When Chris accidentally caught sight of his wife's phone screen as he looked up from his laptop, he did a double take; his eyes widened and he blanched, a taken aback puff of laughter escaping him.
“What are you watching?” Chris asked, breaking the soft silence.
Pulling her gaze away from where she had been deeply engrossed in her phone, Y/N caught sight of her husband's expression and started to giggle. They had both been doing their own thing in comfortable quietude for the past hour, huddled up in bed beside one another. Chris had been finishing up a last bit of work, while Y/N was curled up into his side, scrolling through videos.
“Conspiracies,” she said, flashing him a wide grin.
“Looks terrifying,” Chris shuddered dramatically, his shoulder warm as it brushed her cheek. “I don't know how you can watch that before bed. I'd have nightmares for weeks.”
“I don't get scared,” Y/N said proudly. “It's fun watching scary stuff at night.”
Cheek dimpling as he smiled fondly, Chris gently ruffled her hair in a loving gesture. He knew first hand how fearless his wife was - for some reason, nothing seemed to scare her, no matter how sinister it was. Chris on the other hand jumped at the smallest of things, his heartbeat immediately skyrocketing in a way that always made his wife giggle.
He supposed it made quite a good dynamic between them both.
“I know you don't. You're a freak.”
“And you're a scaredy cat,” Y/N teased back, making him laugh and press closer to her. He was completely bare from the waist up, a thin silver chain glinting like faint starlight at the base of his throat as light from his laptop shone on it every now and then. A pair of large blue light glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and his overgrown curls fell in dark ringlets over his forehead as he looked down at her, wrinkling her nose at her in his affectionate manner.
Scrunching up her nose in return, Y/N turned her face and pressed a soft kiss to his smooth chest.
He really was the most handsome scaredy cat she'd ever seen.
“You look good with glasses,” she commented, reaching up to poke the side of the frame.
Chris grinned sheepishly. “I look ridiculous in them.”
“Nuh-uh. You look hot. Really, really, really hot.”
His cheeks flamed red which only made him look even more handsome, something /N had thought was impossible. She groaned at the sight of him, much to her husband's amusement, and she gulped, returning her attention to the dark video playing on her phone before she could pounce on him like a needy cat. She huddled a little closer to him instead, curling her legs up under the duvet, resting her knees against Chris's thigh as he went back to typing on his laptop, the gentle tapping soothing to her ear.
They were cuddled up a while later, the lights off and the room blanketed in thick shadows when they finally decided to sleep. Chris's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his arm draped over Y/N's waist, keeping her warm. Yet Y/N couldn't sleep. She put it down to needing to go to the bathroom; yet at the thought of slipping out from the sanctuary of the bed and leaving her husband's side, Y/N's heart started to thud hard against the walls of her chest.
For the first time in forever, Y/N didn't want to step into the darkness.
Biting her lip as the unfamiliar feeling continued to build up inside of her, Y/N turned her head and looked up at her husband's sleeping face.
“Chris?” She whispered, nuzzling at his collarbone with her cheek. “Chrissy?”
“Mmf … yeah?” Chris slurred, his hand automatically slipping into her hair. "You okay?”
She nodded against him. “Need the toilet.”
“Okay … ?” Chris laughed under his breath, puzzled. “Have a nice piss?”
Smiling at his words, Y/N tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She clutched at his sides, tracing her fingers over the familiar ridges and veins travelling downwards as a way to soothe herself.
She must have stayed like that longer than she had thought, for Chris peered down at her and blinked his eyes open.
“You going?” He scratched lightly at the nape of her neck.
“Yeah … “ Y/N swallowed thickly.
At that, Chris suddenly snorted with amusement. “You're scared, aren't you?”
“No!”
“Oh, you so are. What did I tell you? Don't watch shit like that before bed.”
“But I'm not scared … “
“Yeah? Then why aren't you getting out of bed?”
“Um … I don't need the toilet anymore … ?”
Rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb as mirth filled his features, Chris squeezed his wife's hip under the duvet. “I can't believe you. I thought you don't get scared, scaredy cat … “
Whining at that, Y/N shoved the entire front of her face into her husband's chest. “I'm just … a bit … nervous.”
Chris chuckled. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “C'mon. I'll walk you to the bathroom.”
“You will?” Y/N sat up, eyes widening.
“Not scared, aye?” Chris continued to tease as he sat up with her. He stretched his arms high above his head, yawning as his muscles flexed under the silvery moonlight that sneaked in through the gap in the curtains. He shook his head at his wife with a soft smile and climbed out of bed. “It's all good. No monsters out here.”
Giggling, Y/N slipped out of bed and immediately reached for Chris's hand. Her heart fluttered when she didn't question it; he squeezed her fingers with reassurance instead before leading her down the small distance towards their joint bathroom.
She paused outside of the door. Chris sensed her hesitation, and a silent puff of laughter warmed her neck.
“You want me to come inside too?” Chris grinned.
Y/N nodded.
“Honestly … “
Shaking his head again in mild disbelief, Chris pushed open the bathroom door and snapped the light on for her. He pulled her in after him and she moved towards the toilet, Chris perching on the edge of the bathtub as she sat down on the seat.
She looked up at him then, taking in his appearance. She was sleepy, despite everything, and being sleepy always made her a little dopey.
“You're so pretty,” Y/N giggled, pointedly staring at the angular planes of his sides that disappeared into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. “If I was a guy I'd probably have a boner right now.”
“Fucking hell … “ Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. “I'm really glad you don't.”
Giggling at that, Y/N continued to watch him as she went about her business. He was staring at her too, his gaze hooded as he cocked his head to the side.
“What is actually happening right now … ?” Chris suddenly laughed in disbelief, dropping his face into his hands. “Am I dreaming?’
“To be fair, this isn't the first time.”
“It's not you being on the toilet that's crazy,” Chris dropped his hands, looking at his wife with sparkling eyes. “It's the fact that you're actually scared and asked me to come with you. That's never happened before. Ever.”
“Why do you look so happy about it … ?”
“Because!” Chris got up from the bath and moved towards his wife, his torso pressing into her back as she stood in front of the sink. “Normally you're the one comforting me when I get scared. Now it's my turn.”
Smiling sheepishly at him in the mirror, Y/N lathered her hands in bubbles. “I'm not even scared.”
“Course not. It's completely normal to wake your husband up in the middle of the night so you can go to the bathroom.”
Turning around to face him, Y/N looked a little confused. “But … I don't get scared,” she whispered. “I don't understand why I feel like this?”
Eyes softening, Chris wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, her head slotting into the hollow beneath his chin that she so loved. “You're probably just feeling extra sensitive. You know how deeply you feel things. Maybe all your senses are heightened right now … ‘s not a bad thing. Feeling scared isn't bad, baby.”
“But ‘m not,” Y/N tried again. It made Chris laugh as he held her, his body shaking against hers as he dropped a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
“Okay, okay,” Chris grinned. “My brave little gremlin. She doesn't get scared.”
Giggling into his chest, Y/N looked up at him with mischievous eyes all of a sudden. “Wanna hear about the video I was watching?”
“Absolutely not,” Chris cleared his throat. He steered her out of the bathroom and snapped the light off before tugging her back into their bedroom, the lamp he had switched on earlier filling the space with a toasty amber glow.
“But - “
“No,” Chris laughed. “Some of us aren't as brave as you, Mrs I Don't Get Scared. You can tell me all about it in the morning.”
Sighing, Y/N slid back into bed with a fat pout on her lips. Her head bobbed just out from beneath the duvet, making Chris smile widely as she followed suit and immediately scooped her back into his arms.
“Chrissy?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm a little scared.”
His chest heaved against her cheek as he let out a silent laugh. “What's my baby scared of, hmm?”
Humming in thought, Y/N's eyes peeked out at him as she pulled her face away from his chest. “Scary people?”
“Scary people?”
“Mhm. Scary people are scary. They do scary things.”
His laughter tickling her neck as he dropped his face towards hers, Chris gently slipped his fingers into her hair and caressed her scalp. “It's okay baby. I'm not gonna let any scary people get you. You're safe with me.”
“Even if you get scared too?”
“Even then,” Chris grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “I can easily push my fear aside when it comes to protecting you. Ima always protect you.”
“So … you're gonna be my knight?”
“Armour and everything. At your service, milady.”
Face breaking into a warm smile at that, Y/N snuggled deeper into his chest. She was quiet for a moment, relishing in the soothing thump of her husband's heartbeat kissing her cheek, and the way his velvety skin seemed to glide perfectly amongst the grain of her own, like he was completely made for her. For a moment, the thought alone cut through her frazzled thoughts and she smiled to herself, nuzzling her nose on his collarbone.
“I'm still scared,” she broke the short silence a few seconds later.
Chuckling all over again, Chris cupped her face in his hands. “Am I gonna have to distract you?”
“Distract me how?” She raised a curious eyebrow, though the pit of her stomach coiled in anticipation.
“Oh, I don't know … “ her body was suddenly rolled onto her back as Chris loomed above her, his grin devilish in the moonlight. His arms came down around the sides of her head, caging her in, and she giggled at the way he was gazing down at her. “Maybe I could just read you a bedtime story.”
Hooking her legs around his as he came down on top of her, Y/N grinned against his lips. “Maybe you could.”
“Yeah? That all?” Chris hummed, his breath fanning out across her skin.
“What if the story's not enough?”
He laughed as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Ah … we can't have that, can we? Gotta get all those thoughts out of your pretty little brain somehow … “
A groan escaped him when Y/N dug her fingernails into the taut planes of Chris's shoulders. His lips were like pillows as they dragged down her skin, following the column of her throat and down to the neckline of her pyjama top. His hair fell into his eyes as he moved, and when he looked up at her through the curls, Y/N felt her whole insides give way to the dangerous glint in his dark eyes.
“Chris … “ her breath hitched when his lips found hers again, his hands cradling the back of her head as he covered her entire body with his own. “Don't stop distracting me.”
Despite it being the middle of the night, Y/N couldn't sleep. She didn't understand what was happening inside her body, nor why it was happening - all she knew was that a sudden wave of loneliness had come crashing down upon her as she lay in her bed, compressing her chest in an uncomfortable manner and flooding her entire body with an icy cold that no amount of blankets could reverse.
She had blindly stumbled her way through the streets, her breaths shallow and her limbs wracked with a pulsing agony that she couldn't figure out if it was physical, or mental. Whatever it was, it was debilitating, and it caused her to let out a series of crumbling gasps that sounded foreign even to her own ears.
Tears dribbled freely down her cheeks unbeknownst to her as she fumbled for the front door with fingers so shaky that they kept slipping, the moment she let herself in and stepped into the familiar cloud of ever present, sweet smelling warmth, Y/N sagged against the door. Her fingers dug into it as she tried to hold herself up, feeling her knees beginning to buckle from the sheer emotion that thumped into the centre of her chest from the smell her soul had been craving long before she had dared to acknowledge it.
She wasn't sure how she had managed to do it, but Y/N soon found herself having been pulled away from the door and standing on the inside of Chris's bedroom. A grateful shiver rolled through her as she took in her surroundings. It wasn't entirely dark in the room; thick shadows clung to the walls and the floor like heavy cobwebs, distorted shapes floating about as the softest golden glow from one of Chris's favourite lamps brushed against the closest surfaces. His bed was illuminated with a copper gaze, being tucked further away from the lamp, and Y/N had to stifle a tearful whimper when her searching gaze finally landed on the man she had been seeking out.
His back was turned towards her, bare and smooth and muscular, his duvet pooled around his tapered waist as he laid half on his stomach, his arms curled loosely around his pillow. The grooves of his muscles looked so much deeper and darker in the honeyed lighting, and Y/N's vision blurred as the sudden urge to bury her face into it all hit her with such a force that she was nearly knocked off of her feet. Her clothes landed on a nearby chair and she padded over to the bed, kneeling down on it gently after carefully turning back a corner of the duvet. It was warm from his body heat, and her breath hitched when she closed it over herself, sliding forward until her sporadic breathing brushed his shoulder.
Humming in his sleep, Chris swallowed slowly and turned his head against the pillow. His hair had grown quickly since the last time she had seen him, locks of it falling in messy rings over his forehead, while shorter tufts of it stuck up around his head, mussed up on the pillow. His eyelashes were just as dark, kissing his under eyes like a dusting of cocoa, and his fuzzy eyebrows knit together as he swallowed again, fingers twitching in the sheets.
A second later, the sheets rustled and Chris's arm found its way to Y/N's waist. He tucked her into him with a sleepy whine, thick, incorrigible words escaping his plump lips as his nose found the crook of her neck.
“Close .. er … mm - stop run … ning … “ Chris's nonsensical words trailed off and he squeezed her tight, remarkably tight considering he was unconscious, and Y/N couldn't help the tears that spilled over her eyelashes all over again. She ducked her head and buried her face deep into the heated juncture between Chris's neck and shoulder, and her arms slipped under his, her hands splaying over his shoulder blades as she grabbed onto him for dear life.
“B … baby … ?” Chris stirred slightly a moment later, voice slurred. “Y/N?”
“‘S me,” Y/N whispered into his fragrant skin, her fingers digging into pads of thick muscle.
Breath stuttering, Chris inhaled slowly and adjusted his arms. Suddenly her entire frame was engulfed in his hold, her body safe as he locked his touch into her icy skin and his fingers sinking into her hair in a way that nearly made eyes roll into the back of her head.
“Missed … you … “ Chris breathed, squeezing her so much that it should have been painful. But it was exactly what Y/N had been pining for, and she nuzzled deeper into him with another quiet sob. “Don’ cry … ‘m here now. My baby's too … pretty to cry … “
“Channie … “ the soft version of his name slipped off of her tongue as she tried to burrow deeper into his embrace. She clenched her eyes shut, fresh, hot tears singeing her delicate skin.
“‘S okay,” Chris whispered. “‘M here. I've got you. I've got you … my baby girl.”
“I … “ she tugged at his back, unable to get her words out from the sheer overwhelming feeling of being close to him again clouding her thoughts. She rolled over slightly, the side of her back landing on the cosy mattress as her face stayed tucked into his body. “I need … “
“Shh …. “ Chris cut her off with a tender kiss to her temple. “I know. I've got you.”
She didn't need to elaborate further; he knew her too well for that, and she almost cried in relief when Chris rolled her fully onto her back before sinking himself down onto her. He lowered himself slowly, allowing her to adjust to the weight of him, before his full bodyweight secured her into the bed, his heart beating steady against her gradually slowing one.
Hands finding their way to Y/N's face, Chris wiped the wetness away from her cheeks with his thumbs, his soft lips following their paths with small, lingering kisses, each one branding their way into her skin and pushing the hollowness inside of her out. He brushed the tip of his warm nose against hers as he cradled her face in his hands, and she sniffled under him, her hands sliding around him until they loosely curled into the bare skin of his sides.
With Chris's weight crushing into her, Y/N's breathing soon regulated, and her heart stopped trying to break the walls of her ribcage in anguish. The awful fizzing in her bones dissipated, along with her earlier urge to rip her skin off of her flesh from her need to be held, and she exhaled quietly, eyes falling shut as her mind finally began to quieten.
She smiled against his shoulder after a while. His body on top of hers was always grounding for her, a miracle worker in eradicating all traces of anxiety and loneliness and sadness from her body. She had lain beneath him so many times that she had begun to notice even the smallest changes in his physique, and despite her initial frazzled state, tonight was no exception.
“You've bulked up,” Y/N whispered, curling a hand around his bicep, tucking it around her like a seatbelt.
Chris grunted sleepily, the sound tickling her neck. “I have?”
“Mhm … “ she kissed his collarbone as he tangled her legs with his own. “You have.”
“Good,” Chris breathed. “Still got … a long … long way to go … “
His chest rose and fell against her own in slowing currents, the extra pressure addictive as Y/N closed her eyes again, taking every second of his presence engulfing her. She traced her fingers slowly over the groves of his arm, dancing along the veins cording around his forearm as he sighed happily, his lips brushing up against her jaw in another loving kiss.
“Love you so much … “ he breathed, the same heaviness from sleep creeping into his voice again. His hand slipped around her neck, and cradled the back of Y/N's head to his shoulder, his thumb sweeping tenderly over her skull, making her breath falter against him. “My baby. I … ‘ve gotchu always … always, always, al … ways … “
His lips were stamped onto Y/N's jaw and his hand still hugged her head as he fell asleep again, and with her chest feeling as though it would explode from comfort and love due to the man on top of her, Y/N smiled sleepily into his shoulder. She pressed a gentle kiss of her own to mole above his collarbone before closing her eyes once more, and allowing her mind to finally believe that it was safe.
“Okay … “ fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as a dull ache began to bloom behind his eyes, Chris reached for his phone and scrolled through his schedule for the week. He knew he still had a lot to do, his roster thoroughly packed the last time he had glanced at it. Though with the already strenuous events of the morning and afternoon, the hours were beginning to blur together, and Chris couldn't remember what it was exactly that he had to do next.
He swiped at his screen with a frown, and then back again. “Huh … ?”
The heavy door to his studio clicked open and Chris looked up to see Y/N slipping inside, his eyes softening momentarily at the welcome sight of her. But the frown must have still been visible on his face, for Y/N tilted her head to the side in question.
“What's the matter?” Y/N asked as she moved towards where Chris was leaning against his desk, and she handed him a fresh bottle of water.
Chris rubbed his jaw before taking the bottle from her. “My schedule … it says here that I don't have anything to do until next week? It's blank - which is impossible … did I delete it all by accident?”
Y/N's lips twitched at confusion laced in his musings. She gently plucked the phone out of his hand and deposited it into the deep pocket of his velvety sweatpants. “You didn't. I cleared your schedule for the next few days.”
Chris blinked. He wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. “What?”
“I talked to the company,” Y/N explained a little sheepishly. “They shifted some stuff around, gave a few of your jobs to the others, did some stuff themselves … you're off for the weekend. Well … a long weekend technically - you have a couple extra days into next week off too.”
At that, Chris grew quiet. He was baffled - that was his work. Things that he wanted - needed to do. But at the same time … he would be lying if he said he hadn't been dreading it all. There was only so much distraction work could provide from his own issues that he had been trying so hard to ignore …
For a moment, he considered protesting. He considered arguing and telling her that she had no right to do that.
But he knew deep down she wasn't the one in the wrong, and his words would sound entirely unconvincing to either of their ears. After all … one glance at her eyes was enough for him to realise that she really had done it for his own good.
He wasn't one to admit it, but he really could be very stubborn at times, to a fault.
A lump formed in the pit of Chris's throat. He didn't risk speaking; instead he slumped forward into Y/N's arms, dropping his forehead against the curve of her shoulder as he squeezed her tight in silent gratitude.
Y/N rubbed his back, her lips curving up into a tender smile as she pressed them to his temple. “Come on.” She slipped her hand into his, and tugged him towards the door. Chris followed her curiously, grabbing his jacket off of the sofa as he went.
“Where are we going?” He asked.
“To do nothing.”
“Nothing?” Chris repeated. “But … “
“No buts. You're doing nothing, and I'm gonna be there to supervise you.”
Chris started to laugh. “You're gonna supervise me? Really?”
“Mhm. To make sure you actually do nothing. I know you … if I sent you home on your own you'd sneak in some more work from bed.”
Sheepish, Chris followed her down the hall. “I don't know whether I want to cry or kiss you.”
She grinned up at him. “You can do both later. When you're home.”
Ending up in his bedroom a while later, the first thing Chris did was walk to the edge of his bed and fall onto it with a thud. His socked feet stood firm on the carpet as his face disappeared into the surface of his duvet, and he let out a groan so long that Y/N started to giggle. She shrugged her jacket off and padded over to Chris, his body completely rigid and diagonal over the mattress, legs locked together and arms pin straight at his sides, and she placed a hand on his shoulders, lips curving up into a satisfied smile when she felt them give way beneath her touch.
“Is this the same guy who looked like he wanted to explode when I told him I cleared his calendar?” Y/N teased, peeling his jacket off of his back.
Chris huffed into the duvet. “I didn't look like that.”
“Oh, you did,” Y/N snorted. “I thought you were gonna throw a tantrum.”
“I - “ voice coming to a halt when he realised he couldn't exactly deny her claim, Chris cleared his throat and turned his face to the side. It was flushed from the heat that had been trapped between his face and the sheets, and he inhaled deeply, eyes drooping into hooded curves. He watched tiredly as Y/N set aside both their jackets before the mattress dipped by his face as she sat down. Her fingers found their way into the textured crop of his hair, and he grunted at the feeling, the air he had been holding in his lungs suddenly flooding out of him as he deflated.
“You're gonna get a back ache if you stay like that,” Y/N laughed under her breath, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead.
“I already have one,” Chris mumbled, not bothering to conceal the information he usually would as his eyes fell shut like a content puppy. “Don't wanna move.”
“You wanted to keep working, huh?”
Chris grunted at Y/N's words, his lips curving up at the corners in a soft smile. “Shush.”
“Silly boy,” Y/N leaned down so her face was a mere inch away from his. She brushed her hand along the perimeter of Chris's cheek, relishing in the way his mouth spread into an even larger smile upon the affection. “You're so handsome.”
Her words were a playful whisper, designed to make Chris chuckle against the curve of her palm. He hummed in contentment when she grazed her nose against his, and he mustered up what little energy he had to fling an arm over her lap and bury his face into her side.
“Christopher … “ Y/N sat up again and looked down at the man's face tucked against her lap. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, at the evident depletion needled into each one of his features. Her hand came down to caress his face again, her fingers kissing his cheekbones before she sank them into his loose curls.
“Aren't you hot?” She asked, noticing the smudge of t-shirt fabric peeking out from the hood of his neckline.
“Mhm … “ Chris nodded against her hip. “So hot.”
“Don't you wanna take your hoodie off?”
He whined in protest. He snuggled deeper into Y/N, and the woman sighed fondly.
He felt her hands on his back a moment later, her fingers pushing up the heaviness of his hoodie up his scorched body.
“Here … lift your head for a second, baby.”
He groaned but did as he was told; Y/N pulled the hoodie off of his torso and draped it to the side, leaving him in a black t-shirt that stretched deliciously over his built frame, and his grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, leaving a small band of smooth skin on display. Goosebumps suddenly prickled along the lengths of Chris's muscular arms as the cool air met his skin, and Y/N rubbed her hands along his biceps, eliciting another contented sound from him.
“What do you wanna do?” She asked him then, fingers teasing the skin beneath his shirt sleeves.
Chris frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
“Do you wanna do anything?”
“I thought you said I was supposed to do nothing.”
“Yeah, well, you can do whatever as long as it's not work. And as long as you stay here, at home.”
At that, Chris started to smile. He sighed and finally shifted his legs onto the bed, heaving them up with immense difficulty, before circling his other arm around the back of Y/N's waist and burrowing his head deeper onto her lap while she stroked his hair.
“Wanna stay here with you … “ Chris mumbled, breathing deeply. “‘S all I want.”
Chest twinging, Y/N lowered her head and planted a loving kiss onto the bridge of his nose. “You don't even wanna play games?”
He shook his head, squeezing her tighter. “Cuddles.”
Only too happy to oblige, Y/N gently shifted her own position until she was laying down on his bed, pulling him down on top of her. He dropped onto her like a weighted blanket, and she giggled at the way his face immediately sank into the crook of her neck, inhaling both her scent and her warmth.
“This is … the best. Day. Ever … “ Chris said slowly into her skin, each word sending tiny shockwaves fizzing through Y/N's body. She tightened her hold around his broad shoulders, one hand sliding down his spine before slipping beneath his t-shirt and grazing her nails lightly up to his neck in another long sweep. “Thank you,” he added quietly.
She felt the weight behind the two words almost as much as she could feel the addictive pressure of him on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his too, tucking him in to her completely as her other hand returned to the silkiness of his hair.
“You don't have to thank me,” she whispered. “If anyone deserves a break, it's you.”
His hair tickled Y/N's neck as he shook his head again. He spoke again, softly, his words stretched out and almost hesitant when he let them slip.
“I find it hard,” Chris's fingers squeezed the soft curves of her sides. “Feel like I don't deserve it.”
“Why?” Y/N caressed his jaw.
“Dunno,” Chris slurred, moving to rest his cheek against her collarbone. “I just … I guess I feel like I haven't done enough. There's so much more I want to do, need to do … if I spend time resting … I dunno. I feel like I'll fall behind.”
Y/N had always known he felt like that, though he had never said it out loud - she had always seen it in the way he completed task after task with the competence of what she could only compare to the most advanced machine technology could create. But there was a vulnerability in the way Chris finally admitted the words to her, and Y/N felt her heart split open and fall to the bottom of her ribcage.
“Doesn't matter how much I do,” Chris continued, letting out a heavy sigh. “‘S not like anyone cares anyway. Maybe if I work even harder they'll finally notice me.”
He turned and planted the entire front of his face in between the plush curves of Y/N's chest as he groaned all over again. “Sounds stupid, huh?”
“No,” Y/N smoothed her hand through his hair and cupped the back of his neck with a reassuring grip. “It's not stupid. But I just … “
Chris lifted his head then, chin resting on her front as he looked into Y/N's eyes. “You just what?”
Y/N offered him a sad smile. “I just wish you'd understand that no amount of work is ever going to turn the heads of people who don't want to acknowledge you. Because they're bitter and jealous and angry and they don't know how to be happy for people that have what they can't even imagine having for themselves.”
She continued to trace her fingers over his facial features, gliding a fingertip across his dark eyelashes that prompted the cutest of nose wrinkles from him. “You can't do everything all at once, baby. Rome wasn't built in a day.”
“Yeah, but … “
“Don't even think about saying you could have done it in a day.”
Spluttering with soft chuckles, Chris dropped his head back down again and locked his long arms around her torso, using her like a long pillow.
“I wish I could do everything all at once while resting at the same time,” Chris said. “Forever in bed, but forever working.”
“You really wanna work forever?” Y/N peered down at him.
Chris was quiet as he thought about it. And then, “Not really, no.”
Erupting into shared giggles, the two of them snuggled closer to one another until their faces were joined by the lightest of brushing of their noses. Still flopped on top of Y/N with no intention of moving for the next couple of hours, Chris pressed his forehead against hers and kept his gaze fixed on hers, as if she had every answer he needed tucked into the sparkling pupils of her eyes.
“I just want you to be proud of me,” he let slip with a voice so tiny that he wondered if he had even said it at all.
Y/N's face melted. She grew quiet as she gazed back at him, her hands dancing along his sturdy shoulders, soaking in his addictive heat.
“You're enough, Christopher Bahng,” Y/N whispered then, lips feather-light against his own. Her words hit him like a loving punch to his gut, and he gulped slowly, the centre of his throat bobbing up and down from the action. “You're more than enough. You don't need to wear yourself out to prove that to anyone.”
A silent question floated around in the galaxies of Chris's eyes then, and Y/N smiled.
“I'm proud of you,” she breathed, cupping his face between her two warm hands. “I'm always going to be proud of you. No matter what you chose to do, no matter what you chose not to do … I'm proud of you, and I love you so much.”
“Really?” Chris whispered.
“Really,” Y/N nodded. “I'm with you for you, baby. Not your job, not your status, not the things that come with you … I'm with you because I love you as a person. I know you love your job, and I know you love working your butt off until you can't move … but Chris, none of those things matter to me. I like them because you like them, but apart from that … I just want you to be happy. And healthy. I want you for you … the caring, kind, selfless, funny, goofy man that I fell in love with.”
Her lips kissed away the shine along his eyelashes, Chris's heart constricting in his chest as he pressed closer to her, needing to be forged with her more than he needed air. Her words rolled over him like a frothy wave crashing against sand, washing away all the worries he had been holding onto.
“What if I quit?” Chris hummed. “What if I just ran back home and left all this behind me? Would you still love me?”
Giggling against his lips, Y/N stroked her thumb over his crimson cheeks. “Honestly? I think I'd love you even more.”
The grin that broke out over Chris's face was heart wrenching. “What about the kids?”
“You really think you'd leave them behind?” Y/N laughed. “I know there's already seven houses near yours with their names on them.”
“You know me too well,” Chris grinned. He brought his hands up to her face and outlined the shape of her soft lips with his fingertip. “Did you really clear all those days for me?”
Y/N nodded, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.
“How … ?” Chris exhaled, still in slight shock. “I mean … they wouldn't even listen to me. How'd you convince them?”
“Well … I can be quite persuasive when I need to be.”
Chris smirked. “Did you threaten them?”
Y/N flushed.
“You did!” Chris exclaimed, sitting up suddenly on top of her thighs. “What did you say?”
“It wasn't anything crazy,” Y/N dropped her hands onto her face, peaking up at him through the gaps in her fingers. “I just said that … that they had to give you some days off unless they wanted your death on their hands once you pass out from burn out. And then they'd have significantly less money coming in and all they'd be able to do is wish they treated you better.”
Mouth dropping open at Y/N's words, Chris's face suddenly crumpled with amusement and he burst out laughing. “You didn't.”
“I did.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You're insane,” Chris snorted with another round of laughter as he dropped his head back into the crook of her neck. He pressed his puffy lips to her cheek and dropped soft kisses onto her heated skin. “What would I do without you, huh?”
“Probably have less pissed off staff … ?”
“Yeah, well, if they're still pissed when I go back then that's on them,” Chris chuckled. “I might be shit at accepting I need time off, but I won't lie, I don't think I've felt this excited to live in a long time.”
“Don't say that,” Y/N whined, hastily peppering his head with a sudden flurry of kisses. “You're gonna make me want you to never work a day in your life again.”
“Sounds great right about now,” Chris yawned into her neck. “Can't feel it when I'm working but now that I'm laying down I feel like I've been repeatedly run over by a truck or something. My entire body just … “
He shuddered for emphasis, and despite the sympathy that coursed through her veins, Y/N giggled.
“Behave yourself and I'll give you a massage later,” she said, tugging at his hair that was sticking up in every different direction.
Chris groaned under his breath. “Want.”
“Thought so. Now or after a nap?”
Humming in thought, Chris yawned again and curled his legs up around Y/N's, tucking them in towards himself as the rest of him sank so deep into the cocoon of her body that it was like he was melting with her. “After. You gonna … nap with me?”
“Mhm,” Y/N hugged him closer, squeezing him tight suddenly until he let out a muffled sound of contentment. “Want me to?”
