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sinsofsummers · 10 months

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sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!

6K notes · View notes

btsvt-bar · 16 days

Text

hurts so good

pairing ꩜ mean husband!mingyu x afab!reader

content/genre ꩜ haters to lovers, ceo/mean husband mingyu, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are apreciated!

warnings under the cut!

warnings ꩜ smut, fingering, masturbation (m. receiving), alcohol consumption, angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, light degrading, dom-ish mingyu, dirty talk, spanking (he slaps her ass like 4 times), begging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You and Mingyu first met when you were kids. Coming from rich families, you went to the same private school. And to be honest, you really hated him back then.

When you were teenagers, Mingyu was really popular. He was good-looking and smart, being one of the top students of the school. All the girls had a crush on him, even if he was mean to them.

He had always been self absorbed and rude to everyone. Especially to you, and you had no clue why.

You were the quiet, nerdy type. You kept it to yourself, being too focused on your grades and on getting into a good university. Plus, you were basically the only one who didn’t think he was hot shit — but, of course, you’d never say it out loud.

Both of you got into Business School, so you never really got rid of him. His annoying personality only got worse, making you his personal laughing stock.

It worsened when your families merged companies. Coming from the food and beverage industry, and being good friends, it felt natural to merge companies and create an empire bigger than it was before. And, of course, that union had to be sealed with the marriage of the heirs.

When your parents told you, you had a nervous breakdown. They didn’t understand why, labeling you as dramatic. Of course they wouldn’t get it, Mingyu posed as polite and respectful in front of them. But you knew better.

That’s how you ended up getting married to the man you despised. Needless to say, it was the worst day of your life.

Now, three years later, you’re still trapped in a marriage that feels more like a prison. You sleep in separate rooms and on the daily basis, you and Mingyu never really talk, unless it’s a work matter.

Also, you have a terrible sex life. You can count on a hand the amount of times the two of you did it. Yes, you are physically attracted to Mingyu. He has great abs and a big dick, plus delicious big arms and a toned chest. The few times you fucked, you were both tipsy and had had a fight before going out to some company party. It was always angry sex, and you never talked about it the morning after.

With your 4th anniversary approaching, people started asking when are you going to have kids. You dreaded this moment, but it seemed like you couldn’t scape it anymore. It got you thinking about your “marriage”, about how you wished things would change and how you wished Mingyu was a good husband.

As you do your makeup for the company dinner you have tonight, you try to be mentally prepared to be questioned, once again, about your pregnancy plans.

"Hurry up, we’re going to be late" Mingyu says outside your room. You finish putting on lipstick and grab your purse.

You find him waiting on the couch, looking really handsome in his all black tuxedo. His eyes scan you head to toe. His face remains emotionless, but you notice his eyes lingering a bit too long on your wine colored lips and modest cleavage.

"Let’s go."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

The music is a bit loud, so you have to stay all the way across the room to chat properly with other people.

You are stuck talking to Mingyu’s friends’ wives. It’s not that you don’t like them, because you do, but the topic of the conversation is not something you want to discuss.

"Cheollie’s been so good to me since I told him I’m pregnant" Gwen says while smiling fondly at her husband, who's across the room. "I mean, he’s always been sweet, but now he’s so much more protective and loving…"

"Wonwoo was like that too" Claire comments. "And he’s just the perfect father. Always wanting to help me out. And he won’t admit, but he loves to prepare Yeji’s lunchbox." The other women coo, finding it adorable. But you feel your face twist into a sad expression.

You knew all of them were in an arranged marriage just like yours. How on earth you were the only one who got unlucky?

"What about you and Mingyu?" Mona, Jeonghan’s wife, asks you. "Are you planning to get pregnant soon?"

You take a sip of your gin and tonic, trying to come up with an answer. They all look at you expectantly, and you don’t have the guts to let them down.

"Oh, definitely! We’re trying" you lie. The other women cheer excitedly.

"You’re gonna have the cutest babies!" Claire says.

"Oh that’s for sure. And y/n will be the prettiest mamma ever!" Gwen gushes.

You start to feel bad about lying, so you finish your drink and walk away to grab another.

As you wait, you see Mingyu chatting and laughing with his friends. And it makes you kinda mad that he’s having fun, and you’re not. When you look back at where the other wives are, you see them caressing Gwen’s pregnant belly and you decide you’ve had enough. You walk over to Mingyu, his smile fading the second he spots you.

"What?" he asks in a harsh tone, left eyebrow raising.

"I wanna go home, I’m not feeling well" you say the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Are you for real?" Mingyu seems so annoyed. Seungcheol nudges him, letting out a quiet ‘bro’. Mingyu sighs. "Ok, whatever."

The ride home is tense. Mingyu was holding back so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the driver, but as soon as you’re alone in your living room, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Why do you always have to ruin the night? Honestly, Y/N, you’re so fucking annoying!" he spits out.

You roll your eyes, deciding not to take shit from him. "I was bored and wanted to come home. You could’ve stayed."

"No, I couldn’t. That would make me look bad."

Usually, you wouldn’t say what you wanted. You’d just ignore and go to your room. But today, after a few drinks, and having to hear for hours on end about how your friends’ husbands were amazing, you felt fed up with Mingyu’s bullshit.

"Maybe you should worry more about being a good husband than about faking it." you point out while taking off your heels.

"Excuse me?" his nostrils flare, signaling how angry he was.

You just shrug, not giving a fuck if he was mad. "It is what it is, Mingyu. You don’t even try to be nice to me, but you worry so damn much about how you’re perceived by others." By now, your purse was thrown on the nearest chair and you’re shouting at him. "I’m done trying to be nice, and I think we reached a point where we should get a divorce and move on. Our marriage is a sham and I’m so fucking done with you."

The man chuckles as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. He looks really annoyed. Mingyu sighs and empties his pockets, putting his stuff in a bowl on the small wooden counter.

You feel livid and his lack of response keeps your mouth running. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, just the fact that you think that this shitty situation is all on me." He rises his eyebrows. "Get over yourself, Y/N. None of us is willing to take the first step, that’s why our marriage is a shit show." Mingyu turns around and heads out to his room, but the next thing you say stops him dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you willing to take the first step? What have I done that is so bad that you can't even be my friend?" A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away. "Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

He had to give it to you. You are being really brave, questioning him and talking back.

The small bar cart catches his eyes and he decides that if you're finally having that conversation — one you should've had years ago —, he needs a drink to get through it. The room is filled with the sound of whiskey being poured. Mingyu takes a long sip, almost downing down the whole liquid, and refills his cup.

If he were to be completely honest, he would say he didn't even know why he hated you. He just did. Nowadays, he didn't mind your presence for the most part. However, when you hit his nerves, he wanted you gone. "Hating you is as natural as breathing for me. It's always been like this, why change it?"

"So we can, at least, coexist in peace? Have some fun, even? I'm not asking you to be husband of the year, but could try to be an ok one." You say with a tired tone, the whole situation already taking it's toll on you. Copying his actions, you poured some of the amber liquid for yourself. "You can get some tips from your friends. They're nice to their wives."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah sure, if you're going to learn from your friends how to be a good wife…"

"I'm willing to try, Mingyu. But I'm not doing this on my own."

You both calmed down quickly, the heated beginning reduced to a low toned conversation. You’re impressed with how well things are going, considering the two of you usually shout and exchange offenses until someone walks away.

"We can try." His voice is quiet. Mingyu's staring at you, his eyes filled with undertones you don't comprehend yet. His moist lips are caught between his teeth. Shaking his head, he places the empty cup on the cart. "This is funny, you know."

"What?"

You can see he's conflicted between saying what's on his mind and keeping his mouth shut. "You can tell me, since we're being honest." You encourage him.

He looks you deeply in the eyes and says "We just called a truce like two minutes ago and now my mind keeps whispering that if we were a real couple, this would be the moment to kiss and make up."

Your mouth gapes in shock. The few times you had sex before, you hadn’t kissed. Mingyu would fuck you from behind, fast, hard and with a lot of pent up anger. And that was it. So you were caught off guard by his words. Seeing your expression, Mingyu quickly added: "The alcohol got to my head, pretend I never said anything."

Before he can try to leave again, you grab his bicep. "I hate to admit it, but you kind of have a point…"

Both of you start to feel this weird heat spreading under your skins. You sigh deeply. It’s weird you know precisely what’s underneath those black clothes. Mainly because you feel like you’re going to have sex him with for the first time.

"Want me to fuck you senseless until we spend all our anger and then we can start over?" He offers with a crooked smile you never saw before.

You feel slick pooling in your panties, your body already reacting to his filthy mouth. This flirty, sexy side of Mingyu is new to you, but you’re already loving it.

"Are you for real?"

Mingyu towers over you, making you step back until you reach the nearest wall. "Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't fuck you until we both forget we hated each other in the first place?"

His serious eyes and deep voice make you sigh and bite your lower lip, fully invested in him. He reaches out and caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss.

You both moan at the contact. His tongue dominates yours in a second, imposing a fast rhythm. Your core twists, tingling in a way that nearly hurts. Mingyu grunts when you close your arms around his neck and pulls gently at his hair.

The room temperature rises, leaving you both hot and bothered when you break the kiss. "Go to your room." Mingyu instructs and you comply. The walk is torturous, with shaky legs and your skimpy lacy panties sticking to your folds.

You’re shaking a little when you sit down on your bed. The night went from 0 to a 100 in minutes and you honestly don’t even want to think much about it for now.

"Can I come in?" Mingyu asks on the other side of the door, knocking lightly on the wood.

"Yeah, sure."

Mingyu took off his blazer and necktie, and the first buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his toned chest. Once again, you evaluate his beefy body proportions and purr quietly. Gosh, he’s hot!you think.

The hunky man looks around, analyzing the stuff you have in your room. You realize it’s the first time he enters it. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes meet his and, for the first time ever, you see he’s actually worried about you. You limit yourself to nodding. "I’m gonna need you to say it, Y/N."

"Yes. Please get over here." You plea. Mingyu groans and crosses the room. His pants feel tight and uncomfortable, his cock pulsating with each step.

He gets on top of you, bunching your dress up on your waist. "Fuck…" he hisses when he sees your panties. You feel him caressing your clit over the lace and hold back a moan.

Mingyu moves the fabric to the side, easily sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. "So fucking wet and I barely touched you. Do you get off on fighting with me?"

Your face grows hot, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or actions. He teases your hole, prodding a finger in your entrance. All air leaves your lungs. You let out a whimper, which makes Mingyu chuckle.

"So responsive." He removes his hand, his eyes searching for yours again. "If I knew you’re such a horny slut, I would’ve done this a long time ago."

"Shut up." You sass, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just shut up and actually do something."

"You better watch your fucking mouth." He manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. He moves you on his lap and uncovers your ass.

To your surprise, he slaps your right butt cheek. You yelp, feeling your blood pumping quickly through your body. He repeats his action, this time with more intensity.

"Cat got your tongue?" He mocks when you stay silent. Truth is, you’re clamping your lips together so you don’t moan. "You’re soaking through your panties… Is spanking one of your kinks?"

Mingyu gives you another sharp slap, but this time he massages your flash to soften the blow.

"One more." Your voice sounds croaky as you speak.

"As you wish." He complies to your request, giving you the sharpest spank so far. You whimper and Mingyu smiles, pleased with himself.

Taking advantage of your position, he slides your panties off and pulls down the zipper of your dress. With his help, you undress.

You’re laying naked on his lap and just the sight of your bare back and red ass makes the blood in Mingyu’s body flow directly to his cock. He sighs and separate your legs just enough to touch your naked pussy again.

"Mingyu please." You cry out loud, needing him to slip his fingers in your hole.

"Please what?" He plays dumb and you feel the smirk on his voice. "I don’t know what you want, you’re gonna have to say it."

You sob in frustration. "Did you really think I was going to make things easy for you?" Mingyu’s hand ghosts over your body, giving you goosebumps from the heat he irradiates. "I hate you, remember?"

This is absolute torture. Your body is boiling with desire and need, you skin nearly burning up. Mingyu traces your tights, his soft touch giving you goosebumps. "Finger me. Please, I really need it. Please please please." You beg and Mingyu chuckles again, amuzed by your desperate tone.

He parts your legs a bit as his big hands trail the path from the back of your tights to your folds. You feel one of his fingers tease your dripping hole and you clench around nothing.

You’re so wet that his two fingers slide easily into you. Your inner walls clamp down on his digits and he groans. "You’re so tight, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you on my dick again."

Mingyu begins to finger fuck you with a lazy pace, pulling out completely just to push back in at once. Your head feels cottony, like your brain weights nothing. Out of instinct, you bite your own hand to keep your moans from falling off your lips. Your hips move with a mind of its own, pushing back to meet Mingyu’s movements. Soon enough he hits that gummy spot inside you that makes you shiver. He notices you’re close to your climax, so, out of spite, he stops his stimulation.

"Why?" you cry out, tears accumulating in your eyes. "I was so close!"

"Because it’s fun" he laughs while stroking your ass tenderly. "Be good, lay down and spread your legs for me so I can make you cum."

Your limbs feel like jelly when you scramble around to get on your back. Mingyu gets up and pushes his dress pants down along with his black boxers. His cock stand hard and proud, the red tip glossed with pre cum. You muster the strength to get on your knees and approach him, your hands grabbing his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

You work your way up his body, taking each button out of its house. When you take the last one out, your caress his big chest, feeling his strong muscles under your sweaty palms. You smooth your way up to his shoulders and push his shirt down. He’s finally naked in front of you, in all his glory.

You trail his arms and abs, all the way down to his rock hard cock. When you wrap your hands around him, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. You stroke him slowly while savoring his low, deep grunts in your ear. Soon enough, you quicken your pace. Meanwhile, all you can think about is his cock splitting you open and you feel yourself getting wetter.

"Tha-that’s enough." He reaches for your wrist to stop you after a couple minutes.

Surprisingly, he pulls you in for another kiss. This time, it’s a slow, passionate one. Without separating your lips, he leads you to lay down again. The new position makes Mingyu’s hips align with yours, and you start rutting each other like animals on heat.

"Seeing you between my legs is so hot." you confess when you part the kiss to breathe. "But it could be better."

"Yeah? How so?" Mingyu pokes his cheek with his tongue, his confidence unwavering.

You bite your lower lips for a second. "You’ll look hotter inside me, dear husband."

His smile falters, his eyes turning darker and darker with desire. You know you said just the right thing to spur him on.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

You decide to ground yourself by hugging him. Without hesitation, Mingyu pushes in in one quick, firm trust. He’s swallowed in by your warm, soft walls. You see when his eyes roll back in pleasure, and his reaction boosts your confidence through the roof. On the other hand, his big cock splitting you open twists and tightens the knot on your core even more. You know it won’t require much effort for you to cum.

"Please move" you whim and kiss his lips softly. "I need you to move."

Mingyu gives in and imposes a fast, rough pace. You sink your nails on his back, trying to keep yourself from moving too much. He slides in and out of you deliciously, reaching all the right places. You moan loudly on his ear, and he huffs and puffs on yours. The loud sounds of skin slapping, added with the wet noises coming from your wetness, teleport both of you to a world of your own. A world where the only thing that matters is Mingyu’s rough thrusts and the way your insides mold perfectly to accommodate his dick.

After what it feels like forever, Mingyu folds your legs to your chest, and the position makes him reach new places inside of you. It’s when he starts rubbing circles on your clit that you feel on the verge of frenzy. "I’m almost there." You announce.

His hips redouble efforts, and within a few seconds, and a chant of "cum for me, dear wife" your mind turns blank and your soul is lifted off of your body.

You nearly pass out, all the stimulation being too much for you. Seeing you so blissed out pushes Mingyu over the edge before he has the chance to pull out. He grunts as he covers your walls with his warm milk. Your arms fall limp on his back, and Mingyu’s strength also falters, making him drop his weight on top of you.

He rubs his nose on your neck in an affectionate gesture. You smooth your hands on his back in a retributive way. The two of you stay silent for a while, enjoying the proximity and giving yourselves time to come back down.

When Mingyu slips out of you, a stream of white floods out of your messed up hole.

"Fuck, I should’ve pulled out." Mingyu searches for your eyes, his brown orbs filled with worry. You smile softly at him.

"It’s ok, I don’t mind." You reassure him. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

Mingyu gets up immediately and enters your en suite. He comes back a minute later with a wet cloth in hand.

"You ok?" He asks while cautiously rubbing it against your sensitive cunt.

"I’ll probably limp tomorrow, but I guess that’s the downside of fucking your hater, right?" You joke and he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Well, I guess we’re sort of friends now."

"Yes, definitely." You agree.

He discards the towel and lays back next to you. You’re under the sheets now, and your body feels completely spent. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?"

You nod, feeling your heavy lids take the best of you. "I sure am."

Mingyu gets on top of you again, and hold your chin to make you look at him. "I’ll give you 30 minutes to recover, dear wife." The stupid nickname rolls out of his tongue with an almost tender laugh.

"I thought you were fucking me until we spent all of our anger." you state, struggling to keep your eyes open. "I don’t feel angry anymore."

"I do." His eyes hold mysteries you’re yet to discover. "I’m not done hating you yet."

His low deep voice stirs your insides. You sigh, feeling your heartbeat increase again. "30 minutes and you can hate me all you want."

"Deal." He presses a kiss to your lips and goes back to the empty side of the bed.

