You’re surprised at his restraint.

“I’m sure I have something for you.” You set your hand over his and slide it up his arm. Then back down.

His fingers twitch and push under your shorts. As ready as you were, and as much as you wanted him to make that move, your breath still catches in your throat.

He props himself up with his other arm and looks at you. His fingers touch lightly over your underwear, taking his time, getting himself where he needs to be.

But you’re not taking your time. And it’s Seungmin touching you, so your body is already on fire. You push your hips up and push his hand harder against you.

His fingers slide up and sneak beneath the fabric. He moves slowly, and he’s watching you carefully, as if you might protest.

But of course you don’t. You grip his arm and slide your hand from his bicep down to his wrist, moving with him as his fingers slip inside of you.

“Am I doing okay?” He leans closer and whispers. He doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling out and sliding back over your clit, making you choke on your answer.

You manage a shaky mhm and Seungmin giggles into your ear. His fingers stay put, making soft circles around you, keeping his touch as delicate as possible. Then he takes them off again, and he pushes back inside.

The reach of is fingers is enough to hit just the right spot, and when you jump from the pressure, he does it again and again until he gets a moan out of you.

You lift your hips into his touch and pull him down for a kiss. Your grip on his arm tightens and he eases up, but barely. His mouth is working its way across your neck now, leaving you free to moan.

“Do you do this a lot?” He says as he nibbles across your ear and cheek. When he gets to your lips, he hangs above you and holds your gaze. His thumb slides over your clit again, like he wanted to remind you of what he was talking about.

“Uhh…hmm?” You slide your hand up and grab a handful of his hair. “Yes.” You laugh and knead your fingertips into his scalp—it makes his eyes roll back. He’s in your neck again, savoring his little massage.

“Do you think about me when you do it?”

His question sends another wave of pleasure through you. His fingers slip inside again, pressing hard. His thumb is on your clit, wet and sliding easily and hitting everywhere you need it to.

There’s hot, heavy breathing in your ear, and a sweet whisper, “do you think about me, hm?”

“Every time,” your climax hits fast, and Seungmin knows he’s succeeded by the way you’re pulling at his hair.

He holds himself up just enough to watch you squirm beneath him. His touch softens even more as you start to relax, and when you stop and stare up at him, he comes down and kisses across your forehead and down the side of your face. He lets you catch your breath before moving to your lips.

“Really?” Seungmin blushes and tries to stifle his laugh in your neck.

You nod slowly, “that was…very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Too good, maybe.”

“I did some research.”

“You did not.” But when you think about it for a second, it does seem like something Seungmin would do. “Did you?”

“Just a little. In case I’d get to try it out on you someday.”

———

Seungmin looks carefully across your desk, touching the books stacked there, the loose sheets of composition paper, the notes and pencils. He sits in your chair and opens the drawer—inside are a few notebooks, all used and full. He shuffles things around a little, searching every inch.

Now he gets up and moves to your bookshelf. It’s more of a trinket shelf, though. Seungmin only runs his eyes over this, until he catches sight of a snow globe. He picks that up and shakes it. Inside is the Chicago skyline.

He stares at it for a long moment, then returns it to his spot. His attention turns to you, on the bed.

You just smile at him. He keeps looking around.

The next stop is your bedside table. You sit up when he sits down on the edge of the bed, run your hand down his back. As soon as he opens it, he whispers an ooh, and reaches inside.

“What did you find?” You laugh.

“Me,” he holds up three photocards with his face on them.

You take them from him and fall back on the bed, “you”, and look deeply at paper Seungmin.

“Hey, I’m right here…” he pushes your hand away and bends down to kiss you. “Real me.”

The next thing pulled from the drawer is a journal. He looks it over, but doesn’t open it.

“That’s you, too.”

Seungmin points to it, and his head tilts, “this is me?”

“Yeah, almost every page.”

His face goes from confusion to understanding, and then it falls a little.

“You should add one more page.”

“I will.”

The journal goes back in, and then his fingers close around something small. When he pulls it out, it catches the light and throws a reflection across the room.

“Oh, I haven’t worn this since last time.” You sit up and Seungmin hands you the bracelet. It’s only a tiny gold chain, but at the very end of it is a star charm.

“This.” He says, and he watches as you unclasp it, wrap it around his wrist, and close it again.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

An hour after Seungmin left your house the last time, he sent you a text that just said “I’m home”. That was a first, and it felt like a good omen. But only time would tell. He never really had a good start with keeping in touch.

But he also said goodnight. And then he said good morning. And sometimes he called just to tell you instead of texting.

Actually, this morning, almost two months later, he called early in the morning, when you were still asleep. You caught his name on the lock screen before you picked up, but you still lacked the energy for anything more than a groggy morning Min.

Luckily, he can make up in enthusiasm what you lack some days.

“I’m sorry, you’re still asleep,” he whispers.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just being lazy. What are you up to this morning?” You also caught sight of the time before answering: 10am, way too late for you to sleep in.

“Catching a flight home, from Thailand. Waiting around.” Now you can hear the sleep still lingering in his voice.

“Oh right. I forgot you were there…I did see some photos. You looked very handsome in your safety glasses.”

“Thank you,” he laughs. “I was calling to…uhm, say good morning, and also to see if you would be home tonight.”

“Minnie, I’m always home.”

“That’s true, but it would still be rude to just show up unannounced.”

“I give you permission to show up unannounced.”

“Can I have a key, too? Oh, that reminds me…uuh, well, actually I’ll just talk to you about it later.”

“Okay, don’t forget. And yes you can have a key.”

———

This is the first time you’re not nervous about Seungmin coming over. Well, not as nervous as you typically would be. You’re still a little on edge—a little worried about how you look and about how your food is going to taste.

He didn’t mention anything about coming over hungry, but you’re taking the initiative anyway. If anything, he’ll have something to take home with him.

A soft knock at the door. You know his soft, steady knock, and you never have any other visitors, so it’s him. But for some reason you stand there stupidly, not moving, not saying anything, because you know it’s really him on the other side of your door.