Chris nodded against her neck, his lips pursing up and leaving a kiss along her shoulder. “Don't go anywhere. Stay.”
“I will,” Y/N whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.”
✧ kim mingyu x f!reader
✧ summary: joshua sends you a photo of your boyfriend wearing a tank top while working out and you just can't help but thirst.
✧ word count is approx. 5.2k
✧ tags: established relationship, smut
✧ warnings: mdni. gym & floor sex, masturbation, frottage. dirty talk, overstimulatoin. biting, thigh slapping, manhandling, roughness, improper use of gym equipment. crying during sex, crying kink. dom!gyu, slightly mean!gyu, big dick!gyu. reader has a vagina.
✧ request: i am on my knees begging you to write something about mingyu and the workout videos from today!! please!!!!
You were pissed and horny.
There was only a few times Mingyu asked to not be disturbed. You knew that if you needed help or were in trouble he wouldn't mind being interrupted, but you couldn't help but think this particular trouble wasn't the kind he would so easily forgive for disrupting him.
It was all Joshua's fault, you thought as you shoved your hand between your thighs. You did nothing for a moment, letting your hand mold against your cunt, little sparks of anticipation shooting through your cut. Then you slowly rocked forward against your palm mouth immediately grimacing in pleasure at the relief.
The picture Joshua sent of Mingyu was still on your phone, the line of Mingyu's shoulders filling your screen. He was wearing that ridiculously tight black tank that you had purchased a year ago, before he had bulked up and grew into another size. It clung to him as if it was a second skin, showing off the wideness of his shoulders, the curves of his biceps. He was reaching up, back muscles flexing.
You grinded up into your hand, mouth still wide open, catching flies. You shifted the bottom of your palm against your cunt, letting it bear down on your clit.
You wanted to disrupt their work-out session. The two men were in the office-gym, a shared space between you and Mingyu. His gym time was one of the few times Mingyu asked to not be disturbed, wanting to concentrate solely on his session. Besides, he'd say, throwing you a little grin with his fangs poking out, the more I'm able to concentrate on working out, the quicker I can be done and be with you.
So you tried to settle your horniness the old fashion way. You continued grinding down on your hand, thoughts of Mingyu and his strength filling your mind.
Cursing, you adjusted on the bed. You tugged your pants and underwear down to your knees, wiggling your hand between your thighs. You framed your clit between your forefinger and middle, slowly rubbing them against it.
Mingyu was loud, you knew, both in terms of being in bed and working out. You couldn't stand to be in the room with him when he worked out, his groans and huffs sending heat straight to your cunt and drenching your underwear.
But it was his moans and huffs you wanted to hear, your hips quickening their pace against your fingers. You wanted his face pressed into your neck, to feel his teeth nipping at your skin and suckling along your breasts. You wanted to feel his warmth trap you, wanted to hear his loud groans in your ears.
You came with a whine, brows screwed in frustration. Rather than feeling satisfied, your orgasm left you feeling disappointed. You worked your fingers against your clit throughout your orgasm, trying to will it to drag out, but even then it was extremely lackluster.
You gave up, withdrawing your hand with a frown. Awkwardly you shifted up and off the bed, walking on your knees until you could get off of it.
If Mingyu was there, he'd continue fucking you through your orgasm. He'd stick his incredibly long, thick fingers inside of your cunt and moan about how tight you were, how you were soaking his fingers. He'd lean down and press his tongue against your clit, wiggling it back and forth over the little bundle of nerves, spitting and suckling in turns until you were crying.
You took a towel out of the linen cabinet in the masterbath attached to the room, sticking it between your thighs and drying them. With the towel still between your thighs, you set out washing your hands.
Fuck Hong Jisoo, you thought, looking at yourself in the mirror. That man has never once done anything helpful for humankind.
"Y/n!"
You jumped, hitting your hand on the faucet. You cursed, lurching to pull the bathroom door shut.
Joshua laughed, his voice getting louder as he entered the bedroom fully. "Did I scare you, Y/n?"
"No," you said, like a liar. You turned off the water and wiped your hands off. Then you withdrew the towel from between your legs, rolling it up and putting it in the laundry basket.
"Just coming to say good-bye," Joshua said, his sweet voice still holding a chuckle in it from scaring you.
You pulled up your pants and underwear, wincing at the feeling of your panties pressing against your cunt, still wet and cold from your arousal.
Then you pulled open the door, looking at Joshua with disdain. "Giving up already?"
"Please," Joshua said, rolling his eyes. He had a line of sweat on his forehead, face shining from exertion. "I don't know how anyone can keep up with Mingyu. Every night I pray for you having to deal with his stupid stamina.
"By the way," he began, eyes twinkling and lips curling at the corners. "How'd you like that photo I sent you? Pretty good, yeah?"
You pushed past him, retrieving your phone from the bed. "What photo? I don't know what you're talking about, Josh."
"Sure," he agreed, shrugging. "Well, you'll have to tell me when you get it."
"You'll be the first to know," you returned, opening your phone and exiting out of your messages app, ridding yourself of the picture of Mingyu.
After you followed Joshua to the door, bidding him a good-bye and safe drive back to his own apartment, you bit down at your lip. The door to the office-gym was open, and you could hear your boyfriend's huffs from down the hall.
He had been working out for an hour already, you reasoned, walking down the hall and towards the room, Mingyu's groans and pants getting louder. Surely an hour of exercise was enough for the evening, and besides, all you wanted to do was just look and watch.
As soon as you caught side of your boyfriend, you wanted him.
He was sitting on the seated arm curl machine, thick thighs spread wide, shorts riding up and revealing the meat of them. He wore a cap, keeping his hair from his face; sweat lined his temples and cheeks, dripping down onto him. His tank, just like before, concealed none of him.
His thick shoulders rippled with every movement, muscles flexing and tightening. His biceps bulged, veins popping with every curl. Mingyu's stomach tightened, jumping every so often from the exertion of the machine, and you couldn't help but recall how his stomach always tightens when you're riding him, Mingyu trying to keep himself at bay and let you take your pleasure from his body.
You stepped into the room. "Josh just left, Mingyu."
Mingyu paused, releasing the arms of the machine. He nodded, pulling his cap back. Mingyu then lifted his tank, revealing his tight stomach and abs, shining from sweat, and brought the edge of his shirt up to his face to dab away the sweat.
"What's with calling me Mingyu," he whined, as if he wasn't a powerhouse of a man. "You know I don't like that, pretty girl."
Immediately that little twist in your stomach was returning, your throat drying. What was he thinking, calling you such a thing while covered in sweat, his shoulders revealed like some kind of wanton creature?
"It's your name, lovely," you returned, crossing the room. You leaned on one of the equipment in front of Mingyu. Mingyu began lifting again, slowly as to be able to keep conversation with you. "I have to be able to call you by your name, darling."
He huffed. "I hate it. It's like you're scolding me."
You couldn't help but grin at his ridiculousness, thoroughly endeared by your baby of a boyfriend. "I use your full name when I'm scolding you, Gyu."
"Still." He grunted, brows furrowing. Your cunt clenched in response, a flood of want surging through you. "I don't use your full first name."
"That's because you're ridiculous," you said.
He laughed, pearly white teeth flashing. You watched as he shifted, still lifting. Mingyu spread out his thighs some more, pressing his feet into the ground to get a better stance. In doing this his shorts tugged up some more, revealing more golden thigh.
Your eyes drank in his thighs eagerly, tongue swiping over your lower lip. His thighs clenched as he lifted, muscles flexing. Mingyu was always large, always broad and towering over others. But bulking up made him even moreso, and while you would like to say you were a sensible person who didn't lust after someone just for their looks, there was something about Mingyu, bulked up and strong and almost godlike, that had your stomach twisting and arousal flooding.
You shifted, crossing your legs at the ankles, pressing your own thighs together. "I guess installing this at-home gym really was worth it, huh?"
Mingyu huffed, and although he was across the room you could practically hear it in your ears, as if he was pressing himself against your front and panting into your ear. "It really was. Our house is gonna have an extra room just for working out so you don't gotta share this space."
"Our house?" You asked.
"Yeah, our house," Mingyu exhaled deeply, and then inhaled just as sharply. His chest rose, breasts pronounced and drawing your eyes. Then he let out his breath. "We need a house for when we get married, pretty girl. So I can carry you across the threshold and stuff."
You rolled your eyes, though your heart was fluttering. Mingyu paused his work, lifting his cap off of his head. His forearms flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back and off of his forehead. Mingyu then settled his hat back on.
He glanced over at you, eyes flicking up and down. You became all-too conscious of how your thighs were squeezing in an attempt to relieve the pressure of your cunt, how you were biting your lip and eyes were hyper-focused on Mingyu's body.
Mingyu laughed, and then he was holding out his arms. "Come here, princess."
You crossed the room, standing between his splayed thighs. Mingyu tugged your shirt, pressing his hands underneath it and settling them on your hips. "Something wrong, pretty girl? You came in here looking for something, didn't you?"
You felt heat rise to your cheeks, knowing you were caught. You could read Mingyu as easily as a book, could tell his moods just how someone could look up into the sky and see the dark grey clouds and know rain. However, in you knowing him, meant him knowing you.
He knew how when you were out in public and crossed your hands over one another you were pressing your thumb up into your palm in an attempt to hold still, in an attempt to keep your nerves at bay. Mingyu knew how you would stand at the edge of a room, never quite sure if you should join until he or someone else beckoned you in. He knew when you were anxious, when you were unsettled.
When you were horny.
Mingyu grinned up at you, face shining. "What's up, babygirl. Tell me what's going on."
You pouted, torn. But then you decided to come clean, the dissatisfaction of your earlier orgasm still lingering at the back of your mind. "Well -- Josh sent me a picture."
"A picture," he hummed. His fingers squeezed the flesh of your hips, groping you. "And what was the picture of, beautiful?"
"It --" You looked away, pressing your lips in a firm line as embarrassment coursed through you.
Mingyu tutted, one of his hands leaving your skin. He reached up, fingers pressing against the curve of your jaw and turning your face back towards him. "Looking at me, babygirl. Gotta look at me when you're talking to me, yeah? Wanna see your pretty face."
You huffed, but obliged. You reached out, settling your hands on his thick forearms. Your hands couldn't help but clench at the thick muscle, the heat of his body traveling into yours and setting your veins aflame. "It was a picture of you, Gyu. You working out."
Mingyu grinned, trying to hold back his smirk. You knew he liked it when you desired him, liked it when he made you thirsty for him. Mingyu loved being desired, whether it be carnally or otherwise.
"Aigu," he breathed, dark eyes dancing. "And my pretty girl got all worked up from just a picture, so she had to come and disturb me, yeah?"
"Tried to take care of it myself," you offered, fingers trailing along his skin. Goosebumps appeared on his forearms. "But it's -- it's not the same as when you do it."
Mingyu tusked, and then he was moving. He moved one of his thighs in front of him, tugging you down and onto him. You awkwardly let him guide you, settling your weight on his large, thick thigh.
"Let me guess," he hummed, delight taking over every inch of his face. "Didn't feel as good, did it, babygirl? Tell me what you did."
You bit down on your lip. Mingyu slowly began dragging his hands up your torso, taking your shirt with him and revealing your stomach. "I tried touching my -- my --"
"Say it, princess," Mingyu commanded, lowering his face. He brushed his nose to yours, breath hot. "Wanna see your pretty little mouth say it, babygirl."
He brought a hand to your mouth, hand settling on your face. He used his thumb to untuck your lip from your teeth, smoothing over the marks. "My girl is so smart," he continued, eyes flashing down to your mouth. "I know she knows how to use her words."
You gulped, watching as he played with his own lower lip, canines tugging at the flesh. You wanted his teeth on your neck, wanted them marking you. "Tried touching my -- my clit."
"Good girl," he praised, voice deepening.
The praise had your mouth parting, and instinctively you were grinding down on his thigh. The two of you groaned, Mingyu pressing his forehead against yours. His sweat stained your forehead when he moved away, his body still hot from his workout.
"And now you're here in my lap," he murmured. "My good girl tried taking care of it herself, didn't you? But you couldn't. Couldn't do it because your fingers aren't mine, because you need me. Need me to fuck your cunt with my fingers, need me to rub at your little clit until its aching, yeah?"
You exhaled, eyes fluttering as you nodded. Mingyu's hands dropped to your hips, and then he was dragging you up his thigh. You moaned, hands tightening their grip on his forearm as he lead your hips into a rocking motion.
"Gyu," you whined, dropping your head. "Please, Gyu. Tried being good, tried being a good girl 'n taking care of it, but I need you --"
"Yeah?" He chuckled, lips ghosting over your face. Mingyu pressed a hand to your back, and then he was shifting your body so your clit was brushing against his thigh through the fabric of your pants. "Need me like a pretty little slut, hm? So desperate for me you couldn't wait 'til I was done, so needy for me?"
You gasped into his mouth, nodding. Mingyu's hands continued to guide your hips, his thigh clenched in an effort to ensure your clit was met with friction with every grind. Your panties shifted with every movement, either tightening against you or loosening, and every single squirm had your warm arousal leaking from your cunt.
Mingyu caught your mouth with his, teeth immediately catching your lip and pulling. He moved his hand from your hip, stilling you just long enough to wiggle his fingers underneath your cunt. Mingyu cursed against your mouth, voice muffled. "Fucking wet through your sweats, pretty slut. You're so fucking soaked, bet you're staining my shorts."
You whined, shaking your head. Mingyu huffed a laugh, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss. He lead your hips into a rocking motion that quickened with every drag, stimulating your clit, every single drag of fabric making your lashes flutter.
"What a cute little slut you are," Mingyu murmured, his nose pressing against your cheek. "Gonna cum in your pants like a whore, yeah? Not gonna fuck you until you do, princess."
You gasped, tensing in his hold. Mingyu growled, and then he was wrapping an arm around you and trapping you in place against him, his free hand still moving your hips down and against his thigh. You could feel his muscles bulging against your torso, and even when you wiggled in an attempt to gain some freedom, you couldn't.
He used your immobility to his advantage, burrowing his face into your neck. Mingyu began sucking at your skin violently, intent on decorating it with his marks.
"Gotta cum babygirl," he softly sang against your skin, teeth skimming. "This is what you wanted, yeah? Wanted me, wanted my attention. I'm giving it to you, baby. Now you gotta earn it and cum for me."
He bit down harshly on the junction of your neck and shoulder, teeth sinking deep enough. You gasped, grabbing at him, eyes rolling back into your head.
Mingyu continued rocking your hips as you orgasmed, dragging your clit against his thigh relentlessly, refusing to let up. Unlike earlier, when you were using your fingers, your orgasm seemed to last forever, fueled on his dirty words and mouth, his steadiness as he forced you to continue fucking against his thigh.
Cursing, Mingyu moved you to his knee. He kept one arm around you, keeping you in place.
Then Mingyu was guiding you up and off of him, hands tight on your hips to keep you from stumbling. "You've soaked my shorts with your cunt, baby," he scolded. "And yet here my dick is, all dry."
Mingyu stuck his hand into his pants, shoving them down enough to reveal his cock. Like the rest of him, his dick was huge and pretty. He tucked his pants underneath his balls, hissing when his hand made contact with them.
He leaned forward, fingers sinking into the waistband of your panties and pants. He tugged them and immediately you were gasping, hands going to his forearms and stopping him.
"Gyu," you whined, "not here. We can't."
He huffed a laugh, jerking you towards him. "It's our place," he said, cocking his head. "Our home, our gym. You wanted to act like a needy little slut, pretty girl, so I think it's fair for me to treat you like one and fuck you here, yeah?"
Then he was tugging your pants and underwear the rest of the way, coaxing them down your thighs. He brought his hands to the back of your thighs, urging you to step out of your clothes.
"Good girl," he murmured, and then he was leading you back into his lap. "You fingered yourself earlier, right? How many fingers did you use?"
Heat flushed to your cunt and cheeks, and it took every single nerve in your body to keep your eyes trained on Mingyu's. "Three, Gyu."
He hummed, pressing his lips together in consideration. "Three of your fingers is way different than three of mine, babygirl."
You whined, pressing further into his lap and trapping his dick between you and his stomach. You wrapped your hand around it, his dick thick enough to keep your fingers from meeting your thumb. Tugging at it and coaxing thick precum out of the tip, you peered up at Mingyu underneath your lashes. "Please, Gyu? I promise it's enough. Won't get hurt, I know it."
He settled his hands on your hips, moaning lowly as you gathered his precum and used it to smooth some of the friction brought by your hand rubbing at his cock. "You say that, princess, but --"
"If I get hurt you'll just have to take care of me," you rushed on, thumbing at the slit of his cock. "Right? Just have to treat me extra good."
"Not how it works, pretty girl," he returned. But Mingyu didn't stop you as you rose, guiding his dick to your cunt. He leaned back, watching as you rubbed his cock along the length of your cunt, gathering your juices and wetting it.
"Wanted to get your dick wet," you panted, grinding your clit against the tip of his cock.
"How can you say such filthy things with such a sweet mouth," Mingyu gasped. His thick brows were furrowed, accentuated by the line of his cap.
Finally you pressed the head of his cock against your hole. You bit down at your lip as it caught, your hole seemingly refusing for a moment. But then your cunt gave way, letting you slowly sink down on his dick.
It burned. Mingyu had been right when he said that three of your fingers were different than three of yours and the proof was how slowly your cunt accepted his dick inside, with how much it seemed to burn with pain.
Still you persisted, using his broad shoulders as leverage. Your fingers dug into his skin, head falling forward and pressing against his.
"Good girl," he murmured, hands squeezing at your hips. "Taking me so well, princess. Always do, always take my cock so well in your little cunt. Always look so fucking beautiful doing it, fucking drives me nuts."
You settled on his lap, resting fully on his thighs with his dick all the way inside of you. Mingyu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, letting you rest your head against his still-clothed chest.
You burrowed into his breasts, your cunt getting used to the stretch. It wasn't like the first few times the two of you had sex, when your cunt could barely take him. Your pussy still struggled, even moreso when he was gone for extended periods of time.
After a few minutes the burn went away, pain turning into restlessness. His cock always made you feel so incredibly full, made you feel as if it was reaching so deep inside of you that you could feel it in your throat.
"You feel so good," you moaned, fingers smoothing over his arms. "I feel so full, Gyu."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, nose tracing along your hairline. "Yeah? My dick making you feel good?"
You nodded, hands grabbing at his forearms and squeezing. Mingyu groaned, and then he was using his strength to lift you off of his lap just enough for him to move back onto the cushion more fully, guiding your knees to press against it.
"Acted like a little slut," he said, moaning when your cunt clenched around him at his words. "Gotta ride me like one."
You hummed, using your knees to lift yourself off of his lap. You braced your hands on his shoulders. Sometimes you dreamt about his shoulders, about how wide they were, about how he would throw your legs over them when he ate your cunt out.
You rose as high as you could, the drag of his cock against your walls burning slightly. But instead of the pain making you want to retreat, it just ignited the little spark in your gut that had you wanting more.
You rocked back down onto his cock, moaning as he was sheathed back into you. Mingyu groaned, and then he was slapping a large hand against your thigh.
"Come on, princess," he said, his hands resting on your ass.
You glared at him, knowing he was taunting you. But you began grinding down on him all the same, using the seat as leverage to lift yourself up and down his cock. Soon enough all you could hear were pants and the wet sounds of your drenched cunt slapping against his balls, Mingyu's dirty words filling your ears.
"So fucking wet," he murmured, smirking at you and letting you do all the work, content. "Your cunt all desperate for me, baby. You're acting like a little slut like this, don't you think? Riding me like this, riding me like a whore."
Mingyu used his grip on your ass to shift you, and then he was guiding you back down onto his cock. This time his dick pressed against your core, a loud gasp escaping from your lips. "There it is, babygirl."
Brows furrowed, you focused on trying to hit that spot inside of you. When you hit it you keened, toes curling. But more often than not you were missing, desperation beginning to overtake you.
You switched tactics, trying to grind down on his lap. You rocked your hips, mouth falling open in sweet little pants, eyes rolling in the back of your head at the delicious drag of your clit against him, at the way his cocked filled you.
Then his hand was slapping at your ass, startling you. Your eyes flew open. "Bounce, slut," he commanded, jaw hard and eyes lifted. "I want you to bounce on my dick like a desperate little slut."
You whined. "Gyu --"
"Come on, princess," he used his grip on your ass to lift you up his dick, the long drag against your walls making you moan. "I told you that you have to work for it."
You shook your head, feeling tears sting. You were so desperate. You wanted him to fuck you, wanted him to take you.
But you were his good girl above all else, and so you braced your hands on his shoulders again, biting down on your lip. You managed to fuck yourself on his dick a handful of more times before you were sobbing, shaking your head and letting yourself drop on his dick.
"Baby," he cooed, hands leaving your ass. Mingyu cradled your cheeks, pressing them together. "What's the matter, pretty girl?"
You lifted a hand to wipe at your tears but Mingyu was immediately catching it, holding it in place. "No wiping your tears, princess," he scolded, grinning. "You know I like to see you cry when I'm fucking you."
"Gyu," you sobbed, turning your face into his palm. "Please, Gyu. I want you, I want you so fucking bad, please."
"What do you want me to do, babygirl?" He pressed a kiss to your fingers, peering at you over your knuckles. "Gotta use your words, pretty girl. You know I'm not a mindreader."
You would argue, if you were of sane mind, that Mingyu was something of a mindreader. He knew you as well as he knew himself, and possibly even better.
But you weren't focused on that.
You were focused on his dick.
"Mingyu," you sobbed, "please fuck me on your dick, please I want you so fucking badly. I want you, I want you, I want your dick --"
Mingyu cursed, his hands flying from your face. He gripped your thighs in his large hands, and then he was lifting you off his cock and dropping you, impaling you on it.
You let out a strangled scream, falling into his chest. Mingyu seemingly ignored you, intent on taking his pleasure from your cunt, intent on fucking you. He fucked his hips up into you, snapping you down onto his cock relentlessly, setting an endless pace that never wavered.
Tears poured from your eyes, the salt of them bitter on your tongue. Mingyu swore loudly, and then he was rising from the seat.
Next thing you knew you were on the mat that took up a majority of the floor, back pressed against the cold surface. Mingyu got to his knees in front of you, feeding his dick back into your cunt.
Every single thrust had him hitting your core, had him snapping his hips so his balls slapped against your ass. Your hands scrambled against the mat in a poor attempt to get some sort of hold, but all you could do was lay there and let Mingyu use you, let him seek his release.
Mingyu erupted inside of you in a loud groan, throwing his head back and baring his throat. He thrusted into you while he came, working himself through his orgasm, letting your cunt milk him dry.
He reached down between the two of you, rocking into your body. Mingyu's fingers slipped through your cunt before finding your clit, and then he was thumbing at it meanly, thumb quick.
You came soon after, back arching against the mat, shirt riding up and giving him a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. Mingyu cursed, continuing to thumb at you through your orgasm, refusing to stop.
Even once you stopped clenching around his cock, once you stopped orgasming, Mingyu continued rubbing at your clit. He massaged the area around your clit, teasing, each accidental brush of his thumb against your clit making you jerk and cry out.
"Gyu!" You sobbed, legs thrashing out. Mingyu huffed, and then he was lifting you and hooking his arms over your thighs, keeping them in place as he worked at your cunt. "Min -- Mingyu, please!"
"So fucking beautiful," he snarled, eyes locked on your cunt. "So goddamn beautiful, fucking perfect squeezing around my dick. Want your cunt all the time, want to feel it milking me, want it, want you --"
You came with a broken sob, liquid gushing aruond his fingers. Your legs flexed against Mingyu in an attempt to push him away, but at the same time your hips were rocking up into him, seeking his wicked hand out.
"That's a good girl," he praised you, canines snagging on his lower lip. "Fucking gushing around me, fucking yourself on my fingers like a little whore. Fucking good little slut, fuckin' good girl, my fuckin' pretty princess with the perfect fucking pussy --"
Mingyu pulled his cock from your cunt, the drag making you sob in over stimulation. Your bodies was traitorous, at war with itself. You wanted more, you had enough. You wanted his cock buried in your cunt, you wanted him.
Mingyu tugged at his cock a handful of times and then thick spurts of cum was spurting from it, shooting out and joining the mess of fluids on your cunt. He panted and groaned as he jerked himself, eyes locked on your drenched pussy.
Once balls were empty, Mingyu was moving from you. He lowered himself between your thighs, eyes still caught on your pussy. You watched through teary eyes as he lowered his face to your cunt, inhaling deeply, tongue rolling out.
"Kim Mingyu," you breathed out, toes curling and back arching in an attempt to wiggle away.
Mingyu immediately stopped, flicking his wide eyes up towards you. He took you in, the tear stains and droll, the way your chest heaved.
He sighed, pressing a kiss to your mound. Mingyu pulled away, this time gathering you into his arms. He ignored the mess of your cunt, settling you on his thighs and pressing a kiss to your mouth.
You barely had the energy to kiss him back, letting Mingyu slip his tongue in without resistance. He hummed against your mouth and then pulled away, pressing a kiss to your upper lip. "Sorry, pretty. You okay?"
You nodded, resting your head on his shoulders. "Bath," you murmured, hand settling on his stomach. You watched as it jumped beneath your palm, and you knew, despite it all, your boyfriend was still eager.
You sighed, pressing your nose into his skin and breathing in the smell of Kim Mingyu and sweat.
Joshua was right. No one could keep up with Kim Mingyu and his stupid stamina.
The lighting that kissed caressed Y/N's skin was warm and gentle upon the eyes, and the conversation at the table was bubbly in a way that made Y/N realise the words her husband had kissed against her temple earlier on in the day really had been full of truth.
“They won't care what you wear. They'll just be happy that you're with us.”
Not that she had doubted him, per say - but Y/N had been anxious. She hadn't been lucky with her own family as a child and throughout her teen years, nor had she ever been close enough to her minimal friends to have experienced what their parents were like. Even now, as an adult, being around other families made her nerves skyrocket - but still, she adored her husband's family more than anything. They were quiet in their love for one another, yet it radiated off of each of them in evident waves of softness that even the untrained eye could see. And for some reason, that only made Y/N's stomach flip even more.
It wasn't even like she was meeting them for the first time. She had seen them multiple times before, and each time they had been more than friendly - but something about the idea of dinner set her completely on edge.
In the end, Y/N had settled on a soft knit top, more for its comforting drape against her skin than anything else. She had wondered if she would be underdressed, if it would seem like she hadn't tried, and thus, like she didn't even care. But Chris's family were wearing clothes that were just as casual as hers were, and there was an air of relaxedness that floated around their booth in the laid back restaurant.
“Eat up, sweetheart,” Chris's mother deposited a piece of juicy looking meat into Y/N's bowl with a warm smile. “How's the food? Is it okay? I know you can't handle spice like our Channie.”
Chris looked indignant, and Y/N couldn't help but smile despite the fluttering in her stomach. “It's good. Thank you.”
“So polite,” Hannah snorted mischievously from across the table just as Jessica beamed. She stuck her tongue out at Y/N, eyes dancing with fondness. “Relax, sis. You could vomit all over the table into all of our food and I promise they'd still love you.”
From beside her, Chris's face was one of unfiltered disgust just as the family burst into laughter. “What is wrong with you?”
And then, looking at his wife opposite him, Chris's face softened. “She's right though.”
“I'm always right,” Hannah said. She stabbed her chopsticks into her brother's bowl and scooped a large hunk of his food out before depositing it into her mouth.
The look Chris gave her was nothing short of withering.
Their antics made Y/N giggle; the stiff set of her shoulders melted a little, and she allowed herself to slump in her seat as she exhaled secretly under her breath. Bit by bit, the jagged rock of unease she had been feeling in the beginning began to chip away, softening more and more by the genuine warmth in Chris's family's chemistry.
Her family too, she had to remind herself. Chris had said as much many times, in his reassuring way. But she couldn't exactly deny that she was having a difficult time admitting it.
Chris was still watching her when she looked up. His gaze was intense, full of his usual heat and shrewdness, but there was a gentle slope to the curves of his eyes, as if he was smiling with the deep lines at the corner of them rather than with his mouth.
Y/N felt herself flush. Her skin prickled with rosiness under the amber lights. She looked down at her food again, and under the table, she felt a gentle weight against her side of her shoe. Chris had wordlessly pressed his foot against hers, his gaze on his food now too, but there was a private smile on his lips that made Y/N's entire body melt. It was almost as though the invisible touch was there to remind her that she was safe, and that she needn't worry because he was by her side. Her eyes prickled when she felt his hand join a moment later, brushing against her knee with a brief, tender squeeze.
From the other end of the table, Chris's father smiled to himself as his gaze briefly flitted between the couple as he quietly grilled the meat.
“How are you finding Sydney?” The older man asked Y/N directly in a soft tone, flipping over a piece of meat with the tongs. “Do you like it?”
Y/N swallowed thickly, skin prickling from the sudden attention. She had a secret fondness for Chris's father - her husband's countless stories of him had always warmed her heart, and the way Chris looked up to him instilled an automatic sense of respect in Y/N too, long before she had met him. Outwardly, he was a quiet man, but he carried an intimidating aura, one that made Y/N think that if she hadn't heard all about him before meeting him for the first time, she would have surely been a little more than tongue tied.
It only made Y/N want to be accepted by him even more.
“I like the way the air smells,” Y/N said simply. “It's … sweet?”
The smile on Jack's face was one of satisfaction as nodded deeply, silently agreeing with her. He flipped the juicy strip of meat again, before clasping it in the tongs and reaching over to place it into Y/N's plate.
Y/N flushed. In front of her, Chris's dimple deepened in his cheek as he grinned his charming grin into his food.
His foot pressed up a little harder against hers under the table in acknowledgment, and Y/N's cheeks burned.
“Are you free tomorrow?” Hannah asked then, pointing her chopsticks at Y/N.
Chris sighed. “Csn you stop stealing my wife? You've already stolen her three days in a row this week.”
Hannah smirked. “She likes me better.”
“Does not.”
“Does.”
“Does not.”
“She does.”
Chris's mother started to laugh. “Are you both still children?”
Chris looked sheepish, while Hannah nodded, her voice playful.
“Yes. I'll always be your child, mummy.”
The words that came out of Chris's mouth were a direct mockery of her response that made Hannah jab her elbow into his ribs.