You feel him scrambling around looking for the TV remote control. As you let your tiredness get the best of you, all you can think about is that you’re going to fight with everything that you have to make things work out between the two of you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

read next: fuckboy!wonwoo

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen scenarios #anon request #my works

774 notes · View notes

ode2rin · 1 year

Text

petty!rin is so baby girl i love writing him as much as i love clingy!rin | warnings: profanity and lil ooc | mentions of food

itoshi rin, likes to believe that he is one rational man.

he truly is. he is a man grounded with rationality, the real definition of calm and quiet. he prides himself on his ability to be stoic and composed at all costs.

he is one to be blunt, approach what’s wrong head on with his words that bleeds. never to cower, never one to hesitate.

truly indeed, itoshi rin is a rational man.

so, why the fuck is he in the kitchen, tightening all jars that he could see?

apparently, when rin is faced with the seemingly impossible mission of getting you to talk to him after a small (he thinks so) disagreement, all rationality goes out the window.

suddenly, he finds himself overcome with a desperate need to hear your voice, to mend whatever rift has come between you. and so, he does the only thing he can think of at this point: he heads to the kitchen.

there, he methodically tightens every jar he can find, each twist of the lid a small act of rebellion against his own calm demeanor. he puts your favorite snacks up high on the shelf, just out of reach, hoping that you'll come to him for help.

on a normal day, rin would never do this. this is nothing but a foolish, incredibly ridiculous, absurd plan. he would never do something like this, but he exhausted every rational option he had at his disposal. he already asked you if you wanted takeout (you just looked at him, you never say no to takeout), asked if you knew where his cleats were because he couldn't find them (of course he knows where they are), and his last resort was to play your favorite show in the living room in the hopes that you'd join him on the couch.

nothing worked. zero successful attempts. nada.

you are officially ignoring him for 5 hours and 36 minutes (not that he’s counting, the wall clock in the living room is just obnoxiously big for its purpose and it keeps reminding him of the time, yup, that must be it).

and rin thinks if this goes on for much longer, you might suggest sleeping in the guest room out of stubborness. no, rin thought of the idea.

there’s no way in hell would rin sleep away from you. that’s just vile torture in his book. a cold ass bed without you? sleep without you in his arms? (he might genuinely prefer to be locked in a room with shidou than have that). that is atrocious, he needs to prevent that from happening, or else he would really lose it.

seemingly content with his scheme, rin places himself on one of the bar stools at the kitchen countertop to wait, boring holes into the bedroom door you've isolated yourself in. if this doesn't work, pinning you down until you utter a word to him may be the next best (worst) option.

after what felt like an eternity (it was ten minutes, max) to rin, you finally emerged from your shared bedroom with a purpose, and that is to fill your grumbling stomach. making your way in the kitchen, you ignored how rin is intently watching every step you make.

you open one of the cupboards to get your leftover bag of chips from yesterday, only to be met by an empty shelf. looking up, you see the said chips placed two shelves higher than usual.

when did that even get there?

hastily, you reached out for a stool to reach it. rin can’t help but let out a silent huff at the sight of you standing on a stool. that stool must be fucking with him, because why is it conveniently there?

rin shifts expectantly on his seat when he sees you looking for the jar of dip you always combine with your chips. and the heavens must be siding with him as he sees you annoyed and struggling to open the said dip.

“let me.”

you were about to deny his offer when you felt his chest already pressing on your back as he reached out for the culprit of your annoyance.

“thanks.” you timidly uttered, but rin didn’t move an inch from where he was pressing on you.

instead, rin tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple. you felt the side of his jaw on your temple, his other hand rubbing smooth circles on your shoulders, tapping on it three times.

you shut your eyes tightly at the feel of his touch, "rin," you started, but you didn't know how to continue.

“i know. i was in the wrong,” he trailed off, tapping three times once again on your exposed collarbone as if the gesture was a language you two only understand, “i’m sorry, y/n,” he said, voice laced with remorse.

you looked over your shoulder to meet rin's gaze. his eyes were soft, and his expression held a hint of guilt that you rarely saw. he seemed to be waiting for your response, and you took a deep breath before answering.

“i only want what's best for you, rin. seeing you exhaust yourself like that hurts me,” you explained, turning to face him and resting your hands on his chest. “and i'm sorry for being immature and ignoring you. it wasn't the right way to handle things.”

immature? only if you knew.

he tightened his grip on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “i hate it when we fight," he mumbled, his voice muffled. “it hurts when you don’t look at me.”

taken aback by rin's confession, you struggled to find the right words to alleviate what you’ve done. instead, you tapped three times in his chest, right where his heart beats.

in which you earned a - “not more than i do,” reply from rin, suggesting he understood.

“as you should, rinnie.” you replied with a playful teasing smile.

ah, there it was - the smile rin loved so much. the smile that always promises him that it will be fine - you two will be fine.

if it meant earning that smile over and over again, rin wouldn’t mind throwing out every ounce of rationality from his body.

he’ll never tell you about it though, you’d tease him to death. besides, if you knew, how could he use the same scheme again?

note. i love this trope in books so much that it's everything i think of lately (˘･_･˘)

#☁️ my ode to you #once again #I AM CRAZY ABOUT ITOSHI RIN #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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luveline · 6 months

Note

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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steddiealltheway · 7 months

Text

(Set right before season 4)

Steve rushes over to the Henderson house after an ominous call from Dustin saying, "Come over as soon as you can, it's an emergency," before hanging up dramatically.

He can hear his nail bat rolling around in his trunk every turn he takes as he gets there in record time. He grabs the bat out of the trunk and rushes to the door, not bothering to knock before he barges in.

He's met with the sight of Eddie Munson staring at him with wide eyes as Dustin yells, "No! No! Don't swing! Not a code red!"

Steve sets down the bat and lets out a deep breath. "What the hell, Henderson?! I could've seriously taken you out with this thing!" He hears Dustin give him a half-assed apology as he tries to get his heartbeat to slow down. "Next time, don't leave such a cryptic message, okay?"

"Okay," Dustin says, holding his hands up.

"What the fuck is that?" Munson asks, staring at the bat.

Steve points at him and says, "Language," before turning to Dustin and asking, "What's he doing here?"

Dustin sighs and gestures them toward his couch. Steve shoots Eddie a look before taking a seat right against the arm of the couch. It's not that he hates him, hell, he's pretty sure he's gotten weed from him before. It's just that he doesn't like sharing this older brother role with another guy - especially one who likes to make dramatic speeches on top of lunch tables.

Based on the way Eddie is similarly leaning away from him and uncomfortably fidgeting with his rings, he can tell there's a mutual tension between them. Dustin doesn't pick up on it as he sits across from them, acting like he's about to deliver the worst news ever.

Steve leans forward a little trying to get Dustin to finally spill and tries not to lean back immediately when he sees that Eddie is doing the same thing.

"Okay, Suzie and I were talking, and her family is considering visiting Hawkins."

Steve smiles. "That's great, but why-"

"Why are you acting like that's bad news?" Eddie asks, finishing Steve's sentence. The two glance at each other, and Steve tries not to size him up.

Dustin groans, "Because I need to take her on a proper date! We weren't able to go on dates during science camp, so I want this to be special. Of course, this is all contingent on whether she can convince her dad to give us alone time..."

"I could be your chaperone, but I'd ditch you once you got to the movie theater," Steve offers.

Eddie scoffs, "Yeah, a date with Suzie will not be at a movie theater."

Steve crosses his legs and turns toward Eddie. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you knew something about dating. Wait a minute." He directs his attention back to Dustin, utterly horrified. "You asked me and Munson for girl help?"

"Don't sound so shocked," Eddie says, but Steve ignores him.

"Yes," Dustin states simply. He sighs and gestures between the two of them. "Steve, you're a lady's man and you know exactly what to say and where the best date spots are, but you pick up the worst girls. Except Robin who you refuse to date." Steve doesn't have time to argue before Dustin points at Eddie, "And Eddie understands all the cool nerd stuff that Suzie and I like, and he's super charismatic. So, I thought we could combine your abilities to create the most epic date in the history of dates."

"No," Steve and Eddie both say at once.

"Guys-"

Steve turns to Eddie and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you protesting my help?"

"Because try as he might, Dustin can't convince me that you aren't an asshole that has never actually wooed a girl. You get by with your pretty looks and think that's enough."

Steve's mind lingers a bit on the "pretty looks" for some reason, but he pushes past it to say, "Please, you're telling me you know a single thing about wooing a girl?"

Eddie leans in with a bright smile. "You heard it from Henderson, I'm charming."

"Charismatic," Steve corrects him, "But I haven't seen a shred of that yet."

Eddie tosses an arm over the back of the couch and scoots in until Steve is trapped against the arm of the couch. Steve tries not to show Eddie how much the sudden closeness is affecting him.

"I could easily charm your pants off, big boy," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve's eyes betray him and flicker down to Eddie's lips. "Please, I'd easily beat you to it."

Eddie tilts his head and looks at him through his lashes. "Are you saying you want to charm my pants off, Harrington? I'm flattered, but I'm not that kind of girl."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Is that a bet?"

"Do you want it to be? Because it kind of sounds like it."

Steve blames his series of bad dates, the meaningless sex with girls with no substance, and the weird tension between them for his response. "It's a date, Munson."

"So, I'm going to assume that was the weirdest way of you two agreeing to help me," Dustin says, startling Steve away from Eddie who he was definitely not just about to kiss.

"Jesus H. Christ," Eddie mumbles under his breath as he moves away, seeming to have also forgotten where they were.

"Sure, we'll create a date for you two and trial-run it for issues," Steve says.

Dustin smiles wide and giggles, "See, I knew you two would help if you just put your dumb differences aside!"

"Something like that," Eddie mutters. "But hey, what does your gut say? Where do you want to take her?"

Dustin shrugs. "I like the idea of the movies."

Steve slowly looks over at Eddie and gives him a cocky smile. Eddie's mouth twitches momentarily into a frown, but he ignores him. "I'll think of something special to do after, but Harrington can fill you in on a movie date."

"I thought you were the expert on wooing," Steve snarkily replies.

Eddie huffs, "Movie dates just aren't my thing."

If they're actually trial-running this, Steve will make it a point to make movie dates Eddie's thing.

"That sounds great. Thank you both!" Dustin says, still ignoring the obvious tension.

"Well, I've got to head out, but it was good seeing you," Eddie says with a genuine smile that Steve thinks he would like to see more often.

"I do, too. Hey, I'm glad I could help. Next time maybe don't make it sound like a nail-bat emergency though," Steve says lowering his voice before grabbing the bat.

He follows Eddie toward the front, but they both stop and turn to mess up Dustin's hair simultaneously. Steve pulls his hand back when Eddie's hand runs on top of his. He looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"I told you you guys are similar."

Steve thinks that Dustin's right, but maybe they're only similar in the way they both obviously care for him.

They finish their goodbyes and head out into the cold January weather. Steve clutches his jacket tighter around himself - he had forgotten to grab a heavier coat in his rush over. He turns to Eddie and says, "Hey."

Eddie turns to him and raises his eyebrows.

"Want to trial-run that date tonight?"

Eddie frowns at him. "I thought you were joking."

With that, Steve should take the clear out given to him and agree. Yes, it was just a joke. Instead, he says, "It doesn't have to be."

It's a long few seconds of Eddie staring at him before he gets a quiet response of, "Yeah, sure. Uh, let's go to my place though. I don't want your reputation to be tainted if you're seen in public with me."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve says sincerely. He's not sure why he's so adamant about this date, but maybe he just wants to see where that moment on the couch could truly lead. "But hey, your reputation would also be tainted if you're associating with me."

"And we wouldn't want that," Eddie says with a small smile. "The freak and the king. What would people say?"

This surprises a laugh out of Steve before he says, "I think your place would probably be a little more intimate than a movie theater."

He can't tell if Eddie's cheeks suddenly flush a little pinker from the cold or a blush. "I told you, I'm not that kind of guy."

"More intimate doesn't always mean sex. You know this."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "Why don't we continue this conversation at my place so you don't freeze to death?"

"I like the sound of that," Steve says, making his way to his car and trying to hide the huge smile that's trying to split across his face all because of Eddie Munson.

He rushes to shove his bat into the trunk, hoping that he won't have to further explain that to Eddie. But based on the way his eyes linger on it, he's thinking he won't get away from questioning too easily.

Luckily, he has prepared his Harrington charm for this moment. And boy, he's going to be using it as often as he can to prove Eddie wrong.

Part Two (aka the final part)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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lisired · 1 month

Text

who needs cupid’s bow?

pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining

summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

word count: 11.1k

a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!

It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)

You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.

It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.

Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.

You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.

Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.

He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.

And that’s the problem.

Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.

And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.

One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.

Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.

Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.

“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.

“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.

“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”

You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.

“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”

There’s only one way out of this.

Run.

Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.

In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.

The door is fucking locked.

And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.

“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.

“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.

“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”

Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.

Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.

He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—

Crunch.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.

It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”

Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.

You frown, “I wanted your attention.”

Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”

Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.

At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.

His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.

You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.

Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.

Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.

Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.

“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”

His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.

It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.

You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.

“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”

“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”

“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.

When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)

“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.

A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.

You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.

“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.

Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”

You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”

“Precisely.”

You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”

Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”

You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”

He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.

Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”

“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”

“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”

You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.

“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”

“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”

That’s exactly what he does.

You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.

Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.

“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”

That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.

“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.

He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”

On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.

Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”

He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.

“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”

With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”

“And strong like Superman?”

“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”

Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.

Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.

Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.

“Auntie?”

When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.

He hugs your leg. “I love you.”

His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”

He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.

“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”

“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”

“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”

“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”

“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”

Ouch. Right in your face, literally.

She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.

She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”

“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.

“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”

You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”

Haechan gives you the look.

The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.

And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”

Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”

You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.

When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.

As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.

Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.

If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.

“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.

“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.

Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”

“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”

“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”

Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.

At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”

“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”

“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”

You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”

Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”

“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”

You blink. “Plan B?”

He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.

“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”

“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”

He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.

Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.

“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”

Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.

You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”

“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”

Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”

“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”

You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.

So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.

“And I have to help you why?”

“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”

Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.

“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.

And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.

That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.

“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”

“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.

Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.

“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”

He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.

“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.

“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”

If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.

“What about this one?”

Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.

Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.

And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.

His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.

“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”

“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.

“Shut up.”

Your grin widens. “Make me.”

Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.

He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.

It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.

Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.

Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.

Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.

By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.

“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”

Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”

“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.

Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.

“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”

Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.

“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”

If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.

No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?

Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.

“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”

Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”

Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”

“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”

“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.

“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”

Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.

So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.

You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.

“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.

In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”

Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”

“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.

It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.

“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.

“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”

“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.

You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.

“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”

“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.

Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”

Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”

Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.

D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.

The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.

“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”

Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.

“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.

You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.

He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.

“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.

If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”

Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.

If you ignore him, you can do this.

Haechan cannot do this.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.

He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.

“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.

Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”

“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.

“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.

“No!”

“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.

“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”

There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.

An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.

And Jaemin is fed up.

“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.

Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”

“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.

Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.

“What’s going on?”

You stare at one another.

“Stop copying me!”

Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.

“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.

“Which is?”

You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.

“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”

Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.

You blink. “What’s he doing here?”

Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”

“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.

“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.

“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”

Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating.

“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”

Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”

“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”

It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”

Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.

So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.

“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”

You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.

“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”

The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.

“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s the middle of February.”

“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.

You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”

You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”

Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”

His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.

You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”

“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”

Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”

If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”

“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.

“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.

“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.

“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”

“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”

“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.

“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”

“I never said dying.”

He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.

“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”

Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.

Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”

“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.

Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.

You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.

Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?

“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”

You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.

“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”

“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”

“You mean, four years ago, or now?”

Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”

“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”

“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.

“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”

“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”

He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.

“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”

You smirk. “You know me very well.”

He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”

“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”

“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.

You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.

#haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines #lee haechan smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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whore-ibly-hot · 8 months

Text

Yan!Husbands Boss x Married! Reader

"Just Another Day at The Office."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.

(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)

Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.

Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.

It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.

"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.

"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.

"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.

"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.

He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.

Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.

"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.

"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.

You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.

"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.

In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.

"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.

"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.

"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.

"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.

When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.

"May I handle that before we go out?"

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #tw.cheating #tw.dubcon #tw.angst #yandere boss #yandere ceo #oc Morgan #fem reader

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loud-mouth-loser · 10 months

Text

not him

summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

pairing: marc spector x reader

rating: angst

warning: drunk kiss, one-sided pining, (kinda) cheating, angst, feelings (?)

w/c: 2.7k

a/n: sometimes you just need to feel needed

part two

----

Steven is the type of guy who has no idea what to do with his hands. But when it comes to you, he’s all hands on deck. He’s touchy and you think it’s partially because he’s touch-starved.

And you are too, but in a different way.

Where he craves for touch, you simply cannot process the feeling. It’s foreign. Overwhelming. You’re just not used to it.

But you pull through it because you like him.

And he has no idea.

Steven Grant, the most clueless man in London, gently grasps your hand like you’re not about to keel over from the mere presence of him. You never imagined yourself harboring a massive crush on your best friend, but it’s happened. Or, it’s been happening.

Steven sees you as a safe and reliable friend – one that wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he were to cuddle behind you or play with your hair. And he’s right, in a way. You do understand exactly what his intentions are. And that is nothing.

You’re one to never get your hopes up. Preferring to expect the worst so you’re never disappointed in the end. So you’re fine just being there for him because you’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

He’s adorable really. At first glance you may think he’s a quiet bookworm, looking for a nice spot against the wall to live out the rest of his days, but really, if you give him a chance, he’ll talk for hours. And you’ll listen.

He has a higher-pitched voice than you might’ve expected. His British lit takes it up a notch and you think it’s endearing. He can go on and on about different Egyptian mythological stories, telling each one with details that you swear can only be known by those who were actually there experiencing them.

His eyes light up with a sparkle of his own that you crave to see whenever he’s around. It’s that type of look that spreads his passion and curiosity to whoever's around. You’ve never experienced passion like that until you met him.

And you want more. You’ll always want more. But…it’s too late.

Steven is taken. No – actually he’s married. Well, let’s take a couple of steps back, he’s actually two guys: Steven and Marc.

Marc, the American pessimist, is actually married to a woman named Layla and has been for years now. He just decided to show himself out of the blue one day and now he’s part of Steven. Or he always was a part of Steven, just a hidden one.

Steven, the romantic he is, quickly clicked with Layla and has been chasing after her like a love-sick puppy ever since. And much to Marc’s displeasure, he’s formed a bond with her.

“...And we kissed, can you believe it?” There’s that sparkle again. “I swear to you, she has the softest, most wonderful lips.” He drones on and on about Layla and you can tell it’s all genuine and innocent, which makes it so much worse. “She’s strong and brave, and possibly the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.”

She’s…perfect.

The back of your neck prickles with heat as he continues, “I know I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but I think – no, I know that I love her.” There’s a tingle at the back of your throat that tightens at his words, threatening to burn your eyes with tears if you’re not careful. You swallow it back, jaw clenched to control yourself.

After a moment, his warm brown eyes bore deeply into yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. You force a small smile at him, holding back the urge to pull your hands away from his. “That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.”

You’ve never been so jealous.

—

Turns out you weren’t the only one unhappy with the news. Apparently, Marc punched Steven in the jaw when it happened (meaning he technically punched himself), telling him to stay away from his wife, but, of course, that didn’t stop Steven and Layla from seeing each other after.

So that’s how you formed an unexpected friendship with Steven’s other half. It’s nothing like Steven and Layla, you are simply just friends. Disgruntled friends at that. Drinking buddies if you want to be more accurate.

You’ve shared a case of beer with Marc countless times. Steven sleeps early so as soon as 10 pm rolls around, you’re stuck with Marc. Well ‘stuck’ is a bit harsh, but being that Steven is your preferred company at any time of the day, it’s true.

But you’ll admit, it’s not that bad.

He actually talks to you, sometimes. You were surprised the first time you got him to open up about how he and Layla were married, but separated. Apparently, being the righteous man he is, he suddenly made the executive decision to move away for her safety, worrying that his work as an avatar could put her in imminent danger. No wonder Layla was less than jazzed to find out about his life in London.