Finally, after a few seconds, you take a breath. “It’s open.”

The door swings open.

“Hi,” Seungmin closes it quietly, takes off his shoes and looks at you from across the room. “It smells very good in here.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so…”

“No, nothing since lunch.” He takes a few long strides toward you. Big blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a big smile. “So I’m very hungry,” he embraces you and squeezes you tight against his chest. “How have you been?” He relaxes, but he doesn’t let you free.

“I’ve been okay...I’ve been good.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit around Christmas—oh!” He bends down and kisses you.

He kisses for a long time—long enough that you think you might end up in bed before you even eat dinner. But he slows down, and then releases you.

“Happy new year! A little late.” He comes down again for one more kiss, and then makes his way to the kitchen. “What did you make? Something American? It smells like something American.”

“Yes. It’s very American.”

“Should we eat first, or talk?”

“I’m sure we can manage both.”

———

The two of you stare at each other from across your tiny kitchen table. Seungmin sips his tea. You just watch and wait, because this is his conversation.

“Do you want me to start? Something about you having a key to my apartment?”

“Ah, yeah. Yes, I should have a key, but I was thinking of a different apartment.”

“Oh, like yours? No, you don’t have an apartment. Or do you?” You lean a little closer, “secret apartment?”

“No, no secret apartment,” he laughs. “But I thought it would be nice if you lived closer. Closer to the city, and closer to me.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not sure something closer is in my budget.”

“I know,” Seungmin smiles—there’s always something so clever and knowing about his smile. “I figured you might say that. I could help.”

“You want to help me with rent? Expensive rent. That’s kind of serious.”

“I do! It is serious. I am serious.”

“You are?” You sit back in your chair and study his face. He’s still smiling and nodding at you.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for…almost two months. And I found somewhere I think would fit very well.”

“Closer to you?”

“Much closer. I could walk to you.”

You’re thinking, but you’re not really thinking. The obvious answer to this is yes, even though it’s hard to just come out and say it. The idea of someone else helping with rent, or helping with anything, is foreign to you. “I would like to be closer to you.”

Seungmin looks at his phone, pulls something up on it, and then slides it to you across the table. “How is something like this?”

You trust Seungmin’s taste and judgement, but you still want to look it over thoroughly. Distance, yes, but also the size, the layout. And you do not have enough windows in this apartment. You’d like more windows. If he’s as serious as he looks, it might as well be worth whatever money you’re both going to put into it.

“How about this one?” You pull up a different listing.

He looks it over, “still very close. Oh, two bedrooms. Maybe the extra space would be nice.”

“It is a little more, sorry (Seungmin shakes his head when you say that), but it has a bathtub instead of just a walk-in shower. And it’s own laundry.”

He laughs, “I could do my laundry faster if I bring it with me. And the kitchen is nicer.”

“I miss having a bathtub.” You hand him his phone back. “But are you sure this isn’t too much? I know you said you were serious—“

“I am…I want you to know that I’m very serious. I think this is a good way to show you. And it’s also very practical.”

“You seemed so unsure before. I just want you to be…good. I want both of us to be good.”

“I’m very good.”

“This is a little crazy, isn’t it? All of this.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll call about it tomorrow.”

“No, I can. Let me do that, at least.”

———

“Minnie?”

Mmhm?

You sat on the couch after dinner, and it didn’t take much time before he had you on your back. He lifts your shirt as far as this position will allow, letting his fingers dance over you—making you squirm a little from how soft his touch is.

Forming the words you want to say is much harder than you thought. They’re dancing around in your head; you’re moving them back and forth, but every way it comes together feels like too much or not enough. Maybe right now just isn’t he time.

“What’s wrong?”

You pull your shorts down, open your legs for him, then shake your head. “Nothing.”

Seungmin reaches down and feels you, slips his fingers inside, then slowly pulls them back out. He smiles against your mouth and pushes in again, just to feel how wet you are. “Are we okay here…are you comfortable?” He asks sweetly. His fingers are still inside, moving delicately.

You nod, but suddenly you remember that you are not good, and you’re not ready. “Shit, no we’re not good. We need a condom this time.”

“Oh right, we should be safe. Tell me where they are,” he adjusts his sweatpants and very carefully lifts himself off of you.”

“In my black bag, under my bed.”

You listen as he slides it out and digs around. The contents of that bag are a mystery, but the condoms you bought back in Chicago, both boxes, have to be in there still. You’re not that bad at unpacking, but if it’s something you don’t use, you’re definitely going to forget I’m about it under there forever.

When he comes back in, he has one in each hand.

“I’m….not sure which one is for me.” His voice seems a little dejected. He’s looking down at them as he approaches you.

“Oh Minnie, they were both for you. I bought these a while ago, when I didn’t know which would fit you better.”

“Oh,” he finally makes eyes contact again. His face softens a little. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, come here.” You spread your legs again and wait for him, “I’ll put it on for you.”

He crawls back onto the couch, settles between your legs, and opens both hands, palms up, in front of you.

You take the right one and rip it open. Seungmin looks like his mind is suddenly full. His eyes are big and soft.

“Min, what’s on your mind?”

His hands are already on his sweatpants, pulling them down his hips.

“You are.”

You touch him, slide your fingertips down, and then back up. The condom goes on easily. “Does it feel okay?”

He nods and adjusts, makes himself comfortable, and lifts your legs until he has more room. He pushes in a halfway, then leans over until you’re almost nose to nose.

“Minnie?”

“Hmm?” He sets his forehead against yours.

“There’s only you.”

“Just me?” He pushes his nose into yours, “only me?” Pecks at your lips.

“Just us.”

“Only us.” Seungmin pushes the rest of the way in, waits a moment, then begins to fuck you slowly and deeply, “you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear as he drags his lips over it.

It takes you a second to pull yourself together. Each thrust sends you upward and knocks the breath out of you, but you manage a nod.