Giggling, Y/N looked at Hannah. She wasn't very good at fully expressing her emotions yet - the result of years and years of suppressing her feelings and constantly being hurt by anyone she allowed herself to be vulnerable with. But Y/N adored Chris's younger sister, even if she didn't outwardly say it. They were similar in many ways, something that Chris often teased them about, and Y/N often felt as though the younger girl was a true sister to her.
Even if her fear still held her back from speaking her mind completely. Even though initially, Y/N was mildly terrified of the girl for some reason hating her entire existence.
“I'd love to go shopping with you.”
“See?” Hannah smiled brightly. “She likes me better.”
Sighing, Chris just shook his head and chuckled. “Fine. You win.”
“Don't start crying.”
“I'm not.”
“You definitely are. I can see tears already.”
Chris made a vulgar gesture with his fingers as he bore his eyes into his sister, and she burst into peals of laughter, Chris's own face cracking into a smile.
“You're unbelievable,” Chris said. “If I buy you boba later will you shut up?”
Hannah froze. Her smile was sweet as she leaned closer to him. “How much?”
“How much do you want?”
“The whole store would be nice.”
Y/N grinned. “But then you'd have to make it all yourself.”
“Shit, you're right,” Hannah rubbed her forehead. “Well … the whole store plus the baristas?”
Chris grumbled something about the audacity of younger siblings into his meal. But there was a clear sparkle in his eyes, one that made Y/N smile to herself. He held so much love in his eyes at that moment that she couldn't help but wonder if he was even capable of feeling anything else for his family.
The thought made her own heart twinge a little. A sense of longing filled her ribcage, and she looked down at the table, trying not to let her thoughts show on her face.
“Y/N, darling, I know we see you nearly every day, but you have to come over again some time," Chris's mother said then, hand soft on Y/N's arm. “Chris's dad has a new juice recipe he's dying for you to try.”
Y/N's smile was warm as she looked at Chris's father. “As long as it doesn't have any chicken in it.”
Laughing deeply, Chris's father nodded. “There's no chicken in it, don't worry. Now if you want a smoothie … well, then there might be a chicken problem.”
The table burst into amicable laughter, and Y/N joined in, heart expanding in her ribs from the sheer warmth of it all. The chatter that followed flowed easily, becoming more and more easy for Y/N to slip into, until she wasn't quite sure what she was even worried about in the first place.
Dinner was over before Y/N knew it; she found herself strolling side by side with her husband down a long, wide path, a gentle rolling river to their right. It was still fairly light out, though the sun had nearly set, and a dusky blue blanket draped over the world, turning everything into glowing shades of indigo. Golden orbs hung from wooden beams along the river bank, their soft light illuminating the path the couple walked down, and for a moment, Y/N shut her eyes, trying to capture the picture in her mind and tucking it away forever.
“You're not shaking anymore,” Chris said simply, voice gentle in the quietude.
Y/N turned to him in surprise. Chris's grin was warm as he squeezed Y/N's hand in his own, his fingers transferring a current of heat into her skin. “It wasn't obvious … but I could tell. You just kinda melted halfway through - I think you even slumped at one point.”
Looking out towards the river, Y/N smiled. She was slightly embarrassed that he had picked up on her earlier nerves, though at the same time, she was touched at the way he always seemed to know more than he let on. “I couldn't help it. I just … get scared of messing up and doing or saying the wrong thing around them and them ending up hating me forever.”
Chris's eyebrows shot up his forehead as he turned to fully look at his wife, his eyes fixed on her face as she continued to watch the water ripple and lap under the starry sky.
“They mean a lot to you,” Y/N explained softly. “And you mean a lot to me, and somehow they mean a lot to me too, something I never really thought I'd experience? I just … sometimes I feel like I'm so different from all of you - you all function in a way that's so unfamiliar to me that even though you're all so nice, I still feel a bit like an outsider. Which is probably my fault for overthinking, but I guess I just … I really want them to like me too.”
Her last words came out in a mere whisper, cracking at the end like a small stick underfoot. Chris's eyes widened at her confession. He reached out, placing a gentle finger under her chin before turning her face towards him.
“They love you, baby girl,” Chris said firmly, brushing his thumb over Y/N's skin. “I know it's hard to believe after … everything … but trust me - they adore you. I can tell. Hannah wasn't joking, you know. You literally could throw up all over everyone's food and all they'd care about is if you're okay. Because they love you.”
Y/N's eyes watered. Chris kissed her nose, eyes full of sincerity as he spoke again.
“You're not as different as you think, my love. You feel that way because you're different from your own family - but you share our values, you think the way we think, and you love as hard as we love. Quietly, yes, but it's still there. And all the differences you have … I love them all. We all love them. They're what make you, you. You're not an outsider, baby, you're one of us.”
There was a lump in Y/N's throat. She was quiet for a while, letting Chris's words sink into her soul. And then, “Your dad is scary.”
Chris started to laugh, caught off guard. “What?”
“He's so nice but … he scares me sometimes,” Y/N shrugged, face breaking into a crooked grin. She looked up at him then, eyes twinkling. “Kinda like how everyone is scared of you until they get to know you.”
Nose pink, Chris tutted and slid an arm around his wife's shoulder. “I guess he can be kinda … intimidating?”
Y/N nodded as she dropped her head against him. “When he asked me how I found it here, my entire head just went blank. I wanted to tell him that I love it here and it feels more like home to me than anywhere else ever has because you're here and your family has started to feel like home to me too, but … “
Chris's eyes shone suspiciously bright and he tugged Y/N closer to him, pressing a loving kiss to the top of her head. “He still liked your answer. If anything, I think he probably knows what you really felt - I mean, the air doesn't feel sweet unless you really like where you are, so … “
“Or maybe someone's just always baking sweet stuff. Or vaping.”
Chuckling, Chris nodded against her head. “That too.”
For a while, they both looked out to the river, watching the way its dimpled surface shone beneath the moonlight. Chris's fingers were gentle around Y/N's, caressing them over the back of her palm.
“I'm really proud of you, you know,” Chris hummed, stroking a hand down Y/N's hair. “I know these big family things aren't easy for you. But you did really good. I think my dad was trying to figure out how to convince you to go fishing with him next time and mum defo wants to take you to her favourite places in town.”
Y/N smiled. “Really?”
“Really. Probably woulda asked if Hannah didn't jump in first,” Chris chuckled.
Laughing together, Y/N and Chris leaned into each other's sides, their breathing slowing and syncing after a few moments. Y/N didn't notice the way Chris was gazing at her while she was staring up at the moon, nor did she realise the way his smile curved up further and further with every passing moment, matching the crescent shapes of his eyes. But when he leaned down and sealed his lips over hers in a way that spoke all the things he couldn't find the words to say, Y/N's eyes burned with tears. She wrapped her arms around him in return, just as the comforting knowledge of realising she had a family to finally call her own wrapped itself around her too.
⚬ pairing: architect! kim mingyu x med student fem! reader
⚬ word count: 18k
⚬ warnings: alcohol, drinking, food, spice/nsfw mentions and smut, slight corruption kink, body worship, mentions of sexual trauma, harassment, revenge porn and other mature themes MDNI
⚬ genres: acquaintances with benefits (lol), forbidden romance, slow burn, angst, one sided pining, hurt/comfort, autumn in nyc, corporate!au ft. Joshua, Vernon, Lisa and a few OCs.
PART 1 (you can't skip reading it lmao)
mingyu's playlist <3
sure thing by miguel (main)
whataya want from me by adam lambert
somethin stupid by frank and nancy sinatra
too much to ask by the arctic monkeys
fade into you by mazzy star
wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys
reader's playlist </3
clementine by halsey (main)
love hangover by jennie and dominic fike
maroon by taylor swift
midnight rain by taylor swift
virgin veins by coma cinema
author's note <3
apart from the characters' playlists, i have added one/two songs i'd recommend you to listen to after you're done reading that chapter for maximum vibes lmao.
this fic deals with heavy discourses about sexual harassment and the trauma it inflicts. please refrain from reading this one if that triggers you, pls take care and i love you!
P A R T II T H E S U B W A Y G I R L
CHAPTER 10 || love at first sight, heartbreak at second
song recommended: roslyn by bon iver and st. vincent
(Autumn, four years ago)
Mingyu would never take a seat in the subway.
With a frame that tall and sturdy, and the train being packed with commuters at the rush hour of the evening, it was the most gentlemanly thing for him to do.
He would just lean against the cold pole, pull his phone out and simply answer a few emails. One less thing to stress about the next morning with bitter coffee sloshing around his mouth.
He seldom looked up because he knew what he’d see if he did—long faces as tired as his cursing life behind pursed lips yet coursing through it regardless.
But that day, when the train halted at a particular station, something twisted in his chest. Something primal, unexplainable, tugging at his soul that if he didn’t lift his eyes up now, he might forever lose a part of himself.
So he flipped his gaze up.
And God, it almost knocked him out.
A girl, maybe the same age as him, got up just when the doors were about to slide close. She didn’t hurry though, just lingered like she’d be fine either way if she had to wait for the next one.
It wasn’t like she was the prettiest woman ever with a face moulded in perfect symmetry or a skin which glowed ethereal even in the sterile shadows of the subway.
She was quite simple. Just there. An existing collage of everything Mingyu had ever adored.
Her face was softened with exhaustion, long hair damp from the mist and frayed in a messy braid. She tugged at the sleeves of her coat, checking with an old man if it would be alright for her to occupy the vacant seat next to him. Mingyu watched how even the wrinkles around the old man’s temples crinkled deeper with a newfound kindness.
A faint shadow rested under her eyes.
Mingyu blinked, as if that could clear the unreal shimmer his mind had concocted around her image.
‘She’s just a girl.’ Except, she wasn’t.
Mingyu was never the one to believe in “love at first sight.” The idea was too fickle for him—to just look at someone and decide “this!...this is who I will worship all my life.”
Unfathomable. Ridiculous. Unrealistic.
Love, to him, was Mayella’s endless caring disguised as nitpicking or Lisa’s unnerving self-confidence which hid her fear of mediocrity or Hansol’s armor of non-chalance which dusted into a veil of panic when no one was looking. All this love only came to him with time spent around their humanity.
Love was familiarity. Not fantasy.
So this fluttering feeling in his chest…one which felt like it was going to wreck all his beliefs and faiths, leaving him with a void shaped like a woman he was currently, unabashedly, staring at—it couldn’t be love, right?
The world always tilted its head when Mingyu walked in. Polite giggles of the baristas when he had to duck through the door of a coffee shop, greetings from clients which didn’t have to be so warm, personalized gifts on his birthdays from friends he had known for less than a year…way too many numbers from women at the bar scribbled on scrunched up napkins, lying forgotten deep in his pockets.
Even the old man in the subway had tipped his hat politely when Mingyu smiled at him.
But the girl? She didn’t even spare him a glance. She just sighed, leaned back in her seat like the exhaustion set deep in her bones was knackering her spine. Her eyes fluttered close with silent defeat.
Mingyu took a single step closer, palm gliding over from one strap handle to the next one.
Barely an inch nearer to the girl than he was before.
But he could gauge the movement of her irises behind her closed lids, the warmth of her shuddering breath settling like dew on her faintly glossed lips.
She drew in another slow inhale, this one slumped her shoulders—briefly—before they straightened back up, like she was carrying the entire sky on them. Only now, the weight of a single cloud had dissipated with that one exhale that followed.
But her expressions were stoic, not even a hint of emotion tugging at them.
He couldn’t tell if the girl just had a frustrating day, a tiring argument, a disappointing interview or just a heavy life in general.
His grip fluttered around the strap handle, itching to reach out to rid her of that density. With a friendly hug? Perhaps a joke? Maybe a slight compliment?
Finally, her cheeks puffed with air of one last breath. Deep and audible.
Had she looked up from the tangled fingers in her lap to her slight left, she would have seen a guy who towered above everyone else, looking at her with a devoted curiosity—like she had told him that the stars he saw in the night sky were her earrings and he believed her.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she pulled out a book from her tote bag and immersed herself into the dark smudges on the weathered, browned pages.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t even blocking her view of the book, but she seemed like the type of person who would smooth a hand over a crisp, blank paper before she could begin writing. Undisturbed and meticulous.
Before Mingyu could register it, there was a slow, easy curve dipping his smile.
He almost forgot how to blink while memorizing her—how her posture sank further into the seat like she was trying to shrink herself small, how her forehead furrowed with a tiny wrinkle when she read something interesting and then flipped the previous page to reread it again.
She seemed to be in a timeline of her own. No rushed fingers gliding across a screen, no judgemental analysis of the people around her.
She was a deep sigh personified with soft hair and those large, doe eyes in a world which panted.
Pitch black took over the orange evening curling inside through the glass windows when the train entered a tunnel. It began rocking to a slow, tender halt like a harrowing wave calming down to kiss the beach.
The girl began shuffling in her seat, ready to get off. She stretched the tote bag open, searching for something. Her eyes skimmed through the entirety of its contents several times before she pulled it back over her shoulder, displeased.
She must’ve been searching for a bookmark for her book, Mingyu concluded. Because she then took off one of her actual earrings, one which had a big tear shaped ruby dangling off of it, and hooked it over some twenty odd pages she had finished reading.
Of course, she would rather use a gem to mark her book instead of just dogearing it like normal people would.
Tucking the leatherbound copy under her arm, she got up and Mingyu’s breath clogged in his throat. He wanted to speak to her, say anything.
But his voice betrayed him.
A gush of air brushed over her face, causing the wisp of loose hair curling over her forehead to flutter, when the doors slid open. A nauseatingly familiar wave of crowd cut in around her.
Mingyu’s chest tightened, he made the rash decision of getting off on this platform which was two stations before his actual destination.
But then—as if even God decided to turn his back on Mingyu—the doors closed right in his face, just when he bumped himself through a pack of stuffy bodies.
The old man chuckled, going back to reading the newspaper like the boy in front of him wasn’t just exalted to the delights of heaven and then pushed down back into the hellish realities of life in a matter of minutes.
—————
The second time Mingyu got a glimpse of her was the following week.
Right after he had given up on all hopes of seeing her again.Right after he had convinced himself that he wasn’t, in fact, haunted by her in his dreams every night.
Same route, same tired girl.
Only this time, her hair was let open, cinched half up with a butterfly shaped claw clip. A large blue knit sweater had replaced her pale coat.
It was a particularly chilly early-November evening. The teeth of a little boy pressed close to the icy metal pole, clutching a juice box, chattered every time the doors slid open.
And then, too sudden, too quick. “Oh no!”
Occupied in their same old mundane, no one paid much attention when the little hands of the kid shivered too hard from the cold and the juice box slipped down with an audible thud. Yellow liquid seeped out on the floor in defeated spills from the straw.
Someone tsked as the spurts of juice got on their snow dusted shoes. Another boarder kicked the half empty box, still stabbed with a sad plastic straw, to the side to avoid any accidents. The subway cart was already wet enough from all the melting snow their heavy boots carried in.
Mingyu felt bad for the child when he hung his head low, heavy tears dripping down his cheeks on to the floor, right next to his spilled juice.
Had he been standing nearer to the kid, he would have reached out, patted him on the head and consoled him with a “hey buddy, it's alright” or “chin up little guy.”
But the crowd had fattened at the subway girl’s platform and the only reason Mingyu could even see what went down was because of his advantageous height.
So he averted his eyes from the kid and back to who seemed like the center of the universe now. Her.
Surprisingly, she was already on the move.
She had also seen the boy drop his little snack.
And unlike Mingyu, or the other commuters, who just swept their eyes over the kid instead of comforting him with a hope that softness existed even in the frosty, suffocating cars of a subway, she was already spearing through the bodies like the first beam of sun.
Mingyu watched when she crouched as best as she could, muttering something to the boy. Her palm gently wiped over his puffed up wet face.
Reaching down in her purse, she pulled out a glossy pack of something sweet. The crinkle of that wrapper was louder than the robotic announcements booming across the train.
The boy beamed up to her, the kind of smile only kids can offer—unashamed of gratitude, untouched by guilt.
The girl smiled back, ruffling the kid’s hair.
The cold settled between Mingyu’s fingers dissipated. The calm under his ribs bloomed. Because that smile—it unraveled Mingyu right then and there.
Before he could scrounge for his senses back and build them up into coherence, it was already the time for her to leave him behind, again.
This time, though, Mingyu moved.
Or, at least, he attempted to.
His hand unfurled from the handle, foot wrestling against the legs planted steady and unmoving in front of him. When he couldn’t find space to walk after her, he called out.
“Hey!” But there was no name for him to accompany that with.
Even if there was, the girl wouldn’t have heard him over the hissing of the doors which shut with a cruel finality. The train jostled harshly into motion, catching him off balance.
Mingyu blinked. He lost her. Again.
Stupid. Stupid. How utterly stupid.
He exhaled exasperatedly, craning his neck up to look outside the glass panels, hoping to see even a shadow of her.
But the sea of humans outside seemed to have swallowed her whole. Not even a single strand of hair fluttering in the wind. Not even a glance.
Just…nothing.
She was there one moment, radiant and real—and then the world caved in around her like some sacred, fleeting secret.
Mingyu stood there with his fingers curled into his palms and his jaw clenched over everything he should have said. Everything he could have done.
A soft giggle broke him from his trance.
Mingyu glanced to see the little kid—the one with her sticky chocolate smeared all over his mouth—trying to muffle his snark under his sleeve.
He gave the kid a sheepish grin, crooked and flustered, like he didn’t have the courage to admit what he just lost.
The kid shook his head. Almost with…pity.
Mingyu only blinked down at the kid’s brave audacity, walking back to the cold metal of the pole to ground himself. He couldn’t believe his pout was more prominent than that of the kid when he spilled his juice.
Love at first sight wasn’t real, he used to think.
But heartbreak at second? Maybe that was the only kind that ever really was.
—————
Mingyu didn’t lie to anyone about the third time he saw her.
He simply concealed the truth and let his friends believe that it must’ve been the subway again.
But the reality was sharper. Quieter. More permanent. Far away from the fleeting bumps of destiny or the nauseous rattling of the tracks.
Mingyu saw her two years after the subway.
And since then, he has never been able to sleep without cursing himself through hell and back for ever befriending Mayella.
For the girl he could have risked everything for, was the girl forbidden away from him.
CHAPTER 11 || not yours to take
song recommended: happier than ever by billie eilish
(present day)
“Watch out asshole!” you call over your shoulder, not caring if that curse landed on a random fratboy or some chemistry professor.
Because to you, whoever had just bumped into your shoulder and made all the contents of your bag spill over on the concrete was, indeed, the human equivalent of a diarrhea dispenser.
You crouch down, hurrying to shove everything back in as you wait for your call to connect with Mingyu through the phone clutched between your ear and shoulder.
A passerby almost steps on to the little packet of sweet treats that you always carry in your bag for sad children or crying girls. You push at his shin, making him tumble and saving the chocolate successfully.
The same couldn’t be said about the paper clip on your assignment though.
You bunch up the loose sheets in your hands, flipping through them to set them in the right order when Mingyu picks up the call.
“Hey nibblebug!” He chirps.
Had you not been so horny, you would have ended the call and blocked him right then and there. “You’re three strikes down for calling me that.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I had to give a presentation with a visible bite mark on my cheek at eight in the morning.” He retorts.
“Well, I told you I bite under pressure but you insisted on discussing my residency plans in the morning so who’s the one at fault here Mingyu?”
You undid one of your earrings and hooked it over the loose sheets in your hands.
It was an old habit, one you didn’t even think much about until you realized one of your earrings was missing only to find it tucked between some book, serving as a bookmark.
“Guilty as charged.” he chuckles, “So, what’s the plan?”
“Just got free after three painful lab hours. I need your dick like right now.”
“Right now?” he repeats.
“Yeah, right now. You should appear right in front of me and dick me down here in this quad full of miserable med school losers.”
A warm laughter reverberates through the phone. Expensive and smooth, just what you prefer to hear all night after a day as stressful as this one.
“My place?” He asks and you hum affirmative.
You both prefer the vast space and warmth of his apartment anyways—you don’t even remember when was the last time you spent more than half a day at your own one.
Especially not since that particular night over a month ago, one which Mingyu had to spend huddled on your flimsy bed talking about the character arcs of your plush toys until three in the morning.
“Great! I booked you a cab. It should be waiting outside for you by the time you walk out.” he informs.
“Wha—you didn’t have to!” You begin to start a losing argument.
“I know,” he insists, “but I wanted to.”
It is just a small, vague gesture—one you can’t even argue over, one that doesn’t feel like smothering. Just gentle, stable support. Maybe that’s why you’re always more than eager to spend these drained evenings with him.
“If only I had a car,” You sigh, almost dreamily. “you wouldn’t have to—”
He cuts you in immediately, “If only you knew how to drive a car.”
“Well, teach me then.” You banter.
“I tried to, and you ran us into a mailbox.”
The corners of your mouth tug upwards at the memory of his driving lessons from last week.
Speaking of tugging, something—or rather someone—catches your sleeve.
“I–” you whip around to find Julianna holding you hostage in the buzzing parking lot of the campus.
“Hello?” Mingyu’s voice fades, not because he’s speaking slow, but because your phone has started to slip off from your hands which are trickling with sweat all too suddenly.
“I…uh, I’ll call you back.” You blurt, ending the call with a haphazard click. Exhaustion hisses from between your pursed lips, masking the nervousness that you don’t want to show.
“What do you want, Julianna?”
You retrieve your hand back with more force than necessary.
She instantly drops it, folding her fists over her chest instead. Like she doesn’t know what to do with them. You scoff at this odd display of innocence from her, like she isn’t the reason you haven’t stepped a foot into a club since the last three months.
“Please, just hear me out.” she begs. “I just need two minutes.”
“You had three months.” You snip.
Her lower lip wobbles, “I came to your house...”
“You barged into my house. That too, in the middle of the night.” You correct her, “What were you expecting, Julianna? That I’d hug you? Give you some closure that can kickstart your sorry ass redemption arc?”
Her fist uncurls to press over her brows instead, her expressions teetering on the edge of utter distress.
“Yes, no, maybe! God, I don’t know…I just never know with you. Nobody does. You’re so hard to read.” she admits, her voice hoarse. “No, scratch that. You’re unreadable!”
Her rant catches you off guard. You blink, then let out a hollow laugh–one which scrapes at your throat.
Your reaction stings her, but she goes on regardless. “You know what people see when they look at you? You’re…you’re this web of lies. Someone who never even treats her classmates like humans but goes out to drink with them on a random Friday—”
“Julianna don’t you dare turn this around—”
Her voice rides over yours, “My name isn’t even Julianna. It's Juliette. But you decided one random afternoon that it was Julianna and that’s the only one you acknowledge me by.”
You stagger behind, just by an inch, too stunned to even comprehend this newest piece of information.
It is her time to scoff now. She shakes her head like she’s pitying your petty ignorance, “You’re this impossible puzzle…one which none of us can ever solve. You act like we’re all beneath you but then you smile and flirt.”
Her words tumble out now, brittle and broken. “You stare daggers at Rory like she ruined your life but then you go around gifting her YSL lipsticks. You look at me like I am some monster for not apologizing earlier but the second I do, you’re holding this gun to my head.”
You let her words hang in there, until they die down under the distant shouts of two guys throwing frisbees at each other.
The faint rot of autumn invades your lungs when you inhale.
“So that’s the reason why you assaulted me, Juliette. Because I am this mysterious girl you can’t wrap your head around…so I have to be broken to be understood, like a toy?”
Her breath catches, she almost gasps. “Wha—no, no! I was drunk, it was a mistake. I misread the signs and—”
“Save it Julianna.” You mispronounce her name, dragging it longer, with purpose this time. “Because whatever you’re gonna say, trust me, I have heard it before. Verbatim.”
A lone tear slips down her cheek when Juliette realizes that you’re not going to place a crown on this gravestone. That she has to live with it forever.
And as if to hammer your point home, you continue. “I don’t care that you hate yourself for the rest of your life. I only care that you made me doubt my own signals for a night.”
You look at her, really look at her, and you see a girl crumbling under a burden that isn’t entirely hers. A burden that has a darker history that dates way beyond that night in that stingy alley three months ago.
You exhale, it comes out like steam. “The only relief I can give you is this—I am not broken. Not by you. Not by the hands before you. I survived that night and will keep on surviving them all. So you can free your conscience of having ruined some girl’s life because I never gave you that power to.”
Your phone buzzes with an unknown number, it’s the cab Mingyu ordered for you.
You glance at Juliette briefly, watching your rant seep deep into her veins, replacing blood and painting her white.
There’s a steady press of soothing peace in your chest. Clear as a summer sky in the middle of a cloudy autumn.
Those are the last words Juliette would ever hear from you because your forgiveness—like everything else she ever wanted from you—was never hers to take.
CHAPTER 12 || give up forever to touch you
song recommended: mia and sebastian’s theme from la la land
There’s a slight possessive edge in your voice when you complain. “I still hate the fact that you don’t have a wall of fame which has the name of every girl you’ve slept with. I wanna see what model I’ve replaced as your go-to.”
Mingyu’s shoulders slump at your crass greeting as he shuts the door behind you.
“Why is objectifying yourself your sole coping mechanism?” He asks, raw curiosity dripping more than sarcasm in his voice.
You let him take your bag off your shoulder and hang it neatly over the coat-rack right by his Armani blazer.
His apartment is as clean as you remember—not sterile, but not stinking with a sweaty jacket draped over a chair or a bowl hosting its own ecosystem in the sink.
It is well organized, but not in a curated way, not with an intention to flaunt.
There’s genuine care and warmth that exists between these beige walls. It's in the kitchen counters which are always wiped clean. Or the fresh pile of laundry, fragrant with detergent, half folded on the couch.
It comforts you more than you would like to admit.
“Oh I am sorry, is self deprecating humor not sexy anymore?”
“It never was.” He laughs, soft and low, before dipping his head down to place a chaste kiss on your temple.
You don’t want to alert him that now, your other temple aches for a kiss too.
So you avert your eyes from his too endearing ones and clear your throat, toeing off your shoes.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Have your ‘Nicholas Sparks novel’ moment.” You place a hand over his chest, trying to swallow the smile that threatens to break.
“I wasn’t aware forehead kisses were copyrighted by emotionally constipated paperbacks.” He snides, nudging your side playfully.
As you walk past him, he silently sets your boots upright before padding behind you.
You crash on his couch, burying your nose into the faint sweetness of fresh washed linen.
“Want some wine?” He calls out from the kitchen.
It’s not much of an offer when you can already hear the clinking of the glass and the telltale sloshing of your favorite cherry liquid.
“Give it to me before I combust.” Your voice muffles under the heap of fabric.
“Only if you drink it away from my laundry.”
With the type of day you’ve just had, you deserve to chug down the entirety of whatever no-price-tagged-bottle he just poured you a teeny-tiny sample from. But you know Mingyu wouldn’t take you to his bed if you were intoxicated. So you settle for the mere two sips of the wine he offers you.
His nose scrunches up with disdain when you snatch the flute from him, sit on your haunches right by his very white and recently ironed shirts, and clink your glass with his scotch.
You roll your eyes, huffing and puffing like you do when you are talking to your grandma and scoot away before Mingyu bursts a nerve from you drinking red wine near his white cotton shirt—one which he owns at least seventeen replicas of.
When he sits down on the single love seat, you don’t think much before getting up and settling down on his lap like it's your right.
His arm curls around your hips before your legs can fold over his thighs. He pulls you in, tucking your head under his jaw like this moment is exactly what his limbs were made for—to hold you before you can even ask him to.
“Rough day?” He questions, freeing your now empty flute from your unwilling grip and setting it down on the mahogany coffee table.
You suck on the skin of his exposed collarbone you had just nipped at before detaching your lips for a brief moment.
“How d’you know?” you mumble with a pout you don’t even know you have.
He smiles at you, it brims with endearment, before tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear which is missing an earring.
He doesn’t question you about it, like he knows exactly where it might be—holding some important pages for you.
“Well for starters, you haven’t stopped biting me ever since you walked through that door Miss Chompette.” He corks his brows at you.
Your eyes flicker down to the shallow teeth marks over his exposed forearms, the recent one on his neck, then back at him.
You didn’t plan on speaking anything remotely relevant to what happened earlier, but his inviting warmth just cajole the words out of your throat before you can gulp them down. It is scary, to be honest, how he unravels you by just being there.
“Do you think it's weak to not forgive someone?” You murmur, almost embarrassed.
“Depends.” he shrugs, savoring the last sip of his drink.
He sets the glass down next to yours with a soft clink, then leans his until his cheek rests over the crown of your head.
“On what?” You press.
His arm tightens around you. “On whether that unforgiveness turned into a grudge. Because grudges weigh you down, unforgiveness flows.”
That prompts you to think, do you hold a grudge against Juliette?
“What if…what if you just don’t want to forgive them?”
You prod after carefully considering your true emotions about this whole ordeal.
His breath fans over the wisps of hair on your forehead as he takes his time to ponder.
Then, softly, he asks. “Well, why don’t you want to?”
“I dunno…maybe because it didn’t feel sincere? Like, even while apologizing, she tried to put the blame on me.” You burrow your cheek further into his neck, silently praying that he didn’t hear your slip up and decode that you were talking about a girl.
“Well, then it's not weak.” There's a clear finality in his tone when he says that.
You pull away to look at him, searching for any signs which indicate that he’s just trying to make you feel better. There’s none. “You think?”
“Yes.” He nods, “It would have been a grudge had you denied her forgiveness just to hurt her. But it seems like the apology didn’t feel real to you. Forgiveness isn’t some holy grail—it's a tool. If it isn’t useful, you don’t need it.”
His words land at your chest with a thud. So matter of fact. So earnest. So Mingyu.
You laugh even when there’s nothing funny because you’re at a loss of words which could mean something here. Unbeknownst to you, there was moisture building up under your lids and this sudden movement only jerks it out, spilling tears on your cheeks.
He doesn’t therapize you further, he knows he doesn’t need to. Not after you’ve got the assurance you wanted.
All you need now, is some warmth after surviving all the icy lashes that this day has rendered on you. And he gives you that, no questions asked.
Even if it means cradling you here on this chair all night long, then so be it. He’ll hold you until his arms go sore, and when they do, he'll still hold you even after life begins draining out of them.