You knew a little bit about Marc and the Egyptian god, Konshu, but because it has never really directly affected your life, you’ve never fully believed it. The random bouts when Steven has disappeared, however, have been worrying, but Marc filled in the gaps pretty well while making sure to refrain from sharing any sensitive information. You realize Marc probably doesn’t have many friends he can trust with any information at all, so you’re willing to stay and listen like you would for Steven. And it’s fine. You’re content with the dynamic.

Marc is just different. More serious, less…gentle.

But don’t get it wrong, Marc can be enjoyable, even funny sometimes. Sometimes. He has this dry sense of humor that you never expected from him and sometimes it feels like he’s actually engaging in conversation instead of him talking at you. And when he’s in a really good mood, he even flirts with you for the hell of it. You never take it seriously, but that is something Steven doesn’t like – and he hasn’t even seen the half of it. You brush it off, believing Steven is just being protective while Marc instigates as much as possible to get back at him.

Tonight is one of those good nights. It started normally: Steven went to bed, Marc got out of bed, and you’re now letting old episodes of a sitcom run in the background as you trade stories about the horrible drivers you’ve encountered in the past.

“ – Then the guy stops in the middle of the road, green light, and everything, and opens his trunk because he wanted to change his shirt!”

Marc’s eyebrows are high on his head as he listens animatedly. “Right there?” His hand is wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer that’s half-drained already. He’s on his fifth, you’re on your third. It’s one of the heavier nights, but neither one of you mentions anything.

“Yes! Right there!” You smile against the mouth of your bottle at the sound of his deep chuckle. It’s so different from Steven’s, but you still enjoy hearing it. Maybe even strive to hear it. You take a deep swallow of your drink then set it down on the crowded coffee table. It’s littered with books, bottles, and a few remotes for various parts of the tv.

“Did you drive around him?”

“No, he was taking up two lanes with his crooked-ass park job! Oh my god, people were so pissed, honking and yelling at the guy – He didn’t even care!” You like him like this, light and open, like everything in his past has evaporated off his shoulders. You can see prominent smile lines at the corner of his eyes as he laughs at the story. Sometimes you wonder who put them there. Steven or Marc. Or was it a joint effort?

The energy in the room dies down as you close the story, but it doesn’t bother you. You just wait for him to continue the conversation, to do his part. That’s how this works: you speak, then he speaks, then you go again.

But he doesn’t, not this time.

You look at him, expecting a dumb question or controversial take on something like usual, but he just stares right back, eyes half-lidded. You’ve never seen that look before.

There’s never any real silence when you and Marc hang out – and even when there is, there really isn’t. That’s why the TV is always on, so you never have space to think. Like really think. It’s like having music play as you eat dinner: the noise plays over the sounds of obnoxious chewing and utensils scraping against plates.

You need that sound. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to sit here next to him. But sometimes it’s not enough. This time it’s not enough.

This silence feels different, even as the muffled voice of the TV drones in the background. It’s unnerving and it settles around you, like fine dust over furniture.

“Is that a new shirt or somethin’?” He sits up slightly against the arm of the couch, eyes sweeping over your body, “I swear, I’ve never seen your cleavage from this angle before.”

“Marc!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Stop looking you perv!” Your face blooms with heat, though it’s already quite warm from the alcohol you’ve been drinking. He has a teasing grin on his face, but his eyes convey something else.

“Mhm…You wore that for Stevey didn’t you?” His words come out in loops, slurred slightly from the drinking challenge you had earlier in the evening.

“And?” Your ears burn as you confirm his suspicions, “What if I did?”

One of his eyebrows lifts in amusement, “You know he’s in love with my wife, don’t you?”

You frown at him, “Yes, Marc. I’m aware.” Your hand reaches for your bottle of beer if only to have something to look at other than those familiar eyes of his. The label is starting to rub off from the perspiration on the glass.

“Then why do you keep trying?” You feel exasperated. Why do you keep trying? You know Steven’s feelings and intentions, and none of them relate to you. You’re his best friend and he’s…well, he’s taken. You’ve never wanted to risk losing your friendship with him, but at the same time, you’ve never lost hope.

“I… don’t know.” Your skin itches. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Usually, you and Marc would spend a few hours taking turns talking about nothing then you’d call an Uber home and see Steven in the morning.

“Well…He’s an idiot.”

“What –”

Marc sits up, body almost leaning into your space, “Steven has no idea what’s right in front of him.”

“Marc,”

A hand catches yours and you’re thrown back to that day when Steven told you his feelings for Layla.

You are sitting in the exact same position on the couch as that day: you and him, hand in hand and face to face. But this is different. This time Steven’s mouth is telling you exactly what you want to hear.

“You’re beautiful.” But it’s not him.

Marc’s gaze searches your face for a reaction, but all you can do is stare back and look into those soft brown eyes. They have that sparkle. The same look you’ve longed to be directed at you since you met Steven.

You almost give in to that look, wanting to soak in the eagerness flashing in his eyes, but you don’t. You try to take your hands from his hold but he pulls you closer instead. His face is barely a few inches away from yours.

“We shouldn’t…” Your voice is low in a mere whisper. Like you’re sharing a secret.

He smells like him, and he should, you suppose, but it’s still odd to think about how Steven and Marc share a body while being completely different people.

His eyes are different though. His brows sit lower, almost grazing against his dark lashes, infinitely more intense than Steven’s curious look. He’s more alert, or at least, less tired than Steven. And somehow, Steven’s sleepless eye bags disappear when Marc takes control.

But he also looks at you differently. At first, he didn’t look at you at all. He was standoffish, uninterested, and unimpressed. But now, his eyes bore into you and pin you in place. He’s more than looking at you, he’s devouring you. And you like it.

“We shouldn’t…” He echoes your words almost like he’s agreeing, but his eyes flit down to your parted lips directly contradicting your shared sentiment. “But I want to.”

“I-...” He follows your tongue as it pokes out and wets your lower lip nervously, his eyes are nearly glazed over with desire. His hand cups your jaw gently and he slowly tilts your face to look at him. You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of his calloused skin against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, but the kiss never comes.

Instead, a soft sigh brushes your mouth as he holds you close, barely a few centimeters from meeting your lips.

He whispers low with his eyes trained on your parted lips, voice strained with desperation and need, “Please…let me kiss you, sweetheart.” He sounds so broken, yet so sure of this. Like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. You let out a small whimper at his words, unable to hold in how much you want him. His forehead rests against yours, “Tell me you need it as much as I do.”

You attempt to push against him, to capture his lips with yours, but he doesn’t let you. His hand keeps you just far enough to keep you from what you want. “Please.” You beg. Rather than giving in, he parts even further from you and you’re met with that hungry look of his once more.

“Say it.” He sounds so serious, his voice low and rough, but you can tell he wants it as much as you do. He needs this. He needs to hear it.

“I-I want it.” Your hands come up to cradle his face, “I want you to kiss me, Marc Spector. I need you.” The last word is barely audible as you crowd closer to him, nose nudging against his as you lean in.

You feel yourself melt against him as his lips meet yours, warm, soft, and bitter from the beer. There’s an unexplainable feeling that zips up your spine when he kisses you back, hungrily moving his mouth against yours.

You didn’t know a kiss could feel this good.

There’s a push and pull as you move against each other. As the kiss deepens with desire it’s abated by a softened touch as light as a whisper. You love the small sighs he lets out when you sweetly pull back, letting him chase your lips for softer, more playful nips. And then the deeper sounds when you’re flush against him, eagerly drinking him in.

By now, you’ve been pulled onto his lap, legs straddling comfortably over his. His chest rumbles with a groan as your tongue brushes against his, desperately taking in his intoxicating taste. You lean further into him, needing to feel his body against yours.

Your hands drift from his jaw into the soft curls of his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless groan of his once more. His hands wrap around your waist and drop to squeeze at your hips, holding you closer as if you aren’t already fully against him.

At some point, you have to break the kiss, if only for a second of air. You look at each other breathing heavily, wrapped around one another, unwilling to part any further.

Silence hangs in the air, but it’s light. Barely even there.

You look at him, and he looks right back, lips swollen with love, or at least the adjacent.

You let out a breath, more like a sigh of relief, when you see it: that sparkle. It’s still there.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #steven grant x layla el faouly

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rafecameroninterlude · 18 days

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

pairing: rafe cameron x camgirl!reader

summary: ❝screw your anonymity, loving me is all you need to feel like i do.❞ — you and rafe start a stream of your own.

warnings: shy!reader, fluff, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, fingering, recorded sex, unprotected sex, use of the name ‘daddy’ (just two times), concerned rafe when he makes you collapse on his bed, teasing, multiple orgasms, cream pie

word count: 3k

taglist: @breeistired @maybankslover @kjwritesalot @rafesweetheartttt @mattyskies @b00kdiary @peachesmilk @nayveetbhh @pnkplled @harrys-humble-housewife @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyswifehoe @secretly-tumb1r @dark1paradise @shelby-x @stayonmars @popbangcrash @cherryblossworld @idonteatpinecones @belongtoyou-u

a/n: part two of this oneshot because it was so heavily requested <3 this takes place immediately after the first part! series masterlist

you stared at him, your heart racing in your chest as he looked at you expectantly. “what?” apart of you knew it was pointless to play dumb, but you felt scared right now. not by rafe himself, but being in a room with a man who’s watched you for months was probably the worst case scenario for someone who does what you do. as if he could sense your unease, he backed away, holding his hands up reassuringly. “you could leave right now, and we’ll never speak again. i’m not gonna hurt you, you have my word.” you glanced at the door and then back at him.

“you won’t do anything to me?” your voice was shaky, rafe’s eyes softening at your tone. “i swear i won’t do anything to you.” you glanced at the door once more before you relaxed. “okay, i’ll stay.” you breathed, nervously fiddling with the small pendant on your necklace. “can i sit down?” he pointed at the spot next to you. scooting over to keep some distance, you nodded. he moved slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he took a seat. “so.. you’re y/n?” your cheeks burned as you looked down at your hands. “yes. and you’re rafecam?” you saw his head move from the corner of your eye. “i am.” he spoked quietly, trying to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

it was silent for a moment before you finally faced him. “thank you for all the gifts and donations, i appreciate every single one.” rafe shook his head. “it’s nothing, really. i love your content, if that wasn’t already obvious.” both of you laughed softly. “thank you.” you met his eyes, your smile faltering as you thought deeply. “i put on a persona for the camera, i’m really not as flirty in real life.” he blinked, moving closer. “that’s alright, i think i like you like this more.” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. you melted into his touch, rafe taking notice.

“you know.. i really enjoyed not putting a face to who you were because it was pure fantasy. but looking at you now? it makes me want you more. you’re fucking breathtaking.” rafe thumbed your chin, his other hand resting on your thigh. “you’re too sweet.” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, realizing how close he’s gotten. “i have to be honest, i didn’t expect you to look, or be as young as i initially thought.” at this, rafe started tracing shapes into your skin. “thought i was some ugly, old fart?” you couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips.

“well i wouldn’t say those words exactly, but yeah. most of the men i’ve interacted with, virtually of course, was either old or really not that good looking.” he listened to you, loving the sound of your voice. “well i’m just young.” he shrugged. “and handsome.” you added, making rafe playfully wink at you. this man had to be a heartbreaker, he was too smooth with everything he did. “if you say so.” there was a small pause before he took your hand in his. “still feeling scared?” you shook your head, letting him trace your bottom lip with his thumb.

“good. i don’t want you to be scared. i plan for us to spend a lot of time together.” you raised your eyebrows at his words. “really?” he hummed in response. “yeah, i’ve set my sights on you, i gotta have you now.” butterflies erupted in your tummy at his possessiveness. “you could still be a camgirl, but you’re going to be my girl, too.” his eyes bore into yours. “that alright with you?” you smiled, leaning into him. “yeah, i’d like that.” rafe closed the gap between you two, kissing you ever so gently. you were hesitant but after he took the time to make sure you felt okay, it wasn’t long before you were kissing him back.

eventually the soft dance of your lips turned into something more carnal, more desperate. he laid you down, his teeth nipping at the soft skin of your neck before he sat back on his heels, admiring your frame underneath him. “this is a really pretty dress, doll,” his fingers tugging at the hem, “can i see what’s underneath?” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, moving your hands away as a silent go-ahead. he lifted the soft material, revealing your soft pink underwear. “oh, baby, this cunt is gonna be so much prettier in person, isn’t it?” the cool air of his room made you shudder, his middle finger running over the wet spot inbetween your folds.

“touch yourself for me.” he pulled away, unlooping his belt with one hand and taking his shirt off with the other. you marveled at the muscles that rippled under his skin, the veins in his arms making you rub your thighs together. slipping your hand under the waistband of your panties, your hips bucked when your fingertips skimmed your clit. “let me see those eyes, sweetheart. want you to look at me while you play with that pussy.” his words alone were like foreplay to you.

you did as he said, a cocky grin gracing his lips as you struggled to keep your gaze on him. “look at that,” he pulled your underwears down, moving your hand so he could spread you apart. you whimpered, his mouth falling open as he took in the sight of your soaked cunt. “so fucking perfect, my god.” he groaned, your slick shining under the soft light of his bedside lamp. “you wanna do something for me?” you swallowed nervously as he unzipped his pants.

“yes.” rafe lowered his jeans, his cock straining against his boxers. “get your palm wet, i want your slick on my cock.” you pressed your hand flat against your cunt, gathering your wetness before stroking his length, your thumb running over his tip. he cursed under his breath as he watched your hand glide with ease. this was hands down the hottest thing he has ever seen. here you were, bottom lip between your teeth, using your arousal as lube to jack him off. “fuck, that feels amazing.” he leaned down, rubbing your clit as both of you moaned at each other’s touch.

“please don’t stop, rafe,” your thighs were already shaking as he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look down at his hand that magically knew exactly how you liked to be touched. his fingers were huge, a sob escaping from you when he finally plunged them inside, your fist still moving over his cock. the noises in this room right now was nothing short of obscene. “fuck,” rafe’s head fell back as you picked up your pace, his hips chasing you with every stroke. the sight of him trying to contain himself was easily your new favorite view.

his abs constricted with restraint, his chest heaving with pleasure as your fingers glided over the ridges of his length. when he looked down at you, his eyes were dark, almost predatory as he took your lips, roughly kissing you with fervor. soon enough, you found yourself teetering over the edge of euphoria. “i- i can’t, rafe!” he smiled as he watched you lose yourself, eventually not being able to hold your head up as you pushed yourself into his pillows.

“let it go for me, baby. let me feel you.” your mouth hung open as he brought you to your climax, your hand falling from his cock to grip his sheets in a poor attempt to stable yourself. rafe was mesmerized by you in every way, your lips perfectly swollen and pretty. your back arched, your eyes rolling back as you shuddered. “fuck.” you whimpered, letting out a shaky breath as your legs trembled. you felt rafe’s teeth on your collarbone, his tongue running over the tender spots.

“you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.” rafe pecked your cheek, using his other hand to stroke your face. it felt like eternity before you came down from your high, your eyes damp with tears as you gazed up at him. he pulled his fingers out of you, your eyes widening as you watched him pop the digits in his mouth, licking you clean off of them. “sweet just like i thought.” you blinked, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “please fuck me, ‘want you so bad.” he groaned, his arms caging you in.

“oh, i’m gonna fuck you,” his voice was raspy in your ear, “but i have an idea.” he pulled away, grabbing your phone from where your purse laid at the edge of the bed. “let me stream it.” you laughed softly, waiting for him to say he was joking. he stared back, his facial expression dead serious. “you’d be okay with being on camera?” you took your phone, unlocking the device and opening the streaming app. “no one will see our faces, why not?” you stayed silent for a moment, tapping on the ‘go live!’ icon. “why not.” you used his words, passing him the phone. “how do you want me, daddy?”

rafe gave your thigh a teasing squeeze. “call me that again and i might just cum by that alone.” you laughed, brushing your fingers through your hair. “i can’t call you by your real name while we’re live.” you pulled your dress down so it was covering your lower half once again. “daddy it is.” he brought your knuckles to his lips. “i want you on all fours, arch that back for me.” you did as he said, his cock resting on your ass. he gave your hair a few tugs, “you alright if i do this?”

you hummed, grinding against him instinctively. “and you’re okay with me calling you names?” he spanked you, a yelp falling from your lips. “yes, rafe.” he rubbed your skin, nodding to himself. “listen, if at anytime you want me to stop or end the live just give me the word, beautiful. ‘sound good?” like you’d ever tell him to stop. “mhmm.” you’ve wanted him to fuck you for so long, the excitement already settling in your belly. you heard the familiar ding, indicating that rafe started the live. “alright, we’re on baby.”

rafe turned the phone horizontally, your ass peeking out from the bottom of your dress as you waited for him. “welcome in, losers, looks like i found your favorite internet slut at a party.” you suppressed a laugh, your eyes shutting momentarily before you felt him move behind you. “as you can see..” he lifted your dress, exposing your pussy, “i’ve already finger fucked this beauty, so she’s soaked and ready for me, ain’t you baby?” you moaned, clenching around nothing as rafe ran a hand up your back, taking your dress with it before pinning you down by the back of your head.

“a lot of people are mad on here, should we piss them off more?” rafe slapped you, hard, making you squeak out a ‘yes, daddy!’ in which he groaned. “this pretty thing has been so good for me, so let’s not make her wait, yeah?” he trailed his tip between your folds, both of you shuddering as he entered you slowly. “oh, my god,” rafe watched the way you sucked him in like a vice, his eyes screwing shut once you squeezed around him. once he was done filling you to the hilt, you knew you were a goner when he rested his hand in the curve of you hip, pulling out and slamming back into you like there was no tomorrow.

“shit,” rafe said through gritted teeth, your fingers curling into fists as a cry fell from your lips. “you’re unreal.” you started moving your hips, meeting his thrusts rhythmically. in this position you could feel every delicious stroke of his cock, your knees going weak as he pressed you into the mattress. rafe loved that you could keep up with him despite barely being able to keep yourself from falling apart. he looked up from where he was watching you take him and felt pleased when he saw your jaw slack, your mouth hanging open as he grazed your g-spot repeatedly.

“oh, man, it hasn’t even been ten minutes and this perfect little slut is already cock drunk.” rafe threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you up roughly. “fuck, yes!” your back met his chest, his arm draping across your waist. rafe covered your face with his hand, extending the phone out so your tits were bouncing on screen. “please give it to me!” rafe laughed breathlessly, leaving wet, open mouth kisses along your shoulder. “aw does everyone hear that? ‘doll face here wants me to fill her up with my cum.” his hips snapped into you faster, making you double over back into his bed.

he put the phone down, quickly moving your hair before whispering to you. “holy fuck, are you okay?” your eyes blinked open, a lazy smile forming on your lips as you nodded. “i can’t hold myself up when you’re fucking me like that.” rafe sighed in relief, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. “get on your back for me,” he helped you turn over, pulling your dress off as he handed you back your phone. you pointed the camera at his lower half where he inserted himself between your thighs.