“Tell me,” he quickens his pace. The couch shakes the end table, and you can hear the clatter of things falling to the floor. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

It comes out shaky, and it’s not good enough for you. But Seungmin is still smiling. You try again

“I’m yours,” you grab the back of his neck and hold him still, “I only love you.” Your hand grabs hair and pulls—lips close on his before he has a chance to speak.

But he sighs into the kiss. He slows down, and it feels like he’s melting into you more and more with each thrust. What little skin is exposed between the two of you slides together, damp with sweat, and Seungmin kisses every part of you he can get to in the position he’s in.

He tries to get rid of your shirt, but he can’t stop, and he has to stop to make any progress—so you clumsily lift it, and your bra, until you’re free.

His hand slides up your ribs and his fingers graze over you, but for now he just watches how he’s making your body move under him. He seems hypnotized, but eventually he blinks, and then his eyes are fixed on yours again.

The room is quiet—no ambient noise from the tv, no music, nothing. The only sounds are the heavy breaths and soft moans you’re sharing. The condom is slowing him down, keeping him here much longer, and everything feels good in this position; good enough that you’d be satisfied staying like this as long he needs it.

He made you come last time, and now you want to do the same for him.

You lift him off of you until you can see him better.

He looks you in the eyes again, satisfied and smiling. “You feel so good,” he’s back down again, mouth on your chest, kissing down until he can close his lips around your nipple. He licks and works his way back up, stopping at your throat and staying there, his warm breath hitting you. “You love me?”

Your heart jumps. It was already racing, but now you feel it everywhere. In your throat, your chest, your head. You don’t think you’ve ever told anyone that before; not so soon. It’s been a year, but tonight is only the sixth time you’ve seen him and touched him. Everything else has been texts, phone calls, video calls.

It doesn’t matter. You said it because it felt right, and it still feels right.

“Yes.”

Seungmin slows his pace. His exhales turns into a string of soft, dulcet moans. He lifts himself upright and holds your hips as he rolls into you. He comes quietly. You wouldn’t have even realized if you weren’t looking right him.

The satisfied look on his face makes your stomach swirl. You watch Seungmin smile before your eyes close, and you can hear him whisper something to you while you’re coming down from your own high.

He pulls out and carefully brings your legs together.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything, love.” He sits you up next to him and pulls your t-shirt over your head, “I was just…” he pulls you close, “nothing, it’s not important right now.”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

———

It’s been a long six weeks. You’re a little stressed out, but you’ve been holding yourself together very well, you think.

This apartment has been your only home for more than three years, so packing your things up and preparing to leave has been a little bit emotional. Almost everything is out of here and all that’s left are a few things you’re taking along on the last car ride.

Before this, everything was moving in slow motion and it was killing you. Now, it won’t slow down. You’re happy, and you’re grateful for everything that Seungmin has done for you…and it’s still sometimes hard to believe he’s doing it all just for you. But it’s so much all at once.

He told you he would stay tonight—your first night there. You haven’t received a text telling you otherwise, so you’re hoping he will be there when you arrive. You do have to remember that you’ll be there alone most of the time, though.

Some things will remain the same.

———

The elevator ride up is long, and you think back to you and Seungmin—your first date, bringing him home with you to your 5th floor apartment, thirty minutes out of the way, just to have him to yourself.

That was probably a good indication that he liked you. You just didn't realize it at the time.

You finally stop at the 17th floor.

The original apartment you looked at was unavailable when you called the next morning, so Seungmin insisted on taking everything into his own hands while you were at work. He knew what you were looking for, but he went overboard.

This apartment has the windows, the bathtub, and laundry room, but it also has double the space—and three bedrooms. When you asked what you were supposed to do with all of the extra room, Seungmin shrugged and said we’ll figure something out.

You don’t even own enough to fill up half of it. Everything that required any sort of muscle; the bed, the living room furniture, it all stayed behind. Most of the things in this apartment are new, or they will be new.

Before you have a chance to explore any further than the kitchen, you hear a very faint, soft knock on the door. You know it’s him and you run to open it, but he punches in a code on the doorknob, turns it, and peeks in before you get there.

“I tried to beat you here.” He smiles.

“You almost did.“

He closes the space between you and pulls you into a hug. “How was your day? Did the movers get everything here?”

“It was alright, and…I think so, but I haven’t gotten any further than this.”

“Just alright? I know it’s been a lot lately.”

“I’m better now that I’m here, and you’re here.” You take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, “let me see, smile.”

Seungmin smiles widely and dramatically, and then bends down to kiss you. “How do I look?”

You pull him back for another one, “still handsome.”

He picks up the bags he walked in with and sets them on the kitchen chair. “I brought us dinner, and a few things to make you feel more at home.” Seungmin is pulling the food out of the bag, piece by piece. “So you didn’t see the bedroom yet?”

“Not yet, why?”

He shakes his head and smiles, “we’ll see it later.”

“What did you bring me?”

“Oh, let’s see!” He starts digging in the other bag.

You watch as he carefully places an assortment of things along side the food. There’s a candle, two candles, a small picture frame, but you can’t see the photo from where you’re standing. A stuffed dog. Another stuffed dog. One of them is Pochacco, the other is a mystery, but he does look familiar.

“That’s all for now but I do have more stuff to bring.”

“Well, we have plenty of space to fill.”

He beams at you, grabs one of the stuffed dogs, and pulls you against him. “This wasn’t mine, but I have one just like it.”

“I like him, he looks like you.”

Seungmin laughs and looks at Daengmo, “yes, he kind of does.”

———

When the sun goes down, and you’re both full and relaxing, you begin to feel even more nostalgic for the conversations you had and the memories you made with him at your old place, on your old couch. You have to work on new memories now.

He’s facing you on the new couch, eyes closed, slow, steady breaths. The flicker of the tv is hitting his face, making his cheek and the soft brown of his hair glow.

Very slowly, you reach your foot out and touch his.