Because there was once a time where he longed for even a glimpse of you for two whole years. Then, he ached some more to be able to touch you.
And now you are on his lap like a blessing he never expected but always prayed for.
He knows not to make a home out of borrowed moments, but he still lines the walls of this one with the softest parts of himself—secretly hoping you’d decide to stay even when you’ve convinced yourself about the fleetness of this…arrangement.
The nimble fingers toying with the collar of his shirt dull until they weigh down with sleep on his chest, your breath steadying as you slip into slumber. The creases around your eyes relax like they do only when you’re hiding away from the world in a safe corner.
Mingyu wonders if you know just how sacred you are.
He wonders if you know that he’ll wait here on this very chair to hold you like this everyday, till the end of his days.
He kisses your temple—the other one—the one he didn’t kiss before, and feels the thudding pulse finally relax under his lips. Content. Satiated.
CHAPTER 13 || i see a woman || explicit smut warning
song recommended: virgin veins by coma cinema
“I just never know with you. Nobody does. You’re this puzzle that none of us can solve.”
You should be focusing on the sweet sounds of pleasure eliciting out of Mingyu’s parted lips as you drag your tongue across his abs.
But your mind keeps on drifting back to the quad.
To the day before yesterday.
To the complaints you’ve heard several times before, just expressed in different words.
Mingyu’s hand buries in the mess of your hair, not to push you down but to pull you up, make you straddle his lap on the bed.
It is his turn to savor the smooth expanse of your skin now.
He flips you around so that you’re on your back now, hair sprawled over his pillow like midnight while he hovers over you like a full moon.
It distracts you for several seconds, the way his teeth scrape down on the marks he had left earlier—reigniting them with need and just the right amount of pain.
But then his lips brush over a specific spot on the swell of your breast, the one which still hosts the ghosts from that wretched night. The one which Juliette had thought was hers to claim.
Your breath hitches…the guttural sound makes Mingyu halt altogether. That wasn’t a moan of pleasure—it seemed to him like you just choked on plain air.
He pulls back, just by an inch, the haze of want still wrapped around your bodies.
“All well?” He asks.
“You’re so hard to read. You’re unreadable.”
Juliette’s voice rings without an alarm. The statement must be true–everyone you know has said that to you at some point.
But then again, if you’re so hard to read, why is it that Mingyu can read a single skipped breath of yours like it's the only language he ever learnt?
You attempt to nod in answer, but the overwhelm has already settled in your spine like frost on a mountain’s peak, leaving you frozen with trauma on the spot.
Your eyes flicker away from his, down to the mark on his collarbone, the one you had left with your teeth earlier. You rest your palm flat over it, tracing its border, and then with a voice that’s barely above a breath, you ask him.
“What do you see when you look at me, Mingyu?”
Not–’how do I look?’ Or, ‘do you want me?’But ‘do you see me?’
The slight jerk of his head tells you that he hadn’t anticipated you to ask that.
Honestly, you didn’t either.
It is a question you have never voiced because you’re afraid you already know the answers—’a complicated child’...‘a girl too independent for her own good’...‘a woman unfathomable’.
What’s worse is the fact that you cannot even turn to your mother to ask who you are, or your father about what makes you, you.
Because you don’t have them.
You don’t know them.
Everyone else would just give you some generic answer, some well rehearsed nursery rhyme. But something chafes at your lungs, this nervous thrill wrapped in hope, which tells you that Kim Mingyu is about to read you like a fucking sonnet.
He takes a deep breath, the way he does when he’s about to give something of himself he can’t take back. Then he leans down, still holding your eyes. His breath comes closer to you, becomes one with yours.
He murmurs, almost as if addressing someone sacred, “I see a woman who always wears bangles, anklets, as many rings as she can…and those dangly earrings, which get caught in my sheets.”
He shifts, brushing his thumb over your wrist where a single, thin silver chain jingles faintly. “I love that your body sings when you come to me.” He hums.
Your eyes widen.
Mingyu is nowhere near finished though.
“I see a woman who is so easy to catch in a lie.” He chuckles, “Because you always reach out to touch things around you when you lie, as if feeling something solid would make it real, turn it into a truth.”
The coffee cup at the brunch when you lied about losing your virginity.
The decorative vase that you reached out for at Mayella and Josh’s villa when you lied to him about being okay.
Thistle being choked between your fingers when you told Mingyu that you weren’t scared the night he spent in your bedroom.
The deathgrip over his gear in his car when you said you didn’t see him, see this, as anything beyond a source of stress relief—soulless and safe.
Oh God. He saw right through you all those times? He knew you were lying all along…?
The air shifts into something lighter when he watches you squirm under the captivity of his watchful gaze. He tries to lighten up the intensity. “I see a woman whose teeth itch when she’s having some intense conversation. Like right now, I know you’re dying to bite me, nibblebug.”
He laughs, sitting up to gaze down at your semi nude self. A curved finger of his drawls lazily between the valley of your breasts, trailing all the way down to your navel where he rests his palm. Heated with desire. This…this is where he gets to give you all he has. This is how deep he touches you when he’s buried inside you.
“I see a woman who hates nicknames yet loves the sincerity of a real one—who names her teddy something profound and meaningful.”
He softens, “I see a woman who embodies Persephone in Lisa’s art studio, who is spring wrapped in a cotton dress. Who can even make the ruler of the underworld yearn for a glimpse of her.”
His knuckles brush over your cheekbone like a secret before he tucks back your hair behind your ear so delicately that you think you imagined it.
“I see a woman who longs for open gardens, but has to make do with Manhattan’s concrete jungle. Someone who thinks Maye’s friends are stupid, yet sticks around with them to not disrespect her cousin.”
You cut in, “I don’t think you’re stupid.”
He places his hands on either side of your head, caging you down on his mattress with his body.
“I know,” he whispers against your cheek, his lips pressing a blurred kiss there. “But I am…so, so stupidly in lo—”
You turn your head around before he can finish that sentence to capture his babbling lips between yours. No warning. No space.
The heat of your kiss melts his words into a puddle which dribbles down one side of your mouth. It is messy, hungry and brimming with the weight of things unsaid.
You slide your hands to hug his shoulders, but he laces his fingers with yours and pins them back down on the mattress by your ears, disallowing you any pleasure of feeling his rippling muscles.
A whimper flutters past your throat when he pushes your eager tongue back into your mouth, overpowering you.
There’s no rhythm to it, not this time around.
Just passion, desperation and need—all slathering up both of yours’ raw bitten lips which refuse to part even when your chests burn for air.
He kisses you with the frustration of being disrupted mid-speech.
With the fervor of every moment he has to restrain himself around you.
With the patience of every night he has longed for you.
Like if he kissed you just hard enough, you’d know how much he needs you. Like it would make up for the time lost with him deliberating over how to touch you without scaring you with the passion he harbors for you.
He allows you some mercy of a breath by pulling away, his wet mouth gleaming with your spit more than his own.
His fingers curl around your hips like they have multiple times before, but this time they are a little frantic—digging in deeper. Like he was afraid you would slip away from his hold like a thread of smoke.
Shifting a little lower, it's your abdomen that faces the heat of his kisses now.
You sink further down into the bed, as if it’ll engulf you like water and save you from this fire he is igniting.
Mingyu is relentless tonight—wouldn’t loosen his grip in the slightest even when you begin to writhe under him.
“Mingyu…” you plead, unsure what exactly you are begging for.
He isn’t being cruel or harsh on your skin, it’s just this…love…pouring out of him that is tightening your heart with jagged knots.
Or maybe, there’s a slight possibility that you’re the one emitting that love. Does it even matter who is lighting up who?
You don’t know anymore. There’s a choking smoke billowing all around, soot filling up lungs until all that once mattered suffocates. Until all the water is murked and the air polluted. Until all the norms of survival collapse.
When a forest burns down, who stops to ask where the initial spark of fire came from?
Your back arches off the bed when he licks at your navel and he uses that opportunity to reach around your chest and clasp your bra open. He tugs the garment off your arms like he despises the mere existence of it.
When he busies himself with palming your naked breasts, his jaw loosening with wonder as your nipples go taut at the slightest touch, you unbutton your jeans, pulling them down as far as you can.
He helps you out by jerking them off your ankles and throwing them somewhere on his beige rug. Your fingers wrap around the waistband of your underwear next but his longer digits curl right above yours.
“These are mine to take off.” He warns, stretching the elastic of your underwear, “Always, mine.”
Fleeting moments like this one make you think that Mingyu is possessed by something sharper than lust. A phantom, old and aching, which constantly claws at his skin to be let out; but he restraints it back.
The darkness seeps out regardless—sometimes as this heady possessiveness, sometimes as his eagerness to corrupt you.
You meekly nod, retrieving fisted palms back to your chest as he holds your eyes with his hooded ones, peeling off the soiled fabric in a smooth motion.
“Open your legs for me, baby.” is his next command, spoken slowly, with care.
It leaves you a wreck. Not because he's asking you to do something unusual, but because it's his palms which are always in charge of parting your thighs.
You stare up at him, breathless and bewildered. There’s no challenge looming over his sinful expressions, just a tiny hint of wonder about whether you’ll do as he says.
That hint morphs into an amused smirk when you follow his command and shift your thighs further away from each other.
It's barely a few inches, but he doesn’t expect you to turn into a bold mess within a single night.
Large, calloused palms glide down your pliant thighs, pulling them further apart to expose your blushing core for him.
“Only I get to see this…”
It is a question. It is a prayer. It is a poem. It is gratitude. All tied together in a hushed whisper. He speaks it more to himself than to you.
“Tell me to stop when you need to?” He mumbles the usual protocol.
“Yes, yes I will.” You pant, barely strumming your words together because if you don’t vocalize your consent, you know he won’t proceed.
“Thanks darling.” he whispers, a gentle smile at his bruised lips.
His fingers begin teasing the delicate folds between your legs, another palm mapping out every inch of your body with shuddering curiosity. He watches you keenly as you dip your head further into the plush pillow, soft sighs flowing out of your lips like symphonies of his favorite opera.
And when his thumb encircles your clitoris, his fingers sliding up and down gathering all your moisture, and you mewl, he instantly coddles your face with his free hand.
“Shh, sweetheart, s’okay.” he croons, continuing to stroke your cunt—even though your thighs tremble, threatening to close.
He knows that it's just a false alarm, that you wouldn’t shy away from him and continue to take it like the good girl you are.
You prove him right—relaxing your hips after a few more flicks, the heels of your feet digging into the sheets but never pushing him away.
Your fingers are bunching his duvet, knuckles draining white as he continues working magic over your swollen petals. He hasn’t even touched your entrance yet beyond a brief brush of his thumb, but it is already leaking with heat and drenching the sheets below—clenching around nothing.
Mingyu sees that, of course he does.
Slowly, very carefully, he slips a finger inside with such elaborate patience that it draws a gasp out of you. Your body welcomes him with eager hunger, walls tightening around him with a sure insistence, refusing to let go when tries to slide it out.
He chuckles low, “Baby, relax. We have all night.”
That promise eases you almost instantly. You lean into him even more—a sudden gush of liquid warmth spurting around him when he adds a second finger.
He stretches you out, rubs your clitoris with his thumb, praises your everything, all while keeping his focus trained on your face. He memorizes every crook of his fingers that makes you mewl, every hard push that scrunches up your face painfully.
Soon, the rough digits jutting in and out of you become slick and slimy with your arousal. A sinful squelching sound, constant and loud, overpowers your moans.
That’s when he pushes further in until he’s knuckles deep, flirting with that one specific spot that always makes you forget your own name.
Your lower body bucks and thrashes, eyes flying open when he begins fucking you open with his fingers. An unintentional kick from you lands over his bicep when he rams into that gummy spot repeatedly.
“Behave!” He reprimands, free hand catching your flailing ankle and using it to hook your leg over his hip.
“Sl-slow down…” You choke.
He instantly obeys, but not without adding to your predicament by introducing a third finger. He doesn’t shove it in, but you can feel it prod around your hole, coaxing to be let in.
To help you take it, his lips wrap around your puffy nub, flicking it with his tongue before proceeding to suck on it like a man gone animalistic.
You’re crying with pleasure, opening yourself more and more until all three of his fingers sit snug inside your warmth. It is truly impressive how much your cunt stretches and lubricates to adjust to him.
He contributes to your wetness by spitting down on your sensitive folds before diving back in, allowing the embarrassing mixture of his saliva and your juices to soak you both in a sheen of carnal hunger.
At a particular thrust of his fingers, some liquid splutters past his fingers, landing on his face.
“Mingyu!” You cry out, mortified at what just happened.
He’s looking at you, wild eyes upturned to you and wet smirking lips clamping down on your abused clit.
“You just squirted baby.” He groans right against your cunt, like he couldn’t remove his lips from you for even two seconds to speak properly.
The vibrations only make you release another spurt. Your jaw has widened to a point of dislocation, yet he keeps going, free hand rubbing warmth over your tummy like he’s asking you to give him some more.
Unlatching one of your hands from his head, you brush back the loose hair falling over his eyes. He makes you weep some more by making you take his third finger at a new faster pace he sets, but he knows it's necessary to prepare you for what is to come.
You recognize the telltale signs of your orgasm—it brims in your belly chasing down south until you fall apart for him with a blubbering sob of his name.
Mingyu is busy digging into your flinching hole trying to scoop out all your wetness—wanting to drown in it. He slurps and sucks every bit of it, fingers unplugging out of you so that his mouth can take over your sopping entrance.
Once he has sucked you clean and there’s nothing more that you can give him without getting overstimulated beyond your limit, he leaves you be. Wet. Ruined. Aching.
He doesn’t want to tire you, or scare you away. Not yet. Not tonight.
Your body begins to panic when his warmth departs but then it lulls back when he hovers above you, his broad chest and shoulders blocking the view of anything that isn’t him.
You don’t care that his fingers are still soaked with your musky arousal when they cup your face, nor do you mind that his lips carry the heady scent of yours when he leans down for a kiss. Instead, you find yourself enjoying tasting your remnants on him.
Mine. You affirm.
“You did so good sweetheart,” He praises, “Keep yourself relaxed for me, will you?”
Your thumb traces the edges of his lips as he waits for your answer.
With shy eyes blinking the tears back in, you ask him. “Yeah, but…can we try something new?”
Usually the one to follow his lead, this the first time you have asked him for something in bed. Pride shines in his grin when he quirks his brows at you. “Go on?”
Thorns scratch at your throat but your voice is honey when you speak. “Is it okay if I turn around?”
There is no personal grudge or a vehement disdain that Kim Mingyu harbors towards the position you’re referring to. He just doesn’t want to be unable to see your face when he makes love to you. He can’t kiss your tears that way.
It is part of a reason why he has tried almost all the basics with you by now—taking you against the wall, making you ride him until you cried, showing you that your legs can sure as hell reach your ears.
But your face…those ruined eyes, those plump lips, that flushed skin—a unique shade every time—is where he draws the line. He physically can’t get himself to push you down, to muffle your moans, into a pillow.
But tonight isn’t about him. And he recognizes that. Swallowing his protests, he helps you turn over on your knees.
A giant pillow is stuffed right under your hips as a precaution while you’re given the liberty to do whatever you want with your arms—elbows or palms, mattress or the headrest—he even offers to hold them for you behind your back if you want to.
You resort to folding them under your forehead instead, fists bunching up the sheets below. Once you’re settled comfy, back arched, sensitive breasts smushed down on his duvet and knees spread and stable, he reintroduces his fingers to open you up into this new position.
It’s a new sensation, but not an unwelcome one.
He digs at new angles, finding new spots that make you moan before he finally locates his favorite one—the one that makes gushes of liquid splurge out of your body.
You sigh and hum, knowing that now that he can’t see your face, your sounds are the only ways you can tell him what works and what doesn’t. You gave up on words the moment he laid you down on his bed anyways.
Once he is content with what he sees and the pillow under your hips has a damp spot beginning to grow, you hear the telltale sound of the rustle of his tee being discarded followed by the unzipping of his pants.
There is some kind of sick, twisted pleasure Mingyu finds in touching your naked body while he’s fully clothed for as long as he can.
He lines himself up with you, nudging his hardened dick up and down your quivering cunt and collecting your slick.
It was a mutual decision of yours to not use the condom given that you’re on the pill. Yet he makes sure. “Want me to use a condom?”
“No, no!” you keen, shaking your head frantically.
His palm smoothes down over your back, a gentle assurance. “Alright.”
The blunt tip of his dick presses down on your entrance and unlike his fingers that had to coax you to be allowed in, your hips thrust back on their own—taking his cock halfway in.
A feminine gasp echoes throughout his bedroom, followed by his painful hiss. He tries easing himself out, but you have him in a vice grip.
“God, baby, you’ll hurt yourself.” He cajoles—warmth in his words, reverence in his palms kneading your soft flesh. “Calm down.”
You trust him, you really do. Your shoulders sag and your taut hips slump on the pillow, letting him decide the pace.
He begins to push in, with more patience than you ever could, making you feel every drag of his veiny girth.
The pure white of his sheets is a harrowing contrast to the hollow stars blurring your vision. So you clench your eyes shut, breath stuttering through clinched teeth as he settles in full, defined hips pressed against your plump ass.
“Feelin’ good?” He asks, rubbing your lower back.
You nod, hoping he’s looking at your head, because you can’t do anything else. If you open your lips now, you’ll sob from the overwhelm and that might cause him to stop.
“I am gonna move baby.” His voice sounds strained like he is having a hard time giving the naive girl in his bed all these warnings instead of just fucking her however he wants.
And as if reading through his pain;
“Do whatever you want, Mingyu.” You whisper, tears pooling down over your hands.
That was all he needed.
His fingers dig inside your hips, holding you down, as he pulls out until only the tip remains. Then, he leans forward until the cold metal of his chain pools down on the hot skin just under your hairline, and he slams back in. With just how strong Mingyu is, even the slightest of force is brutal on your body.
“Ahh!” You puff out, scrambling to chomp down on the skin of your own arm to not alert him about the painful pleasure you’re experiencing.
But he stalls, only moving again when you begin to whimper with complaint.
He sweeps your hair to a side with a swift motion of his hand to expose your sweat slicked neck for his wet lips to feast upon.
Another drag out, another thrust in. Careful yet precise.
This time, with his arms locked around your waist while his mouth burns a hickie between your shoulders.
“I love the way you stretch to take me.” He drawls, his words vibrating against your skin as you tremble under him.
“And I…I love the way you m–make me feel, Gyu.” You hiccup. It might be the most honest thing you have ever said to him, and for once, you’re not holding anything in your clammy hands.
He answers you by running his large palm over the expanse of your back, picking up a curated rhythm which feels good to you both. Slow and deep, like he wants you to enjoy it to your heart’s content tonight and then never ask him to take you like this ever again.
But you whine with your face buried into his bed. “Go harder, Gyu.”
It is muffled, but doesn’t go unheard when he is practically pressed flat on top of you.
His hips begin to snap rough against your bottom, lewd smacks making your head spin. Your knees give out the moment he hits your sensitive spot and you fall flat on the mattress—sandwiched between his heavy, hard body and the poor, squished pillow.
“No baby, you gotta stay up on your knees.” He mocks. “You were begging to be fucked like this, you don’t get to lay back down.”
With his hands locked around your waist, he hauls you back up until you’re sitting—back pressed firm to his chest, lips never leaving the sweet spot he’s suckling on.
The heat burning into the g-spot in your walls that he brushes over and over, oozes out across your core. Your insides are burning for him as he carves out a not so small space for himself. Each thrust aimed with an intention of etching himself on your very soul.
You get it why people go crazy over backshots—it just hits different this way.
His coarse fingers come down on your abused clit, rubbing it over and over like he’s polishing a scrap of metal. God, you love it when he loses control and just goes wild on you.
“Feels s’good Gyu!” You cry out, digging your nails into his forearms. The same forearms press down on your belly when he fucks you deeper, making you keen.
Every single inch of your body that can be stimulated is being given all the love and attention by him—the spot he keeps on bumping inside your walls, the scarlet folds stretched for him being soothed by his fingers, the skin on your neck that is never left unblemished by his lips and teeth.
You’re aware of it all. In fact, too aware to a point that every fibre of you begins pulsing with what he’s giving you. He senses your orgasm before you do and begins syncing all his movements with practiced care, merging them whole to push you past your tipping point.
You are silk in his rough hands—lush and slippery. But he contains you like you’re his salvation. Grounding you here, calling you back.
The brilliance of a thousand stars explode at once behind your eyes when you fall apart for him. Wet lips mumbling incoherent prayers to the Gods you abandoned years ago. Nails digging into him like he’s the sole reason you haven’t lost all faith.
He doesn’t falter, just holds you upright through it all, even when your knees lose all sensations and strength. Your arms fall loose over his, head slumps down over his shoulder, too fucked out to even open your eyes. You just nuzzle your face under his jaw as he chases his own release now.
“Baby, you with me?” He asks, slowing down for a beat.
“Y-yes…don’t stop…please don’t stop.” You gurgle, a streak of drool dripping down your chin when his hand grabs one of your bouncing tits.
He doesn’t even get the chance to reply to you when a scream cracks through the air and you orgasm for the third time tonight. This time, you clench around him so tight that he follows suit, staring down at how your forehead scrunches up with desire which teeters on the edge of agony. You’ve ruined his ability to be able to come undone without seeing your face.
Warmth floods inside of you when he fills you up with ropes and ropes of his hot semen. It is so much, so messy—even trickles down your legs onto the bed.
“Don’t spill it.” He tsks, laying you down gently.
His hips don’t stop rutting, but they’re lazier now, tuned in with each hiccup of yours.
You thought being unable to see his face tonight might make it easier.
But Mingyu’s devotion will find you even when you turn your back to him, curling over and sweeping under every wall you put up. It is terrifyingly inevitable…like doom.
(a/n: to the anon who said that mingyu being observant and clocking reader’s fake nonchalance in pt 1 scratched their brains right, i hope you’re happy with this one lol)
CHAPTER 14 || a sketch, a girl, a subway
(a/n: i really recommend listening to midnight rain by taylor swift after reading this chapter)
Mingyu never said that you can’t tour around his house while he sleeps.
So you’re technically not swooping when you find yourself in the middle of his study with one of his satin sheets wrapped under your arms like a wedding gown.
Just a curious gal trying to see what goes on in his head when a lovesick architect in New York City designs homes with random subway girls in his mind.
Besides, Mingyu had been so weird in bed tonight, humanizing you and what not. He deserved to get his privacy invaded for making you feel loved like that.
You start slow, harmless. Just flipping through the unfinished blueprints on his study, reading the incoherent notes scribbled in the margins of each map, digging through the drawers stuffed neat with stationary. When you find nothing more than indecipherable mathematics and precise angles in his main work folder, the investigation picks up pace.
You try not to voice out what it is that you’re actually looking for. It is embarrassing. But there’s a silent prayer perched on your pursed lips, “Show yourself subway girl.”
You almost flinch at your own reflection when it catches in a mirror you hadn’t spotted before.
There is maroon splashed all across your body, spluttered in patches and marked by teeth. The sweet amber of his citrus and berries shampoo, from the bath he gave you just a couple hours ago, still lingers in your hair. The post-coital glow on your skin is his doing, too.
Your heart squeezes, the rhythm of your breath falters. From each wet thread of your hair dripping with his perfume to each patch of skin stamped with his name, you are utterly, and completely—his.
And it is tragically pathetic, honestly, that you’re here searching for the woman who, in turn, owns him.
Whom he would forget your entire existence for if she knocked at his door right now.
You look away before you can berate yourself even more and go back to distracting your mind with this demeaning pursuit.
A slew of loose papers fall down like hail when you accidentally knock a book over. You crouch down, the fabric on your body rustling as you try to gather those sheets back in order.
When you try to get up, you can’t. Something hinges at the corner of your makeshift dress. You tug at it, only to be replied back to by a threatening sound of satin ripping.
The only source of illumination in this wood panelled room is the soft moonlight of a full moon streaming in from the large, open window. You try feeling around what hooks your sheet, fingers wrapping around what feels like a knob.
You pull harder.
This time, your sheet comes loose, but so does what appears to be a hidden drawer at the bottom of his bookcase.
You wait for a beat for a mouse to jump out. When it doesn’t, you reach in to see what buried treasure Mingyu hides here.
The surface you graze is rough and sturdy, thick with glossy pages. You pull it out to examine it better—its a photo album.
With quivering fingers, like your body knows the importance of this moment, you flip it open.
There are things so inexplicably pure and delicate in this world, that they slow time down. Like the large, glassy eyes of a baby Mingyu staring back at you when you turn the first page over. Cheeks puffed out with something sweet and sticky, little fingers curling around the hem of his pink pajamas that swallowed him whole. The picture stuck adjacent to it pulls at your heart even more—a toddler in a lion costume. Hands stretched out into paws, lower lip caught between teeth as he pours all his concentration into the performance he is in. Then one in his mother’s arms, another on his father’s shoulders. Kissing the forehead of his newborn sister, proudly flashing a giant A+ on his first report card.
The album is heavy, not with the photographs, but with the love it holds. The stories it carries.
Childhood skips into teenage in a matter of seconds with a few flips of pages—awkward sometimes, rowdy the most. The sweaty and spent soccer squad throwing fries at their man of the match, the clumsy robot which bagged third place in nationals, the smug grin squished into the fair cheeks of the blonde girl he took to prom, a vacation to the Bahamas where he scowls down at his sister—snapped mid eye roll.
A proud father standing outside the main gate of a prestigious university with his chest puffed out next to a son who just got accepted to study architecture there.
Mayella makes an appearance before anyone else does. Her hair is dyed electric green—sophomore year—as she attempts to strangle a laughing Mingyu at some party, a clump of spaghetti on her shoulder.
On the next page, Lisa, surprisingly without her curtain bangs, is sandwiched between them in a polaroid, beaming wide with a trophy. The fading note scribbled with a dark marker below it reads: ‘me and maye coddling li for winning @ the art exhibit.’
The page turns and takes you to New York with Mingyu.
Hansol and him before the Empire state building, buff arms slung lazily over each other’s shoulders. Chiseled by time and tanned deeper with the toils of adulthood, Mingyu looks firmer now. His smile is easier, more natural and mature, not burdened with the weight of pleasing his parents, or charming his high-school girlfriend, or impressing his uni peers. This air of self assurance serves him well.
There are fewer pictures now, there ought to be. Once real life takes over, one forgets to pause and catch moments behind the lens.
But still, Mingyu’s attempts to cherish his life don’t stop altogether. There are a few fragmented shots here and there—Hansol mid laugh on a rooftop bar, the smudge of paint on Lisa’s blazer as she greets the Mayor, the entire squad with Mayella and Joshua immediately after the proposal.
You’re in none of them. You don’t expect to be. You always step away into a corner the moment someone pulls out a camera.
The sigh you let out is laden with the weight of the life you’re carrying in your arms. A life so majestic, so full of love. How vain it was for you to think that this man relies on a single woman for inspiration when he is surrounded by homes all around.
A lonesome tear you didn’t even know was drenching your lashes finally slips down when you shut the album close. The droplet lands on a frail sheet of paper which was tucked in between the last few pages you didn’t explore and has slipped out in your lap like it couldn’t bear not being looked at.
You pick it up, thinking it's just a loose page, but the faint beam of moon pools over it at an angle that highlights the faint smudge of charcoal on the other side.
There’s a tug-of-war between your gut and your heart in the split second which ticks just before you turn the sheet over. Like what lies on the flip side of this paper is about to hit you like an uncontrolled truck on slippery asphalt.
But you turn it over regardless.
The moon hanging low outside Mingyu’s window crashes down on Manhattan’s concrete with a loud bang.
Or maybe that was just the sound of your gasp.
A sketch. A girl. A subway.
The drawing drips with reverence like even before he knew her, Mingyu somehow figured out the subject of his sketch hated cameras.
He had to capture her from memory and sight alone because he couldn’t bear not including her in this kaleidoscope of his life. So he drew her and kept her here, away from his overbearing childhood, away from his rowdy teenage years, away from the mares of his adulthood. Guarded and cherished.
Ruby earrings—shape of a tear. Wuthering heights, with a spine colored silver clutched between ringed fingers. Her eyes downturned. Her lips glossed cherry, half hidden under her soft scarf.
You.
Unmistakably. Awfully. Truthfully…you.
——————————————
(4 years ago)
Mayella loved her family name more than she loved breathing. It came with history, studded with honor and followed by a legacy to upkeep. So it was truly a stupid decision for you to purchase a ticket to New York after everything that went down.
Thankfully, you hadn’t told her that you were here because if you did, she would have insisted you stay with her.
And then what would you tell her?
“Hey sis, so in true bastard fashion, the adopted daughter of the family finally botched its reputation. I hope grandma still sends me her ugliest sweater this Christmas because the prettiest ones are always reserved for her true grandkids, the ones who share her blood.”
Or, “Maye, I am here because everyone is practically spitting at me. I know it should die down, it's the last semester after all, but I don’t know.”
Or simply, “How do you survive being the campus slut?”
You didn’t even have your luggage with you, had left the moment you stepped into your friend’s place and found that video playing on a laptop balanced between her and her two roommates like it was some harmless prank on YouTube. Like it wasn’t a skin splitting humiliation you had never signed up for.
Your friend had halted mid giggle when she saw you, gave some excuse like “it was already playing when I got here.”
You didn’t fight, you didn’t scream, you didn’t even snap back when one of her roommates jutted out a tongue against his inner cheek and made the vile gesture of sucking a dick at you.
You just ran. Ran away to New York and hid there for a month.
You didn’t go to Mayella. Didn’t even let her know you had found a month to month sublet in the Lower East Side and spent your days stitching yourself back together, piece by piece.
It smelled like piss and paint thinner in the stairwell there. The lock on your door stuck. There was one window that barely opened, and the radiator screamed like a dying animal every few hours.
But at least no one here knew your name. No one called you the girl from the video. No one watched you and saw a punchline.
You once came across a rat on a random street. It looked at you with beady eyes full of challenge. Then, it scurried away. There wasn’t much difference between you and that rodent. Both filthy and disgusting.
Only it had the guts to hold the eyes of potential danger. While you had just run away.
You rode the subway once or twice, here and there. The train always rattled harder than your chest, it weirdly put you at ease. You could always excuse the shivering in your calves to the icy interior of the subway instead of the overdose of fear in your nerves.