“we have a pillow princess here, everyone.” you giggled, slapping rafe playfully. glancing at the viewer count, your eyes nearly popped out of your head as the number ‘10.7k’ flashed at you. “it’s almost like i should be a permanent guest.” the smile on your face disappeared once rafe tapped his cock against your clit. with shaky hands, you whimpered as you watched him move in and out, his arms securing your legs over his shoulders. while rafe fucked you into oblivion, he cursed as you clenched around him sporadically. it wasn’t until his fingers started working on your sensitive bundle of nerves that you dropped your phone, forgetting all about the device as you took hold of his wrists, your nails digging into his skin.

rafe couldn’t care any less about the stream, all his focus zeroing in on you and making you cum as hard as you possibly can. “rafe-” his name slipped before you could stop yourself. he was quick to give you a reassuring nod. “shh, it’s okay,” he leaned down, kissing you so you couldn’t make the same mistake twice. truth be told, he really didn’t care that you said his name on live. “i-i’m gonna cum!” you screamed as the band in your stomach finally snapped.

rafe wondered if you could see the hearts in his eyes as he watched you shake and writhe underneath him. it wasn’t long before his own orgasm caught up to him, his grip on your ankles tightening as he emptied himself inside of you. “so fucking perfect..” he whispered to himself, letting his hands soothe you as you came down from your climax. “i can’t feel my legs.” you laughed. rafe smiled, slowly pulling out before laying your limbs down. your vision was fuzzy and you could barely form a thought as you looked up at the ceiling.

rafe grabbed your phone just as a message notification chimed in. “i think the live ended when you dropped the phone.” he laid next to you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “can you check my messages, i don’t think i can read right now.” you yawned, curling into his chest as he brought his arms around you. “it’s from chelsea,” he tapped on your friend’s contact, reading the text out loud, “just got some fire d in the bathroom, i’m going back to warren’s place. don’t wait up for me!” before you could register what he said, he started typing.

“what are you telling her?” you watched as his lip quirked up. “i’m telling her that you just got some fire d, too.” your post orgasm bliss was cut short once you realized you needed to find a way to get back home. “shit, what time is it?” you sat up, “nearly ten o’clock. why?” rafe walked to his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt. “oh my god, the ferry station is already closed..” you chewed on your bottom lip, looking up at rafe as he pulled you up. “did you really think that i was gonna send you home after this? we’ll take a shower and call it a night.” he lead you to the connected bathroom, turning the water on.

“rafe. you really don’t have to do this, there’s a whole birthday party going on for you downstairs.” he helped you into the bathtub, stepping in right behind you. “are you kidding? people aren’t here for me, they just want free booze.” he laughed, his words making you pout. “that’s kinda sad..” you trailed off, your muscles relaxing under the hot water. “that’s just kook life, baby.” you turned around, looking at him questionably. “i heard chelsea say something about that, what’s a ‘kook’?” rafe started washing your hair, explaining the island’s lore with the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing.

“so.. it’s basically the rich people against the poor people?” rafe finished rinsing himself off, closing off the water before guiding you out of the tub. “hey, the poor people are against us too.” you shivered, crossing your arms over your chest as rafe wrapped you in a towel. “thank you.” your doe eyes looked up at rafe as he planted a kiss to your lips. “no, thank you. you’re doing me a favor just by being here with me.” he lead you back to his bedroom where he slipped on a pair of boxers, and you an oversized t-shirt.

once he had you in his bed, he reached over and turned the lamp off. pulling you into his chest, you never felt more safe than being in his arms, your fingers running across his skin. the music from the party still thumped from downstairs. “sorry you’re not down there with your friends.” you whispered, a small tinge of guilt hitting you in the chest. “don’t be. i’d take this over anything,” he rubbed your back soothingly, “best birthday gift ever.”

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 months

Text

A lot can happen in six months (and yet nothing can change) (M)

Genre: Hallmark Christmas Romcom!core, Ex!Mingyu, angst, bad decisions are made and talked about, porn somewhere in here because of course

Warnings: Exes are exes, breakups are breakups and this writer doesn’t know what that’s all like, creampie, unprotected sex, switch?gyu, switch?yn, dub con

Summary:

Six months ago you and Mingyu broke up and you weren’t sure exactly how to move on. Now, he was calling you all over again, as you to go on a non-refundable romantic Christmas weekend in New York City, and you know that you should say no... But how on Earth, does one say no to Kim Mingyu?

All things in life happen for a reason.

That’s what you told yourself like a mantra whenever you weren’t sure where your life was headed. When you were graduating high school and only got into one of your colleges, when your grandpa died and you had to fly out to your hometown for his funeral, even when you lost your job and spent five months unemployed unable to land a job despite your many qualifications.

But the time that echoed the loudest through your brain, the time you depended on it the most was the time that you would live to hate for the rest of your life.

“Walk out that door and we are through.”

When you had made it to Chwe Hansol’s apartment door, you were sobbing and he had a girl hooked to his arm.

In minutes, that girl was gone and you two were alone in his apartment, your head in his lap as you sobbed.

“I don’t get it,” you stuttered through tears. “We were fine. And then he-“

You hiccuped but before you could say more the door was opening to the apartment. You looked over your shoulder to see a blurry image of short brown hair and tall slender legs.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hansol said softly. “I invited Dasom over.”

You turned back to Hansol shoving your face into his chest as the tears ran freely down your face. Of course, you didn’t mind Dasom being over. Out of everyone in your life Hansol and Dasom were your two favorites. They had been there for you since before Mingyu and you had ever even met. They knew all of the ups and downs of your relationship with him and everything.

Never had you imagined that they would end up seeing the end of it.

“What happened?” Dasom asked, a hand finding its way to your back. “Hansol just said that it was an emergency and I needed to come over.”

You pulled out of Hansol’s chest, giving her what had to be an incredibly pathetic look.

“We broke up-”

This time instead of falling into Hansol, you fell against Dasom, burying your face into her neck.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hansol said bluntly. You looked over at him, shooting him a glare.

“Hey-“

“The world doesn’t end because you stop dating Kim Mingyu.”

“I thought I was going to be with Kim Mingyu for the rest of my life,” you snapped back. “He was supposed to be my last relationship. My ride or die. The man I married.”

“How did this even happen?” Dasom asked, still completely lost. You looked at her.

“He thought I cheated on him.”

“Which is stupid,” Hansol inserted.

“Well, it wasn’t baseless!” You protested. You dug your phone out of your pocket, clumsily unlocking it and shoving the phone in Dasom’s face.

“This is why he thought I cheated and honestly? I’m starting to think I did cheat on him.”

Dasom took your phone, confusion settling itself on her face as she scrolled through the conversation.

“You cheated on Mingyu?” She asked in disbelief.

“Of course, I didn’t!” You protested.

“Then who is Byungho?” She asked.

“Who is Byungho?” You agreed loudly. “Do you know a Byungho? I don’t. Hansol doesn’t. No one does! But who would believe that with that conversation on my phone.”

Hansol scoffed and took the phone from Dasom’s hands, looking at the conversation himself.

“Obviously Mingyu should know you better than this. This person doesn’t even text like you.”

“I think he was too busy having his heart broken to analyze the way that I was texting,” you said bluntly. “So instead, he just broke mine too.”

You broke down into sobs earning yourself a sigh of sympathy from Dasom.

“What are you going to do? You and Mingyu were perfect together,” Dasom said. “You’ve got to get him back.”

“There’s no getting him back, he blocked me on everything,” you replied between your tears. “And I tried to go back to our apartment, but Soonyoung threatened to take legal action if I showed up again.”

“What a-”

“He’s just being a good friend,” you interrupted shooting yet another glare at Hansol. “I can’t even be mad I’m just… Completely and utterly helpless and I’m never going to be in love ever again.”

“Hey-“

When you didn’t look up Dasom’s hands fell on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

“You’re going to fall in love again. Everything is going to be okay.”

You nodded at her, but your heart didn’t really match the optimism.

“Besides, who knows? Maybe this will all blow over and Mingyu will take you back.”

But weeks of staring at your phone waiting for that phone call turned into months, and before you knew it all your stuff was in Hansol’s apartment and he was the first person that you saw every day.

Now, you were the you after Kim Mingyu.

“Y/n!” Jeonghan cheered from across the bar, holding up two shots. “Come here! Let’s toast!”

You waved off the person you were talking to and squeezed past people in the bar until you were pushed right up to Jeonghan. You smiled at him as he pushed one of the shot glasses into your hand.

“Let’s drink,” he said excitedly. “To being newly single.”

“I’ve been single, Jeonghan,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “And Jihyo was barely a relationship.”

Jeonghan’s mouth dropped open and he feigned hurt by placing his hands to his chest.

“Barely a relationship?” He exclaimed. “After the amount of sex we had I wouldn’t say-”

Loud protests coming from you stopped Jeonghan from talking with a laugh.

“Look, you’re just jealous because no one has even tested the waters with you since you and Mingyu broke up.”

“That’s not true,” you insisted. Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

“Okay then, where’s the comprehensive list?”

You comically dropped open your mouth.

“Mr. Yoon, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Before Jeonghan could attempt to humiliate you further, a hand wrapped around your wrist, and Dasom fixed you with a large smile.

“Did you come here to talk to Jeonghan or did you come here to have fun?” She asked. You laughed, letting her drag you into the middle of the bar. She put her back to a guy you knew she didn’t know and began to grind on him. You covered your mouth as you laughed as she turned and drew the guy into a kiss.

When she looked back at you she gestured around her.

“Come on. Pick a guy. Don’t you want to have fun tonight?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just dancing here on my own,” you said, moving your hands to your sides and doing a truly awful dance move from side to side. As you moved someone came up behind you, their hand on the small of your back.

“I know a guy you could grind on.”

You turned back to Jeonghan.

“Why don’t you find a different person to grind with?” You said. “You might not strike out if you start somewhere else.”

He laughed.

“Okay no grinding, but I have all night to find someone to go home with.”

His hand move to yours and he swung your hand back and forth.

“Tonight I’ll just bother you until we find someone for you to hook up with.”

You rolled your eyes, falling into step with Jeonghan as you two danced around the room.

“I’m not going to hook up with someone tonight,” you protested.

“Come on!” Jeonghan protested. “You’ve got to! You’re in a dry spell. You’re never going to move on from Mingyu if you don’t take this step.”

“I’ve moved on from Mingyu,” you replied. “It’s been months-”

“Six to be exact,” Jeonghan replied. “Six months since anyone has entered your sacred temple-”

“Ew-”

“It’s not healthy to go that long without sex,” Jeonghan said seriously. You shook your head.

“I’ll get back into the game when I’m ready to get back into the game,” you said. “You should focus on your own chances tonight. You’re going to strike out a lot with that shirt on.”

Jeonghan laughed but he seemed to accept your answer this time. He spun you around, his eyes suddenly on the crowd around him.

“Alright, so let’s see,” he said softly. “Who do you think is the girl who has drank the least but is still hot and smart enough to come home with me tonight?”

“I actually think everyone here is too smart to go home with you tonight,” you replied. Before Jeonghan could express his offense you pointed at a girl not too far.

“What about her? She’s hot, and she’s not holding a drink,” you suggested. He hummed, clicking his tongue.

“She’s watching her friends like a hawk though. No way she would leave the bar with me.”

“Unless we get her to send her friend's home one by one,” you replied. “All it takes is for an observation from a friend and a certain Yoon Jeonghan offering to call them a cab like an absolute angel.”

A smile spread over Jeonghan’s lips as he slowly whistled and then pressed his lips to your cheek in a brief kiss, that left you laughing and batting him away.

“You clever thing you.”

To be completely honest you liked helping Jeonghan with his hook ups and simple plans like getting a couple of friends home safe while Jeonghan made his move were fun. You weren’t surprised when Jeonghan was leaving the bar with a girl on his arm, and a wink over his shoulder in your direction.

Luckily for you, during the whole debacle you had found a fun stranger to pass the time with.

You weren’t paying any attention to the time, or even Dasom as you danced with the person, talking about your day and your plans for the week.

You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you glanced down, slipping it out of your pocket. It took one glance at the phone number on your screen to have you pushing your beer on the counter.

“I’ll be right back.”

You felt your heart rate increasing as you pushed through the crowd, feeling the phone vibrating in your hand. Each time it vibrated you worried that you were taking too long, and yet you still had a while before you would get out of the bar.

Before you could think it over twice, you answered the call pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hi, just one second-”

You pushed past a few more people and out the door of the bar, jogging until you were in the quiet alley next to the bar.

“Hi, sorry, it’s so loud in there,” you said, laughing slightly as you changed the ear that your phone was pressed to.

“Hello.”

You hadn’t thought you were going to hear that soft voice ever again. You thought maybe right now on the phone he sounded raspier. But maybe that was just in your head.

“Sorry, this is-”

“I know it’s you Mingyu,” you breathed, pressing your back against the brick wall behind you.

“You still have my contact?”

“No. I’d just recognize your phone number in my sleep.”

There was a moment of silence where Mingyu took the chance to breath.

“This is.... This is stupid,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t ask you this.”

You waited for him to go on, but he was hesitant.

“Maybe not,” you agreed. “But I can tell you if it really is or not. Just ask.”

You really didn’t care what he had to say. You just wanted to continue to hear his voice.

“You know how we had planned to go to New York together for Christmas?”

You were quiet for too long. You were enjoying listening to him so much that you forgot how to speak.

“Yeah. We booked the flight and hotel and everything,” you replied.

“Well, it’s non-refundable.”

“What?”

“The flight, the hotel? It’s all non-refundable.”

“Oh,” you replied softly. “Well, that’s okay. You should still go.” “No, no, I want you to go,” Mingyu replied softly. “It was your dream to go there over Christmas.”

“Mingyu you paid for it. I can’t just take your-”

“I’m not going on that trip,” Mingyu interrupted, his voice rough. You scoffed.

“I’m not going either.”

There was silence between the two of you, long enough that a few minutes passed and neither of you hung up. You wondered if he was holding on for the same reasons as you were. Because you missed him more than you had realized.

“Y/n, I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly.

“And I’m about to suggest you something stupid that I really shouldn’t suggest.”

“I can decide that.”

He sighed.

“If you won’t go to New York because I paid for the tickets, and I won’t go because you’re the one who wanted to why don’t we.... Meet in the middle.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Meet in the...?”

“Let’s go to New York together.”

“What?” You blurted. You cleared your throat, trying to get control of how loud you had been. “Mingyu that’s crazy.”

“It’s crazy for us to just let the money go to waste!”

“Do you even want to go on the trip with me? You’re the one who-”

“I know what I said,” Mingyu interrupted. “I’m not... I’m not saying I regret it I just... You deserve that. At least. After this year, you deserve New York City at Christmas.”

Silence fell between you two again.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“Let’s do it.”

“... Really?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s just one weekend right? What harm is one weekend?”

“You’re stupid,” Hansol insisted, watching you from your bed as you packed another shirt into your suitcase. You shot him annoyed look, which just made him shoot you another wide eyed one. “What? You are! You’re going on a weekend trip with your ex?”

“It’s just five days.”

“That’s five more days than you ever thought you would see him again,” Hansol hissed. “You’re going to go on that trip and you’re going to-”

“What?” You interrupted Hansol. “Fall in love with him again? It’s five days. I’m not going to fall in love with him again over five days.”

Hansol was quiet for a little bit and while it should have made you relieved you couldn’t help but think that the silence was worse than him talking. You tried really hard to ignore it for a few minutes but the silence was deafening.

“What?” You sighed. Hansol looked away from you.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said.

“You think I’m going to fall back in love with Mingyu on this trip?” You pressed.

Hansol sighed.

“I don’t think that you are ever fell out of love with him.”

You stopped in the middle of packing your bags, looking away from Hansol. You hated the way his words made a knot grow in your throat. Not because Hansol was wrong and it was making you frustratrated… But because you knew that he was right.

“A lot of people are still in love with their exes,” you said quietly. “Our break up wasn’t satisfying for me since I never got the chance to explain. Of course I’m still in love with him.”

“It’s not going to be good for you to go on this trip with him,” Hansol insisted. “Let’s say he falls back in love with you. Because you’re familiar and he misses you even though he thinks you cheated on him. He’s never going to trust you. He’ll never believe you when you promise that guy from the club approached you unsolicited or that Chan from work really did need extra help.”

“Hansol, you’re being ridiculous,” you insisted. “Mingyu has too much self-respect for himself to go back to me after I cheated on him.”

“You forget I was friends with him before the break up,” Hansol said. “If Mingyu loved you as much as he seemed to, then he very well would take you back.”

You weren’t really sure how you were supposed to react to the prospect of getting back together with Mingyu. Your whole body buzzed at the excitement of it, but you couldn’t help but think about what Hansol was saying.

Would he really take you back just because you were familiar? Was it possible that he missed what you two used to have? Surely, he wouldn’t subject himself to the pain of never being able to trust you just because he had never been able to fully move on from your relationship.

You shook your head, clearing your mind of your rampant thoughts.

“It’s just a trip,” you said. “Nothing’s going to happen on a trip.”

“You know it’s not too late to back out,” Hansol warned as you looked through your bag to try and make sure that you had all of the documents that you were going to need. “I won’t be upset with you if you want me to drive you back home.”

“I’m going on this trip Hansol,” you said, shooting him a glare. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s smart. I’m already here and packed. Besides…” I want to see Mingyu again.

Before Hansol could start to lecture you again about how bad of an idea it was, you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You dug it out and shushed Hansol as you answered the phone.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey it’s-“

“Mingyu, I know it’s you,” you interrupted softly. “I just got to the airport. Are you here?”

“Yeah, I can see you.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Oh, where-”

“Turn to your right and right next to the pillar…”

You followed Mingyu’s instructions and when you finally found him, standing across the airport in a long dark grey trench coat with a scarf tied tightly around his neck… You forgot how to breath.

You hadn’t seen Mingyu since the fight. Not even in passing on the street or at a club by chance. You hadn’t seen Mingyu since the fight.

Your phone lowered ever so slightly from your ear and your mouth gaped a little. You felt your eyes flutter and-

You felt yourself get nudged sharply in the side.

“Just a weekend trip?” Hansol hissed at you. You glared at him and shoved your finger in front of your lips again.

“He can hear and see us.”

“Good, maybe I can talk some sense into him about-”

“I’ll be right over,” you interrupted loudly into the phone, quickly hanging up. As soon as the phone call had ended you looked over at Hansol giving him a look that you could only hope would kill.

“Can you not be good for two seconds?” You asked him. “I’m going on this trip. Would it kill you to be supportive?”

“You took one look at Mingyu and it was like you were already falling in love with him all over again,” Hansol said. “Did you not see your face? You looked like you were ready to marry him and you haven’t seen him in six months.”