Seungmin’s eyes open, and he gives you a sleepy smile, “how was dinner?”

“Good.” You sit up and move closer to him, “we should go to bed while you’re still sleepy.”

He groans and shrugs his shoulders.

“We gotta go see the bedroom, remember?” You grab his hand and pull a little, and he immediately gives in.

The bedroom is warm and cozy, like it’s already been lived in. You know Seungmin came in at some point and made it this way; the curtains are pulled, the soft amber lights are clicked on, and one of the candles he brought is lit on the bedside table. Both of the stuffed dogs he brought, and your PuppyM, are already laying on top of the pillows.

The bed is made, but not too made. The blankets are loose and fluffed up, ready to crawl into.

“How does it look?” He sounds a little more awake now.

“It looks perfect, come on.”

He shakes his head, “If we don’t brush our teeth now, we will never get back up to do it.” He smiles and kisses you softly.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

———

The lights are off, the candle is out. Seungmin is facing you in bed.

“Are you awake? Did you lose your sleepy?”

“A little.”

He scoots closer until his arm can drape over you. The bedroom is bigger, and the bed is bigger, too. You’re sharing one side just to be close to each other.

“It will come back soon.”

You set your forehead against his chest and feel it move steadily with each breath. It's quiet for a long time, and now sleep is really escaping you. You should be able to relax like this; you’ve shared a bed with him a few times before, and you haven’t slept as well since. And you’re tired—too tired. Maybe too exhausted for sleep.

You wonder if he’s awake, or if he’s quiet because he thinks you’ve finally drifted off.

You run your hand gently over his arm, waiting for a reaction. At first, he doesn’t make a move or a sound, but when you slide your hand back up, he moves his leg against yours.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispers

“Did I wake you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Then no, I can’t sleep.” You prop yourself up on one arm and look down at him. It’s dark, but you can just make out the details of his face.

He flips onto his back and pulls the covers away. “Are you uncomfortable?” Seungmin asks and places his hand on your cheek. He’s warm, his eyes are warm. His mouth parts slowly and turns into a smile. It’s a tired smile. “New bed.”

“New everything.”

“Except for me.”

Your hand closes around his, then you turn your head to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Thank you for being here. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”

Seungmin pulls you down on top of him. His face is in your neck, kissing playfully and lazily, but the way his hands are exploring you is anything but lazy.

“You’re cold,” he stops, wraps his arms around your waist, and holds you there. “You need to be warmed up.”

You get your hands underneath his shirt, “you’re warm enough for both of us.”

“I can share.”

“Can I ask you something stupid?”

“Yes, I would love that,” he laughs softly and disappears in your neck again.

The stupid question bounces around in your head. His warm lips on you are starting to make your head fuzzy, and you wonder if you should just forget it. But now he’ll get it out of you somehow.

“Will you sing for me?”

He pulls back to look at you. Seungmin’s face lights up. It could light up the entire room. “You want me to sing for you?” If he was sleepy at all before, he’s not now. You’ve managed to wake him the rest of the way with a simple, stupid, request. But it wasn’t stupid at all.

“I always have, it just never seemed like a good time.”

“Right now? Should I sing now? Maybe it’s too quiet, and the walls might not be very thick.”

“In the morning?”

He nods, “yes, I’ll sing for you in the morning. What should I sing?”

“Surprise me.”

“We talked about singing together before, remember?”

“I remember,” you wrap around him and pull the covers back up in an attempt to get him sleepy again. “But I’d rather just hear you.”

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

#kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin smut #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic

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purpleyoonn · 11 months

Text

red string 2

“our connection is determined by a tiny invisible string”

summary: you figured it was too late for your string to solidify, used to the idea of finding someone on your own, who also never got their string. However, your string began to tug when you least expected it, to the last person or people you would have ever thought.

genre: soulmate au, red string of fate au, poly au,

pairing: BTS (Yoongi centered) x Reader

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: slight yandere themes, insecure reader, alcohol, talks of jealousy, soul bonds, mentions of past abuse,

chapter warnings: soul pain, first meetings, running away, mc didn’t really want a bond, cinderella-esque plot line, mc is cynical, allusions to past abusive relationship, bad flashbacks, kind-of kidnapping but not really??, soul tug, mc has ptsd,

I am not going to have a taglist for this fic. I will only be using the permanent taglist as its intended for all of my fics.

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @yourleftsock @skyys-universe @cryingpages @strxwbloody @drissteele @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @crushedblackroses @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee @iiitsmaria @carolinexkpop @azazel-nyx @strawberry-moonpies @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7 @lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc @thenaverse @dahliasbouqet @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug @tinyoonsblog @veronawrites @tatyhend @singukieee @m0v3m3ntsblog @exfolitae @butterymin @queen-in-the-shadows @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13 @slinekyu @ghostlyworld@svnbangtansworld @loisje123 @i-have-no-life-charlie @danielle143 @jcrml@softieyn @kyuupidwrites @friedlollipop @lulu-83 @tokiodori

masterlist // part 1 // part 3

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Previously on Red String:

“If Mr. Min saw you carrying her, you would need the medical room.” The guard’s words were blunt, but a little worrying.

“Mr. Min? You don’t mean…” Hong visibly paled as he looked down at you, his mind making the connection you didn’t want to say. His grip loosens as Hyunsoo takes you from his arms.

“I don’t need to remind you of the NDA you signed, do I, Hongmin?” The man who found you shook his head quickly, before looking down at you once more and walking away. You could almost see his body shaking as he did so.

Still unable to move your neck, you grumble into the guard’s chest.

“So, how’s it goin?” You ask, your brain’s defense system seeing sarcasm as its only choice.

The guard assigned to you was immensely stoic; silent in a way you couldn’t even crack a smile out of the man as you grumbled to yourself.