Too wary of being stared at, you had perfected the art of folding into yourself. Shoulders tucked, eyes withdrawn, Heathcliff and Catherine your only company.
You didn’t even meet your own reflection in the transparent glass windows because every time you did, all you could see was the face of a girl pixelated in shame.
Had you succumbed to the warmth that brushed you, or your heart that twisted…you would have looked up from your book and could have seen a guy—too tall to not hover, broad enough to lean against the pole without even truly leaning—watching you like you were the first fairytale he had ever known but forgotten.
You should have looked up. But you never did.
CHAPTER 15 || annoying roomie rory
song recommended: twin by jennie
Rory is a girl who tries hard.
Academically, socially, mentally (yeah, try juggling med-school with a raging ADHD before snickering at her).
But her attempts often flop.
She scrapes by each term, thanks to the last minute flashcards of her roomie. She is the one whose memes get ignored in a group-chat. She needs a twenty minute stretch routine and a five minute gratitude meditation to be able to sleep.
She doesn’t expect visitors. Ever.
So when a frantic knock at the front door at three in the morning echoes around her modest apartment, Rory shrieks and stumbles down her bed, tangled in coarse cotton sheets and even coarser panic.
Looking around, she grabs the nearest thing that could double as a weapon—a single badminton racket which she stole from her friend Seungkwan. Her socks betray her twice by making her slip on the way from her bedroom to the front door. She can’t even blame her roomie for the water splashes near the couch, she hasn’t seen her face in over two weeks.
Rory peeps through the keyhole, but instantly flinches back because whoever is on the other side chooses that exact moment to rap the wood harder than before.
The odds of it being a serial killer behind the door? Likely.
The odds of her next door neighbour Mr. Gibson hearing her screams? High.
The odds of her being saved by Mr. Gibson? Quite low.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe Rory should have stayed back in her humble hometown in Wisconsin instead of moving here to the lair of hobos and druggies.
Another round of knocks. She gulps, rehearses her 911 call. Offering what could be the last few prayers to the lord almighty, she unlatches the door and opens it just enough to peek out with one eye.
A man, tall and tanned, heaving like someone scooped at his chest with a blunt spoon and took his heart out. His shirt is half buttoned, angry scratches disappearing down his collar. The scarlet in his eyes isn’t a result of heavy drinking, but stress behemoth enough that it bursts veins. He is almost doubled over, like someone shattered his ribs. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he was screaming. Maybe he ran here with half his organs missing.
Rory recognizes him from the occasional luncheons her roomie has organized at their apartment. She always thought he looked handsome, now he just looks like a roadkill.
“Mingyu?” She asks, brows furrowed. “Wow, you look…terrible.”
He ignores the condescending observation. “I-is she here?” He stammers, barely keeping his breath stable to sound like a human.
“Who? Roomie?” Rory questions. Mingyu nods urgently, hope flashing all across his face. His grip on the doorframe tightens, like he is holding himself back from pushing Rory to the side and searching the place himself. Rory digs her feet deeper into the carpet to avoid being ambushed when she admits, “I haven’t seen her in days.”
Mingyu deadpans, “Days? And you weren’t concerned about her?”
Rory blinks, unsure on how to respond to that. “I am not her babysitter. Maybe you should check with her cousin.”
“She’s not at Mayella’s.” Mingyu quickly dismisses it. “Anyplace else she could be at?”
Rory sucks at her lower lip, now fully awake, yet her brain spends a considerable amount of time to sync with her thoughts and memories.
“None that I can think of…” she trails, realizing just how irresponsible she sounds. She quickly defends, more to herself than to Mingyu, “I mean, she never really tells me where she’s going, what she’s doing.”
Mingyu sighs, exhausted and spent. From the looks of his state, one could easily tell that he has already searched half of Manhattan at this crazy hour.
Rory’s heart twists, she hates being of no use. Especially when a situation at hand involves someone she truly cares for.
When her fixation over Mingyu’s devastation fades, dread grips her. You were missing. Her roomie, a young beautiful woman, was missing in a city which came with a warning siren blaring all over it.
“Maybe if you–if you give me more details.” Rory can slowly feel her brain alerting, continuous streaks of adrenaline pumping throughout her small body. “Like, did you guys fight? Why was she with you in the first place? I thought you didn’t like her. Mingyu, did you—”
Mingyu’s jaw clenches, then unclenches. “We didn’t fight Rory, not exactly. But I think…I think I upset her.”
“Upset her by doing what?” Rory’s blonde hair looks like ice under the feeble blue light streaming in from the hallway. Her skin, dry and patchy, tightens with angry frowns as Victoria ‘Rory’ Alberhasky gears herself to take down a six foot two man with a single badminton racket if he admits to having hurt you.
Mingyu scratches at the skin above his left brow. “It’s complicated, Victoria.”
The badminton racket moves an inch. “Un-complicate it.”
“You can put the bat down, I didn't harm her.” Mingyu sighs, startling her even further.
Oh, of course, he saw the bat clutched behind her back…motherfucker was literally looming above her like the ghost of the statue of liberty with all that height.
Rory meekly lets the racket drop, it lands with a hollow clatter. But her grip on the door tightens, ready to slam it in his treacherous face.
“I just…well, I think she figured out I love her.” Mingyu can’t believe your annoying roommate is the first real human being he is confessing his true feelings for you to.
Rory blinks, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”
Mingyu pinches his nose bridge, looking away from the ghastly grey eyes of the girl, but the crimson is already flushing his sweat sheened skin.
“She found this sketch I made of her…”
“Where?”
“At my apartment.”
“What was she doing at your apartment?”
“Um…”
“Mingyu,” Rory folds her arms before her chest, he curls into himself even more, “you tell me she’s missing. And that she was at your place last. What. Was. She. Doing. There?”
Mingyu mumbles something jumbled. Rory prides for a brief second—she has never caused a man to cower like that.
“I can’t hear you.” she reprimands.
Mingyu takes a deep breath, making peace with the fact that when he finds you—and he is certain he would, even if it means he has to flip New York upside down—you are going to kill him for letting your annoying roommate Rory in on this.
“We were sleeping together.” He states.
“Like, cuddling or…” she trails, her brows arching up with each drawl.
“We were having sex in my apartment, Victoria.”
“Oh,” She flinches, “oh yeah. Yes, of course.” she clears a web of awkward tension in her throat. “You mentioned a sex—I mean, a sketch?”
Mingyu prepares himself to sound like the most pathetically down bad man awake in Manhattan right now.
“She was snooping around my place after I fell asleep. She found this sketch I made of her four years ago—”
“You didn’t even know her four years ago.” Rory scratches at her head.
“That’s why I said it's complicated, Victoria.” Mingyu exhales. This entire back and forth feels pointless—Rory hasn’t given him anything that could help him search for you…she’s just standing here, eager to gobble whatever juicy gossip he throws her away. “Anyways, that sketch is missing now. So is she. Any idea where she could be?”
“What I’m getting is that you overwhelmed her.” Rory mumbles, “She doesn’t handle it well.”
Mingyu’s head dips down with shame. “I know.”
“I am sorry, Mingyu. I really am.” She begins, “But roomie just shuts herself away whenever it's too much. I don’t know what goes on in her head at times like these. She doesn’t talk about that stuff. It’s her pattern—emotional overload equals radio silence.”
Mingyu’s clutch on the door tightens like that alone could steady him while a whirlwind knocks at his ribs. The possibility of you being out there somewhere, hurt and numb, all alone in a city too dark is too grotesque for him to even think about.
He closes his eyes, life wilts behind them.
You were shut out—but not in the safety of your room, not even in the sterility of Mayella’s house.
He did this. He tried breaking your walls, but ended up destroying your home instead.
“What if she’s unsafe, Rory?” He voices out.
It hits Rory like a cold gust. She wants to deny it, call it paranoia, tell him he’s being dramatic—but the raw desperation in his eyes isn’t something one can fake. Not when his voice breaks at every third word he speaks.
Rory flinches like an oracle who just received a divine epiphany from the heavens.
“You should look near water.” She speaks as soon as that idea hits her, doesn’t even consider how ridiculously terrifying or mystical it sounds.
His head snaps up, blood drained and frozen. “What?”
“Water. It's just a wild guess and maybe a hopeless venture…but I have observed that she always takes longer showers when she’s overstimulated. And when I was going through a rough breakup, she even suggested I go take a walk by a lake or something. She says water washes away unwanted emotions.”
Rory wanted to go on about the significance of water and how it made spiritual sense for you to do so, but Mingyu is already on his feet, booking it down the hallway.
His heart hammers in his ears, he almost tumbles over nothing. The night was so dark. So cold. And you were near water.
You didn’t even know how to swim.
The icy night air bites him through his jacket but it’s nothing compared to the dread that must be pinching at every single inch of your soft skin.
What if your feet slipped…what if there was no light near you…
Water and air, how many tragedies have they concocted when they wear each other’s skins at dark nights like these.
When a forest burns down, no one stops to ask where the initial spark came from.
But the one who lit the match must live with the blood of a thousand scorched birds on his hands.
(a/n: rory is actually based on my real roommate lmao and unlike in this fic, my rory and i vibe to the moon and saturn.
love you riri, even though you’re not reading this <3)
CHAPTER 16 || to build a home
songs recommended: wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys
(lmao i am so corny and basic BUT TRUST ME)
The night is a long, long one for everyone.
For Mayella, who calls everyone she knows, barely masking her panic, as she asks them about you.
For Rory, who sits back in the apartment, eyes wide and a cup of water sitting idle on the coffee table, waiting for you. A discolored ring of condensation stains the wood under it.
For Lisa, who refuses to trust Rory’s instincts and takes it upon herself to look for you in a different neighbourhood altogether. “She always goes to the Bronx.” She insists.
For Joshua and Hansol, who are on the same page as Lisa and search for you in the places you frequent, not in a theory your roommate pulled out of her ass.
But Mingyu has a hitch, he trusts you to succumb to the embrace of nature–the flow of water, the calm of trees, the cleanse of wind.
So he drives even when his fingers shake, slips on the coast of East river, stumbles over a rock near Astoria Park.
“Please be safe…please come back.” the prayer loops in his mind like a mantra.
A body of water.
A girl who can’t swim.
The roads turn into rivers before his bleary eyes—every turn a tsunami sized wave.
A few girls dressed in sequins and stilettos stumble out of a nightclub and attempt to hail him like a cab before dissolving into bubbly giggles. Somewhere, an old man has already begun opening his shop—dusting the counters with a rag as old as the street itself. The world turns around Mingyu like it usually would, even when his own has been blown into smithereens.
His chafed palms burn when he presses them tight over the steering wheel. A rusty smudge of sweat and blood wipes over the leather. The slight discomfort of his scraped palms or bleeding knees sticking to the coarse denim of his jeans are nothing compared to the you-shaped hole in his chest, though. That cavity has been bristling ever since he registered the absence of your warmth in his bed, when he found out that his nose had been nuzzling into the pillow which smelt like you instead of being buried into your plump chest.
A full exhale hasn’t succeeded his shaky inhales ever since he saw your clothes missing from the chair he had put them on.
The moon is a forgotten sticker plastered on the lilac sky when the sun begins to come up, bright and full, mocking his sleepless night.
He pulls over to an unnamed, ungrailed park near some bay. Doesn’t even bother checking what the tattered signboard fixed outside says. The noise of a city waking up thins out behind him, leaving him with the unbearable knocking of his pulse.
The wild grass looks too inviting to his stiffened legs. His lids weigh down, seducing him to surrender.
On the other side of the city, Mayella’s phone has died and Joshua is urging her to return back to bed, assuring that you’ll come back well. Hansol is driving back on a deserted road to his place after dropping Josh off. Lisa doesn’t even bother returning, just books a room for six hours at a shady motel to crash in. Rory is curled up on the couch—the spot you never let her sit down on because it was yours—and has dozed off with the lights open. The glass of water waits for you regardless.
But Mingyu continues to walk by the shore. Every snap of twig under his own boots makes his head jerk, thinking it's you. Every gust of wind sounds like your whispers muffled in the crook of his neck each night.
It is only six in the morning, but the sun is streaming down at him with an intent to burn him or to blind him—like you instructed it to keep everyone away from you.
But when have your attempts at running away from facing the truth ever stopped Mingyu? You can bring whatever suns and moons you want in his way, and he’d simply offer you every inch of his skin to bite on until your teeth sink into his bones.
He will ensure to make you know that this isn’t the insincere, soulless manner he wanted to confess his love for you in.
The park is essentially deserted, devoid of any joggers or dogwalkers or marathon trainers even at the break of dawn. One might doubt his judgement of wasting his efforts here. But ever since the first time in the subway, Mingyu has learnt to trust his gut when it tells him to look in a certain direction when it comes to you.
His steps falter when his vision tunnels over a swan. Or maybe it's an angel.
All the stone benches are empty…so it doesn’t really make sense for the girl to be crouching down on the mud. Her cardigan and jeans already sullied to a point that it's impossible to ascertain what their original colors were.
Well, impossible for anyone who isn’t the man who had peeled those clothes one by one off the girl’s body with reverence and care.
“You…” He begins, but his voice betrays him at that exact moment by clogging up with all the unshed tears. The thought of never being able to see you again had begun creeping up in his head some thirty minutes ago. For once, Mingyu is glad someone proved him wrong.
You are only a few steps away from him. The half side of your face visible to him is tired and streaked with tears that dried hours ago, the other side turned away from him masks the bruise from when you fell down somewhere.
The single sheet of paper—the sketch— which etched a rift of a thousand miles between you both still flutters in the morning winds under your palms. You had long stopped caring about it, don’t even put any pressure to try and prevent it from being carried away by the wind.
But Mingyu’s art is as stubborn as him—wouldn’t leave you when the gust blows strong. Even the wind refuses to steal his love away from you.
You get up, pulse thundering with anger. Anger that makes you want to screech at him for being so stupid. For driving all night looking for you. For not cursing your name when he found his photo-album splayed open on the floor.
For still standing here like a fucking saint and looking at you like you’re the beginning and the end of this thing called love.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” He finally speaks, voice hoarse.
“No, I am not supposed to be here.” A lifeless fist extends the scrunched up sketch to him. Then, a jab of your finger thrust with all your strength at his chest, right where his heart pumps, “Or here.”
Mingyu doesn’t flinch at your rage, lets you stab at him, claw at him, call him names. And once you’re done, caving inside of your own self until you’re nearly doubled down, he just reaches out to brush the fresh bruise on your cheek. A single blade of grass is still clinging on to the skin there. He plucks it out gently.
“Too late,” he mumbles, “you’re already in every fiber of my being.”
“I never asked for that.”
That lands worse than any slap. “I know, and trust me, I have only ever tried to give you whatever you asked for.”
“Then why—”
“Because love isn’t something you can hold back…it breaks, it spills, it—”
“You don’t even know me, this isn’t love.” Your voice begins to rise, frustration lacing each word that echoes out.
“Really? You were always the one to cheer for me, root for me, whenever someone mentioned the subway girl. ‘Pure, patient, devoted love’—that’s what you called it. But now that it turns out that she’s you, it isn’t love anymore?”
“It is not!”
“Why?” His voice booms, just by a beat.
“Because you love her!” You scream, “The prettiest girl on the commute, the elegant girl who is studying medicine, Mayella’s cousin with a reputable last name.”
Your breath hitches like your body is contorting you to not speak what you’re about to say next. But he needs to hear it.
“You don’t love the girl who hates cameras because her boyfriend made her go down on him, recorded her without consent and then leaked it when they broke up. You don’t—you don’t love the girl whose grainy face appears on the screen when you search ‘amateur college girl gives her first blowjob’ on Pornh…” the cruel word fractures in your mouth.
Reciting this incident still makes you gasp the way it did all those years ago. Like the air must be forced into your windpipe through your mouth for you to be able to breathe. Like your lungs are shrinking until they collapse.
You can’t even meet his eyes anymore, just buckle on your knees. “You don’t love the girl who stopped existing the day a man turned her body into some cruel content.”
Your body prepares itself to hit the ground and be unable to support the fall. But that never happens. Mingyu is there—catching you with a splinter of grief lodged in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do other than to hold you, to contain you while you fall apart in his arms.
Your breath returns when he touches you. Steady. Fast. Familiar.
The air is thick with the perfume of sweet grass and late lilacs frothing white and magenta along the unruly shore.
A broken gasp of your name is all he can manage, like he is in as much pain as you are. Albeit your agony is laced with tragedy, his emerges from rage. Deep seated, primordial rage.
“I didn’t know…I—I am so sorry.” His voice breaks around your name. “You were carrying all of that all alone?”
You never thought that you’ll ever let Mingyu, of all people, in on the darkest parts of your life let alone anticipate what his reaction would be to it. You’d expect him to flinch, perhaps double take or even accuse you of lying. Maybe pity you?
But there is no disbelief in the way he cradles you. No pity in his question. More than anything, he seems to be moved by your strength of still standing here even after having gone through hell and back.
“I never wanted to be alone.” You say flatly, emotionless. It is the only way you can say it. “I reached out…cyber cells, peers, staff…but they told me it was an internet thing. Anonymous. Viral. That they couldn’t do anything to help me.”
You gulp dry, fingers curling tighter over the fabric of his hoodie. “My friends gave up on me, they couldn’t bear the shame that came with my name, I don’t even blame them. I begged him, Mingyu…begged him to take it down, to stop it. But he never acknowledged that he was the one behind it.”
Mingyu’s jaw tightens. He presses you closer to his heart, like he wants to safekeep you in there, like he wants to cleanse you of all those memories, wring your soul dry of any heaviness and then have you rest on his chest.
You don’t stop. Your voice has sat dormant for long enough…four years, to be exact, because everyone was busy watching—the girl on the screen, the girl crying outside the library, the girl pleading to her ex on her knees. Always watching. Never listening.
“Some girls would recoil when they saw me, some would get angry because their boyfriends wanted to record them too. I was a trend on campus. Some would pity me but worse were the ones who ignored it when I’d scream in my dorm room. Like I was an apparition, a ghost, haunting their dormitories. All the boys snickered, asked me to help them out with this ‘videography assignment’ and those who had the decency not to, just looked away.”
The silence that follows after you’ve let out a beast that had been gnawing at your insides for four whole years is strangely peaceful.
You breathe, taking in the fading scent of lemons on his skin. Your lips are chapped and aching from the harsh winter and an even harsher truth.
Strong arms circled around you are steady and stable. They don’t falter—not even when you recall the most grotesque details out loud.
It is so safe with him. So warm in the misty morning air of October.
But when have you ever not shredded every cocoon that could wrap around you, afraid that you’ll suffocate in it? So you push at his chest.
Your nose has turned pink. You sniffle and wipe some thick tears with your sleeve so that your vision unblurs, looking up at his wrecked expressions with your big, watery eyes.
“I am not telling you this because I want your pity…or because I want to fight you for loving the idea of me. But because you deserve to see this version of the girl you’ve spent half a decade pining for. The version that picks all her load alone, even when her back breaks, because she didn’t have anyone to give her a shoulder when it mattered.”
You weep for that girl, “The version that will always feel like filth—rotten and discarded. No amount of medical degrees or accolades will ever make up for that title of a whor—”
Mingyu hasn’t interrupted you throughout your speech. But that one word. Cruel and ugly. One that no woman, not even the one who sells her body, deserves to hear with such contempt. That’s where he draws the line. That’s where he has always drawn the line.
A finger presses down on your lips before you can even finish those two syllables.
“Don’t.” His voice dips lower, “Don’t ever disrespect yourself like that…you’re saying this about the woman who helped you survive it all. Who carried you through it.”
“I was the one who put myself in that situation in the first place.” You argue back, your lips quiver under his finger.
“The situation of trusting someone you loved…in what world does that deserve this cruel repentance?” Then, he softens, like he is carefully undoing a knot in your brain. A knot that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. “When we reach out to help a wounded animal, and that animal bites us back, it’s not the kindness in our heart or our tender humanity that should be blamed. Stop burdening yourself with the shame of his sins.”
His palms on your waist, his heart on his sleeve, you stand there stunned.
His words settle like dust in the air, but a part of you—the one you have disserviced and dehumanized for so long—wants him to continue speaking.
And so, he does;
“Those versions that you keep talking about, I want to see them all. Meet them all. Spend all my evenings talking to them. From the wilted subway girl to the exhausted doctor in the making—call me greedy, but I want them all. You think I fell for your beauty all those years ago?” He laughs, like those were the most ridiculous words to have ever come out of his mouth.
“How do I tell you that it was your softness towards a heartbroken kid that I was trying to etch on paper when I was sketching you—not the perfect symmetry of your eyes. Even in your worst times, you carried the grace of a thousand Gods.”
He cups your face to redirect your attention to his honest words when you begin to avert your eyes from him, “Push me all you want. Lie to me all you want. Bite me all you want. Call me your fuck-buddy and hide me from your friends like a secret. I don’t care. But don’t give up on the possibility of us just because you think I wouldn’t be able to find beauty in your scars. You’re not a myth, or a muse. You are my whole religion. All my beliefs start at your lies and end at your sighs.”
A gush of cold wind blows between the two of you like a farewell. All of a sudden, there’s only heat around you. Not the kind that singes and burns, but one that nurtures life.
You choke onto a sob and throw yourself at him.
Mingyu is aware that it isn’t just a girl who smells like salt and exhaustion that is crashing on to him—but a lifetime of abandon, of neglect, of betrayal. He carries her like an honor he has earned.
Your head thuds down on a shoulder—strong and reliable, like that of a father you never had.
The bruise on your cheek rubs against the coarse wool of his hoodie, he instantly reaches out to soothe it…soft and careful, like the touch of a mother you have never known but read a lot about in poems.
Home is in his heartbeat thrumming between your mashed chests, mellowing out your frantic one gently.
And on a frosty morning at the shore of a forgotten bay in New York, surrounded by the autumn rot and the hush of a shy winter approaching, spring blooms for the first time in a barren heart.
“I don’t love you.” You mumble in his collar.
You both know it is a lie by the way you clutch onto him when you say that. Tremor in your fingers, sweat in your palms. Like touching something physical would make it real, turn it into a truth.
“That’s okay,” He chuckles, cradling your head, “I love you enough for the both of us.”
“I don’t know how to stay,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.
He nods, forehead resting gently against yours. “Then I’ll come look for you every time you leave. And when I find you, I’ll build a house for us to stay wherever you are.”
New York never stops for anyone, but even the city seems to hitch for a moment and smile at him with a breeze that sweeps at his cheek like a kiss. Your possessiveness flares, the honey skin glistening under the golden morning rays is only yours to kiss.
You stretch on your tippy toes, even as your entire form trembles. His grip tightens when you struggle, but softens like clay the moment a delicate peck is pressed on the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t kiss you back, not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he can’t do anything but revel in your softness. He shatters when you kiss him again, this time on the edge of his jaw.
When his eyes meet yours, heaven sighs. Nothing has changed in those brown irises, even when you showed him the devil residing in your veins.
“That was intense.” He remarks, then his tongue pokes playfully inside his cheek. “You wanna bite me, nibblebug?”
You snort, not caring about the snot and saliva that blubbers from your nose. “I am gonna gobble you whole.”
(a/n: did it clock to you guys that i was standing on business when i told you to listen to ‘wanna be yours’ while reading this??)
CHAPTER 17 right here|| When a forest burns down
song recommended: i’m just ken by ryan gosling (lol)
(Six months later)
Calling Lisa’s art show a success would be an insult when she has the most elite art collectors and the most refined billionaires of the New York High Society warring with each other over the bids.
You’d rather call it a phenomenon.
The center piece, the one you and Mingyu posed as Hades and Persesphone for, sold out within the first ten minutes.
Which is stunning to say the least considering ten minutes is barely enough time for someone to walk in from the entrance of the gallery up to where the painting actually hangs.
You clink a flute of champagne against her wine glass and hug her tight while you have the upper-body mobility to do so. Because you know that the moment he comes back with the assortment of snacks you sent him to hunt for, Mingyu will coil himself around you and whine every ten minutes if you don’t pat him on the cheek.
Well, that might be an exaggeration.
But courtesy to you, the group gets to see the rare sighting of a lovestruck Mingyu in a relationship.
And god is he annoying.
He hovers, he lingers, he clings, he whimpers.
His face almost never leaves the curve of your neck and when it does, his hands are all over you. It is like he is magnetized to your very soul.
And as much as you’d love to flaunt your “boyfriend <3” in public, today is the first time in a long, long while that you’ve been able to get together with your friends—your brutal residency schedule is to blame.
“Have you been able to adjust to the rotations yet?” Mayella asks, swirling her rosé.
You press your lips and squint your eyes at the dome glass ceiling, pretending to think.
Then, you hum, “My dinner last night was Rory’s half finished birthday cake which later also served as my pillow when I dozed off on the kitchen floor—you tell me.”
Lisa chuckles, then lowers her eyes like she has found the perfect opportunity to help strengthen Mingyu’s case and shamelessly grabs it. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate, but if you accepted his offer of moving in together, you’d always come back home to fresh meals cooked by Mingyu.”
Mayella rolls her eyes, “Stop pressurizing her, their relationship is still new.”
It is still taking time for Mayella to adjust to your relationship.
She’s skeptical, afraid that if you guys break up, it might cause rifts within the friendgroup, might force them to choose. Lisa almost fought with her when she expressed that concern.
But you’re not cross with your cousin for saying that. You know it doesn’t come from bitterness, but a place of total protectiveness. Though, it would be nice if she stopped being so pessimistic for once. Man, fuck wall street for turning all the investment bankers in the world into a bunch of skeptics.
“Ladies, we are not failing the bechdel test by discussing boys.” You laugh, awkwardly swatting your palm through the tense air. Then you tip your head at Lisa, “Besides, I love living with Rory.”
The artist scoffs in her wine, “Please you only like her because she lets you dominate her.”
“Kinkyyy…” Hansol drawls, joining in with Joshua in tow. A shiny flask sways in his hands. “Although, you do know loverboy will let you dominate him too, if you wanted to.”
You shoot Hansol a sharp look, trying not to laugh. "Why are you like this?"
He shrugs, utterly unbothered, and takes a dramatic swig from his flask. “I’m just saying, don’t sleep on the benefits of dating a simp. They’re loyal, they’re soft, and they probably come with a Costco-sized emotional support subscription. Ask Maye, when was the last time Josh let you do your own laundry?”
Mayella finally breaks into a reluctant smile, tries to mash her cheek on her fiance’s blazer, and the tension in the air loosens like a knot coming undone with a single mention of love. “You guys are so immature.”
Your inbuilt radar goes off when the giant pup, towering above anyone and everyone in the room, spots you from across the room.
Balancing a plate of fancy cheese and crackers in one hand and mini crostini in the other, he makes his way towards you with a grin that can light up a billion galaxies. You smile back, melting already.
“Hey.” He breathes, beaming down at the love of his life.
“Hi.” You whisper, glossed lips pressing to his jaw.
It is a new feeling when he wraps his arm around you in front of everyone, insisting on making you try the smoked gouda with his own fingers. Good, new.
There used to be a time when your glances towards him at group hangouts like this were stolen at best. And his concern towards you undetected under the radar— an aloof napkin passed towards you when the pizza crumbs bothered your fingers, a detached shrug ‘I’ll drive her home’, greetings lukewarm at best.
But now?
Now he presses your back to his chest like it is the only place for you to be while you talk to your friends, feeding you bites of cheese in between and wiping off the corners of your lips with his thumb—carefully not to smudge your lipgloss.
His passion flames like a dormant volcano which was suppressed since the beginning of times and which erupted when a single lily fell in and triggered its core. Now, the fire promises to burn till the end of times.
“Bro, you’re not even looking at us!” Lisa exclaims, a threatening wrist angled at Mingyu in a way that implies she is not afraid of painting him red with a splash of her wine. “So inconsiderate.”
Mingyu’s fingers, which were threading your hair from behind, pause mid stroke. He scoffs, “Look who’s talking?”
Lisa rolls her eyes, “You still hung up on a single dot? I told you I wasn’t going to paint your faces on those figures.”
He takes a deep, sharp breath. “I posed for you, for free, with little miss torture here in my lap…the only thing I ever asked in return was for you to include my nose mole in the painting, and this is how you repay me?”
You know Mingyu is just being annoying, not actually arguing, when there’s that slight lisp lilting his voice as he rambles.
“Oh get over it, you didn’t even know you had a mole until I pointed it out in freshman year.” Mayella joins forces with Lisa to take down a common enemy.
You let them banter back and forth and turn to Hansol instead.
“I don’t even have a mole on my face.” You shrug.
Before Hansol can reply, Mingyu pauses mid-speech, drops down his attention to you. “Yes you do,” He ascertains, quickly pecks a patch of skin beneath your left ear, “right here, a little red mole.”
“You know you could have just pointed at it like normal people instead of slathering her with your DNA.” Joshua rolls his eyes.
And just like that, Mingyu goes back to holding his fort down against his catty friends, unaware of the fact that he just added another item on the list of a million things you love about him.
He delivers some dumb joke. No one laughs, you don’t mean to either. But something about the way he tries to suppress his smirk, so proud of saying what he said, so unapologetically and unabashedly, him—that it slips out of you before you can stop it. He lights up like a winter carnival, like your validation was all that mattered.
The day fades, the bidders leave, the artificial lights have to be brightened, but you stay there, bubbling with laughter in a corner among the only people that matter, with the arms of your universe wrapped around you.
There’s no rush to compete in stories today, no panic to hide what flourishes. Just here, a calm love cushions your life.
When it is finally the time before someone asks you all to get the fuck out with the most polite poshness they can manage and when the dim stars begin dotting the azure sky, someone suggests you all take a group photograph.
Hansol naturally extends his digital camera towards you out of habit, like he has done several times.
You always insisted on not being photographed and were happy being on the other side of the lens, telling your friends to smile as you clicked them. But today is not the same as the days that preceded it.
Your fingers almost flutter, reaching out to take the camera, but then you hesitate.
Mingyu notices, he always does.
“Uhm, actually…” you begin, voice small and unsure, “Is it okay if someone else takes the picture today? I want to be in it.”
You’re staring at Mingyu the entire time, like the pools in your eyes are drawing strength from the stars in his.