“Shut up Hansol. You’re making it out to be a much bigger deal then it is,” you snapped. You snatched your suitcase from Hansol’s hands. “If you’re not going to be civil you can just leave me right now.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you!” Hansol argued back. “And not just you, I’m trying to look out for Mingyu as well.”

“We don’t need your help Hansol!” You argued back. You felt heat raising to your face, but before you could argue with him more you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “Look. This is the last time I’ll see you before Christmas. I don’t want to argue with you right before Christmas.”

Hansol scoffed and looked away from you so you sighed.

“Hansol, you know you’re my best friend ever right?” You pressed softly. Hansol glanced over at you.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You stepped closer to him, smiling up at him.

“I love you.”

Hansol tried to still look annoyed but a small smile spread itself over his lips.

“I love you too.” He said. He raised his hand to your hair. “Be good in New York, okay? You know I’m just a phone call away.”

You nodded, and you went to say something else to him but before he could someone cleared their throat. You glanced over, your face flaming red when you realized that Mingyu was standing right there next to you. You took a step back, your fingers tightening around the handle to your suitcase.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

Mingyu shrugged.

“I’m not upset,” he said. His eyes flitted over to Hansol and they narrowed slightly. “I’d be upset too if my roommate was going on a weekend trip without me.”

Hansol rolled his eyes.

“Good to see you too,” he said. He turned his attention back to you.

“Don’t forget,” he reminded, taping his phone with his index finger. “Just a call away.”

“See you Hansol,” you said. He nodded and raised his hand in farewell, nodding to Mingyu as he left. You watched him for a while, secretly wishing he would stay with you two just a little longer.

“So… You’ve moved on from Byungho then?”

“Byungho?” You repeated, your eyebrows scrunching at the name. Mingyu scoffed and took your suitcase from your hand.

“You and Hansol just looked really comfortable,” he replied. Your eyebrows furrowed at the statement, but you were too focused on your suitcase to mind.

“Hey, why are you-”

“It’s always the ones that they tell you not to worry about,” Mingyu continued with a roll of his eyes. He started walking forward, not really giving you the time to digest the statement. “Come on, our gate is this way.”

You rushed forward to try and keep up with Mingyu- he was walking fast. You noted that he never used to walk this fast. Not when you two were dating. People always talked about how fast Mingyu walked but you had always been able to keep up with him so you just assumed that you were a fast walker too.

Now it was evident that he walked slower then for you.

“It’s uh…” You trailed off, glancing at the people walking past. “It’s really nice to see you.”

Mingyu was quiet, so you decided to press the topic.

“I never thought you were going to talk to me again.”

“I didn’t either,” Mingyu replied, his voice soft. You thought again about what Hansol had said. Remembered that he thought Mingyu would let himself fall back into a relationship that lacked trust and…

“So, we’ve got quite the flight ahead of us,” you said, clearing your throat and turning away from Mingyu.

He hummed, as he looked you up and down.

“Yeah.”

He sighed.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you know how cold it is outside? And it’s going to be even colder in New York,” he commented. You glanced down at your clothes, your head falling to the side.

“I’m wearing a long-sleeve.”

“But you get cold so easily,” Mingyu replied. You’re going to be freezing in New York.”

You rolled your eyes away from him.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. Mingyu seemed like he didn’t want to argue it anymore and his attention turned away from you.

“Our gate isn’t that far from here. Did you eat?”

As he walked, your eyes stayed trained on your bag that he was rolling through the airport.

“Hansol and I grabbed coffee on the way here,” you replied.

“Oh,” he said, sounding- If you remembered him as well as you thought he did- a little disappointed. “I haven’t had anything. I think I’ll grab a scone and an americano once we get to our gate.”

“Okay,” you replied. “Can I have my bag back?”

“I’ve got it,” Mingyu replied.

Your eyes narrowed, but Mingyu didn’t notice because he was walking so damn fast. You didn’t get a chance to catch your breath until you two finally got to the gate and he had sat your bags by one of the seats.

“I’m going to swing by the Starbucks okay? I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and as soon as Mingyu had disappeared you went through your bag to try and find the book that you had brought to help pass the time. It was sort of hard to focus on it. After all, you were in an airport with Mingyu and you were about to go on a weekend trip with him. Your ex.

You had never done anything so stupid. Somehow with your past relationships the breaks had always been clean and there had never been any drama between your friends. No rumors of cheating, no emotional abuse. Just a I think we should break up text and a normal following Tuesday.

But your relationship with Mingyu had been so intense. It being ripped away from you meant you never got the closure that you so desperately craved.

“Here.”

You looked up to see that Mingyu was holding a Starbucks cup in front of your face. Your eyebrows rose.

“What...” You trailed off as you took the warm cup from you.

“I wasn’t just not going to get you something. I hope you still like lattes.”

Mingyu took a seat next to you and pulled a danish from out of a little bag. He began to snack on it, taking a sip of his americano between the drink. As he did, you turned your attention to the latte that he had gotten you. It was hot. You generally enjoyed them iced, but you knew he must have gotten it hot because it was so cold out and he wanted you to stay warm.

You took a sip of it, glad to see that not only did it have your favorite kind of milk in it but that it was a flavor of latte that you hadn’t had since the breakup. You smiled against your cup, turning your head so that Mingyu wouldn’t see. You had sort of thought that Mingyu would have forgotten these little things about you.

Mingyu didn’t talk to you much while you waited for the flight to start boarding. You read your book and finished your coffee and he threw away your things before you two finally got called on board.

Getting onto the plane brought you the very first surprise of the trip. As you two walked through the plane you walked past the normal part of the plane... Then the business part of the plane... Until you got to...

“You bought us first class?” You hissed. Mingyu glanced over his shoulder at you and shrugged.

“It was your dream to come to New York City for Christmas. I wanted this trip to be a dream.”

“Going to the city of lights is a dream enough you didn’t have to buy us first class tickets.”

The two of you sat down in seats that were practically twin recliners right next to each other with a large shared movie screen between the two. You glanced around as you sat your stuff down noticing the people next to the two of you had a literal gucci jacket on.

“Mingyu, how much did this cost?” You asked, keeping your voice hushed so that it wasn’t too obvious that you two didn’t belong here.

“I had just gotten a promotion... Remember?” Mingyu asked. “I make a lot of money now.”

“Yeah but...”

“Don’t worry about it, y/n.”

“I can’t believe you almost let this much money go to waste,” you said with a shake of your head. “How am I supposed to not worry about it? That’s a lot of money.”

“Why don’t you pick a movie?” Mingyu suggested, ignoring the fact that you were obsessing so much over how much money he must have spent on these tickets alone.

“You can’t distract me from...”

Even as you spoke Mingyu had started to scroll through the movies on the screen, and before you could finish your statement you saw something that you hadn’t thought you would see.

“No way they have Onward,” you exclaimed excitedly. You instinctively grabbed Mingyu’s arm, and shook it the best you could (Mingyu barely budged because... You know...). “Can we watch Onward? Please?”

“You haven’t changed a bit have you?” Mingyu asked with a laugh. “I think they also have Frozen on here. You sure you don’t want to watch that?”

The endorphins raced in your body at the idea of watching that movie too.

“It’s a long flight,” you said. “We can just watch both right?”

Mingyu hummed.

“Yeah, we can watch both.”

If there was one thing that you hadn’t been expecting to happen when going on this trip was to fall into old habits. But the entirety of the flight didn’t feel awkward at all. Instead, you spent the whole trip reciting your favorite lines, under your breath, only to catch Mingyu smiling at you in between instead of being annoyed the way that you would think he would be.

Eventually he dozed off to sleep, and it was just you sitting next to him on the flight.

You couldn’t help the feeling in the bottom of your chest. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in six months. You swallowed hard and looked down at your hands.

You thought you needed to focus on the Onward and stop focusing on the sleeping man next to you.

When you and Mingyu made it to the hotel you tried your best not to freak out like you had about the first-class tickets. Why would you have to try your best not to freak out? Because the giant marble atrium of the hotel lobby that you were standing in was making you think that maybe Mingyu spent a little bit more than the budget you two had discussed so long ago.

“I have a reservation under Kim Mingyu,” Mingyu said to the attendant who was standing there with real diamond earrings in her ears. She smiled at him, and typed a few things on her computer.

“Ah right, Kim Mingyu. The gentleman who booked our honeymoon suite over Christmas.”

“Oh-” Mingyu laughed nervously, glancing back at you. “I called to switch the room. Did that not end up happening?”

The lady’s head cocked to the side and her eyebrows riddled in confusion.

“We didn’t get a call about that? Do you remember who you talked to?”

“Angela,” Mingyu replied without missing a beat. “She said that she could switch to a room with two queens...?”

The lady at the desk sighed.

“Between you and me? Angela is days from getting fired. She never does what she is supposed to.” The lady clicked away at her computer. “Let me see. You just need a room with two beds?”

“Yes. You don’t have to charge me less just... Some things have changed.”

The lady at the desk thankfully didn’t pry. She clicked away at her computer for a while before finally sighing and turning her attention to Mingyu.

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim, but I have nothing.”

“Nothing at all? I mean we’ll take-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, taking a step forward. You smiled at the lady and shrugged. “He’s always so considerate but it’s really fine if we share a bed. The honeymoon suite sounds fun.”

You couldn’t help the way you bit the bottom of your lip.

“Expensive,” you mumbled and then flashed a smile. “Fun.”

“Okay! Then here are your keys-” She slid the two of you hotel room keys. “It’s the top floor. Has a balcony, only room on that floor. Would you like someone to take your bags up to the room?”

Before you could answer Mingyu was nodding.

“We have a show to catch.”

You turned to Mingyu your eyes wide as you mouthed: Show to catch?

Mingyu shrugged.

“We’re going to see Beetlejuice on Broadway.”

“What!” Your voice rose a little louder than you wanted it to, so you covered your mouth and leaned closer to Mingyu.

“We’re going to see Beetlejuice?” You hissed. “How are we going to see Bettlejuice?”

“It was the musical you wanted to see when we made the plans to come here,” Mingyu replied pointedly. “I bought the tickets back then.”

“How did you know that I wanted to see Beetlejuice?” You asked. Mingyu reached into his jacket pocket, rummaging through it a little bit before pulling out a piece of paper.

“Don’t you remember? You wrote an itinerary for the trip,” he replied. You took the piece of paper and surely enough, there it was... The itinerary that you had spent hours drafting up all those months ago. You had completely forgotten about this itinerary. In fact, when you and Mingyu had broken up you had completely scrapped all thoughts of coming to New York City at all.

“You still have this?” You asked. Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunched together uncertainly, and shrugged.

“I...” He trailed off, clearly trying to think of something good to say. “We should go now so that we have plenty of time to get in our seats.”

“I can’t believe we just saw a Broadway musical,” you said excitedly. “And Beetlejuice at that? Remember, that was the only thing I listened to for like a straight month.”

Mingyu smiled at you as he took his coat off and began to take yours off your shoulders.

“Dead mom was stuck in my head for like a week straight,” he replied with a chuckle. “How could I forget?”

You sang the song quietly under your breath for a moment and then your eyes fell on the single bed in the room. You swallowed hard.

“Uhm, so what are we going to do about...?”

You didn’t even have to finish. Mingyu finished hanging up your two’s coats and then joined you looking at the bed.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor. They have extra bedding in the closet.”

“What?” You blurted. “You shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor. You spent so much money on this room-”

“I keep telling you to forget about the money-”

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you finished.

“Not happening,” Mingyu replied with a shake of his head. “Why are you being so bratty on this trip? It’s just a few nights on the floor. I’ll survive.”

“Bratty?” You blurted, your mouth dropping in disbelief. “Did you really just call me bratty?”

“You keep worrying about money when I tell you not to.”

“Even when we were dating, I didn’t like it when you spoiled me!” You insisted.

That wasn’t entirely true, and you knew by the narrowing of his eyes that Mingyu could tell. You had liked it when Mingyu spent money on you because you knew that was a part of his love language, and you could pay him back in your own ways.

But here? Now? How would you pay him back?

And furthermore, why was he using his love language on you here and now? Six months after your breakup. Six months after he was supposed to take you back.

You glanced up at him as he began to pull something out of his suitcase.

Six months too late.

“Let’s just share the bed,” you suggested. Mingyu looked back at you, frowning slightly.

“Share...?”

“We’re already crossing every boundary,” you pointed out. “Might as well cross this one too.”

You went over to your own bag.

“Besides, it’s a king size. It’ll be like we’re both in our own bed.”

Even though you said that laying down in the bed with Mingyu made you nervous.

“Do you mind if I read something?” Mingyu asked. You gestured for him to go ahead and rolled over so that your back was to him. You were scared to move. Practically hugging the side of the bed as you stared at the beige wall in front of you illuminated in the amber light.

“Is it too bright?” Mingyu asked. You shook your head against your pillow.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with sharing the bed?” Mingyu continued. You glanced back at him over your shoulder.

“Of course, I suggested it.”

“You’re stiff as a board,” Mingyu pointed out. Your mouth gaped.

“I’m not-”

“We were together for-”

“Okay fine, I’m a little on edge,” you replied. “It’s just that we broke up. I mean we can pretend all we want that it’s not but... It’s weird.”

Mingyu nodded.

“Let me just take the floor.”

“I’ll get over it,” you replied firmly. You turned back around. “If I’m not sleeping on the floor, no one is sleeping on the floor.”

Mingyu sighed but didn’t argue your point.

“Tell me if I should turn the light off.”

You didn’t tell Mingyu to turn the light off, but you didn’t fall asleep either. Time passed until Mingyu’s pages stopped turning, and the light went off, and he laid down in the bad. It wasn’t until long after his breathing evened out that you were finally able to drift asleep.

When you woke up on your own side of the bed you had never felt more relieved in your life. You were on your side of the bed, not wrapped in Mingyu’s arms with your head on your chest or anything of the sort.

After the whole one bed debacle you had been sure that you had been thrust into some shitty hallmark movie about being forced to spend time with your ex for holidays (one that probably wouldn’t have a happy ending but... Who knew.) Maybe that one cliché was just a coincidence. You sat up in bed, not really surprised to find that Mingyu was awake and reading through his book again.

While he had never been much of a reader, Mingyu read what Wonwoo read, and this must have been his most recent recommendation.

You quietly got out of bed, going over to your suitcase to pull out your outfit for today.

“Mind if I shower?” You asked, noting that it looked like he had already gotten ready.

“No go ahead. We have a reservation for breakfast in an hour.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“We aren’t just eating breakfast here at the hotel?”

“In New York City?” Mingyu questioned back. “If I remember right...”

He pulled out that wrinkled paper itinerary.

“You were very excited about Old John’s Diner.”

You couldn’t help the way that your eyes lit up at the reminder of the restaurant.

“Oh my god, chocolate chip waffles,” you said excitedly. “I’ll be out so fast.”

True to your word, within the next hour you and Mingyu were sitting down at Old John’s diner. The diner was everything that you had imagined it to be in the pictures. Green stools at a bar, light up Parquette's that read: Take a Break and Sweet Dreams. An espresso machine to match the green bar stools, a led light that read: Since 1959.

You were practically buzzing in excitement as you slid into one of the booths, your fingers spreading across the marble tabletops.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” you hissed. Your waitress walked over adorned in a red hankerchief tied around her head like a headband and she smiled handing the two of you a menu.

“Good morning,” she greeted. “Can I get you two started with anything? Water? Coffee?”

“An Americano,” Mingyu said.

“A latte,” you piped up afterwards. The waitress wrote down the menu items and smiled at the two of you.

“I’ll give you some time to look at the menu and I’ll be back soon.”

You didn’t have to look at the menu to know that you wanted chocolate chip waffles. How could you want anything but chocolate chip waffles? You had practically been thinking about these specific waffles for six months.

But still you peeked up over the top of your menu, looking at Mingyu close, trying to tell by his eyes what he was going to pick. Six months ago you would have known. Six months ago he would have chosen exactly what you had suggested on the itinerary.

But this wasn’t six months ago. This was now.

“What are you thinking of getting?” You asked conversationally. Mingyu hummed, dragging his eyes up to yours. As soon as you two made eye contact however your eyes darted back towards your menu, feeling your heart do something strangely akin to skipping a beat.

But surely, after having broken six months ago it was incapable of doing that.

“Do I really have a choice?” He asked, but there was a smile in his voice. “Chocolate chip waffles.”

Yep, that surely was that feeling in your chest. That echoing, body shaking thud after an absent one was nothing other than your heart reactigin to Mingyu’s words. You weren’t going to do this.

You weren’t here to fall back in love with Kim Mingyu.

You were here to experience the city. To finally see Times Square dusted in snow. To take a walk through Central Park to-

“Oh my god, wait.” You put your menu face down on the table. “If we are following my itinerary-”

“To the T,” Mingyu added.

“That means we’re doing.... Everything?”

“Our next stop is Starbucks, and then we are seeing Santa Claus at the Empire State Building. We’ll get some KBBQ in Korea Town after that and then go to one of those Holiday Market’s you just wouldn’t stop talking about-”

“Oh my god and then Spectacular Factory right?!” You exclaimed in excitement.

“The Holiday Multiverse, open through January 8, is an imaginative multiverse of holiday villages with a candy cane carousel, thousands of nutcrackers, giant swinging jingle bells, holiday wreaths,” Mingyu read somewhat monotone. “We’ll hit the shops and check out the Holiday window displays.”

“We’re finally going to get to go to Bergdorf Goodman,” you replied, fidgeting in your seat. “And shopping at Fao Schwarz.”

“Which you kindly included closes at 8, so we have quite the day ahead of us,” Mingyu replied. “But luckily, the last thing on the docket today is open late.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to remember what the last thing for the day was, but you were drawing a blank.

“McGee’s pub?” Mingyu reminded softly.

“From How I Met Your Mother! The bar that inspired it all!” You exclaimed excitedly. You realized that you were getting a little loud and physically lowered your head a little. “Mingyu we’re keeping my entire itinerary?”

“You spent hours on it!” Mingyu replied. “How could we do anything but?”

He was right. You had spent a long time on it. But regardless it seemed crazy to you that he was going so far out of his way to make this the perfect vacation.

“I’ve got to ask though... Starbucks?”

When you looked at him you saw the jest in his eyes, but you still felt the need to defend yourself as if he wasn’t just joking.

“It’s New York City!” You replied insistently. “How could I not get Starbucks in New York City?”

A plate of gooey chocolate chip pancakes, and a tall caramel macchiato later and you and Mingyu were almost up for seeing Santa in none other than the Empire State Building itself.

When you were younger and had imagined that architectural landmark you had never imagined it would be just as amazing as it was. Sure, it was just a building, but it still left you awestruck. Mingyu poked your arm.

“We’re almost up,” he said softly.