“You know, this was not how I wanted to spend my birthday. I imagined, well, hoped for, a nice drink and take out with a crappy movie I could laugh mindlessly to. Not having fate move against me and trap me against the bathroom door.” The guard just kept walking, sometimes stopping to adjust you in his arms as your body arguably continued to let gravity do its job, more or less against your will but who were you to fight against fate when it went with your own wishes.

“So, where are we goin?” You asked him, trying to get the man to crack, but he just continued to ignore you. You weren’t going to give up though.

You could vaguely hear the music playing, the concert still happening as you were being brought to your doom. You wondered where the man was taking you, only slightly correct in the idea that you would be brought to a waiting room of some sort. However, you realized you were wrong when you were brought to a very nice room, three big couches taking up the left of the room while a couple of tables and vanities took up the other half.

The guard, and consequently you, only made it a couple of steps in before the door was being opened again. Well, more like the door was slammed open, almost flying off its hinges as the man you were trying to run from pushed his way into the room. You would have laughed at the growl coming from Yoongi’s lips if it wasn’t aimed in your direction, and a shiver raced up your spine. You were practically shaking in the guard’s arms!

Yoongi was surely gone, Agust D taking his place as the dark look in his eyes takes in your figure, resting in the arms of the guard he had assigned to watch you. He couldn’t explain the rage he felt when he saw you in the arms of someone else; someone who wasn’t him! You were his bond, his red string! He could feel the growing possessiveness he held for you, his instincts screaming at him.

“Sirs, I—” The guard tried to explain but began to stutter after being pinned with six other glares that accompanied Yoongi’s; looks that radiated anger and power looked at him, and only then did the guard realize what he was doing wrong. He didn’t understand why the guard was holding you when he said not to touch you.

Yoongi just held his hand up, stopping the man from continuing his apologies, and stepped forward, arms reaching to take you from him. You only grunted, not exactly wanting to be in Yoongi’s arms but unfortunately, the stupid soul tug was still in effect. You couldn’t fight against the idol who now tightened his embrace around you and cradled you to his chest like a lost kitten. Like he expected you to jump from his arms any second and run.

Well, he wouldn’t be wrong.

It’s not like I could make it far anyways. You answered the stupid voice in your head.

You ignored the warmth building in your veins, ignoring the way Yoongi’s touch had your body unwillingly relaxing into his arms as you tried to move your head to see where your strings led.

You had almost forgotten about your fourth string, now split into four other pieces, each leading to the members you had yet to meet. You had seven total strings and each one led to one of the boys.

Man, Lindsey was right.

Let’s not tell her that, though. You internally cringed, knowing exactly how your best friend would react. The words “I told you so” would not be the last thing leaving her mouth, unfortunately. She would never let you live this moment down. Ever.

You couldn’t hear anything Namjoon was saying to the guard who brought you here, only seeing the dragon eyes aimed at the shorter man, and the way the guard was nodding every couple seconds. Within a minute the guard had all but ran out of the door, Namjoon turning to you with a smirk on his lips.

You were about to make some remark to the taller man smirking at you but your breath whooshed out instead when Yoongi turned you around and sat down with you still in his arms. He adjusted you so your head was resting back against his shoulder and you were facing the room, feeling entirely too exposed.

“You’re not very good at running, are you?” Yoongi murmured into your ear, causing that stupid, heated blush to creep up your neck and ears. You could practically feel the damn smirk creeping on his lips.

“You knew I’d be here.” You stated, now having put everything together. They were responsible for your and Lindsey’s seat changes and for the guards keeping an eye on you., making you feel watched and panicked.

“We did say we wanted to speak with you in private…” You turn your head to see Taehyung and Jimin seated on a smaller loveseat to your right. Taehyung had a neutral expression but you could see in his eyes something different, while Jimin was just hopeful, watching your own facial expressions carefully.

You look down at Taehyung’s words, feeling the pain of rejection and hurt all over again. You didn’t think you wanted to have a conversation that would lead to where you thought it was going to, so you wanted to avoid it all together.

It seemed Yoongi could tell where your thoughts were going, moving his arm from around your waist to slowly trail his fingers up your arm and to your wrist, turning your left hand over connecting his palm with yours, intertwining his fingers with yours causing the thick, dark red string connecting you to glow for a couple of seconds before returning to normal. The bond snapping back into place after being incomplete from your first meeting.

The first stage of the bond, the soul tug, was meant to ensure that the bond was being completed. This meant you now couldn’t go be more than a few feet from any of the boys once you had physical contact. By you running, and now Yoongi holding you, the first stage had begun.

You try to leave his grip, feeling the tingling and numbness in your toes starting to disappear, but unfortunately, the rest of your body was not so lucky. When Yoongi noticed your attempts, he smiled smugly, taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t move or leave him by holding you tighter against him.

“Do you not feel the tug? Do you not feel the way your body relaxes against Yoongi’s touch, even against your own subconscious?” Namjoon’s questions have you tensing again, not wanting to answer his question, instead you stare at your bonds, noticing the tugging sensation and the ripples in color whenever one of them moves.

“Do you not feel the bond you so obviously share with us, the one you continue to fight against?” Namjoon continues, frowning as Yoongi leans back to rest against the back of the couch, your body unhappily following along. Your cheeks grow hot again, your body working against you and showing the way you feel about the answers to his questions, completely giving you away to the intelligent leader.

“Ignoring the feelings you have for the bond; it does not ignore the fact that we are soulmates. Your strings are connected to ours. You are ours whether you like it or not. We aren’t going to let you go and we aren’t going to just let you walk out of here without us by your side.” You open your mouth in shock at the leader’s words, wondering where in the hell he got is audacity from?! The rest of the boys were nodding their heads in agreement, as if they had already discussed this.

Which they probably did, the little voice in your head tells you.

You ignore the voice and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach at Namjoon’s claim. You hadn’t realized how much you would love the idea of being claimed until it was staring you in the face, with a little tilt of the head and a raise of the eyebrow.

Before you could argue against his words, you could feel your phone in your back pocket vibrating. You sighed out in relief and hoped you could use this as an excuse to leave.