No one reacts. The sheer purity of this moment, the subtle strength of it, is enough to render them wordless. Mingyu’s hand only tightens over your hip, his smile softening — not in some big dramatic gesture. Just naturally, instinctively. Like something built into him.
And then, he flicks Hansol’s forehead. “The fuck are you waiting for? Go take the picture.”
No one makes a huge deal of it, though their bumbling bodies give away their excitement of being photographed with their youngest, most adored, friend for the first time. It is in the quiet way Mingyu tucks you under his arm, your bodies slotting so perfectly together. It is in the way that Lisa instantly plops down on the floor in front of your legs, not caring about the dust garnering on her expensive Louis Vuitton dress. It is in the way Joshua looks over Mayella at you, his way of saying he’s proud. It is in the stability of your cousin’s shoulder when you lean your head down on her, like she’d still trade all your ugly sweaters for her pretty ones sent by Grandma.
It is in the soft curve of Hansol's smile when he chokes, “Say cheese!”
Outside the gallery, you all find an old man walking back home with a little boy hopping beside his cane. Mingyu thinks he has seen them somewhere. But you guys don’t pay much mind to his pondering, not when they serve as the perfect opportunity to include Hansol in the photograph too.
The little boy clicks an unfocused picture of your group.
The old man clicks a blurry one with his weak fingers that seem to have a shiver settled deep in them.
But the preciseness of it doesn’t matter, you all still grin and thank them both.
Mingyu excuses himself from the group when you’re all busy pouring down on the shiny screen of the camera, checking the pictures out. He jogs up to the old man and the little boy, catching up with them just in time under a magnolia tree on the sidewalk.
“Excuse me, sir!” he calls out, slowing down. The sweet summer air ruffles his hair, his dress jacket crumpling at the elbows.
The two tiny humans—one hunched over and another trying to wobble in the shoes which might be a size too big—turn around with spirited smiles. “Yes, mister?”
Mingyu can’t help this tingling feeling of familiarity knocking at his temples. “Have we met before? It seems to me that we have.”
The little boy looks up in the weathered, wrinkly gray eyes of the old man. The old man winks down at the little boy’s glassy ones.
And then, they both break into a fit of soft giggles.
Mingyu stands there, dumbfounded and lost. Like there was some secret canopy of flowers and fairy-lights around them, one which Mingyu was barred from entering just yet.
The little boy puts his palm up to his forehead, shaking his head with disbelief and pity as the old man waddles towards Mingyu, each step surer than anything Mingyu has ever known.
And then, he pauses just in front of the tall young man. Something about those three seconds which stretch with silence tells Mingyu that whatever the old man is about to say is something he should remember. Always.
“Son,” the old man sings like he is delivering a sermon, “sometimes when a forest is riddled with decay and the death of the heavy roots which once were, it has to be burnt down to make way for life to flourish. And when it does, the man who ignited that first spark of fire doesn’t have blood on his hands, but the nectar of the first honeysuckles that bloom there.”
All the subways in New York sway with elation that night. All but the one taking you back home where you sleep with your head lolled on Mingyu’s shoulder.
Yours just glide through time like it doesn’t even exist.
jk, but i always make a moodboard for all of my long fics, here's the one for this one:
also, here's the dress which gave me the idea for that Lisa's painting plotline (pc: sophia birlem on instagram)
on a more serious note,
pls consider reblogging this.
i always appreciate your reblogs, comments and messages in my DMs or inbox. while the reblogs help me reach more readers, your messages just fill my heart with love so if you enjoyed reading this, please please please help me out by sharing this fic and your thoughts about it.
i work really hard on them :)
TEASER FOR MY UPCOMING FIC "LOST SAINTS"
MASTERLIST
lemme know if you'd like to be added to my permanent tag list, i am planning to write a few short fics (around 3k-ish words for other members in the meantime)
now i will go hibernate (study the coursework i have been avoiding lmao)
take care, i love you, never think twice before reaching out <33
okay so i definitely lied THIS is the last one i promise. let me live!
Flashback: 6 Weeks After Monaco
-Tokyo, Tuesday, 9:41 AM:
The stick is on the edge of the bathroom counter, mocking me.
Not that I can blame it.
I'm the one who bought four of them at the convenience store down the street, like I was stocking up for the apocalypse. The cashier had the audacity to smirk. I had the audacity to smirk back. Neither of us said a word.
I cross my arms, staring it down.
One pink line: relief.
Two pink lines: well...
Outside the bathroom, I can hear Mingyu's music playing from the kitchen. Something jazzy and upbeat that he probably paired with freshly squeezed juice and a color coded fruit tray because he's still riding the high of a P4 finish like he didn't nearly give me a heart attack.
I've been nauseous for a week. My boobs hurt. I cried during a dog food commercial. The signs are all there.
But still. Seeing it? That's different.
I peek again.
And that's when I see it.
Two lines.
Two. Very. Obvious. Lines.
"Oh my God."
My voice is a whisper and a scream all at once.
I sit down on the edge of the tub because my legs feel like cooked spaghetti. I take a breath. Then another. Then three more that don't help at all.
We were careful.
Ish.
Okay, maybe not really.
But it was post race, and I was wearing that stupid dress he likes, and we were being married and in love and glowing and drunk on each other, and—
Oh my God?
I grab the stick, throw it down like it's hot, and pick it back up again because I need to double check that it didn't somehow change its mind.
Still two lines.
And now I'm spiraling.
What if I'm not ready? What if I suck at this? What if the baby inherits his dimples and my caffeine addiction, and we end up raising a charming little gremlin who insists on eating Nutella with a spoon and climbing on countertops?
And that's when I hear him.
"Babe?"
My heart tries to escape my chest. I scramble to hide all four tests in the cabinet under the sink like that'll somehow erase the past two minutes of my life.
He knocks once on the bathroom door. "You okay?"
"Yep!" I squeak. "Fine! Totally fine. Just... girl stuff!"
There's a pause.
"You're not bleeding, are you?"
"No!"
"Do you need chocolate?"
"I don't—wait, yes. Yes, I do."
I hear him pad away, bless his clueless heart.
I wait until the coast is clear, yank the cabinet back open, and line up all four tests in a row like it's a very specific CSI episode.
Every single one: two lines.
My fingers shake as I reach for my phone.
I typed a text to Hani first. Delete it. Try again. Delete that too.
Then I hover over Mingyu's name.
I should wait. Make it cute. Pinterest worthy. Maybe tiny shoes, a little onesie that says Team Gyu, and a baby bottle in a trophy case or something.
But when I step out of the bathroom and see him dancing like a goof in the kitchen, barefoot, shirtless, singing into a spatula like it's a mic, I just blurt, "Hey."
He turns mid spin. "Yeah?"
"I'm pregnant."
Silence.
The music no longer feels like background noise. Just me. Him. My words still hanging in the air like smoke.
He freezes, spatula still in hand.
"Like... now?" he asks, eyes wide.
"I mean... technically, I guess it started a few weeks ago?"
Another beat.
Mingyu lets out the loudest, most undignified gasp I've ever heard and drops the spatula on the counter like he's just been electrocuted.
"You're pregnant?!"
I nod slowly.
"I'm going to be a dad?!"
Another nod.
He stares at me for a second like his brain is rebooting, then suddenly he's in front of me, hands on my waist, then my face, then my waist again, like he can't decide if I need comfort or a trophy.
"Holy shit," he says breathlessly. "You're—wait, you're sure? Like test test, sure? More than one test?"
"Four."
He lets out a choked laugh and leans forward to press his forehead to mine.
"You're pregnant," he whispers again, his voice full of wonder, awe, and slightly terrified joy.
And just like that, everything shifts.
-Monaco, Sunday, 6:42 PM
Our Apartment:
It's golden hour in Monaco, and our living room is flooded with soft light, which makes everything look warmer than it is. Mingyu sprawled across the floor in joggers and a faded team tee, one hand holding a toy screwdriver while our daughter climbed onto his back like he's her personal jungle gym.
"Appa, you're broken," she declares with the seriousness of a seasoned mechanic, poking at his shoulder blade. "I fix."
"Am I?" he laughs, twisting his head to look at her. "What do I need?"
"Sticker."
"Of course. Only the finest medical technology."
I'm standing by the open suitcase on the couch, folding tiny dresses and rolling socks that never stay on her feet. A half zipped carry-on sits by the door, and our passports are tucked inside a folder with our itinerary for Vegas. It should feel routine by now. Packing, prepping, flying halfway around the world for another race. But there's something extra about this one.
Maybe it's because it's Vegas. Or maybe it's because she's coming with us this time.
"You know we're not bringing that screwdriver through customs, right?" I call out, nodding toward the plastic tool in his hand.
"But she said I'm broken," he deadpans. "I can't fly internationally in this condition."
"Appa's dramatic," our daughter whispers to me behind her hand.
"Tell me about it."
She giggles and launches into my arms a second later, and I catch her with a soft oof, pressing my nose to her curls. She still smells like baby shampoo and mischief. I'm already dreading the jet lag we'll all suffer once we land.
"Did you pack the travel snacks?" Mingyu asks, standing up and brushing himself off. His shirt lifts just slightly, revealing the line of his waist and the birthmark our daughter claims is shaped like a cloud.
"In your carry-on," I reply. "Next to your vitamins, your backup charger, and the lucky socks you forget every time."
He grins, stepping closer. "What would I do without you?"
"Miss a flight. Cry at the gate. Blame airport security."
"Harsh."
I lean up to kiss him anyway, just a soft brush of my lips over his. He tastes like coffee and confidence, and I linger longer than I should.
Our daughter makes a gagging noise. We both laugh.
The rest of the night moves in a familiar rhythm: dinner at the table, a bubble bath that turns into a splash war, her favorite bedtime story read in Mingyu's best dramatic voice while I braid her damp hair. And after she's asleep, her tiny limbs sprawled across the bed we swore she'd never co-sleep in, I curl up beside Mingyu on the balcony with two glasses of wine and a view of the sea.
"We're lucky," I say into the quiet.
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he pulls me closer.
"I know," he murmurs finally. "I feel it every time I look at you. At her."
His fingers lace through mine.
"We'll be okay," I whisper, half to him and half to myself.
Because part of me knows.
Vegas will test us.
And not just on the track.
-Las Vegas, Monday, 1:04 PM
Harry Reid International Airport:
The airport is a hive.
Paparazzi are like roaches. Persistent, twitchy, and always exactly where you don't want them to be.
We've done press lines, sponsorship dinners, and post race interviews before, but never like this. Never as a family.
As soon as the car doors open, the flashes start.
"There they are!"
"First time with the baby. Look here, please!"
"YN, is it true you've been scouting your own team?"
"Mingyu, any thoughts on Julius joining the Vegas grid again?"
His hand is in mine before I even think of reaching for it.
Our daughter is in his other arm, hood up, headphones on, face tucked against his shoulder. Even at two years old, she can sense that this is not a moment for noise.
We don't answer and we don't look. We walk.
Straight line. No hesitation. Security flanks us like shadows. I don't even blink when a camera flash goes off two inches from my face.
Mingyu's grip tightens just slightly.
He's steady. Always is. And somehow, so am I.
Because this? This was never the part that scared me.
We get into the black SUV, doors slamming behind us like punctuation, and everything goes quiet again.
Mingyu exhales. Leans his head back against the seat.
"You okay?" I ask, my voice soft as I reach over and adjust our daughter's hat, which has slipped a little sideways.
"Yeah," he says, but his eyes stay on the rearview mirror a second too long.
At the time, I don't think much of it.
But later, I'll realize that was the first crack.
Not big enough to break anything.
But enough to let the light in.
-Las Vegas, Tuesday, 6:12 AM
The Cosmopolitan:
Mingyu is already gone by the time I wake up.
His side of the bed is still warm, faintly rumpled, the duvet half folded like he left in a hurry but still thought about tucking me back in.
He's been like this since we landed.
Hyper focused and routine driven. A man possessed by strategy and simulation.
I blink away sleep and slide out of bed, careful not to wake our daughter, who's spread out like a starfish on the other side of the mattress, one foot wedged firmly against my hip. Her curls are a riot against the pillow. Her stuffed elephant is trapped under her belly like it put up a fight and lost.
I smile, kissing her forehead before slipping into the living room.
There's already a cup of coffee waiting on the counter.
Of course there is. He's predictable like that. Reliable. Loving in the most infuriatingly quiet ways.
My phone buzzes.
Mingyu 💍: 6K run. At the sim by 7. Don't forget breakfast's in the fridge. Love you.
I tap out a quick reply, toss my hair into a bun, and start prepping for the day. There's no such thing as a slow morning with a toddler, not even in a luxury suite with blackout curtains and silk sheets.
She wakes up twenty minutes later demanding cereal, juice, and Peppa Pig in that order. I make her a plate shaped like a bear's face and pour myself a second cup of coffee I won't get to finish.
By 8:00 AM, we're in matching sunglasses. She's wearing her custom "Team Gyu" hoodie, and I've got her strapped to my hip while scrolling through our itinerary for the week: media days, practice laps, and sponsor dinners. Mingyu has four full-day sessions between now and race day. The team even built a mobile setup in one of the garages for last minute telemetry reviews.
It's a circus. But it's our circus.
When he returns just after 8:30, drenched in sweat and high on endorphins, he barely gets two steps through the door before she barrels into his legs yelling, "Appa!"
He picks her up effortlessly, still panting, still dripping, smiling like the sun cracked open just for her.
"Did you eat?" I ask, handing him a protein shake and a towel.
"Yes, Mom," he teases, kissing me on the cheek. "Don't forget we've got dinner with the Red Bull guys tonight. Casual, not press."
"I remember. Already called Kate"
He nods, distracted already, gaze flicking back to his phone where a new batch of lap time data just came in.
And just like that, he’s gone again.
Still here, in body. But somewhere else entirely in his mind.
I watch him head to the other room where his laptop is set up, where he's got two monitors, a notebook, and enough graphs to make a statistician weep. My chest tightens just slightly.
He lives for this part. The prep. The planning. The pressure.
But sometimes I miss him before he's even gone.
I try not to take it personally.
Later that afternoon, while he's at the factory running through strategy meetings, I take our daughter to the Bellagio fountains. She claps every time the water jumps. We eat overpriced gelato and wave at tourists. She insists we bring a bouquet of pink flowers back to the suite, "For Appa!" and I snap a photo of her holding them, cheeks sticky with sugar.
When I text it to Mingyu, he replies two seconds later:
Mingyu 💍: my whole heart.
Mingyu 💍: show her the gearbox diagram on my desk pls. she’ll love it.
He's not wrong. She's already memorized every part of a steering wheel like it's a bedtime story.
After bath time and books, she knocks out cold against my arm, and I carry her into the second bedroom. I barely make it back to the main room before the door opens.
He steps in, eyes tired but alert, still somehow running on adrenaline and caffeine. His shirt is wrinkled. His knuckles are stained with grease. He drops his backpack and heads straight for the couch where I'm curled up with the blanket.
"You should sleep," I murmur, stroking his hair as he lays his head in my lap.
"I will." His voice is low. "Just... give me a minute."
I don't say anything.
Just trace the curve of his jaw and kiss the crown of his head.
Vegas hasn't even started yet.
But something's coming.
I can feel it in the quiet between us.
And the crackle of static just beneath the surface.
The view from the rooftop is insane. Full glam Las Vegas, neon glittering like it was poured from the sky, with Bellagio's fountains putting on a show just to our left. The breeze is warm, but not suffocating, and the bar staff keep the drinks cold and the small bites coming like clockwork.
Mingyu looks gorgeous tonight. All long lines and subtle swagger in his navy button-down, sleeves pushed to the elbows, collar just slightly open. His hair is styled, but not too styled, effortless in a way only someone trying can achieve. And the way his hand hasn't left the small of my back since we walked in? Obscene.
We make the rounds slowly. Sponsors, engineers, PR reps. I make easy conversation. Smile when I'm supposed to. Laugh when I mean it. The kind of plus one I know how to be.
Mingyu's animated when he's with his team, almost boyish in how he talks shop, hands flying, eyes bright, making lap time data sound like music theory. It's when he's happiest. I feel it in the way his thumb taps against my spine.
And then he walks in. Julius.
Late, as always. Always with an entrance.
He's in a sand colored suit with no tie, dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down like the dress code is just a suggestion and his ego is doing the rest. A Red Bull exec claps him on the shoulder like an old friend, and soon, he's roped into our conversation, pulling up a chair right across from Mingyu.
I stiffen slightly, but Mingyu shifts his weight and offers a tight, professional nod.
"Glad you could join us," Mingyu says lightly.
Julius flashes a smile, toothy and calculated. "Wouldn't miss it. You know I like to check in on the legacy drivers."
I glance up from my drink.
"Legacy?" someone else at the table chuckles. "What, like he's on his way out?"
"It's a joke," Julius says, holding up his hands. "God, relax. You know I'm a fan."
Mingyu's jaw ticks once. But he plays it cool, reaching for his wine instead of biting back. The conversation drifts. Kind of. Julius manages to bring it back to Mingyu every third sentence. Compliments laced in static. Nostalgic praise that doubles as backhanded swipes. And then he says it.
We're talking about the season and how brutal the calendar's been, how taxing the travel is with a kid and someone jokingly asks how Mingyu even functions with a toddler and twenty races to prep for.
Julius leans back in his chair, tilts his glass, and says, "Damn man! You were building an empire. And now?" He pauses, lets the moment sit. "Now you're building a family. How cute." It lands with a thud.
The table laughs. Not a big one. Just polite, uncomfortable chuckles.
Mingyu lets out a soft one too. "Guess I'll have to settle for both." But I know that look. The twitch behind his eyes. The microsecond delay before the smile. The way his thumb stops tapping. He heard it. Felt it. And it dug in deeper than he wants to admit.
I slip my hand under the table and brush his knee. Just a light touch. Reassurance. He doesn't look at me. He just lifts his glass.
"To both," he says. The table clinks back.
But me? I'm watching the way he swallows. Too slow. Too hard.
Like it stings going down.
The drive back to the hotel is quiet.
Too quiet.
Las Vegas blurs outside the window, flashy marquees, pink tinted palm trees, a never ending stream of people moving like they're chasing something, but inside the car, it's just silence. Mingyu's looking at his phone, not really scrolling, just tapping it against his thigh like it's helping him think. I watch him out of the corner of my eye.
The light from the streetlamps flickers across his face. He looks relaxed if you don't know him. But I do. And I can see the line in his jaw, the subtle twitch of his brow, the way his shoulders haven't dropped since the moment Julius opened his mouth.
I reach out, fingers brushing his.
"You okay?"
His hand shifts but doesn't close around mine. "Just tired."
I nod, even though I don't believe him.
We make it up to the suite in silence. The lights are dim, the air cool from the AC we forgot to adjust before we left. Our daughter's not there, still at the suite downstairs with the sitter.
It should've been a weight off both our shoulders.
And it was, for a while. But now?
Mingyu slips off his watch and sets it down with more force than necessary. I start taking off my earrings, watching him from the mirror as he goes straight for his side of the bed, already loosening the buttons of his shirt.
"You sure you're okay?" I ask again, softer this time. "He's just trying to get under your skin, Gyu. That comment wasn't—"
"I said I'm fine."
It's not loud. But it's final. The kind of tone that sounds more like a wall than an answer. I freeze. Not all the way. Just long enough for the sting to set in.
He's quiet again. Sitting on the edge of the bed now, back turned, shoulders hunched like the tension has nowhere else to go.
"I just..." I start, trying again, "I saw your face at dinner. You don't have to pretend with me."
He exhales, more like a sigh than a breath.
"I'm not pretending. I don't want to talk about it."
That's the wall. Right there. Clean. Sharp. Unmistakable. I swallow it down.
"Okay," I say, barely above a whisper.
I cross the room and check the monitor on my phone to give my hands something to do. Our daughter is fast asleep, sockless, curled around her bunny plush in the borrowed crib. Kate sent a photo an hour ago, thumbs up, all smiles, no problems.
At least someone's night is going smoothly.
When I come back, Mingyu's already under the covers, one arm slung over his eyes like he's trying to sleep through gravity. I slide into bed beside him, careful not to brush too close. And for the first time in a long time, we fall asleep back to back.
Or at least, one of us does.
Because I stare at the ceiling long after his breathing evens out, wondering how something as small as a sentence could feel so much like a crack. And how quickly that crack is starting to spread.
-Las Vegas, Wednesday, 5:46 AM
The Cosmopolitan:
The suite is quiet when I wake up. Too quiet.
The quiet that means someone's already up, already working, already buried in their own thoughts before the day even starts.
I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The bed's half empty,. Again. The duvet cold on his side, and our daughter's not here either. For a second, my heart jumps, but then I hear the soft hum of cartoons playing from the next room. She must've woken early. Mingyu probably scooped her up so I could rest.
I pad into the living room, still in my sleep shirt. Sure enough, the TV is on low, a sticky bowl of cereal abandoned on the coffee table. The sitter must've already picked her up for their morning walk.
Mingyu's on the couch. Laptop open. Foot tapping.
He's watching footage from Singapore last year, lap 38 from the looks of it, pausing and replaying the same corner exit over and over. His brows are furrowed, jaw tight, a pen tucked behind his ear. There's a legal pad on the cushion next to him covered in chicken scratch notes and sector splits.
I cross the room and curl into his side, nudging the laptop just enough to lean in for a kiss. His lips brush mine, but barely. A polite formality. Not real. Not him.
I pull back, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Morning," I say softly.
"Mm." He doesn't look away from the screen.
I try again, my hand glides up to his shoulder, fingers gently massaging the knot I know is there. It's instinct by now. Reassurance without needing words. But he stiffens under my touch.
"Gyu—"
"I'm busy," he says, shrugging me off. "Can we not do this right now?"
The words hit like a slap, sharp in their detachment. My hand drops. I sit there for a beat, then lean back slightly, arms crossed. He sighs through his nose, still staring at the screen. I let the silence stretch just long enough before I speak again.
"So we're just not gonna talk about what Julius said last night?"
His fingers pause over the keyboard, but he doesn't turn to me.
"There's nothing to talk about."
I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Because it looked like he got to you."
His jaw ticks. "He didn't."
I let out a quiet laugh that isn't funny. "You're seriously going to sit there and act like he didn't imply your career is over because we have a kid?"
He pauses the video. Hard. His fingers flex once over the trackpad before he sets the laptop aside.
"Julius is a dick," he says. "He's always been a dick. I'm not giving him real estate in my head."
I scoff. "You already did."
"I'm not doing this," he says, standing now.
"Doing what?" I follow him into the kitchen, keeping my voice low. "Acknowledging that someone questioned your place in the sport and it got to you? Because it did. I saw your face when he said it."
"You think I haven't heard worse?" he snaps, spinning around. "You think I haven't had people doubt me since I was seventeen?"
"Not like that." My voice is tighter now, rising despite myself. "Not after everything you've built. Not when you're at the top of your game, and some washed up half ass wants to cut you down because he's bitter and threatened and jealous—"
"He wasn't cutting me down," Mingyu cuts in, voice low and bitter. "He was stating the obvious."
That stuns me.
"What?"
He rubs his face. "Do you know how many times I've missed training sessions because of teething? Or changed tire review meetings because nap time ran late? You don't think people notice that? You don't think the team notices when I bring a toddler to the paddock?"
"She's not a distraction," I snap, heart pounding now. "She's our daughter."
"I know!" he says, and suddenly it's too loud. "God, I know! Don't you think I know that? But the world doesn't care that we're trying to have both. They think I've lost my edge."
"Then prove them wrong!" I hiss. "You always do. You fight for everything else. Why is this any different?"
"Because this isn't just about me anymore!" he shouts.
And then, silence. My throat tightens.
"Keep your voice down," I say sharply.
His eyes flash. "She's not even here—"
"She was." I fold my arms tighter. "And even if she wasn't, maybe don't raise your voice at me like I'm the problem."
He closes his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath.
I shake my head. "You're pushing me away."
"I'm trying to focus."
"No," I say, chest burning. "You're trying to disappear. You're shutting me out and pretending you're fine because admitting this hurts would mean Julius got to you. But he did. And instead of talking about it, you'd rather push me away. Great strategy."
"You want me to whine about it? Sulk like a kid?"
"I want you to talk to me, Mingyu! I'm not your team, I'm your wife!"
He doesn't answer.
Just walks back to his laptop. Opens it.
Just like that? Conversation over.
I stare at the back of his head for a long second, heart pounding so loud I'm sure it's echoing off the walls. Then I walk back towards the bedroom.
I stop in the doorway like I've slammed into glass. My voice breaks before I even realize I'm speaking.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't realize being loved by me was such a fucking inconvenience."
Mingyu looks up, startled. "What?"
I turn. Slow. Shaking. "You heard me."
"That's not fair," he says quickly, standing now. "That's not what I said—"
"No," I cut him off, eyes burning. "You didn't say it. You just made it very fucking clear."
He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "Jesus, YN. Can you not do this right now?"
"Do what? Hold you accountable for acting like a stranger in our bed?"
"I've been under pressure—"
"So have I!" I yell. "But I don't take it out on the person I supposedly love!"
I storm to the bed, grabbing my hoodie off the floor. My hands fumble with the sleeves, but I don't stop. I can't stop.
"I never wanted to make you feel like you had to choose between your family and your job," I say. "But that's exactly what it feels like. Like every time you look at me, you see a fork in the road. And you're fucking tired of choosing us."
"YN—"
"No!" I scream, spinning on him. "Don't fucking interrupt me."
He steps back, hands out like he's trying to calm a wild animal.
"Let's just take a second—"
"I'm not done!" I shout.
The words rip from my throat and I don't recognize the sound of my own voice.
"You don't talk to me. You don't touch me unless you have to. You act like being here, being with me, is this heavy fucking burden that's screwing up your entire career."
"That's not true."
"The hell it's not!"
Mingyu moves toward me again, slower this time. His face is pale. His eyes dart to my hands, like he's terrified I'll throw something.
"You think I can't see it?" I demand, voice shaking. "I know you, Gyu. I know when you're drifting. You've been gone since the moment we landed."
"Because I've been trying to focus!"
"Focus?" I laugh bitterly. "On what? Your stats? Your image? Julius and whatever pissing match you two are in now?"
He swears under his breath. "This isn't about Julius—"
"Yes, it is. Because ever since he made that little comment, you've been unraveling. And instead of talking to me about it, you shut down. You pushed me away."
He tries again. "I didn't mean to—"
"But you did." My voice drops to a whisper. "You did. And now I'm standing here wondering if I ruined your life."
"Don't say that," he breathes. "YN, baby, don't say that—"
"You wanted this!" I explode. "You wanted me. You asked me to marry you. You said let's have a baby. You fucking promised me we'd build a life together, and now you're acting like it's a shackle around your ankle."
Mingyu's face collapses. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
"I've been holding us together with both hands while you let go," I whisper, blinking back tears. "And I'm tired."
He takes one more step forward. "Let me fix this."
"You can't," I say. "Not right now."
I grab my jacket off the chair and zip it up with shaking fingers.
"Please," he says, voice hoarse. "Don't go."
I pause at the door.
"I can't stay here and feel like the enemy in my own marriage." And then I leave.
The door doesn't slam. It clicks shut. Which, somehow, is worse.
The moment the car door slams shut, it's like the last thread snaps.
I let out a broken sob, loud and cracked and ugly, and collapse forward against the steering wheel. The leather is cold against my forehead. My hands are shaking so bad I can't even find the keys in my purse. I can't breathe. My chest is too tight. My lungs won't expand. Everything hurts.
Everything.
My body. My heart. My pride.
I'm not even crying. I'm sobbing. Sputtering. Gasping. A full-body breakdown that feels like years of trying to hold it together is finally catching up to me in one goddamn parking garage. I can't do this.
I can't do this anymore.
My phone's somewhere in the chaos of my bag, and when I find it, I don't even think. I just hit call.
She picks up on the second ring.
"Hello?"
I can't talk. My throat's closing up.
"...Mom," I croak. And then I lose it all over again.
"Baby?" Her voice sharpens. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"I... I... no... I just..." I can't even string words together.
I'm choking on sobs. On breath. On everything I haven't said for months. "I'm so tired," I manage, voice wrecked. "I'm so tired, Mom."
"Oh, sweetheart..."
"It's like I don't even know who I am anymore. I try so hard to be calm, to be okay, to support him, to keep everything running so he can just focus, and it still feels like I'm in the way. Like I'm standing in the middle of his life with a giant neon sign that says 'this is why you're losing.'"
"YN—"
"I'm not saying he said it! But he doesn't have to. I see it in the way he looks right through me. The way he shuts down when I talk. I feel it when he leaves the room before I wake up and doesn't even text to say good morning. And God, I try to make it easy. I try not to complain or crumble or need too much, and it's like that's not enough either." I curl my hands into fists in my lap, nails digging into skin.
"I yelled at him," I whisper, voice hollow. "I yelled so much, Momma. I was screaming and crying, and I said awful things. I said I was sorry for being a distraction. I said... I said I never wanted him to feel like he had to choose between his family and his job." My voice breaks.
"And I think... I think he already did."
Silence. Then, quietly: "What do you mean?"
"I think he loves racing more than he loves us."
"Absolutely not."
"Mom—"
"No. I love you, but I'm not letting you say that. Not even in a moment like this."
I suck in a breath.
"I've known Mingyu since you brought him home," she says. "Since he stood in our kitchen and asked if you liked extra ice in your coffee because he remembered you said it once. Since he woke up at 4 a.m. to pick up your favorite bread from the Korean bakery down the street. Since he spent six hours helping your brother build a dresser so that he'd trust him with you."
I'm shaking again, but this time it's quieter. Quaking.
"That man has been in love with you since day one," she says. "And he has never, not once, treated racing like it came before his family. He's built a world where both can exist. But he's human. And humans fuck up. They shut down. They get scared. That doesn't mean they love you any less."
"I just..." I bury my face in my sleeve. "It hurts. It hurts so much."
"Of course it does. You're not made of stone."
"I feel like I'm failing."
"You're not failing. You're just overwhelmed. And exhausted. And hurting because you care." Her voice softens. "You don't cry like this for someone you've stopped loving."
I close my eyes. A tear slides into my mouth.
"You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling. You're allowed to say this isn't working right now. That doesn't mean you're broken. That doesn't mean you walk away the first time things crack."
"I yelled at him," I whisper. "I screamed. I said awful things, and I... I think I scared him."