You thought it would be awkward to spend this time with Mingyu. And sure, it hadn’t been that long but so far it was everything but awkward. It was actually quite comfortable. You knew that if you had come to New York City for a weekend trip with most people your ideas would clash, but just like Mingyu had insisted since you started planning the trip when you were dating the trip was all about you and if you want to do it, then I will have fun guaranteed.

“I can’t believe that you actually want to see Santa Claus,” you said with a scoff.

“Hey, it was on your itinerary!” Mingyu protested. He crossed his arms. “Besides, I have something I need to ask Santa.”

You laughed incredulously.

“Mingyu,” you lowered your voice a few octaves. “Santa’s not real. He can’t make your Christmas wish come true.”

Mingyu’s face contorted into that of a kicked puppies. His eyes wide, his eyebrows lax, his bottom lip protruding.

“Not with that attitude he can’t.”

“I just thought it would be good for pictures,” you said, resisting the urge to pat Mingyu’s head as if he actually were a dog. “But it seems a little odd to take pictures now.”

“Proof that even exes can get along,” Mingyu said matter-of-factly.

“Next.”

You and Mingyu wormed your way around the velvet ropes up to the man pretending to be Santa Claus. He was sitting in a huge gold and velvet chair, with arm rests perfect for sitting on.

“Well look what I have here,” Santa Claus boomed. “It’s always good to see older believers.”

“Oh y/n, doesn’t really believe. Just wanted the pictures,” Mingyu tattled.

“Yeah but you believe Mingyu. That’s what matters.”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up in excitement that Santa knew his name, even though it was obvious that he had just overheard you two a few moments ago. Santa gestured for you two to take either side of him, patting his legs as you two took your seats by his side.

“Now before the picture. Have you two been good this year?” Santa asked. Mingyu smiled so gummily it was like he was a little kid again.

“Absolutely! I pulled a few pranks on the boys but overall, I’ve been good.”

Santa let out a hearty laugh.

“A few pranks is okay,” he said. He turned his attention to you. “And you? Have you been good this year?”

“I’ve made a few mistakes,” you replied, risking a glance at Mingyu. “Some people think I’ve made ones I haven’t, but other than that I think I’ve been good.”

“Well, we can’t help what others think,” Santa replied. “ But remember, this is the time of truth and forgiveness. If there’s ever a time that you would be able to convince someone of something you know to be true. Now is it.”

Santa shrugged off-handedly.

“Maybe that person already half-believes it anyways.”

You couldn’t help but think that Santa was awfully on point with his speech but before you could say anything about it he was turning his attention to Mingyu.

“Now Mingyu,” he said. “What is it that you want for Christmas?”

Mingyu gestured for Santa to lean close.

“I can’t let y/n hear or it won’t come true,” he insisted, making you roll your eyes. You couldn’t hear what Mingyu said but you noticed that his eyes stayed on you the whole time he told Santa his wish, and his expression was scarily serious.

Santa nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said seriously. He turned to you. “And what do you want for Christmas?”

You knew that you were supposed to say something dumb that any adult would say. Or you were supposed to ask for something a kid would ask as as joke: Oh I’m still waiting on that Easy-bake oven.

But any joke that was going to leave your mouth died on your lips.

“I just want him to believe me,” you whispered softly. Your eyes flickered to Mingyu’s worried that he could hear you. Honestly, his serious expression didn’t tell you if he had heard or not, but regardless Santa pulled back.

“I think I’ll be able to deliver on those Christmas gifts,” Santa said, sending a wink towards Mingyu. “Now why don’t we smile for the camera? Say Merry Christmas!”

After Korean BBQ, the next destination was Grand Central Station for the Holiday Market.

Again, you were taken aback by just how majestic the building was. Despite how people brushed into your sides, and how many different vendors there were to go look at you were completely awed by how large Grand Central was. The room was easily five times larger than you thought it was going to be.

A giant, beige atrium with huge windows and wreaths scattered across the walls.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have gone into architecture?” Mingyu asked in amusement as he dragged you through the terminal. “You aren’t even paying attention to the venders.”

You gave him a serious look.

“I’m seriously wondering that as well.”

It surprised you how much Mingyu was paying attention to you. He made sure not to wander away from you in the market. Noticed when you rushed away to look at something. He even made sure you didn’t miss a booth he knew that you would love.

Mingyu had always been like this… Always known you so well.

“I can’t believe we are actually here,” you exclaimed, your shoulder brushing against his. As soon as you made contact you shifted your body so that you were no longer touching. “This is so exciting.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes lightly.

“I never saw what you saw in that show,” he murmured. You ignored him and rushed over to the bar. You waved over a bartender, sliding them your ID and your card.

“Can you open a tab? I think I would be remise to not start with the Naked Man,” you said excitedly. You nudged Mingyu. “And let’s see... A Gay Pirate or a Daddy’s Home for my friend here?”

“Seems like a Gay Pirate sort of guy to me,” the bartender commented, a laugh left your lips, but it only made Mingyu grumble.

“A Daddy’s Home,” he insisted. “Trust me. Under different circumstances I would be able to prove with this one alone that a Daddy’s Home suits me more.”

Your face blazed red.

“Naked Man, and Daddy’s Home,” you replied quickly, desperately not wanting Mingyu to elaborate on his comment. “We’ll be sitting over there.”

You dragged Mingyu over to one of the booths, only to be shortly followed by your drinks. Both of your drinks, of course, being references to some of the ways that one of the characters, Barney, would pick-up girls.

“Remind me again...” Mingyu said. “The Naked Man?”

“When a date is going bad you ask to go up to their place to use the restroom- or any excuse really to get into their place. Then when you two are in separate rooms you strip naked and surprise them.”

“And the show is claiming people will actually sleep with you after that?”

“It has a two-thirds success rate,” you replied. Mingyu laughed incredulously.

“And Daddy’s Home?”

He gestured to his own drink.

“Barney has so much rizz he can just walk up to a girl and say those two words to her, and she’ll be in his bed.”

“No way,” Mingyu said, his body shaking with his laughter. “How could I possibly forget that?” You leaned close to Mingyu, giving him a seductive expression.

“Daddy’s home.”

Mingyu laughed at your bravado and got up from the table.

“You got me, I’ll be in your bed tonight,” he jested. “I’m going to get another drink. What should I get this time?”

“Oh, I have the perfect drink you should get a..... Wait for it...” You paused just like Barney would in the show and then after a few silent moments you concluded. “Wait for it, the drink. It’s a drink.”

Mingyu laughed at your antics.

“Okay, I’ll be right back with a wait for it.”

You nursed the drink in your hand as you looked around the somewhat familiar bar. As you sat there your phone began to go off. Your eyebrows scrunched and you raised your phone to your ear.

“Hansol?”

“Hey,” Hansol replied, clearly shifting the phone. “Are you and Mingyu fucking yet? Is this a good time?”

“I know full well that you have me on Find My. You know that I’m at a bar right now.”

Hansol laughed.

“How’s New York?”

“Beautiful,” you murmured. “Amazing.”

You sighed.

“Mingyu has been... He’s keeping my itinerary!” You exclaimed. Hansol’s confusion was heard through his voice.

“What?”

“Remember when we were first planning the trip?” You replied. “He kept my original plans. We went to see Beetlejuice yesterday and today we went to see Santa Claus at the Empire State Building!”

Hansol was quiet on the other side of the line, so you sighed.

“Yeah... I know.”

“Do you?” Hansol asked. “Do you really know? Because it seems to me like you don’t realize just how stupid you are being.”

“Nothing’s happening,” you insisted softly. “You’re being so dramatic. Everything has been normal. Just like we are two friends in New York City for a weekend.”

“Yeah, nothing romantic about New York at Christmas,” Hansol agreed. “It may be fine right now but sooner or later you two are going to start getting to that point where the friendship is so comfortable it feels like your relationship all over again and then...”

“The breakup is going to come back up,” you whispered.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now.” You looked up and as you did Mingyu was standing there, setting his drink on the table. His eyebrows rose slightly, and you pointed at the phone, mouthing Hansol’s name. Mingyu nodded and sat down. “All I know is it’s been a good weekend. And look, I should be going.”

“Mingyu’s back isn’t he?” Hansol asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let me hold you for just a little longer,” Hansol said. “Dasom is going on a trip too so it’s just me for the holiday’s.”

“What?” You asked. “What about your mom? Sofia?”

“They’re travelling so we’re not having Christmas until the 27th.”

“Ah gee, I’m sorry,” you said softly. “You should come here. You could hang out with Mingyu and I.”

“I do not want to be there when whatever you and Mingyu have going on goes up in flames,” Hansol replied. “Just think of calling me a bit this weekend. Send pictures.”

“For sure,” you agreed. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t have come if I had known.”

“It really is okay. Talk to you tomorrow?”

You nodded and Hansol sighed.

“Tell Mingyu I say hi.”

“Okay. Bye Hansol.”

You hung up the phone, shooting Mingyu an apologetic smile.

“Hansol’s really worried about me,” you explained softly. You let that sit and then realized what you had said. “Not really of you or anything... It’s just he’s worried I’m going to get my heart broken.”

You noticed that it didn’t get better the more you said.

“Why would you be the heart broken one?” Mingyu asked. “I was the one who got cheated on.”

Your lips pressed together uncomfortably, and you tried to think of a way to change the topic but you didn’t have to. Instead Mingyu tipped his drink towards you.

“Yn. You should catch me up on what you’ve had going on,” he encouraged. You stared at him, suspiciously you’ll admit, and it made him sigh.

“This is your bar isn’t it?” Mingyu pointed out softly. You looked down at your drink. “Let’s have fun? Like your tv friends. Tell me what you’ve had going on!”

At first, you just told Mingyu little things. Tried to talk more about others than your life, but that didn’t work for very long because it was Mingyu you were talking to, and he knew you. Each time he made you laugh, or reminded you of some stupid inside joke you two shared it made your heart ache a little more. You didn’t mean to drink much... You really didn’t, but how could you not drink when all you could think was that eventually this was going to end. And come December 27th, you were going to be alone all over again, with Yoon Jeonghan trying to convince you to sleep with a stranger at a bar.

And so, it wasn’t really all that surprising, that by an hour in you were completely wasted, and while it was surprising that Mingyu would ever actually be drunk, considering the amount at which you had been watching him dunk back drinks it made sense that he was in fact drunk.

And, considering the way the conversation had turned... You knew that you both had to have been completely wasted to be joking about the fact that you had cheated on him.

He laughed, but you could hear your heart thudding in your ears. You waited for the blaming to start again, waited to have to fight for your life trying to convince him that you hadn’t cheated.

In fact, the sentence was on your tongue-

“Unless... You didn’t cheat on me,” he continued. Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. You couldn’t let your hopes get up. It had been too long since the breakup. He had probably stopped thinking about you months ago. There was no way that he had even come close to thinking that maybe you didn’t cheat on him.

“Mingyu what are you talking about?” You asked.

“The weirdest thing about our break up was probably the fact that I thought I knew you,” Mingyu said. “One thing that I had always taken for granted was that I could read you. I always knew when you were lying or telling the truth.”

You let a small smile flicker across your lips.

“God that was so frustrating,” you agreed softly. “I couldn’t lie to you if I wanted to.”

“So how did you hide an affair from me?” Mingyu asked. You sighed, resting your head on your hand.

“Do we really have to talk about this?” You asked. “It’s not going to get us anywhere.”

“Just answer the question.”

There’s nothing to answer,” you replied. “I didn’t hide an affair because I didn’t cheat on you. I don’t even know who the guy is that I supposedly cheated on you with!”

“He’s one of Dasom’s friends,” Mingyu replied. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Wait one of Dasom’s friends-” “You just... Even with all the proof laid out for me it doesn’t make sense.”

Mingyu set down his drink and the now empty glass clicked against the table.

“Can we not talk about this?” You asked Mingyu. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“I know you didn’t cheat on me,” Mingyu said finally.

You looked at him, and your eyes drifted down to his drink. You wanted to be able to blame the alcohol on his words but he had barely drank anything at all.

You thought maybe you hadn’t drank enough so you dipped the rest of your drink into your mouth. Your nose scrunched at the burn.

“No you don’t,” you said.

“I do,” Mingyu reasserted. “Look... I just-”

He interupted himself to let out a frustrated noise.

“When I saw those texts on your phone I felt so betrayed. I thought I knew you? I had already had someone telling me that you were cheating. They just pointed out some of your behaviors and claimed it was weird so there was this seed in my brain. And then I told Soonyoung about it...”

He hesitated and glanced at the bar like he needed another drink.

“Texts are so definitive and so I just cut you off. Soonyoung told me that was the best idea. You could convince me it wasn’t true and we knew it was, but... I know you.”

“You don’t know me,” you negated.

“I do and the whole time it felt wrong, and I have been scrounging for any excuse to get in contact with you again because you would never cheat on me.”

You felt something warm and wet slide down your cheek and you immediately reached up to wipe the liquid away. There was no way Mingyu knew what he was saying. He couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant.

“I do mean it,” Mingyu insisted. “Today only reminded me that having you in my life is the best thing that ever happened to me and I was stupid to cut you out without hearing you out.”

“You were just protecting yourself.”

“But it’s you,” Mingyu emphasized. He reached across the table and took your hands in his. “Will you date me again?”

“Mingyu...”

“I know that leaving you hurt you, and I promise to never do it again,” he insisted. “In six months, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve typed your number in my phone a million times. Soonyoung has taken all communication devices away from me when I was drunk countless times.”

He squeezed your hands comfortingly. The only problem with that being that now you couldn’t stop the tears streaking down your cheeks.

“Communication and trust are the two most important things in a relationship,” Mingyu continued. “I trust you, and I promise this time I will do nothing but communicate with you.”

He made sure your eyes were on his for this next part.

“I love you. Please come back to me.”

You had to pull your hands away from Mingyu at this point because you were full on sobbing. Your hands covered your face as you rapidly wiped tears from your cheeks, only for them to immediately be streaked all over again.

After only a few moments of your constrained gasps and hiccups you felt someone slide in beside you and muscular arms wrapped themselves around your body. You didn’t care to fight it anymore. You didn’t care what Hansol had to say about it.

You turned into Mingyu’s body, letting yourself soak his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to get out. One of his hands fell on your head.

“For what?” He whispered.

“For not being strong enough to protect you,” you mumbled. Mingyu laughed.

“You’re the last person I need protected from.”

When you had finally stopped crying you and Mingyu made your way back to the hotel. You were mostly quiet, your heart racing in your chest, both from the thrill of Mingyu’s confession and the uncertainty of what you really should do.

Once you two had laid down you waited until his breathing evened to sneak out of bed and call Hansol in the hall.

“Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning?”

You completely ignored Hansol’s tone of voice.

“You were right,” you mumbled. A surprised tone left Hansol’s side of the phone and you heard shuffling like he was sitting up in bed.

“What happened?”

“Mingyu confessed to me. He told me he loves me. He told me he believes me.”

Hansol was quiet for a moment.

“And?”

“I believe him,” you replied softly. You heard Hansol let out a frustrated sigh.

“I knew that this trip was only going to end one way,” he mumbled.

“Well, is it a bad thing?” You blurted. “He loves me! I love him!”

“But that doesn’t take away those messages on your phone.”

You sighed.

“But he trusts me. Text messages or not, he believes that I didn’t cheat on him.”

“I mean if he really does feel that way, than that’s enough.”

And there it was. The reason you called. The words you wanted to hear.

“It’s enough,” you agreed.

“But if he doesn’t feel that way...” Hansol started and you groaned.

“But he does.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Hansol bit back. “I mean, what is going on with you two anyways? Weren’t you at a bar earlier-”

“Well-”

“And now, what? You are two exes, who just had an extremely romantic day in New York City at Christmas. Remembering the good old days, thinking about how Mingyu even smells the same way you remember him-”

“He-”

“And then you two go get drunk, high on the thought that Mingyu loves you, and what’s going to happen next?”

You felt frustration bubbling inside your hazy brain. Because you wanted Hansol to be wrong. He was so stupid. Because Mingyu didn’t just say things. He didn’t just say he loved people. If he said it he meant it and... He had never said something drunk that he hadn’t meant to say...

“Shut up Hansol.”

“You know I’m right.”

“You’re not rght Hansol, you’re wrong and you’re stupid and shut up,” you blurted out angrily. There was silence between the two of you. The silence in which you recalled just how drunk you were. Just how sad you were because you wanted everything that Mingyu had said to be true. You wanted him to be in love with you.

“If he believes that you didn’t cheat, that’s enough,” Hansol said finally. Your fingers tightened on your phone. It was like he had hit rewind.

“It’s enough,” you agreed firmly.

You and Hansol were silent for a few moments, and then he sighed.

“Did I say what you wanted? Can I go back to sleep now? Not all of us are on vacation you know.”

A smile spread over your face even though you knew that Hansol didn’t really think it was enough. Even though you knew that it wasn’t enonugh.

“Yeah, thanks Hansol.”

Hansol grumbled back a you’re welcome and the connection promptly ended. You pressed your back against the wall of the hotel hallway and sighed, looking down at the carpet beneath your feet.

Not a stain in sight. Mingyu had really done too much.

Your heart skipped a slight beat. He had always been like that though. Spoiling you.

It made warmth spread in your chest to think that this whole trip had been a plan to get back together for Mingyu. He wasn’t just being nice, he had planned this. Everything was done perfectly, purposefully to remind you both what it was like to be together.

As you stood there thinking about Mingyu, the door to the hotel creaked open and Mingyu’s head popped around the corner. You stared at each other silently for a moment, a smile crossing his lips while your face reddened.

“Hansol’s on our side now?” He asked, his hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. You stared at Mingyu for a moment, his words going over your head. You watched the water drip down his neck, and you noticed that where a shirt should be there was the collar of a fluffy white bath robe.

You swallowed hard.

“I thought you were a sleep,” you replied. He shrugged and pressed the hotel room door open further, and with that you caught sight of his whole body. No shirt... No pants... His white robe tied loosely around his waist barely concealing anything at all.

He closed the distance between the two of you, his hand raising to caress your cheek. Your face burned even darker as he grew closer to you.

“You always hated it when I kissed you right after drinking,” he mumbled.

“Because you tasted like bad beer,” you replied, your nose wrinkling. Mingyu chuckled. “But you... You brushed your teeth.”

Mingyu took that as all the approval he needed. He closed the distance between the two of you dragging you into a deep kiss. You felt yourself pressing closer to him as you two kissed, you raising your own hands to his cheeks to keep him as close as possible.

God, it had been so long since you kissed someone, and you missed the feeling of needing someone’s lips on yours as much as you needed to breath. And as you two kissed your whole body began to burn.

Mingyu walked you back a bit, pressing you into the wall. His knee settling between your legs. His hands brushed further back on your head, one of them lowering down to your neck, his thumb brushing the base of your throat as his other hand tugged lightly at your hair.