Lindsey you are a life saver! You praised your best friend in your head, only to start cursing as you felt Yoongi reaching for your phone, his hand resting just a little too long against the curve of your ass before taking your phone out of your pocket.

“Give me—" You’re cut off but Yoongi pressing the answer button and pressing your phone to his own ear.

“Where the hell are you dude? You disappeared and missed the entire concert! I’ve been looking for you everywhere and trying to think nice thoughts while one of those guards from earlier follows me around!”

“I’m sorry about that. You must be Lindsey?” Yoongi’s voice was soft, like velvet as he spoke to your friend. You were in shock at the change in his voice, from sultry to being as sweet and innocent as can be.

“Who is this and why do you have my best friend’s phone?”

“This is—”

“Is this Yoongi? Oh my god! Uhm, you know what, never mind. Just make sure she goes to bed on time. She gets cranky in the mornings.” Yoongi wasn’t even able to get a couple words out before Lindsey recognized his voice.

Hmm. It seems our little soulmate told her friend about us. And she approves. Yoongi hummed to himself as Lindsey hung up the phone after promising she would give your things to the guard following her, assuming that he was working with the boys and she was right.

“Well, it seems as though your friend is just fine with you coming home with us.” Yoongi’s smile brightened as he watched the others faces light up, Jungkook was especially excited as he knew you were his age. He hoped you liked to cuddle, seeing as the others never liked to stay in bed as long as he did.

“What… I…uh?” You stammered, brain moving too slow as you tried to come up with a way out if this, forgetting the fact you still couldn’t move.

You hear a slap and see Jungkook bouncing in his seat, clearly excited for you to come home with them. He was slapping his thighs and talking animatedly to Jin about all of the things he planned to do with you. You would have been completely endeared by his plan to play video games with you if you weren’t internally freaking out.

“I can’t go with you!” You blurted out, cringing a little at how loud you were.

“Why not?” Hoseok inquired; eyebrow raised as he watched you come up with an excuse.

“I, uhm, don’t have any clothes.” You replied, a little proud of your quick answer only for your smile to shatter at Jimin’s words.

“We can give you some!” You paled at his own excitement, not wanting to crush his plainly obvious feelings of hope. Strike one.

“I don’t have any of my things.” Someone knocked on the door, Jin moving around to reveal a man holding onto your bag making you rest your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, trying to think.

“Look, your bag is right here.” Strike two.

“You guys must be really busy. I don’t want to bother you or anything…” Your last hope to weasel your way out of the situation was destroyed by Taehyung, his smile wide as he counters your words.

“Actually, we planned for you to come with us anyways. We have the next couple of weeks free. You know, we don’t want the soul pain to start.” Taehyung has his own moment of satisfaction as he sees your face pale at his words, knowing all of your plans to leave were thwarted by him.

Fuck, you cursed.

How in the world did you forget about the soul pain period?

It’s not my fault! I forget a lot of things.

Well, now you can’t be more than a couple feet from them without immense pain. Good job.

You had completely forgotten that when a bonded person meets their soulmate or soul group, completely, for the first time, the string snaps together, leaving each person with only a few feet of leeway to move away. It could last for several days or weeks, depending on the bond and how many people are connected. With your luck and how the universe seems to be against you, you guessed it would be months before you were able to leave.

Strike three and you’re out.

-*-*-

You pouted the entire way to the boy’s home, unable to move even an inch from Yoongi’s arms without the slight pain tugging at your chest making you groan out and want to gouge your heart out. How dare your body do this to you?

The boys, on the other hand, were all making bets on how long you would try to fight them. They could tell this was just some sort of defense mechanism and were all building their own individual plans to make you theirs. They knew it was only a matter of time before you were seeking them out.

“Welcome home, baby.” Jin smiled down at you as he unlocked the door. It made your insides tingle and made your head hurt all at the same time. For a second you couldn’t remember why you were fighting against this, everything becoming jumbled together in your head. You couldn’t remember the fear you felt for the bond, the trauma from your last relationship almost disappearing from your mind as Jin smiled at you.

Your thoughts were forgotten when Namjoon placed his hand on your back, helping you inside, through the living room and down the hallway until you appeared at the entry of a room with a very large, wall to wall bed. It looked like the comfiest cloud of softness you had ever seen.

You were practically melting at the idea of being able to lay in the soft warmth you could only imagine you would feel.

“Why don’t you get changed, baby.” Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk at your face, the way it changed from adoration to a deadpan as you looked up at him.

“I’m not changing in front of you.”

“Baby, I can almost guarantee you’re going to want to strip in front of me eventually…if it’s not me undressing you.” Jungkook retorted, smirk growing into a devilish grin as your eyes narrowed.

“You wish I would undress for you.” You snap back, trying to take a step back only for the tug to bring you closer than before. This makes Jungkook’s grin widen.

“Baby, it’s not a wish.” Jungkook pushes further, an inch away from being able to steal a kiss from your lips, and boy was he tempted!

Until he noticed the fear behind your eyes, causing him to step back and turn around. He was mortified! You had thought he was going to force himself on you?! He needed to talk to the others, but how were they going to do that when the soul tug was active?

When you were finished changing into the oversized shirt and shorts, you timidly tapped on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m uh, I’m changed now.” Your entire demeanor had shifted, flashback after flashback trying to steal your vision as you forced yourself not to shake. You were scrappy, you knew that, but only to defend your own mind from what it saw as a threat.

You could not put yourself in a position to be vulnerable again. (But you also didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong. You couldn’t have that conversation. Not right now, hopefully not ever.)

“I’m sorry if I pushed you. I was only teasing.” Jungkook tried to apologize, his hand reaching out to grasp onto your arm but you flinched away from him, the soul tug allowing you a few feet leeway.

“It’s uh, it’s okay.” You rushed out, trying to end the conversation before you could imagine where it would go. But Jungkook was observant, and he could practically feel the pain in your heart. Something happened. Something that had you flinching away and fighting a soul bond.