Her voice is quiet now. Gentle. "And he'll think about every word. Because he loves you. Because he listens to you more than you think."
I press my hand to my mouth.
"But you need to talk," she continues. "Really talk. Not tiptoe. Not pretend. Not shut down because you don't want to be the reason he falters. That's not your job, baby. You're not supposed to shrink so he can shine."
"I don't want to lose him," I say, voice cracking. "I don't want her to lose him."
"You won't," she says, sure as the sunrise. "He might need a second to remember how to show up. But he'll find his way back. Because he doesn't know how to be without you."
I close my eyes. Let her words settle around me like a blanket.
"Do you think we're going to be okay?" I whisper.
Another pause. A long one.
"I think you've always been okay, even when you didn't feel like it. And I think if there's anyone who can come back from this... it's you two."
And somehow, through all the heartbreak and noise and shaking and snot and mascara, I start to believe her. Just a little.
"And YN?"
"Yeah?"
"When you're ready," she says gently, "go home."
"Home?"
"To the man who's probably pacing the hotel room like a lunatic and hasn't blinked since you slammed the door."
A quiet laugh punches through my tears.
"I love you," I whisper.
"I love you more," she replies. "Always."
-Las Vegas, Wednesday, 09:12 AM
The Strip. Some café with overpriced iced lattes and a view of nothing but neon signs and noise.
I stare at my half empty coffee cup, fingers tapping the condensation as if it's supposed to distract me from the ache lodged somewhere between my throat and my chest. I haven't gone back. I couldn't. Not yet.
The sitter replied an hour ago with a thumbs up and a "She's doing great! Took a long bath and is playing with her blocks now 💕" but didn't ask any questions. I appreciated that more than I could say.
I'd told her the truth. That I was safe. That I just needed a few hours. That if anything urgent happened, I'd be here. Sent her my location, told her not to tell Mingyu.
She didn’t push. Just sent a heart emoji and said, "You’ve got this."
But it's Megan who keeps me from slipping too far.
One text is all it takes.
me: hey... you around today?
She replies in under a minute.
megs 🐢: always. want company?
me: please.
megs 🐢: give me ten. heels or sneakers?
me: sneakers. and maybe tissues.
megs 🐢: got it. black shades and a ride or die attitude coming your way 🖤
She picks me up like it’s any other girl’s day. No questions. Just a tight hug outside the café, keys jingling, sunglasses on, hair in a messy ponytail, her energy calm but firm like she already knows how to steady the air around me.
I don’t tell her everything. Not at first. But I don’t need to. Megan’s been around the paddock long enough to know how pressure warps even the strongest people. How love can bruise when you’re both trying to chase different kinds of finish lines.
We walk. Window shop. Pretend we’re tourists.
She drags me into a boutique with overpriced candles and swears one of them smells like “emotional healing and also maybe fresh baked cookies.” I nearly laugh. Almost.
"You know," she says, holding up a glittery nail polish and squinting at it, "I once told Louis I was going to key his car if he made one more comment about 'focus and distractions' in the same sentence as my name."
I glance at her. "Did you?"
"No. I threw a protein bar at him instead." She shrugs. "Marriage. Compromise."
This time I do laugh, just a little.
We end up getting facials at a spa tucked between a tattoo shop and a place that exclusively sells fur cowboy boots. Somehow, that feels right. Like I’m allowed to exist in this in-between space. Healing and messy and unsure.
Megan doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask if I’m going back. If we’re okay. If I regret everything I said.
Instead, she says, "You know, it’s okay if you’re not ready to talk to him yet."
I nod.
"But don’t stay silent too long. Not because you owe him anything but because you’ll start to spiral."
"I already am," I admit softly, eyes still closed under the cooling mask.
She reaches out blindly and squeezes my hand.
"You’re not alone, YN. You’ve got people. Him included, even if he forgot how to show it."
I hold onto that.
By noon, we’ve migrated to brunch.
One of those rooftop spots with endless mimosas, uncomfortable chairs, and the kind of music that makes you feel cooler just for existing near it.
Megan insisted we go. Said I needed real food and Vitamin D, not just caffeine and existential dread. I didn’t argue.
What I didn’t expect was for it to turn into a full blown girls' meetup.
Emily, whose boyfriend races for Mercedes, shows up first. Oversized sunglasses and a wide brim hat framing her perfectly bronzed face like she walked off a yacht. Then there’s Sofia, engaged to a Red Bull engineer, who slides into the seat beside me with a kiss to my cheek and a loud, "Babe, you look hot. Like emotionally wrecked hot, but still."
They order immediately. Something fruity, something fizzy. Extra sides of drama.
"You know we were planning a girls' trip after the summer break anyway," Sofia says, scrolling through her notes app like it’s gospel. "We just hadn’t picked a destination."
Megan takes a long sip from her iced tea. "I vote Mykonos."
Emily makes a face. "Too cliché. I want something that says 'healing and hot girl summer,' not 'Instagram filtered tequila hangover.'"
"What about the Amalfi Coast?" I murmur without thinking, gaze locked on the tiny bubbles rising in my mimosa.
They all pause.
"Ooooh," Megan says, snapping her fingers. "She speaks."
"Amalfi it is," Sofia confirms, clinking her glass with mine. "And you’re coming."
"I don’t even know what next week looks like," I say honestly, brushing my thumb over the condensation again.
Emily shrugs. "Then that’s exactly why you need this."
Megan leans toward me, resting her chin in her hand. "Look. You’ve spent so much of your time being everything for everyone. This—right here, this brunch, this moment? It’s just for you. You don’t have to be a mom, or a wife, or some perfectly composed PR friendly version of yourself. You can just be YN."
My eyes stinging slightly, but this time for a different reason.
It feels good. Being around people who know the chaos, who live in it too, and still carve out joy like it’s sacred. It feels like breathing air I didn’t know I needed.
"I think I’d like that," I admit quietly. "The trip, I mean."
Sofia raises her glass again. "To Amalfi. And to being hot, healing, and maybe just a little unhinged." We clink again.
The bubbles hit my throat like relief. Not sharp, not sweet. Just... real. And for a few blissful minutes, I forget I’m spiraling.
Emily’s telling a story about a flight delay in Monaco where her boyfriend had to share a room with his race engineer. Megan’s trying to convince us that the tattoo shop next to the spa was a sign from the universe. Sofia’s texting someone about renting a villa and muttering, "If this guy screws me again, I swear I’m emailing his mother."
And me?
I’m sipping a peach mimosa and pretending like I’m not haunted. But curiosity is a hell of a thing. I pick up my phone. The screen lights up and my stomach drops.
23 missed calls. 19 texts. All from Mingyu.
For a second, I actually think my phone’s glitched. Like maybe it’s broken, or buffering the heartbreak in waves. But no.
The list keeps going.
Mingyu 💍 : yn please
baby, where are you
i’m losing it
you’re not answering
please please tell me you’re okay
i need to see you
i can’t focus. i can’t think
i love you. i love you. i love you.
come back
i’ll do anything
god i miss you
please don’t shut me out
not like this
just text me. please. anything
i deserve it. say it. yell. anything
i need to know you’re alright
please
Another text hits the screen right in front of me.
Mingyu 💍 : i’m calling you. please pick up.
My throat tightens. I quickly type out a message.
me: i’m alive. need space.
I hit send and blink through the blur, heart pounding as my thumb trembles against the glass. The screen lights up again, his name at the top.
Incoming call: Mingyu 💍
I don’t even get a chance to breathe before Sofia snatches the phone from my hands.
"Aht, aht," she tuts, shutting the screen off like she’s swatting a fly. "No boy drama during brunch."
"Soph—"
"No. He had his turn. This is your day." She tucks my phone into her oversized purse and lifts her sunglasses to raise a perfectly plucked brow. "Unless he’s giving birth, winning the championship, or bleeding from the ears? It can wait."
Emily reaches over and plucks my fork. "You need to eat. Emotional avoidance isn’t a meal, sweetie."
Megan leans into my side. "You okay?"
I exhale slowly. "I sent him a message. Just said I’m alive. That I need space."
"That’s all he needs to know," she says, like it’s the most straightforward truth in the world.
"But what if he—"
"Needs you?" Emily cuts in. "Let him. Needing you and respecting your space are not mutually exclusive."
Sofia waves a hand. "He can go scream into a helmet. You, my love, are going to order a stack of pancakes and decide what color bikini you’re bringing to Italy."
That actually makes me laugh. It bubbles out low and tired, but genuine.
"You guys are dangerous."
"Obviously," Sofia says, already flagging down the server. "That’s why you love us."
We spend the next hour sharing French toast and trading stories like battle scars. Every meltdown. Every champagne-fueled fight. Every PR disaster we’ve survived. We joke about forming a paddock wives union. We rate the best post-race parties. We make a list of Amalfi must haves that includes "no phones," "no men," and "at least one scandal."
And in the middle of it, between Sofia’s impersonation of her fiancé’s freakout over a missing torque wrench and Megan daring me to wear a backless dress, I feel something shift. Not fixed. Not whole. But definitely lighter.
-Las Vegas, Wednesday, 5:02 PM
The Venetian. Room 2209, Girls Only
"I swear to God, Sofia, if this suite has a grand piano, I'm walking back to the lobby."
"Too late, babe," she grins, flinging the door open. "Welcome to post meltdown paradise."
I gape at the marble floors, floor to ceiling windows, and the literal chandelier hanging over the bed. There's a velvet settee. A stocked mini bar. A bathtub that could fit all four of us if we got bored enough.
"This is not normal," I mutter, stepping inside like I'm trespassing.
Emily tosses her bag onto the bed. "Neither is being a paddock wife. Embrace the chaos."
"You're staying the night," Megan adds, already toeing off her sneakers and heading toward the bathroom in search of robes. "You're not allowed to be polite or functional. We are officially off duty."
I hesitate in the doorway, phone still clutched in my hand. The room hums with warmth and friendship, but my nerves still hang like fog around my ribs.
"I just need to text the sitter real quick," I say.
I sit on the edge of the bed and type:
me: hey! I'm staying with friends tonight. location pinned just in case. I'll pay extra. thank you again for everything.
kate: Please, no need!! She's doing so well. We made banana pancakes together and she pretended the blocks were little cars. Honestly? This is the best night I've had in a while 🥺💛
Another text follows a beat later.
kate: Also... I don't want to pry, but I hope you and Mingyu are okay. He came home earlier, and he looked like a ghost. He didn't say anything, just sat in her room and held her hand until she fell asleep.
That one hits harder than I expect.
I stare at the screen, throat tight, then type:
me: we're okay. just need a little space. thank you for being there. for her, and me.
I shut off my phone before I can spiral.
"Alright," I say, forcing a smile. "Let's do this."
"Hell yeah," Megan grins, already dragging the hotel coffee table to the center of the room. "You're in pajama territory now, babe."
Sofia throws a sleep set my way. Silky and black, with lace trim and way too much confidence. "Put that on. We're getting face masks on, toes out, and trauma gone."
"Are we doing facials or getting wine drunk first?" she asks, holding up a sheet mask in one hand and a bottle of rosé in the other.
"Both," Emily says. "Obviously."
We start with pedicures and peel off masks. Then manicures. Then Sofia announces it's time to "exfoliate the emotional wounds," which apparently means going around the circle and confessing the stupidest thing our partners have said during a fight.
"I once told Louis he needed to work on communication," Megan says, filing her nails. "And he said, 'I am communicating. You just don't like the message.'"
We all groan in unison.
"Mine said I use too many metaphors," Emily adds. "I said, 'That's rich coming from a man who calls his car she.'"
Sofia's laughing so hard she nearly spills the wine. "Mine said I don't fight fair because I use logic. Like what?"
I smile, finally, curling my knees up to my chest on the bed. "That feels familiar."
They all look at me.
I shrug. "I think he loves racing more than us. Some days, it just feels that way."
Sofia's smile softens. Megan quietly sets down her glass.
Emily's voice is gentle. "That's a heavy thing to carry, YN."
I nod. "I know it's not true. Not really. But it's hard not to feel like I'm always the distraction. The thing he has to work around."
Megan moves to sit beside me, pressing our shoulders together.
"You're not a distraction," she says. "You're the reason he breathes."
My throat tightens again.
"You're allowed to feel what you feel," Sofia says, grabbing the wine and refilling our glasses. "But just know. We see you. We see how hard you try. And no one here thinks you're too much."
There's a beat of quiet. That warm, golden kind of silence. The kind you don't want to ruin.
Then Emily says, "Alright. That's enough feelings. I'm queuing up 10 Things I Hate About You. Someone pass the popcorn."
An hour later, we've eaten our body weight in room service snacks and finished two bottles of wine. Our masks are off, our toes are painted, and Sofia is sobbing into a throw pillow because Heath Ledger is singing on the bleachers.
"I just want someone to serenade me while being chased by security," she mumbles.
"I want someone who makes me pancakes," Megan says, sprawled on the floor. "Like. Just pancakes. No war. No passive aggression. Just carbs and love."
"I want to not check my phone every five minutes and brace for impact," I say before I can stop myself.
The girls glance at me. Then, quietly, they nod.
"That too," Emily says softly.
We watch another movie. I lose track of the title. Something romantic. Something loud and funny.
And by the time Sofia starts hiccuping and Megan's halfway into the mini fridge looking for more chocolate, I'm under the covers with mascara smudged cheeks and a heart that doesn't feel as heavy.
Sofia climbs into the bed beside me and throws her arm over my waist.
"You're allowed to fall apart sometimes," she says sleepily. "As long as you remember who you are when you put yourself back together."
I hum. "And who am I?"
She snuggles closer. "Hot. Unbothered. Legendary."
I laugh, just a little. Then breathe.
And when I fall asleep, somewhere between Megan's snoring and Emily's whispering about Amalfi villa options, I feel something I haven't felt in days.
My head feels like it's been clamped between two speaker amps, and my mouth is as dry as hotel air conditioning. I blink against the light pouring through the window and immediately regret it. The sun is personally offended that I exist.
Sofia murmurs somewhere across the room, "Why is the ceiling moving?"
Emily lets out a strangled sound from the couch. "It's not. That's just your liver trying to escape."
I roll over, groaning into a throw pillow. My voice is gravel. "What time is it?"
"Too early," Megan mutters from the floor.
I reach for my phone blindly. Squint at the screen.
"Guys..." My throat is scratchy, but I manage it. "It's 12:17."
Sofia bolts upright like she's been electrocuted. "Past noon? Oh my God, practice is at four!"
Emily yelps, stumbling upright, hair matted to one side of her face. "Do I have time to shower or just Febreze myself and pray?"
"Depends," Megan says, rubbing her temples. "Are you trying to impress your man or make him question all his life choices?"
I sit up, groaning as the room spins for a moment before stabilizing. I'm still in my robe, somehow. My mascara is a war crime, and a popcorn kernel is stuck to my arm.
But despite the headache, dry mouth, and Sofia dramatically crawling toward the minibar for "electrolyte wine," I feel okay. Better than okay.
Sofia tosses a bottle of water onto the bed with surprising accuracy. "Hydrate, hot mess. You've got a husband to avoid."
"I'm not avoiding," I say, even as I take a long sip and wince. "I'm... strategically stalling."
Emily snorts, brushing out her ponytail. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"We did that," Megan says, sitting cross legged on the floor with a weak smile. "Finally."
There's a moment of sleepy silence as we slowly return to life. The makeup wipes get passed around. Someone brushes their teeth in the sink with a hotel cup. Sofia puts eye patches under her sunglasses and claims it's a Formula One essential.
It feels like the end of summer camp. Hungover, sentimental, and mildly sticky.
"I needed this," I say, pulling Sofia in for a long hug.
"I know," she whispers. "We all do. You're not the only one cracking under the pressure."
Emily squeezes my arm. "Text us if you combust again. We'll bring reinforcements."
Megan leans in. "You ready to head back?"
I glance at my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the echo of yesterday's chaos.
"Almost," I say quietly. "But I'm not spiraling anymore. That's something."
"That's everything," Megan says, linking her arm through mine.
We all say our goodbyes at the elevator, sunglasses on, shoes in hand, promising to finalize Amalfi flights tonight.
And as we step out into the sun, blinding, brutal, and buzzing with Strip energy, I exhale.
Practice day. Time to get ready. Time to face him.
-Las Vegas, Thursday, 4:15 PM
Las Vegas Grand Prix
I spot him the second I step onto the grid.
The back of his suit is unmistakable, the way it clings to his frame, helmet hanging from his fingertips, shoulders pulled taut like he's been holding his breath for days.
Someone on his team, one of the engineers I think, catches sight of me first. His expression shifts instantly. Like he's seen a ghost, he nudges Mingyu. Says something I can't hear.
Mingyu turns and when his eyes land on me, the world stops.
He doesn't hesitate. Doesn't think. Just bolts.
Helmet forgotten. Head low. Sprinting across the grid like the asphalt might swallow him if he doesn't get to me fast enough.
He crashes into me with a choked breath, arms wrapping around my shoulders so tightly it knocks the air from my lungs.
I freeze. My arms hang uselessly at my sides. I can feel the tremble in his body, the way he's shaking like he's just come back from war.
"I know you're mad," he whispers into my hair, voice already cracking. "But please, please just touch me. Please hold me."
I gulp hard, throat tight.
And then, slowly, almost uncertain, I lift my hands and wrap them around his waist. The second I do, he breaks.
Mingyu lets out this sound, this raw, aching sob, and buries his face in my neck like he's been drowning and finally found air. His entire frame folds in on itself, clutching me like I'm all that's keeping him upright.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, over and over. "I'm so sorry. God, I was so fucking scared. I thought—"
"I'm okay," I whisper, voice barely there. He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the sight nearly shatters me. His eyes are bloodshot. There are tear tracks on his cheeks. His lips are bitten red. He looks like a man undone.
"I never, never meant to make you feel like an obligation. I never wanted you to feel like you had to compete with this," he gestures vaguely around us, at the race cars, the cameras, the noise. "That was never supposed to happen."
"I know," I murmur.
"I was losing it, YN. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I couldn't breathe without thinking about you. And our daughter, I kept picturing her asking where you were. I was," he cuts himself off, gasping, "I was so scared I broke us."
I exhale shakily, stepping back just enough to cup his jaw.
"You didn't break us. But you hurt me," I say gently.
His face crumples again. "I know. I know. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I let work and pressure and stupid ego pull me so far away from the two people who matter most."
"I needed to feel like we mattered," I say, voice catching. "Like I wasn't just one more thing on your to-do list."
"You're not," he says instantly. "You're everything. Always."
I close my eyes, trying to hold back the sting in my chest.
And then he says it.
"I pulled out of the race."
My eyes snap open. "You what?"
He swallows hard. "I told the team before I saw you. I couldn't do it. I can't race today, not like this."
"Mingyu—"
"There will be other races," he cuts in gently. "There won't be another you. There won't be another version of our family. I almost crossed a line I couldn't come back from. And I would've hated myself forever if I let that happen."
I shake my head. "I wasn't asking you to choose—"
"I know you weren't," he says. "That's what makes this so hard. You never gave me ultimatums. You never threatened to walk. You've always been there. And I still...I still almost pushed you away."
His grip tightens. "You supported me every step of the way. Through every win, every loss, every stupid press scandal and mid season breakdown. And all you ever asked for was to be seen. And I didn't give you that."
Tears sting again. I'm tired of crying. But they come anyway.
"I don't want this job if it costs me you," he says. "If it costs me waking up next to you. If it means coming home to silence instead of giggles and bedtime stories and your stupid humming while brushing your teeth."
My mouth twitches. "I don't hum that loud."
"You do," he smiles softly. "And I miss it. I miss you."
I study him for a moment. Really look.
He's not just sorry. He's stripped bare. Every wall down. Every mask off.
This is my husband.
My partner.
My daughter's father.
And he's scared shitless that he might've lost everything.
"I just want us to figure it out," I say quietly. "Together. Like we always have."
He nods quickly. "I want that too. More than anything."
I brush the hair from his forehead. "Can we go home?"
His voice cracks. "Yes. God, yes."
He lets out a breath somewhere between a sob and a laugh, pulling me in again. "I missed you so much," he whispers. "You have no idea."
I wrap my arms tighter around him. "I think I do."
A few team members stand at a distance, quietly watching, but no one dares interrupt. They know. This isn't a scene. It's a reckoning.
Eventually, we pull apart, and I take his hand.
"We should go," I say, glancing toward the paddock.
He nods. "We have somewhere to be."
And just like that, we turn and walk, past the cameras, the headlines, the glittering track lights, toward something real.
Something ours.
We don't say much as we leave the circuit. The silence isn't heavy this time. It's healing, steady, and full of promises we haven't spoken out loud yet but already mean.
Mingyu opens the passenger door for me, presses a soft kiss to my temple as I slide in, and then circles to the driver's side.
"I called her this morning," he says once we're buckled in. "She told me to go away."
"She's two," I smile. "She tells me that all the time."
"She also threw her sock at me."
I laugh, a real one this time. "Oh yeah, you're in trouble."
He glances at me. "Think she'll forgive me?"
"I think you're going to have to work for it."
"Good. I want to. For both of you."
He reaches across the center console and takes my hand, holding it like he's afraid to let go.
"Let's go get her," I say.
He nods. "Let's go home."
And we drive toward forgiveness, toward the life we built, toward the little girl waiting with crayons and chaos and open arms.
Everything else can wait.
This?
This is everything.
Always.
{Epilogue: One Month Later - Off Season}:
The suitcase won't close.
I sit on it. I press down with both knees. I even try bargaining with it like it's a sentient being. "If you cooperate, I promise not to overpack next time."
The zipper laughs in my face.
"You want me to try?" comes a voice from behind.
I glance over my shoulder to see Mingyu standing in the doorway, holding a juice box in one hand and a stuffed shark in the other.
"Why do you look like a preschool snack cart?" I ask, smiling.
He shrugs. "She wanted the purple one and then cried because she meant the other purple one. And this guy," he holds up the shark like it's a sacred artifact, "needed a full body massage and a nap, apparently."
I try not to melt.
"I swear she runs this house," I say.
He takes a step closer, gaze softening as he looks at me, barefaced, hair up, sitting cross legged in leggings and a hoodie on top of a half zipped suitcase.
"She runs me," he grins. "You? You're just her cool bestie who occasionally enforces bedtime."
"Lucky me."
He kneels beside the bed and effortlessly zips the suitcase shut like it's made of butter.
I stare. "Okay, that's black magic."
"It's dad magic," he says proudly.
Then, quieter, "You really going to Amalfi, huh?"
I nod, eyes flicking to the flight confirmation on my phone. "We leave tomorrow night. The girls booked a villa with a sea view and Sofia made an itinerary color coded by 'vibes.'"
He lets out a low whistle. "Sounds like danger."
"Exactly," I smirk.
He studies me for a second. "You sure you're ready?"
I know what he means. He doesn't mean traveling or leaving our daughter for a week. He means taking a trip that's just for me, not tied to work or PR or some emotional reset after a fight.
And I am.
I nod. "Yeah. I need this. Not to escape. Just... to remember who I am when I'm not on duty."
"You're always on duty," he says gently. "That's the thing. You're a mom even when you're away. You're my heart even when you're mad at me."
I roll my eyes. "Was that your way of being poetic?"
"No, that was my way of saying I'm gonna miss you so bad it's embarrassing."
I laugh, and he smiles like it's his favorite sound in the world.
"You'll survive," I tell him.
He leans in and kisses my cheek. "Barely."
Then he stands, straightens his hoodie, and heads for the door. "C'mon, dinner's almost ready. And someone wants to give you her special pre trip 'don't forget about me' performance."
"Oh god. Is she dancing again?"
"Worse," he says. "She's singing."
I groan and get up, following him out into the living room.
Our daughter stands proudly on the coffee table in socks and a tutu, holding a wooden spoon like a mic. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" has never sounded more off key or passionate.
I clap like it's a Grammy performance.
Mingyu's filming with his phone, grinning from ear to ear. "She's got your confidence."
"She's got your lungs."
We make dinner together afterward, homemade dumplings, chopped fruit, and a little chocolate for dessert. We watch cartoons, give her a bubble bath, and read the bedtime story twice because she asks with that little lisp that turns me to goo.
And when she's finally asleep, curled up with her shark, I find Mingyu sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, waiting for me.
He pulls me onto his lap.
"You deserve this trip," he says into my hair. "You deserve everything."
"And you?" I ask, voice soft.
He presses a kiss to my temple. "I've already got everything."
During a seven-day vacation with your friends, you try to get over your feelings for one of them.
Feeling alone, surrounded by people who seem closer to each other than you, you find comfort in the one person that you didn’t know before.
✧.* pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader
✧.* w.c: 26k
✧.* genre: best friend's brother, strangers to lovers, fluff, comfort, smut, angst.
🎧: 7 days — g-idle
✧.* content warnings: ages are not specified but mingyu is mentioned to be a little older (once), some anxiety themes, alcohol consumption, | explicit smut (minors dni) protected penetration, exhibitionism (just a lil), fingering, masturbation, cum play, lmk if i miss something important!
check out my main masterlist ♡
✧.* remember! this is a fictional work, it doesn't represent how any of the real people mentioned are like in real life!
✧.* note: this took so long to finish! i've had a crazy couple of months at uni, but luckily i passed all of my midterms :) i really hope you like this ♡♡♡
ONE WEEK BEFORE
Your eyes focus on the pavement below as you walk, head low and not a single word coming out of your mouth. Your steps and Minghao’s are coordinated, muscle memory moving them forward through the city. Each block memorized in both of your brains, each closed shop and parked car, the blinking lights and broken pieces of pavement, all so familiar to you yet coated with a nostalgic feel. You’ve walked the same path together countless times before, but tonight there’s an awkwardness impossible to shake away.
A third body walks by his side. Sami’s fingers are tangled with his with familiarity as they engage in a conversation you choose not to take part in. A question flies your way every few minutes, and you know they’re trying to include you so you don’t feel out of place, but nothing comes to mind besides one-word answers. You laugh every now and then, just so they know you’re at least a little bit engaged.
The pavement changes color under your feet and you know you’re barely minutes away from your home, finally. You like their company, you really do. And you appreciate them walking you to your door this late at night. But their presence can be suffocating.
You can’t avoid feeling guilty about your... feelings. She's one of your closest friends yet she never mentioned starting a relationship with the guy you were in love with. If you would’ve known, you would’ve never let your feelings progress beyond a tiny crush. You would’ve never deluded yourself into thinking he may also like you. For the record, you never told her either, but the only friend you trusted with your feelings also failed to mention that detail. You felt betrayed at first, but deep down you always knew they were closer to each other than to you.
They’ve been together for months now, but even if you’re used to seeing them kiss and hold hands, the awkwardness in your body doesn’t care. Every time you see him your hands are going to shake, and you mind will go blank. Inside, you can’t help to feel giddy anytime he takes interest in your answers to his questions, and you always feel bad after. So, when they insist that they’ll walk you home, you refuse. Not only you feel awkward around them, but now you have to be the third wheel? You'd rather not. But they don’t take a no for an answer, and thus, your current situation.
Your front door appears on your sight, and you feel instant relief. You're quick to bid them goodbye and thank them for keeping you company. Even though you kept saying they could just turn around and you’ll be fine many times over the walk, you don’t want it to seem like you hate their company. Their presence is not the problem, you are.
As you turn around to open your door, your name is called and you’re instantly facing them again.
“We’re going to Chan’s grandfather’s house on the beach next week. You should come!” Sami invites you with a smile on her face. She says it so sweetly you almost don’t care that they’re telling you with such short notice.
“Oh! I don’t know, I'm kinda behind on some homework for the semester,” it’s not a lie per se, you do have some stuff due after the break, but it can be done in a day. You like your friends, and you always have a good time when you’re all together, but a group of ten people can be overwhelming, “I have to think about it.”
“C’mon it’s spring break! We’ll go to the beach, play card games and get drunk!” Sami tries to convince you again. The fear of missing out on fun times with them starts overpowering your need to run away from your feelings. You think about it for a second too long.
“We really want you to come, please?” Minghao steps in. His statement sounds so honest as he looks at you directly in the eyes. You fear you will never be able to say no to him.
Your gaze can’t stand his for long, his eyes are almost piercing though your soul waiting for an answer. You’re quick to break eye contact and look at Sami, who’s waiting for your answer just as expectantly as Minghao. They’re still holding hands as they face you, fingers interlocked, like there’s some external force that’s keeping them from separating.
What can possibly be worse? Rotting in your bed for a week, thinking about how you could be having more fun away with your friends? Or spend a full week around the man you could never have and his perfect girlfriend? You juggle your options in your head as fast as you can.
“Ok I’ll be there.” You end up saying at the sight of their pleading eyes.
“Great! I’ll text you the details tomorrow, bye!” Sami excitedly replies as they walk away, and the feeling on the pit of your stomach starts to bubble up again. You can just ignore them from time to time. You don't have to spend all 24 hours by their side. It’s completely fine.
DAY ONE
The week flashes through and, in an instant, you’re already packing for the trip.
Your mind spirals, thinking of excuses to not go, but it stays empty as you zip up your bag, go downstairs, get in a taxi and go to Chan’s place where you’re supposed to meet everyone. It's only a 10-minute ride to his house, but today, it feels like hours. Watching the buildings pass by through the window, the streetlights still on and the sun barely peeking through the horizon, hundreds of thoughts cloud your mind, running through your brain like they’re on a race, competing on which one’s can stress you fastest.
But you calm yourself as soon as you see Chan standing on the sidewalk at the distance. He always looks genuinely happy to see you, always inviting you to hang out because he knows you’re not going to do it yourself. He's just so warm and welcoming, always knows how to make you laugh, even on the toughest moments. He's someone you could call a best friend. When he and Jihyun started dating, it made sense. She’s someone who, in the best way possible, never shuts up. He lets her talk and watches her with glossy eyes, as if what she was saying was the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. In a way, you should’ve known they would’ve been perfect together, but you were too caught up in your own feelings and didn’t notice your two best friends liked each other. Maybe that’s why she confided in Sami instead.
A bear hug welcomes you as soon as you get out of the taxi. Your bag drops on top of your feet as you hug Chan back, squeezing him like you haven’t seen him in ages. You have about three seconds of peace until you have to speak up.