You whimpered into Mingyu’s mouth involuntarily and you shifted your own hands to Mingyu’s wet hair. It was so slick, and he was so warm and this hallway was so cold.

Mingyu’s hand began to make its way down your body, sliding down your sides, growing closer to a spot in which you really wanted Mingyu to touch you.

And of course, with the worst timing ever that was when you heard the door click behind Mingyu. You, regrettably, pulled away from him.

“Mingyu, did you bring out a key?” You asked. Mingyu’s eyebrows rose.

“You didn’t?”

“I left the door cracked!”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh and his warmth escaped you.

“I’ll go downstairs and get a spare key from the front counter.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

You thought about standing in the hall alone for a minute.

“I’ll come with you.”

When the two of you got back into the room, your body was still burning now partly with jealousy because the lady at the desk was about as distracted by your wet barely clothed ex-boyfriend as you were. And that had made you drag him back to your room, and that had meant Mingyu’s hand was on the back of your neck the entire rest of the trip back up.

But the second that door was closed, and you stared at Mingyu with wide kiss me, fuck me eyes, he was groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n, you need to go to sleep,” he said softly. Your disappointment was clearly expressed on your face. He groaned again.

“You don’t even know how badly I want to...” He let out a small laugh, his eyes flickering across your body. “But not like this... Not drunk. Not exes. Not without knowing that you want me too... So you need to go to sleep.”

You resisted the urge to scream because when did men get so smart and emotionally intelligent. You nodded.

“I’m going to take a shower first.”

And when you got back out, Mingyu was already pretending to sleep, a wall of pillows piled in the middle of the bed.

Despite going to sleep so late, you and Mingyu were still up early enough to go to Pershing Café, and get some of the best, most fluffy pancakes that you had ever had in your life. After eating, Mingyu gidily asked you if you remembered what was next on the itinerary- you didn’t.

At least you didn’t until the two of you were holding pairs of ice skates.

This trip hadn’t felt real when you had planned it. Sure you had written up the perfect itinerary, meeting Santa Claus and going to a tv show bar, but regardless it had never really felt real. So standing with Mingyu in the center of Rockefeller Square?

Well, you briefly forgot how to breath.

Mingyu was acting so casually about everything, as if the Christmas tree that loomed over the square wasn’t the biggest you had ever seen, and as if ice skating at Rockefeller Square wasn’t something that you had dreamed about doing. As if, he hadn’t drunkenly confessed he still loved you the night before. As if you hadn’t almost let him fuck you.

“Come on,” he said, laughing at your dazzlement. “If you never get your skates on, we’ll never get on the ice.”

You nodded and sat down next to him, but you weren’t able to do much because as soon as you were down Mingyu was on his knees in front of you.

If when you had woken up this morning you had been under the impression that your conversation at the bar hadn’t happened, that thought was nearly immediately banished from your mind, because everything about the way that Mingyu was treating you today, screamed that he was trying to win you back.

Your face blazed in embarrassment.

“Mingyu,” you hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you put your skates on,” Mingyu replied innocently. Before you could protest more he was slipping your shoes off, and replacing them with the clunky ice skates.

His indifference to the situation didn’t make you any less embarrassed, and the girls looking over and cooing in envy at the sight of the two of you did make you more embarrassed.

“Mingyu, I’m not a princess,” you protested, but you let him tie the shoes regardless because who were you to try and convince Kim Mingyu not to do something when he was determined. Mingyu just smiled up at you, as if he could read your thoughts.

“But I can still treat you like one.”

He stood up and held out his hand to you.

“Come on, you’re good at ice skating, right?”

You and Mingyu had never been on an ice-skating date before, and it wasn’t because you were afraid of the cold or the ice. It was because you knew that if Mingyu went down, you were going down too. You had no clue whether Mingyu would be good at ice skating or not. He could be amazing at it but he could also be absolutely terrible and either way you wouldn’t bat your eye.

You had sort of secretly figured you would be better than him at it.

You had sort of secretly figured wrong.

Mingyu insisted on holding your hand. Of course, he did, considering all the other couples were doing so and the part of you that wanted to remind him that you two weren’t together anymore (thanks to him) couldn’t say it when you saw the look in his eyes.

And thank god he did end up quietly convincing you to hold his hand because you couldn’t stay upright to save your life. While you would have fallen if Mingyu went down, Mingyu was as stable as a wall as you tumbled to the ground. He just laughed, slowed to a stop, peeked down at you: “Are you okay?” And lifted you up off the ground like it was nothing.

It was humiliating, really, how much time you were spending sitting on the ice versus skating on it, but seeing Mingyu’s radiant smile and hearing his infectious laugh every time you fell made you not even care about the bruises you would surely have later. And it made your heart yearn because the thought that this might be one of the last times you ever hold Mingyu’s hand hurt worse than any fall.

“Maybe we should call it a day,” Mingyu said after about an hour. You had gotten a bit more control of your balance at this point and you were skating just as good as the five-year-old that had just gotten here.

“Tired of picking me up?” You managed to get out in a teasing tone because now your arms, your heart, and your ego had been bruised in one short hour.

“No,” Mingyu laughed. “Your nose is just red from the cold, and if I remember right the next thing on our itinerary is hot chocolate.”

“This, is a marshmallow shop.”

“A marshmallow shop with some of the best hot chocolate in New York City,” you replied pointedly. You looked along the wall at all the bags of the different types of marshmallows. You couldn’t help the way that you were practically drooling. Squish Marshmallows had a variety of different marshmallow flavors: Rocky Road, peanut butter and jelly, tea and scones.

“What could tea and scones even taste like?” You asked excitedly. Mingyu seemed just as intrigued as you did.

“We can’t just get hot chocolate here,” Mingyu said, practically bouncing as he spoke. A complete 360 from his initial reaction upon seeing the store. “I never knew that I needed cookie dough marshmallows in my life, but now I know I do.”

You laughed as Mingyu led you up to the counter, remembering what it was like to have Kim Mingyu match your energy.

First ordering two cups of hot chocolate, both with your choice of marshmallow, and then ordering a variety of the different flavors for you two to try. You had to stop him after back tracking to get more than two of each flavor:

“But what if we like them all so much we want more?”

“Think about the calories Mingyu.”

“What is the point of vacation if I’m thinking about calories?”

“So, how long have you been planning this?” You asked softly. “Like, really.”

“Thinking of what? Getting you back?” You didn’t respond so he mulled over what you had asked. “I think I was upset for about a month before I started to think about you. Like really think about you.”

You two wandered around the Union Square Holiday Market, him stopping at a booth with little yarn bracelets.

“I thought about what our relationship used to be like. Like I remembered you letting me come over after you got out of classes because I hadn’t gotten to see you all day. I remembered that you let me keep you up until five even thought you had an eight am.”

Mingyu picked up one of the bracelets up, showing it to you: “Is this still your favorite color?”

Your heart was pounding in your throat so hard that you couldn’t even open your mouth to answer. You just nodded. Mingyu smiled down at the bracelet, nodding slowly.

“Real,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. Before you could even realize he was doing it- Mingyu was buying the bracelet, and handing it straight to you.

“So I already missed you and that was when I got an email reminder that I had booked this trip. And that is when I started to plan this.”

Of course.

“Months,” you mumbled softly, your fingers picking at the bracelet Mingyu had just given you. The bracelet that had been next to so many in a similar shade of the one in your hand. A bracelet that Mingyu had skimmed over a few times while he looked at the bracelets before finally setting on that one, that one perfect one. Because this wasn’t just your favorite color, it was near perfect to the exact shade down to the color code that you liked.

How could he have remembered something like that about you?

“Mingyu do you know how crazy it is to have been planning to convince me to go on a trip to New York city with you before... I don’t know, asking me to grab coffee with you and talk through our break up?”

The question irritated Mingyu.

“What do you expect? Me to sit you down in some coffee shop that will make me want to bang my fist into the wall and ask you if you cheated on me?” He asked you.

“Well what do you expect?” You shot back at him. “What conversation do you think we will have in New York City that we wouldn’t have in that stupid coffee shop?”

Mingyu’s nostrils flared a little bit.

“Did you cheat on me?” He asked you.

“No,” you pressed. You two were quiet before finally Mingyu pointed at a stand behind you, adorned in fancy lanterns, the green roof only a bit taller than him.

“And do we have a lantern stand at your coffee shop?” He asked you. He pointed at the booth next to it. “Or a caricature stand?”

Your eyes narrowed at Mingyu.

“How do two people fight in New York City y/n?”

You wanted to point out that technically, this was a fight. That no amount of christmas lights or kids walking past the two of you would make this not a fight.

“New York City doesn’t make me love you again,” you said softly. A flash of hurt went through Mingyu’s eyes.

“But New York City can make you fall back in love with me,” Mingyu replied. Your fingers twitched at your sides because it was hard enough to be in love with Mingyu and have to pretend you weren’t because this was all so stupid. The kind of stupid that only you and Mingyu could possibly have gotten caught up in.

But instead, you leaned into what Mingyu had been trying to say earlier.

“Are those... Are those not the most beautiful wooden ornaments you have ever seen?” You asked him, pointing behind him. When Mingyu didn’t respond, you pressed the issue. “No, Mingyu, these are so beautiful I think actually that your mom would love one.”

The atmosphere between the two of you quickly evolved back into what it had been before, and that was perfect and just in time for the next item on your docket.

“Street dogs!” You said excitedly rushing up to the carnival-esque hot dog stand on the side of the road. You bounced at the edge of the stand, waiting patiently for Mingyu to join you at your side, your eyes focused on the red and yellow sinage before you.

“Nathan’s famous,” you said excitedly. “This is the next thing on the list right?”

“Right you are,” he replied pointedly. “And after this George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker. Balcony seats.”

You gasped, and you didn’t know why you were even surprised at this point. You slapped your hand against his chest.

“That’s too expensive,” you insisted.

“I figured we could spare a buck or two with how much money we’re spending on our meal before hand,” he replied, his tone high with jest.

“You know that you’re crazy for this right?” You asked Mingyu. He smiled down at you, still completely unbeknowst of the sullen mood that had suddenly overcome you. “I’m serious.”

You shifted your wait and gestured, frustratedly at the New York City streets as if they had done something to offend you.

“You can fool me with the other things. The plane ticket, the hotel room, even the broadway tickets- Which by the way I know you can easily just resale,” you stated pointedly. “But tickets to the Nutcracker?”

“I’m not trying to hide anymore the fact that I made this trip happen,” Mingyu said, and his tone was still airy while yours was drowning in your own frustrations. “And whether or not my very brillant plan works, I will not regret the money I spend on this trip.” Your faced was painted in dismay. “And I will not regret the money I spend on these hot dogs.”

“We are not dating,” you said back insistently.

Frustration flickered across Mingyu’s face, while he was trying so hard not to fight.

“Y/n, it’s just ballet tickets.”

“You shouldn’t be spending money on the girl who cheated on you,” you stated bluntly. And again, Mingyu’s expression soured.

“Y/n, don’t-”

Someone suddenly bumped into Mingyu, causing him to inturn bump into you. His hands immediately went to your shoulders to help settle you. You two looked over at the person that had bumped into you two and it was curiously enough a Santa. He gave you an apologetic expression.

“I’m so sorry to bump into you two,” he said softly. He let out a small but hearty laugh. “But it seems that you two don’t mind too much.”

He sighed, sounding a bit exhausted.

“Young love...”

“Oh it’s not-”

“But, oh, you won’t hear me complaining that much,” he continued, ignoring your protests. “Even though Mrs. Claus and I have our ups and downs sometimes even after all these years she still makes me feel like a teenager all over again.”

He laughed again shaking his head.

Neither you or Mingyu knew what to say but you didn’t have to because after only a few moments you heard the sound of christmas beels ringing. He reached down and pulled out a pocket watch. He tutted when he saw the time.

“I’m always late,” he said with a shake of his head. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he gestured to the two of you. “And don’t you two have a ballet to catch?”

Mingyu suddenly snapped out of his trance.

“Oh! He’s right, we’re going to be late,” He said. He rushed over to the hot dog stand that lucky had no line nad quickly bought to hot dogs for the two of you. He shoved one into your handd.

“Come on, we’ve got to go.”

You couldn’t be mad at Mingyu for the amount of money he had spent on you for too long, because when you started crying during the Nutcracker and you reached over to grab Mingyu’s hand and saw that he was actually crying harder than you were you remembered one of Mingyu’s finer points.

He was one of the most caring people that you had ever met. Mingyu never let a single person around him feel uncared for, unless they were an absolutely horrrible person. He was able to make connections with anyone and everyone. The kind of person who saw someone crying on a sidewalk, would stop to talk to them, and would actually be able to comfort said person.

When you two had first met that had been the reason you didn’t realize at first he liked you. Because the whining for attention, the offers to carry your things, the middle of the night texts to come over and play video games and actually playing video games screamed not only just friends in your face but also treats everyone this way.

But then he asked you out and you realized that despite the fact he was nice to everyone, that niceness was different when it came to you. So at first, maybe the first few months with Mingyu you were jealous. Jealous of every girl that he talked to. Even jealous of his friends.

And then it hit you that there was something different about you. Something that made you stand apart to Mingyu from all the other people.

And even though you couldn’t see it, that was enough for you.

And it had always been enough for you.

And despite everything that thing that Mingyu saw that set you apart from others had made him continue to think about you even after he thought you had cheated on him. And it had made him think through what had happened. And it had made him doubt. And that was enough for you.

You two were walking through the Dyker Heights with him, your shoulders brushing as you looked at the extravagant colorful lights decorating the houses. Mingyu kept letting your fingers brush, and while he pretended to be looking at the lights you knew that the only thing on his mind was you.

You were a bit tired of pretending.

You finally intertwined your hands together, feeling the giant man perk up at the touch. You sighed softly.

“To be honest, I want to be with you,” you whispered. Mingyu’s fingers tigethened in your grasp.

“Really?” He asked you softly. You looked back over at him, his face illuminated in red and blue lights.

“Of course really,” you mumbled softly. You let out a small laugh, but there was pain concealed in it. “I thought you knew me.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh with you.

“I do know you,” he said. “Y/n, did you cheat on me?”

“No,” you insisted quickly. “I didn’t cheat on you! I didn’t even think about cheating on you. I don’t even know who the guy is.”

Mingyu stared at you, seeming to note the desperation in your voice.

“I told you already he’s Dasom’s friend,” he replied slwoly.

“She’s never even mentioned him before!” You blurted back, the frustration rising. “Surely when I was balling my eyes out about the break up and about how I didn’t even know who that guy was she would have thought to mention that it was her friend.”

Mingyu stared at you, his face molding into one of confusion.

“What did you say?”

You didn’t know what he was confused about.

“That I was crying over our break up?”

He shook his head, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“No, no not that. You said Dasom was there when you were crying about your break up.”

Your frustration simmered.

“Well, yeah? She’s my friend.”

“No she’s not,” Mingyu said bluntly. Your face contorted more.

“What the fuck Mingyu? Yes, she is? You got Soonyoung in the break up and I got Dasom and Hansol,” you replied slowly. Mingyu let out a small laugh.

“No, I got Soonyoung and Dasom in the breakup,” he replied.

Jingle bells was playing in the distant background as you tried to process what Mingyu was saying.

“You’re still friends with Dasom?” You asked.

“Dasom was the one who told me that you were cheating on me,” he said insistently. Despite the fact that you two were clearly talking about something serious. You know the reason that you two broke up, Mingyu was now fully laughing now. You were still confused, and you furrowed your nose, turning your head a bit.

“Mingyu I don’t understand.”

“Dasom made everything up.”

Before you could ask him what he was trying to get at, Mingyu was pulling out his phone. His phone started to ring, and he put it on speaker phone. When a small hello rang out- Dasom, Mingyu put a single to his lips.

“Dasom, you were right.”

As soon as Mingyu started to talk his joyous expression dropped.

“Why don’t I listen to you more? You told me that y/n cheated on me back then. You told me that cheaters never change. You told me that I would get hurt all I over again but I still came to New York and-”

He interrupted himself with a very convincing choked sob, that made you really think he was crying. You worriedly made eye contact with him, and at that he gave you the biggest, most radiant smile, you had seen on his face in a while.

He was a psycopath.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry,” Dasom’s voice came sympathetically, and you noticed that with it her voice was rising. “It’s so hard to accept and notice when you are being used. But it’s over now then, yeah? You can finally move on.”

“What is it that you always say to me?” Mingyu asked, his voice sounding broken. “That promise you always say?”

“I’ll pick up the pieces that y/n broke,” Dasom said immediately, not even pausing in thought. “I’ll always be there for you Mingyu. I love you, and I can and will treat you the way that you deserve to be treated.”

Again that smile broke out on Mingyu’s face. He gestured to his phone as if something huge had been revealed.

“I have to go Dasom,” Mingyu said, his voice still sounding completely wrecked. “I just... I just can’t believe I let y/n break my heart again.”

“Take all the time you need Mingyu.”

Mingyu clicked to end the call, and then without even letting you process what the fuck just happened, he was grabbing your phone from you, unlocking it because you had never changed the password, and was dialing Dasom’s number.

As the phone began to ring he shoved it back in your hand.

“You’re heart broken, you don’t understand why I don’t trust you, and you need support from your friend,” he explained quickly. And then Dasom was picking up the call.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? You don’t usually call me?”

You didn’t give yourself time to think. You just did the one thing that you had wished Mingyu did six months ago, and blindly trusted him.

“Dasom, I don’t understand. He still thinks... He still thinks that I cheated on him,” you said, your voice hushed. You made sure to take appropriate pauses, making it sound like you were having trouble speaking.

“Y/n... Hansol and I told you that this trip would only end badly.”

“But I don’t understand!” You exclaimed, your voice rising. “He told me all that time ago that he loved me, and then he doesn’t even believe that I don’t even know who the guy is I was supposed to be cheating on!”

Mingyu was looking at you, very seriously, paying attention to every word.

“Who even is that person?”

“I don’t know y/n. We won’t ever know now will we? You both know now surely. You’re better off without one another.”

And then, finally what Mingyu had been trying to insinuate. The thing that he had already somehow figured out, crashed into you like a train. Your heart skipped a beat, and for just a second the world slowed.

And you last your chance at an Oscar.

“Oh my god... You broke us up.”

The phone call was silent for a few moments, and then Dasom spoke. Her voice scarily even.

“What?”

“You broke us up,” you said again, your voice rising. “The only person who could have had access to my phone other than Mingyu or Hansol was you. You put those texts on my phone. You played it out to be your friend to make your plan more convincing. You pretended to be both of our friends just so that you could fucking get Mingyu.”

There was silence on the call as your brain continued to rush to catch up with your thoughts.

“Because you’re in love with him.”

More silence, and you looked up at Mingyu, not even realizing tears were streaming down your face.

“You two are together... Aren’t you?” Dasom asked.