And he had a bad feeling about it.

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Text

Less Talk | Part III

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

You’re watching Jake so grimly that he almost wants to give you a hug. But, the next moment, you let out a heated sigh and shake your head irritably. “God, Jake, nothing happened,” you say, as if he’s the one who’s shown up at your doorstep unannounced in the dead of night.

He gives you a stony look that, unfortunately, you don’t see because you’re no longer watching him, so his efforts go completely unnoticed. “If nothing happened, then why are you here? Past midnight. Crying.” To his chagrin, the tone of his voice is far too vexed to emulate the indifferent attitude he means to preserve.

You lick your lips and sniffle. “We had a fight,” you say.

Jake stares at you impatiently, waiting for you to look back up. When you don’t, he says, “You fight with everybody.”

This makes you look. He’s dreadfully satisfied with peeving you – the only satisfaction you’ll likely ever give him. “It was a big one, obviously.”

Jake studies the expression on your face, trying to gauge whether or not you’re hiding something. “Where is he?” he asks, feeling like he needs to punch something. And soon.

You take a long time to respond – so long that Jake almost poses the question for a second time. “I don’t know,” you finally say.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

You shrug, your lips beginning to tremble anew. “He just left.”

What Jake experiences at the sight of the fresh tears filling your eyes is abhorrent. The simultaneous desire to alleviate your pain and beat the living shit out of Mustang offsets his entire world in a way that puts your well-being at the top of his priority list. Hell, he doesn’t even have a priority list. You are it. And with this absurd notion weighing on the ever-growing vortex of his newly discovered emotions, he resolves to tell you just what he thinks of your idiotic boyfriend. “Well, he’s obviously a moron,” he says curtly.

You glance up at him again, less angry than before. “He’s a lot like you in that respect,” you say with a hint of a smile.

Jake scoffs and, before he can stop himself, says, “I would never walk out on you.”

You stare at him for a moment before lowering your gaze awkwardly.

Jake cringes, realizing that he could have said just about anything else and it would have been better. Moreover, in his attempt to rectify the situation, he blurts out this obnoxious tidbit: “You’d never let me hear the end of it.”

You roll your eyes but then you bite into your bottom lip and your eyebrows lift inward. You glance up at him woefully and say, “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Jake watches you carefully, wondering why you’d care what he might have to say on the matter. He tries to determine what his response might be before deciding if he’s going to be honest. On the one hand, you are that bad. On the other, when it comes to you, bad takes on an entirely different connotation. “You could be worse,” he responds vaguely.

You stare at him miserably. “You can’t stand me,” you remind him.

Jake nearly laughs; that’s how absurd he finds your statement. “Well, that’s more or less mutual, is it not?”

You nod slowly.

“In any case, it’s hardly relevant since I’m not your boyfriend.”

“But what does that say about me?” you ask. “I piss off everyone around me. You said it yourself, I just can’t shut up.”

“Why should you?” he says, his anger flaring despite his every effort to control it. His response seems to catch you off-guard because you blink up at him sharply. “I just mean, who cares if you piss someone off? That’s not a you problem,” he reasons, although he’s painfully aware of just how much he’s contradicting his every complaint where you’ve been concerned.

“Well, it’s kind of my problem if my boyfriend hates me,” you say, your mouth finally relaxing into the beginnings of a smile.

Jake cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. “I don’t know,” he says. “Sounds like you just need a new boyfriend.”

You scoff and turn away. The moment your back is to him, Jake shuts his eyes and passes a hand over his face with a silent sigh. He watches you travel the length of his living room and unplug a fan that isn’t turned on. “You shouldn’t keep your electric appliances plugged in when they aren’t in use,” you mutter absently. “You’re wasting energy.”

Jake rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How much energy does a table fan waste when it isn’t even on?”

You shrug, glancing over your shoulder. “How many electrical devices do you currently have plugged in that aren’t ‘even on’?” you ask, using air quotes to emphasize the final two words. “It adds up, thereby increasing your carbon footprint. Imagine everybody lived as carelessly as you do?”

Jake grins broadly. “The horror.”

You nod without the tiniest bit of amusement. “My thoughts exactly.”

Jake watches you resignedly, not at all surprised that you’ve found yet another reason to reproach him. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

You eye him suspiciously, as if you don’t quite trust that he won’t poison your food.

“We’ve got some leftovers,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen through the corridor. “Have you eaten?” You consider his offer at length as though he’s proposed a shotgun wedding rather than a pot roast. “Come on,” he says, waving you over as he makes his way into the hallway. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about my cooking.”

…

“This is surprisingly good,” you comment as Jake pours you a glass of wine.

Jake chuckles. “That might be the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You lick your lips and smile up at him as he takes a seat across from you at the table, popping the cap off a beer. “Your turn,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

Jake sneers and then guzzles half his bottle in one gulp. He sets the beer down to find you watching him expectantly.

“You can’t think of anything?” you ask incredulously.

Jake runs a hand across his chin, watching your smile widen at the thought of him having nothing decent to say about you. Ironically, he can’t think of a single thing that isn’t nice, which is truly agitating him. He racks his brain trying to come up with at least one negative quality because something about you drives him absolutely crazy.

You sigh, returning your attention to your plate. “It’s fine, Seresin,” you say. “Don’t think so hard, I know you aren’t accustomed to it.”

“That,” Jake says, leaning into the table as he points a finger in your direction. “That sharp sense of humor.”

You raise your eyebrows with a laugh. “Oh, you think I’m joking?” You tilt your head sympathetically, but your smile remains.

Jake meets your gaze with an affectionate smirk, silently listing off every other ‘nice’ thing about you, including, but not limited to, the sound of your laughter. He swallows uncomfortably when you don’t look away, unsettled by the unrest in the pit of his stomach that churns every time your eyes meet. He tries to regulate his breathing before it becomes apparent that you’re actively rattling him.