“I thought we were friends,” you said, and you didn’t have to pretend that you were heart broken this time. You really were.

“I saw Mingyu first y/n,” Dasom blurted with an anger that you didn’t even know that she had. “He loves you so much he was fucking blind. That’s not fair! It should have been me. I had to feed him so many lies, and convince Soonyoung that complete no contact was better just so that I could keep Mingyu from realizing the truth.”

Her voice was shaking even over the phone.

“But you two are both so fucking stupid. Who goes on a Christmas weekend trip to New York City with their fucking ex?”

“Dasom-” Mingyu said, taking your phone from your hand. He turned the phone off speaker and turned away from you, his voice dropping a few octaves, so that you couldn’t hear what he said. And then, after about a minute of hushed conversation, your phone was being slid back into your hand.

Tears streamed down your face, and Mingyu leaned forward, his thumbs brushing the tears off of your face.

“Y/n...” He let you cry there. Brushing the tears off of your cheeks before they could drip all the way down your chin. Your body shook as you tried to comprehend the emotions you were feeling.

The fact that Dasom had been lying to you for so long made you so completely upset. The fact that she was willing to manipulate you because of unrequited love hurt even worse. But then, you were in New York City at Christmas with the love of your life, and he had been so hard to manipulate that after six months her lies no longer worked.

The tears slowly stopped streaming and Mingyu��s hands took your face in his. He leaned close to you, his nose brushing yours.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have trusted you. I should have completely and fully trusted you.”

You didn’t say that you couldn’t have expected that from him. You didn’t tell him that you were both the victims really. Instead, your ears zoned in on the song playing in the distance.

I really can’t stay... Baby, it’s cold outside

A laugh erupted through your body.

“This song is so creepy Mingyu,” you said. His lips flickered into a smile and he seemed to focus on the faint lyrics as well.

“This evening has been,” he sang along with the words, taking your hands in his. “So very nice.”

You laughed at him, but you let him start to drag you into a small little dance on the sidewalk. As you two drifted together, a few other couples began to do the same thing as you. Each of them pulling their partner close into a slow dance along with the melody of a frankly predatory song.

And yet, as you looked up at Mingyu, all you could think about was how lucky you were for this trip.

“Mingyu,” you said softly, your lips pulling up at the corners. “I don’t know if this is still on the table but if you wanted to go out again-”

Mingyu interrupted you before you could finish, dragging you into a passionate kiss. You laughed against his lips, slapping his chest.

“I was about to say that I don’t want to date you-“

Another kiss, and you were still laughing and pushing away from him.

“I’m serious Mingyu I think we’re much better at being exe-“

He interrupted you with another kiss, and once he had properly stolen the breath from your lungs he was speaking.

“Y/n we are awful at being exes,” he said lightly. “Exes don’t spend Christmas together in New York City.”

You couldn’t hide the stupid gummy smile on your lips, and you couldn’t help nod along with him.

“We truly are awful exes,” you agreed. “So I’m super glad that we are together again-”

Mingyu smiled so hard you thought his face was gonna break.

“We are together again,” he said gummily. “For our first date… Have you ever heard of a New York City Christmas Miracle Pop-up bar?”

Everything was perfect.

As terrifying as it was to say so. The Miracle Pop-up bar was just as beautiful as Dyker Heights had been. The christmas lights were practically blinding, and the walls of the makeshift bar were lined in tinsel. When you looked up along with sparkling white snowflakes there were faux wrapped presents hanging from the ceiling.

In the past you had wondered what kinds of lonely people went to a bar on Christmas Eve. But this Christmas eve? Your shoulder brushing Mingyu’s as he played pool against a different couple one from Texas, you understood that in New York City? A bar on Christmas Eve was just the place to be.

When Mingyu had lost his pool game and needed comforting you two had found a somewhat quiet spot in the bustling bar and spent hours just catching up.

You told Mingyu everything you had missed, all the people that you had met that you couldn’t wait for him to see. All the things that had happened you were sad he missed. All the work gossip about your coworkers that he still remembered every detail about.

And by the time that you two were leaving the bar and you two were walking down the street, you didn’t think things could get any better.

“Y/n it’s snowing.”

Before you could stop him Mingyu had taken off down the sidewalk. He slipped a little on the exact thing he was excited about but he regained his balance almost immediately and then made his way into what looked to be a park.

You laughed and chased after him- A bit more careful than he was though. You slipped anyways when you got into the snow-covered grass, and fell into a small pile with an audible oof.

You were thinking that surely your heroic, white knight, boyfriend who you hadn’t really been around in six months would come running to your rescue but instead a cold pack of snow hit your face. You let out an astonished laugh, looking over at Mingyu.

“Hey-”

“Merry Christmas!” He called out, as if he hadn’t just thrown snow in your face. You scrambled to your feet, scooping up some snow in your own hands.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” you bit back. Mingyu must have seen the determination spread over your face and realized that he had messed up. He started to try to barter for his dry clothes but just as he started to talk a snow ball was hitting his face and it was over for you two.

You were sure as the two of you made your way into the hotel, jackets wet and half off that all the attendants thought that you two were drunk, but as you two burst into your hotel room, absolutely freezing from the cold, you knew that there wasn’t a drop of alochol in your system.

And remembering what Mingyu had said to you the night before you were glad that the two of you hadn’t drank at the bar.

As soon as the hotel room door clicked behind you, you were being shoved against it. Mingyu’s lips on your lips, and his hands pressing your wet clothes off. You raised your hands to his head, pulling at his strands of hair as he tried to get your clothes off.

“Y/n you’re so warm,” he mumbled against you, his head dipping to kiss the nape of your neck. You shivered.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t dragged me into-” As you spoke Mingyu’s fingers dipped into your pants, and without a second thought he pushed two fingers deep into you. “-The snow.”

“No... You’re always this warm,” he said, his tone hushed. “Especially when I have my hands on you.”

A whimper ripped through your body, and your fingers gripped desperately at Mingyu’s shoulders.

“Oh Mingyu, fu-”

“Where you with anyone?” Mingyu asked you softly, his expression zereoed in on you. You could barely think enough to answer because no you had not and it had been so long since anyone had touched you but yourself that you had forgotten how good it felt.

And Mingyu wasn’t making it easier to answer. His fingers began to slowly push in and out of your pussy which had been soaked way before he had gotten you into this hotel room, but now it was to the point that you were almost uncomfortable. You wiggled under his grasp, trying to remember how to think or breathe but all you were thinking about was if Mingyu’s cock was as big as you remembered...

Mingyu suddenly raised a hand to your chin, and he squeezed your face there between his fingers, forcing your face to look at his.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he said, his voice urging you to listen to what he was saying. Something about his words made that aching for his touch even worse.

“I can’t talk right now,” you managed to get out. Mingyu didn’t stop slowly easing his fingers in and out of you. Not teasing you. No... He was stretching you out. BUt he was taking his time with it.

You did not want him to.

You began to desperately push at his shirt, trying to push it off his body. But when you realized you couldn’t get it off with his hand in your pants, you were trying to get his pants off instead.

“I need you so badly Mingyu, I need you so bad.”

Your words were a desperate whine at the tip of your tongue, and it made Mingyu laugh at you.

“It’s been that long?” He asked you teasingly. You gave him a very serious look.

“Six months is too long,” you said bluntly. His expression sombered a bit and he nodded.

“Six months is too long,” he agreed.

Without telling each other to, you both suddenly separated, began to rip off one another’s clothes. You two were, for once, almost as in sync as you two had been when you were dating. When you were struggling to get off your shirt, Mingyu stopped to help you rip it off. He paused to press a kiss to you and then immediately he had pulled away so that you could rip his shirt off, before the two of you were finally naked.

Mingyu paused once his clothes were off, and your clothes were off. He was staring at you, with the look of someone who was so in love with you he didn’t know what to do with himself.

But you didn’t need someone to look at you like he was in love with you right now. You needed someone to look at you like they needed to be inside of you. You pushed Mingyu back onto the bad, climbing into his lap as soon as he was there.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips against Mingyu’s in a desperate air sucking kiss. Mingyu happily let himself be dragged into it, and as you kissed him, his hands found your ass.

“I wonder what all has changed in the last six months...” He whispered against your lips. You mostly ignored him in favor of grinding yourself down on his cock. Wanting it inside of you so badly you could scream. “Are you still into this?”

His hand suddenly came down on your ass. You yelped, but it turned into a whimper that had your forehead pressing to Mingyu’s as you tried to keep yourself from sliding him into you yourself.

That was answer enough for him.

“Oh you are.”

His fingers slid a bit, and slipped back inside of you. You whined at the stretch of his fingers because this time there were three.

You rolled your hips down on Mingyu’s fingers, trying to force them deeper into you. Mingyu laughed.

“Y/n, you’ve never been so desperate for cock,” he teased you lightly. Before you could respond his head had dipped and he had nipped a spot on you that had always been particularly sensitive. You slammed your hand over your mouth, letting out a sob of desperation.

“And I see that I still remember that about you,” he mumbled softly. You wanted to hit him because now wasn’t a time for experimenting on what he remembered you liked and if you still liked it, but instead you pulled your hand away from your mouth and leaned back.

“Mingyu, please, please, please,” you begged. “Cock, I need your cock.”

You reached down between the two of you, taking his cock in your hand. You had been dripping all over it, so once your hand was on it your fingers were sliding across its length with ease. You tipped it up a bit, and it hit your clit.

Your forehead hit Mingyu’s.

“Oh god, Gyu I need it now.”

Mingyu’s fingers slipped out of you.

“Whatever you need baby.”

You couldn’t have lined yourself up with his cock faster. You started to push yourself down on him fast- But you quickly slowed down your pace because despite the three fingers inside of you, it was still a bit of a stretch.

As soon as the tip of his cock was inside of you however, you had leaned forward, catching his lips so that you could hide your pathetic whines. But while the kiss did contain your whines and moans to a minimum, they did not conceal how badly you felt like you needed Mingyu right now.

Because as you kissed him and lowered yourself down on his cock, your hands were all over his chest and his neck and his face, and in his hair, drowning him in a kiss that was so intense whenever you two had a chance to breath, you were gasping for air.

And you didn’t slow down when you had gotten all the way down on his cock. In fact, when you started to fuck yourself on Mingyu’s cock you only started to sound more desperate.

Your whine’s became nearly indistinguishable to moans, and your pace was inconsistent. Anytime that you felt like you just couldn’t fuck yourself on his cock anymore you were rolling your hips down on him, feeling his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his own whines escape his lips.

“Y/n, if you keep this up-” His voice was broken. “I’m going to do something inside of you that I really shouldn’t do.”

One of his hands tightened on your hips to slow you down, but you deterred that by grabbing both of his cheeks in your hands. You probably sounded a bit crazy when you blurted out: “Do it.”

But it made a whimper escape Mingyu’s lips that made you feel as crazy as you sounded.

“Do it Mingyu, fucking come inside of me, please. It’s been six months since I was even touched like this. I need it-”

You interrupted yourself because you could feel Mingyu’s cock twitching inside of you and you knew that you had said enough. Your lips collided with Mingyu’s again, but his orgasm was ripping through him so intensely that he couldn’t even focus on that. So you just bit at his bottom lip, forcing yourself to keep fucking him as his cock spurted cum deep inside of your pussy.

Your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as your orgasm began to approach, but before you could hit it. Mingyu’s hands were stilling you. You cried out in desperation at the sudden stop, but before you could complain you were being flipped.

Your back hit the bed, and Mingyu’s hands were on your hips again, pulling you close to him sharply.

“I remember that you like this.”

To be fully honest, he could have done anything to you and you would have liked it. But Mingyu pressed his hand down on your stomach and fucked you so hard that you were coming under him in mere seconds.

Even if you had wanted to keep yourself together, you couldn’t have. You were making grabby hands at him as you came underneath him, so loud that you thought you would get complaints- Did people even make noise complaints in hotels? But Mingyu didn’t kiss you again until you had stopped shaking underneath of him.

He stilled himself, burying his cock deep inside of you as he came all over again. As soon as Mingyu was close enough that you could shove him down onto you, you were. You two became a mess as you continued to kiss him like your life depended on it, and that kissin did not make the burning in the pit of your stomach go away.

You flipped yourself back ontop of Mingyu, taking in the blissed expression on his face.

“We’re going to make up for six months in one night,” you said suddenly, your hands pressing down on his chest so that he was still under you. Mingyu gave you a wide-eyed smile.

“Whatever you say.”

When you woke up the next morning Mingyu wasn’t there. It felt like it had felt every single day for the last six months for about two seconds. And then Mingyu was leaving the bathroom, fully naked with a towel drying his hair like he was the main male lead.

When he saw you looking his smile grew.

“Oh sorry, did you want to take a shower with me.”

Your face burned at the implication, and you looked over at the time on the clock on the nightstand. You squinted.

“Where is breakfast today?” You asked him softly. He began to rummage through his luggage.

“Here,” he replied. You heard him getting his clothes together, and you resisted the urge to look at him because it meant that you were going to want to stop him from putting those clothes on.

“Then we don’t have a lot of time left,” you said with a soft groan. You let your head hit the pillow again. “Breakfast at hotels are too early.”

Your eyes fluttered open in time to see Mingyu leaning down to kiss you. You couldn’t help the way you let yourself be physically pulled out of bed, chasing after his lips even as he pulled away.

“If I could make breakfast stay open longer for you,” Mingyu promised lightly.

“Even if you could,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “We have a schedule to keep?”

“That we do.”

Even though breakfast at a fancy hotel meant you weren’t the ones making your own waffles, they didn’t taste quite as good as the breakfast’s that you two had been having. Not that it really mattered. It was still breakfast. An amazing breakfast. With every food group, and Mingyu was picking food off of your plate, and it was enough to remind you of sleepovers in the past.

And it made you unbelivably happy.

After breakfast you two bundled back up, Mingyu wrapping your scarf around your neck as you shimmied in your shoes. And then you two were checking off just another one of your New York City wishlist boxes.

Central Park. Central Park, covered in fluffy, white snow.

It sounded a bit cheesy, but looking around at the ice sparkling on the tree limbs it reminded you of Narnia. With the old fashioned lightposts, and the pure emptiness of it all. Other than the random other couple, it was really just you and Mingyu there walking through the snow. Talking about good times, remembering the good times.

“Mingyu, I can’t... I can’t emphasis enough how perfect this trip was,” you said softly. “I mean, even when we were planning it, this was a dream trip. The perfect trip. Everything down to the second.”

Mingyu nodded slowly.

“You did an amazing job planning it,” he agreed. You sighed.

“But this trip would have been nothing without you,” you insisted. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “You mean everything to me.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, his other hand fidgeting around in his pocket.

“You mean it?” He asked you softly. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit.

“Of course I do,” you said softly.

“But do you mean it,” Mingyu asked again. “Outside of this. Christmas, and New York, and the memories of what we used to have. Can you really actually, honestly see a future with me.”

You thought about your relationships prior to Mingyu’s, and you thought about what it had been like to be with Mingyu. Sure when you broke up with people before you had been sad, and you had been wanting them back, but yif you thought about it right now. If you put all those people back in a room together and they all told you that they were in love with you and that you wanted them back there was only one person that you could really imagine saying yes to.

“I’ve always been able to see a future with you,” you said honestly. Mingyu’s lips flickered into a small smile. “But what about you Mingyu? You thought I cheated on you, how do you know those feelings aren’t ever going to come back?”

Mingyu nodded slowly at your question, his eyes very briefly trailing away from yours.

“Because it’s you,” he said. “Outside of New York, and Christmas, and missing you the person that I have wanted to spend my life with has always been you. Did you know that? Do you know how long I have known that I wanted to be with only you for the rest of my life?”

You shook your head blankly.

“Since Hansol first introduced the two of us,” Mingyu said. “I don’t know... I know it’s stupid to believe in love at first sight-”

You laughed, rolling your eyes a bit because of course he would say something dumb like this, and of course you knew that he meant it to his core, and of course it made your heart skip a beat.

“But I think that the first time I saw you I knew that you were the one that I wanted to be with.”

Mingyu leaned down to you, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your freezing nose. You smiled up at him, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets.

“Mingyu-”

“Hey, look at that,” Mingyu interrupted. He pointed over your shoulder and you looked towards where he had pointed, wondering what was so important to him that he interrupted your moment. You stared into Central Park. At the snow, at the trees... You didn’t see anything.

“Mingyu, what am I supposed to be looking for?” You asked him, a laugh in your voice because of course Kim Mingyu would have seen something tiny in Central Park that would completely distract him from the moment that you two were having.

“Oh, nothing over there.”

Your confusion grew, and you turned around and the sight before you made your heart promptly stop. For one... Two... Three...

“Oh my god.”

Mingyu was on one knee in the snow, his gloves discarded next to him in the snow so that his hands were out. He had a small box in his hands, open, showing off what could only be described as your dream ring.

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth.

“Mingyu-”

“Y/n I love you,” Mingyu interrupted, his eyes red as he looked up at you. “I’m sorry for everything these last six months, but I know now and have always known that no matter what I want you to be the person I spend the rest of my life with.”

He nervously glanced down at the ring in his hand.

“So much so that I bought this ring shortly after we started dating,” he said, a twinge of embarrassment in his voice. “And so much so that I never returned it. Even after we broke up.”

His eyes flickered back up to yours, and he shrugged a little.

“Six months is a really long time, y/n, and I never ever want to be apart from you for that long again.” He laughed. “So, if you could make me the happiest man-”

You interrupted him before he could say the corniest most overdone sentence in the book.

“Yes,” you blurted, surging forward so that you could wrap your arms around Mingyu. “Yes, okay, I’ll marry you.”

You were laughing as your knees hit the snow, and as you grabbed Mingyu’s face and kissed him. And as he tried to take your gloves off of your hand so that he could slide the ring he had gotten you onto it.

“This trip-” You asked hushedly, watching the ring slide onto your finger.

“Was always meant to be the one that ended with you having a ring on your finger,” he said softly. He wrapped his hands around yours. “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”

He was laughing.

“But you knew I wouldn’t,” you whispered back. He nodded.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he agreed. He leaned in again, to kiss you and you let him.

You couldn’t believe it the rest of the day. When you two got Chinese food in China town, or when you walked out onto time square you still couldn’t believe that you were now engaged.

And a dark part of you thought for sure that when the two of you landed back home, things were going to be hard. But when you thought about that, and you looked at Mingyu all you could think was that every difficult moment would be worth it right by Mingyu’s side. And so in the end you didn’t really mind.

Taglist:

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#19k words #merry christmas #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fanfiction #hallmark #HALLMARK HIRE ME PLEASE #i think there was a lot i wanted to say but i’ve been at this for almost four hours straight trying to get this done #and i’m so exhausted #YAY THIS FIC SURVIVED MY ‘i’ll finish it and publish it next year’ CURSE #EVERYONE SAY YAY #ya-😴

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