The creak of the front door interrupts the obscenely prolonged period of mutual eye fucking contact. You glance toward the corridor while Jake disconcertedly rubs his eyes.

“Y/N?” Bradley says, walking into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” You sigh, setting down your fork and reverting to your previously dejected state.

“Don’t tell me you guys had another fight,” Bradley says jadedly. He glances over at Jake with a grave expression which Jake means to completely ignore.

“He stormed out,” you say, sighing into your half-eaten plate. “I think I really ticked him off this time.”

Jake gives Bradley an unimpressed look when the latter starts thrusting his head around to indicate that Jake should add something to the conversation. Jake takes another gulp of his beer.

“He shouldn’t be taking off,” Bradley says when Jake remains silent. “I don’t care how angry he is.” He looks to Jake for approval.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Why are we still talking about this dumbass?”

Bradley eyes him pointedly. “Didn’t realize you’ve already discussed him,” he says, glancing between you and Jake.

You pick your fork back up and start stabbing at the meat on your plate.

“How was the rest of your evening, Rooster?” Jake asks, avoiding looking directly at him.

“Pretty good,” Bradley responds, and Jake can hear the glee in his tone without even seeing his ridiculous grin. “Yours?”

Jake aims a disdainful scowl in his direction. “Bradshaw,” he says. “You look tired.”

Bradley holds back a laugh and then turns to you. “Y/N, do you want to talk?”

You look up at your best friend with a weary smile. Your gaze slips to briefly glance at Jake before you shake your head at Bradley. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

Bradley gives you a hug and heads for the stairs, pausing momentarily to throw Jake a final, cautionary look before heading to bed.

“I should go,” you say once Bradley leaves.

“You sure?” Jake asks. “You haven’t criticized my dishwashing skills yet. I bet I use too much water.”

You give him an amused look as you rise from your chair. “Recognizing the problem is the first step.”

He recognizes the problem alright; it’s standing right before him. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” you say musingly. “In this case, I would say action.”

Jake nods, getting out of his seat. “I could use some of that, for sure.”

Your gaze lingers on him as you let out a soft laugh. You’re an entire table length away and yet he can feel the force of your presence as though you were pressed up against him.

“You could stick around,” he offers casually. “We could watch a movie or something.”

You continue studying him brazenly. “I’d probably ruin it for you.”

He laughs. “We could watch something I already don’t like.”

You smile back at him. “Haven’t you done that enough for one evening?”

Jake doesn’t altogether know how to respond without making it painfully obvious just how much he doesn’t not like you. “Yeah,” he says finally. “So, what’s another couple of hours?”

You’re watching him thoughtfully which makes him almost hopeful that you might agree to stay, but then you respond with, “Maybe another time.”

He nods, keeping his eyes trained on yours. “Another time,” he agrees. But as you head for the door, he decides to try another tactic. “Should you be driving after having that wine?” he asks.

You give him a flat look. “I had half a glass. If that.”

Jake shrugs slightly. “It was a big glass.”

You roll your eyes. “It’ll be fine, Seresin.” You reach for the doorknob.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, he came home, and you weren’t there?” he asks.

You look at him sharply. “He won’t be home for hours.”

Jake gestures at the open living room. “We have several fine couches. Take your pick.”

You sigh, evaluating his pitch. “No,” you say finally. “He’s already so mad at me. If I stay here, that’ll be the end of our relationship.”

This outcome sounds just dandy to Jake, but he can see the worry in your expression, so he pulls on the door and holds it open for you, following you out onto the porch to walk you to your car.

“Drive carefully,” he says once you’re seated, leaning down to peer into the car as you buckle your seatbelt.

You nod. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for the company,” he responds.

You chuckle. “Yeah, about that… sorry I imposed on your evening.”

“Yeah,” Jake agrees with a smirk. “That was kind of rude of you.” When you laugh, he adds. “No, but really, I don’t mind. Come over anytime.”

You gasp at him to simulate shock. “And subject you to my numerous opinions?”

Jake’s grin widens. “I’m getting used to tuning you out.”

“So, what exactly is it that you gain out of my company?” you ask with raised eyebrows as you start your engine.

Jake raps on the hood of your car a couple of times before responding. “I just don’t want to deprive you of my company.”

You snort. “That would be a tragedy.”

Jake lets himself admire your laugh for several seconds before straightening his back. “Have a good night, Y/N,” he says, and then he shuts your door.

You pull out of the driveway and stop your car on the side of the road. Jake watches curiously as you step out of the car. He approaches you slowly, his eyes drifting up and down your figure involuntarily. He blinks to reorient himself, exhaling sharply as he comes to stand before you. He slips his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation of using them to pin you to your car and then running them along the curves of your body. You’re looking up at him with a sheepish expression, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s up against in this very moment. “What’s up?” he says sternly; employing exaggerated masculinity to help assuage his crippling desire to kiss you.

Instead of responding, however, you stretch up onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. In his shock, it takes a second for Jake to loosen his rigid stance; to remember that his hands are still safely tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He draws them out slowly, holding them cautiously on either side of your body, wondering just how catastrophic it would be if he were to reciprocate the hug. “You really helped me tonight,” you say softly, your breath warming the crook of his neck.

He lets out a weak chuckle that dies the second it leaves his lips because, at that moment, you press your cheek into his shoulder. His hands close gingerly around you. He’s barely holding on, but you feel just right in his embrace. Like the dip in your waist belongs between the palms of his hands. “Glad to be of service,” he mutters, his voice a little rough as he attempts to process this turn of events.

You detach yourself from his grasp and give him a friendly smile. So friendly, it nearly kills him. “Maybe I can return the favor someday,” you say.

Jake stares at you, trying to come up with at least one favor you could do for him that isn’t sexual in nature and drawing a complete blank. “Maybe,” he says uneasily.

“Anyway,” you say. “Sleep well.”

You flash him one last smile before climbing back into your car while Jake takes several steps back, wondering how the fuck he’s going to sleep at all after having experienced that.

Read Part 4

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