“My bag’s crushing my feet.” You giggle with your mouth right beside Chan’s ear, so he hears you perfectly and laughs with you. He moves down to pick it up himself but is shocked by the weight.
“Did you bring your fucking desk? Why is this so heavy?”
“Hey! I just brought the essentials.” You did in fact only bring essentials, besides plenty of clothes, a lot of underwear just in case, your skincare, a hair drier and a few towels. Years of vacations going wrong taught you that those things can really make the difference.
“It's only a week...”
“A girl always has to be prepared.” You reply mysteriously as you walk away from him and into his house, forcing him to carry your bag inside for you. He follows right behind you, and when you cross the door, another voice welcomes you.
“She’s right you know,” Jihyun tells Chan while hugging you, “last month you forgot the toothpaste when we went to the lake! If I hadn't brought my travel bag you would have yellow teeth right now.” Chan huffs but doesn’t argue with her, he just smiles and gives her a peck.
Sami and Minghao are talking in the kitchen, so you only wave at them. Her shiny long black hair is tied up in two buns, and it contrasts perfectly with his disheveled light brown hair. Gyuri, Vernon and Jeonghan are playing some card game on the coffee table, you could hear her screams from the door, he probably cheated, and she only realized after losing. Miyoo looks at them, with a bored expression that doesn’t change as she sees you walk in.
After saying hi to everyone, you notice your bag already beside a couch, so you sit there. Looking around, you realize you’re the last one to arrive, as all your friends are already here. Right as your about to question what you were waiting for; Chan speaks up again.
“Ok so, Joshua told me yesterday that he couldn’t come, his shitty job didn’t give him the days off,” everyone collectively ‘oohs’ at the news, “and I know we had planned the budget with all ten of us,” He gets interrupted again as Vernon walks out of the bathroom and sits beside him, “so I… invited my big brother. I hope you’re all cool with that I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before it was just so sudden, you all know him he’s chill, and he won’t-"
“It’s ok bro we don’t mind.” Minghao steps in to calm Chan down. Everyone agrees with him instantly and he visibly calms down. It seems everyone has already met Chan’s brother, besides you.
You’ve been to Chan’s house a fair share of times, but almost always his family wasn’t home, and if they were they just kept to their own and let you hang out. And you know your friends sometimes hang out without you, you don’t mind, so they probably are more familiar with Chan’s family than you are. A new addition to the trip doesn’t bother you, you’re probably not gonna talk to him much anyway. You’re usually very quiet around your friends, especially when all of them are around. So, it’s not going to be different this time.
“Great! Then we can start heading our way then.” Everyone stands up and grab their bags simultaneously at his words, eager to finally start the trip.
“You said then two times babe.” You hear Jihyun joke as you head out.
“I know I was nervous ok." Chan laughs with her.
The sun is already out by the time everyone is out the door. Orange rays enlighten the world and blind you lightly if you stare at the fiery sun for too long. It’s a beautiful sight for a long road trip.
You squint, trying to gain your sight back, and the first thing your eyes land on is a truck you’ve never seen before, and a hilariously tall muscular man standing against it. Just when you think you might’ve seen him before, Chan walks over to him and hugs him.
“Oh right, this is my brother,” Chan turns around and speaks directly to you, “I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”
“Our budget savior!” you cheer before directing to his brother, “Hi! I'm Y/N.” Your right hand moves forward to shake his awkwardly.
“I’m Mingyu,” He chuckles lightly at your cheer and shakes your hand back. A tiny, almost unnoticeable, electric current runs through you at the touch, alerting all of your senses. Fortunately, he doesn’t notice because he’s looking at your bag in your other hand and then back up to your eyes, “are you riding with us?”
“Oh! I don’t know,” the question startles you, and you look at Chan panicking a little inside, “if you guys don’t mind!”
“I don’t mind, c’mon,” Mingyu cuts Chan before he can reply, takes your bag out of your hand to put it in the trunk and you follow him back. You take the chance to look back at the other cars, Sami’s already behind the wheel of one of them while Minghao puts Gyuri’s and Miyoo’s bags in their trunk, and Vernon and Jeonghan are already sitting inside the other car, waiting. Your body relaxes. Riding with Jihyun, Chan and his brother might be the best option. It’s not that you don’t like the others, but you’re quite sure Miyoo just doesn’t like you, and you’re not close enough with neither Jeonghan nor Vernon to be in a closed space together for six hours.
While Mingyu makes space for your bag in the trunk, your eyes can’t help to scan him up and down. If you thought Chan was buff, nothing could’ve prepared you for his brother. As he moves the heavy bags to accommodate yours, you think his arms are probably double the size as yours, if not more.
“Is this your car?” He finishes placing everything and you ask him something before he can catch you staring.
“It’s our dad’s but I use it more often than him nowadays,” he closes the trunk and finally turns to look at you, “you wanna take the shotgun seat? I don’t want to listen to my brother’s playlist again. I used to like it but now I’m kinda tired of it.”
It takes your brain a second to register what he’s asking you, “it’s fine by me,” you reply in a chuckle and you both start walking to the front of the car, “but I don’t think you’re gonna like my music better. I exclusively only listen to Taylor Swift.”
You hear a gasp coming from him, and turn your head aside to find him with his hand on his chest, dramatically looking at you with a shocked face, “how could think that? Can a man not like Taylor Swift?”
Your attempts to hold your laughter fail, and the back on your hand flies to hit him lightly on the arm.
“I’m not judging you! It was mostly a warning that you’re not gonna hear much diversity in artists.”
“It really is fine by me. I like a few of her tunes by the way.”
“As you should!”
In a few steps, you stop right beside the passenger's door. Mingyu’s about to open the door for you when you hear Chan complaining behind you.
“Hey! I thought I was riding shotgun!”
“Sorry! It seems your brother likes me better already!”
“How could you!” He crosses his arms feigning annoyance and you and Mingyu chuckle at him, your gazes crossing for a second. You sit down, ignoring Chan’s fake complaints, as Mingyu closes the door for you and circles around the front of the car to his seat.
After four hours into the ride, two bathroom stops, tons of singing and shouting to Taylor Swift's hits and Mingyu surprisingly knowing all the lyrics to Anti-Hero, the car sits in a comfortable silence. Chan fell asleep almost half an hour ago, that’s when the karaoke sessions stopped, Jihyun’s reading some book on her phone, Mingyu’s focused on the road and you’re admiring the view. The smell of wet grass from the dew envelopes the car, the wind ruffles your hair harshly, but you don’t care, and every now and then you’ll pass through a farm, and you’ll see the animals from far away.
Conversation strikes up again when Chan wakes up after a loud gasp Jihyun let out because of her book. The car becomes alive with laugher, telling funny stories from high school to Mingyu, and Chan’s complains about how you’re spilling too many secrets to his brother.
Jihyun starts telling a story you heard a million times, so you tune out and take the chance to take a proper look at Mingyu. His eyes are focused on the road, but he’s paying special attention to what’s being told to him, reacting to every detail and asking questions every now and then. His tan skin glows thanks to the morning sun. You can see a tiny glint in his eyes and how his nose scrunches when he giggles, but what catches your attention the most are his moles, highlighted by the sunlight, there are a few sprinkled on his cheeks and an especially cute one on the tip of his nose. It's undeniable that Mingyu is very handsome, and polite, and funny, and hot, and if you weren’t so stuck in your feelings, you know you’d probably crush on him for the whole trip.
How come you’ve never noticed him before? You’re sure he must’ve been at Chan’s house at the same time as you at least a couple of times, but you don’t remember ever saying hi to him. You think you’d remember him.
Chan and Mingyu’s grandparent’s house is huge. It’s probably more of a mansion than a house. Each of you have your separate individual rooms, and the two couples get the two big rooms. The entrance welcomes you with a shoe rack that can fit almost twenty pairs of shoes, the kitchen has two ovens and the biggest island you’ve ever seen, and probably ever see, and the living room has couches so big that you could take a nap, and everyone would still be able to sit comfortably.
Right by the living room there’s a door to a small back porch that goes straight to the beach. It’s peaceful and beautiful, and you wish you could stay here more time.
After snooping around the house, you finally go to your bedroom, that’s luckily on the first floor, and settle your stuff down. The room is almost as big as your own living room. There’s even a desk where you can put your laptop and a few drawers for your clothes, but what takes the cake is the on-suite bathroom that has a full-length mirror and a bathtub as big as the bed.
And you must’ve been exhausted because as soon as you lay in bed you fall asleep.
When you wake up, the sun is starting to set and the smell of something being cooked fills your nostrils. Three soft knocks at your door wake you out of your haze, and the mysterious person opens your door just barely enough.
“Hey,” Jihyun whispers, her head peeking inside the room, “we're setting up the table for dinner.”
“I’ll be right out.” You half groan half whisper in your sleepy voice.
It’s kind of funny in a way.
When you go out of your room after a nap that was definitely too long, the door of the room right in front opens at the same time, revealing a just woken up Mingyu.
It’s funny, that you both, being the ones less close with the rest of the group, end up together in this side of the house, the only rooms on this corridor, while the other two rooms downstairs are across the house and the rest are upstairs.
“You took a nap too?” You ask Mingyu as you walk towards the dining room side by side.
“Is it that obvious?” His voice is still raspy.
“Not at all, if we don’t take in account the messy hair or that your shirt is inside out.” You joke, still a little sleepy.
“Oh shit.”
The innocent conversation completely shifts when he stops in his tracks, takes his shirt off to and puts it back the right way. You’re frozen in place, now fully awake. You obviously could tell he was big and buff, but seeing him shirtless, even if it was just for a second, is completely different territory. He pays no mind to you and keeps walking.
A group of voices coming from the dining room take you out of your trance and remind you what you were doing. “I need a drink.”
DAY TWO
You’re not sure what you did yesterday after dinner. One drink turned into shots with Jihyun, and then everyone was drunk, playing some stupid drinking card game. That memory is already blurry, but after that is just a void.
As soon as you open your eyes, you regret it. The sun beams brightly directly to your face, increasing the feeling of someone drilling into your skull. It’s your first full day on the beach house and you’re completely wrecked. The only thing you want to do right now is take a pill for your headache and have a fulfilling breakfast.
There’s complete silence around the house, only the birds chirping and the waves crashing accompany you as you walk to the kitchen. Most probably everyone's in the same state as you but opting to stay in bed to sleep the hangover off.
“Oh hi! I didn’t think anyone was awake.” You really don’t mean to be mean, but Mingyu’s presence startles you. You were yearning for some alone time in the morning, peaceful and quiet, at least until the others wake up.
“Good morning. Yeah I just woke up,” his drowsy voice confirms it, “I don't think anyone else is awake tho.” You only hum in response, noting that you both are too sleepy to engage is small talk.
Mingyu’s company proves not to be dreadful like you thought. Both of you mind your own business, sitting down while eating breakfast and killing time with your phones in comfortable silence. It’s nice, the atmosphere isn’t awkward and there are no expectations from either of you, only two people starting the day at the same time.
“You and Jihyun seem close,” Mingyu breaks the silence and looks at you after putting his phone down.
“She’s one of my best friends.” It’s your turn to put your phone down to look at him. “She and Chan were the ones who introduced me to the rest of the group actually.”
“Yeah? How did you guys meet?”
“It’s kind of a long story.” You sound dismissive even if you don’t want to, Mingyu doesn’t strike you as someone who cares about high-school drama and you don’t want to bore him to death. “Just high-school stuff.”
“Well now I’m curious.” He fixes his posture to face you properly. “I’m listening. C’mon we have all morning.”
“Okay,” you chuckle at how eager he suddenly sounds, “basically, I moved cities right before senior year and she was my first friend in my new high school. I also met Chan on my first day since he gave me the tour.”
You stand up to grab both of your cups, he notices and moves his hand to give you his cup himself. His hand barely grazes yours, but the touch is electrifying. Panicked, you move away quickly, put the cups in the sink and keep going with the story.
“Me, Jihyun and three other girls formed a group. We were all best friends and would always hang out together, but it didn’t last long. Long story short, Jihyun and one of the girls had a big fight and she kinda left the group, became friends with Minghao and Chan and cut her relationship with the rest of the girls. I was the only one still talking to her, and yeah, the group started crumbling.”
“This is very high school.” Mingyu jokes and you agree.
“I told you! But it gets worse. So, this girl Hyerim, the girl Jihyun fought with, didn’t like that I was still talking to Jihyun and would always turn around at the sight of her. Just childish behavior that eventually started pissing me off, because every time she saw me talking with anyone even remotely close with Jihyun, she would get mad at me. It’s stupid I know, we were 18, and I just I thought those kinds of fights only happen in middle school, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Oh my god, are we talking about Hyerim?” Jihyun suddenly enters the kitchen, clearly just woken up.
“Mingyu wanted to know our story.” You chuckle at her disgusted face and joke. “Our favorite topic.”
“She sounds very immature.” Mingyu adds to your joke, not very interested in dissing some girl he doesn’t know, just adding to the teasing.
“She was a controlling bitch you couldn’t fathom her friends having other friendships beside her, she wanted followers, not friends.” Jihyun can’t help to get angry for a moment, so you intervene.
“Yeah well, luckily I escaped her claws and you and Chan adopted me, like a stray kitten." Your arms wrap around her shoulders, and you give her a peck on the cheek. "My saviors!”
“I think I’m gonna go back to bed, my head’s killing me.” Jihyun whispers while patting your hip and starts walking away from the kitchen. "Bye guys, really nice chat.” Her sarcastic tone impossible to miss.
“We don’t really talk about it much. We can get really pissed.” Your eyes are back to Mingyu, who’s gaze never left your figure.
“I get it tho, it sounds like a really shitty situation.” Weirdly enough and even if he didn’t intend to, he comforts you. Mingyu doesn’t make you feel stupid for still having feelings about a fight that took place years ago.
After a while, more people wake up and a plan is made to go to a hiking spot Gyuri found close to the house.
But all morning and even during the afternoon, all you can think about is how you’ve spoken more words to Mingyu at breakfast than to all your friends in two days, how comfortable you felt alone with him, no expectations, no need to pretend to be someone you’re not. In that moment, you were just you.
“And then he pooped! On the balcony floor!”
“No way! That’s disgusting!”
The bottle that was full an hour ago passes from Mingyu’s hand to yours, with now less than a third of the liquid left.
Avoiding Minghao proves not to be as hard as you thought, as people have been sticking to their own plans during the day, and everyone only being together at dinnertime and after.
Loud voices can be heard from the living room. They found a board game and made it into a drinking game, one they’ve been playing for over an hour, all while you were with Mingyu in the kitchen.
You’re both sitting on the floor with your backs against the island, facing the couches where everyone else is sitting, but neither of you make any attempt to join them. Some come and go, enter the kitchen to grab a drink and go back to the living room. Chan even told the both of you to join them, but you refused at the same time. The minutes go by without realizing, just talking about whatever, and you don’t feel the need to go where everyone is, you’re not missing out on anything.
“There’s no way that actually happened!” The words barely get out of you, between the laughs and the bottle on your lips.
“I got pics let me-” Mingyu’s hand heads for his front pocket to retrieve his phone.
“No!” You push him lightly to the side and you both break into laughter, “why would you take photos of that?” It’s a genuine question to ask, but it seems that you’re both a little too drunk to focus on more than one thing at a time because he doesn’t hear you.
“Why can’t I find them?” He’s looking through his gallery, and in your drunk haze, you don’t think your actions through. You put the bottle on the floor and throw yourself over him to take his phone away from his hand. Your arm stretches as far as possible to reach for Mingyu’s cellphone while the other is placed on Mingyu’s thigh for support, and you don’t notice how dangerously close your head is to his, or how your hand is dangerously high on his thigh, but he does.
You put all your core strength to use and manage to snatch his phone right out of his left hand. For a second, your surroundings become blurry, the voices are no longer background noise, it’s just you and Mingyu when you look up and his eyes on yours, faces barely inches away. You stare at each other, without blinking and with your breaths synchronized for what feels like minutes. A little smirk forms on the corner of his lips when his eyes glance at your lips for a millisecond, and you can’t take it.
“I can’t believe you have pics of a stranger's poop on your phone.” You chuckle awkwardly as you back away from him and sit on your previous position, a little sobered up. His phone is left on top of his leg, where your hand previously was.
“I didn’t actually take them, it was my friend that sent them to the group chat, if that makes it any better.” You look at each other before erupting into laughter once again, the awkward atmosphere already gone.
“It doesn’t!” You try to focus on your friends and the game they’re playing while Mingyu takes another sip from the bottle. There's silence between you for the first time in hours, the only thing you feel is his body so close to yours. Your knee sits on top of his, and you’re afraid that if you dare to move, he’ll realize your closeness and move away. You've known this man for two days, an objectively short amount of time to be so comfortable getting into the other’s personal space, but it doesn’t feel awkward.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we casually left to go to sleep?” His voice reaches your ears, not letting the silence get between you two, and overpowering the shouting coming from the living room.
“I don’t think so.” You look at your friends carefully. There doesn’t seem to be a piece missing in the group, nothing changes without you there, even if they all like you and you like them, there’s not much to add. “Maybe Chan will notice if you disappear suddenly, he keeps looking over.”
“Jihyun looks this way every now and then to look for you too.”
“They’re a very caring couple.” Just that second, both Chan and Jihyun look back to the kitchen and see you sitting on the floor, and you both crack up laughing.
You rest your head back against the island, and your eyelids feel heavy with tiredness. You try to fight the urge to close them, not wanting the night to be over yet, but it’s pointless. Your eyes close almost on their own, and your head falls softly to the side against Mingyu’s shoulder.
A soft smile appears on Mingyu’s face when he feels you rest on him. Warm and giddy, he’s careful not to move much as to not wake you up, but your heavy sighs signal him that you’re fast asleep. He stays that way, watching the others play while you’re resting for a few minutes. When you move slightly in your sleep to get more comfortable his breath hitches for a second, he doesn’t really want you to wake up.
Awfully, when everyone gets tired and cleans up the living room, it’s time for the house to sleep. They notice you asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder, a few knowing looks come your way, but most importantly, Chan’s worried look alerts Mingyu. He assures Chan that you’re okay, just tired, and tells him to go to sleep, that he’ll help you to your room.
DAY THREE
Second day in a row where you wake up feeling like the weight of the whole world is sitting on your head.
With your eyes still closed, you stretch your arm to the side you think you remember putting your phone at. Somehow you actually find it there and grab it to check the time, but soft knocks on your door interrupt you.
“I’m awake!” Even talking feels painful.
The door opens slightly, revealing a freshly showered Mingyu with his hair still damp and his skin shiny from the morning skincare.
“Can I come in?” It’s cute how he whispers. He most likely knows your head's killing you. Your nod gives him the okay and he comes in, like your knight in shiny armor, with an ibuprofen a glass full of cold water.
When he sinks down beside you, after placing the glass and the pill on the nightstand, you sit up. The warmth of his body beside yours awakes flashbacks of the night before, and remind you how you fell asleep on him.
“Oh my god!” Embarrassed, you cover your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry for yesterday, I swear I’m never drinking again.”
“Really?” You move your fingers enough to uncover your eyes and side eye him. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m serious!” With one hand, Mingyu removes yours from your face so that you look at him properly. “We were both pretty drunk and having fun, I didn’t mind.”
“You look too good for someone who was drunk last night.” He doesn’t even have noticeable eye bags, while you’re probably as pale as a zombie and look like you slept only one hour. A smirk slowly forms on his face at your words.
“You think I look good?” He teases and makes you realize what you said exactly, but you’re not giving in that easily. Even if the blush fights to get on your cheeks and your stomach starts filling with butterflies. Even if your mind questions the reasons for his teasing and your eyes linger for a second too long on his smirk.
“For someone who got shitfaced 8 hours ago, sure.” You avoid his gaze and focus on the glass on the nightstand. You forgot it was there.
Your attention is now on hydrating and taking the ibuprofen pill, but you hear him chuckle again and stop drinking, “What?”
“Nothing.” His lips form a quivering line, and you know he’s fighting for his life not to laugh. “We’re all going to the beach later.” He gets up quickly, a light chuckle escaping at your questioning face. “You better not be hangover by then!”
“You’re not funny!” You shout at him as he leaves your room.
You smile as you finish the glass of water. You really try not to ponder about why that interaction left you so giddy, why remembering his smirk makes you all mushy inside, why your stomach contracts thinking about him caring enough to bring you something for your hangover.
When you decide the leftovers of the alcohol left your system for good, you change into your bikini, grab your beach towel and head to the backyard beach to join the rest of the guys.
At first, you join the girls sunbathing, snacking and chatting calmly. There's no sight of the guys, probably doing their own thing, guy stuff. The time passes easily, talking about university and gossiping about each other's coworkers, and it quickly becomes past lunch time. You almost don’t think about the night before, falling asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder and how he seemed okay with it.
It's nice spending time with the girls, even if you don’t talk much around them, they’re funny and you end up cackling and falling onto the sand multiple times.
You’ve done a good job staying away from Minghao these past two days, but there’s so much you can do before you have to face him again. And it seems that the universe thinks you’ve reached your limit.
A shirtless Minghao, wet from swimming in the sea, comes running your way, says good morning to you and asks how you woke up so nonchalantly, like his whole presence isn't messing up your whole nervous system. He never noticed and he’ll probably never know just how much he affected you. Now, for you, it’s just awkward. Remnants of your feelings still float around, making you feel guilty anytime you’ll see him and Sami acting all coupley, like right now. After saying hi to you, Sami got up and jumped to hug and kiss him, making it almost impossible for you to ignore, but your gaze doesn’t fix on them for too long.
Behind them, Vernon and Mingyu are setting up to play beach volleyball. It's a few meters away, not enough to see a lot of details but enough to leave you breathless. Since the morning, even if you won’t admit it, all you wanted was to see him again, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that you were at the beach, with warm temperatures and the sun shining brightly. Your stomach does backflips seeing his defined bare back as he’s setting up the net, a pretty mundane task, but something about how concentrated he is, in addition to the way his muscles tense, is driving you crazy inside. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you had a fleeting crush on him for the time being, it’s not like you’re gonna see him much after anyways
Sometime during your haze, Jeonghan came up to ask if any of you girls wanted to play, you were too gone to answer, but Miyoo happily went along, and now they’re playing what seems like a friendly volleyball match, but you know it’s going to get competitive in no time. Minghao, Chan and Mingyu against Jeonghan, Vernon and Miyoo, it’s gonna get ugly.
Gyuri, Sami and Jihyun keep talking beside you, but you concentrate on the match, or you at least try to. You really try to, it’s just, he’s very distracting. The ball passes from one court to another swiftly, when one team scores, they make fun of the other and vice versa. The ball goes particularly far into Chan’s team’s court and Mingyu runs to get it, having to fall onto the sand to hit the ball from below, and it works, Minghao manages to throw it to the other team’s court, and they score.
It's common knowledge that people playing sports look as hot as they could possibly be, that’s probably why you’re basically drooling over Mingyu like he’s a full course meal and you haven’t had anything to eat in weeks.
Jihyun distracts you from your train of thought to tell you that her, Sami and Gyuri are going back inside to do something you don't get to hear. You're still a little in your head and only hum in response. Left alone with your thoughts, your eyes don’t want to leave Mingyu's figure, until his team ultimately wins the match thanks to points that he managed to score, and he glances at you, catching you staring, and smirks. That damn fucking smirk it’s gonna get you in trouble.
You lay down on your towel, because if your eyes are not on him, maybe you can get over it. Out of sight out of mind, as they say. But the peace is short-lived, as a few steps get close to you, getting sand all over your body and a shadow blocks the sun. You open your eyes reluctantly, and you wish you never opened them in the first place.
The sunlight is blinding, but not as much as the sight of Mingyu with his black swim shorts, sun-kissed skin, glistening from the sweat, and panting. It’s too much for you, and your eyes close instinctively, acting as if he didn’t disrupt your peace. You hear that damn chuckle, like a warning, before he sprinkles more sand on you.
“You’re really annoying, did you know that?” You intend to sound serious, but he’s caught up with your antics by now and just chuckles.
“Only when I’m trying to get someone’s attention.” You take a deep breath, to try and gather strength to not jump him right there and open your eyes as you sit up. He's quick to motion with his hands for you to scoot so he can sit beside you. Your eyes roll sarcastically, but you still slide to the side.
“How was the game?” The way he’s sitting, propped down on his elbows, tensing his biceps perfectly, almost like he’s doing it on purpose, so you try to focus on his face as he answers your question.
“They had nothing on us.” He says smugly while looking at the loser team undo the volleyball net. “But you saw that, so why are you asking?”
“What I saw was you struggling until the very end.” his teasing doesn’t get you this time, on the outside at least, because your mind is still a mess. “Good thing you managed to pull through though!”
He nods sarcastically at your response, but something else catches his attention before he can continue teasing.
“What’s their deal? Are they together?” You follow his eyes to see who he’s referring to: Vernon is running away from Miyoo, who’s chasing him with one of her flip flops on her hand and shouting something along the lines of ‘don’t run away you coward’. They’re both laughing, and you’re also used to it. You know their fights are not that serious.
“Vernon and Miyoo?” The hysterical laugh comes out of you before you’re able to stop it. “In Vernon’s dreams sure.” You joke but you can tell he’s seriously asking.
“Nah, I think she likes him too.” Mingyu lays down after his statement, with his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes to enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day.
“Are they that obvious? You’ve been with them for three days and you already noticed." To you it was always obvious Vernon had a thing for Miyoo since Sami first introduced her to the group, but it’s funny that someone who doesn’t really know them also noticed.
“It’s always more obvious from the outside.” His answer catches you off guard. It leaves you thinking, and you can only hum in response. Were you that obvious when you liked Minghao? There were times when you felt Sami knew, but she never asked you about it, and since she and Minghao started dating you never felt those weird vibes again. Mingyu doesn’t press more on the subject at your silence, but yawns at your side and gets up, distracting you from your train of thought.
It’s beginning to get dark, bringing the temperatures down a bit, and the sunset paints the sky with a beautiful mix of oranges and pinks. It looks like a painting you’d see in an overpaid museum, and it would make that price totally worth it.
It seems you’re not the only one who noticed the pretty twilight sky, because Mingyu runs inside the house and comes back a few minutes later with a digital camera and wearing a black jacket for the cold wind. He walks around, taking pictures of different sides of the sky with different clouds and color patterns.
“Is that camera yours?” You prop down on your elbows to admire the sky and him, and you hear a light hum coming from him as an answer. “Didn’t know you were into photography.”
“I wouldn’t say I'm into photography, I just like taking pictures of what I find pretty.” Once he’s done taking pictures of the sky, he returns to his place beside you. “One of these days I want to wake up before the sun rises and just sit here, watching the stars disappear as the sun gets higher and higher.”
“It’ll probably be really peaceful.” Even if you’re alone at the beach now, you can still hear people talking from inside the house, probably deciding on what to have for dinner. You imagine sitting on the quiet shore at 6 am, with the only sound being the crashing waves and a few morning birds, the sky beginning to light up as the sun slowly rises and the morning wind ruffling your hair. “But the first step is to not get wasted the night before.”
“Or we could just stay awake and go to sleep after.”
“We? Who says I'm doing it with you?” You joke, but of course you’ll accompany him if he asked.
A sudden cold breeze makes you shiver and Mingyu notices, so he takes his jacket off and gestures for you to take it. You grab it silently, without much resistance, and notice he also put on a sleeveless t-shirt earlier. You’re embraced by his scent in no time. The jacket's giant on you when you put it on and zip it up, so the cold doesn’t make its way inside. You smile at him, and he returns it before answering your previous question.
“I’d just annoy you until you’re awake and you’d have no choice other than to come with me.” You can only chuckle at his response, wishing you could see what happens inside his mind.
“And I'd punch you for interrupting my holy sleep time.” You’re still laughing when you see a flash from the corner of your eye. “Did you just take a picture of me?” Mingyu shrugs with an amused look on his face and waits for the picture to load. “I probably look disgusting! Let me see.”
You try and stretch to take a glance at his camera roll, but he turns it off before you can see anything.
“Why would you look disgusting?”
“I... don’t know.” He has some kind of power to always surprise you with what he says. “I've been out here all day, I didn’t get the chance to check myself on the mirror.”
“I told you I only take photos of pretty things.”
This time, you can’t hide the blush that creeps up to your cheeks. No one has ever complimented you so directly, and it’s not like you’re new to flirting, but you’ve never quite felt like this. Maybe it’s because everything around you feels so dull, except for when you’re with him. When you’re around anyone else, you never feel the need to speak up, afraid they’ll don’t care or just straight up ignore you, but these past few days, when you spoke to him, you felt like he wouldn’t judge you. He paid attention, joked with you, and even chose to spend time with you when he could’ve hang out with anyone else. He's easy to be with, and it's tempting to want to spend every day with him, but also terrifying, because everything could change after the trip is over.
“Then let me see?” You try your luck one more time to see the photo, also to try and turn the conversation around so he doesn’t catch on to the effect he had on you, although it’s already too late.
“Don’t you trust me?” He looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout that could make anyone melt in an instant.
“Stop doing that!” You hit him lightly on his left arm.
“Doing what?” He replies, feigning innocence.
“You know what you’re doing.” Your look is serious, but he's amused by your reaction.
“And I think it’s working.” His eyes don’t leave yours, starting a staring contest between the two. None of you want to give up, raising your eyebrows to tease the other and titling your head to the side, but you don’t bulge and neither does he. You try to figure out the workings of his brain, if he feels the same things you do. You embarrassingly want to think that he does.
“Can I-”
“Guys!” Sami’s voice interrupts you and both you and Mingyu stop staring at each other to look at her, “Dinner is ready! Come inside!”
Only at her words do you realize the sun already fully set and the sky is painted a dark blue color, with the only thing visible being the moon and a few stars.
“W-we should get back inside.” You look back at Mingyu to find him already staring at you.
“What were you gonna say?” He stops you before you can get any farther.
“Oh, it’s nothing, c’mon they’re waiting for us.”
DAY FOUR
“And then she ghosted me! The nerve!” Gyuri finishes telling her story about a girl she hooked up with last month.
“But didn’t you just say you didn’t really wanna be with her? I don’t get it.” Jihyun asks what all of you were thinking.
“Yeah, but like, I don’t want to be the ghosted one!” You, Sami and Jihyun burst into laughter at her words.
You and the girls are sitting on the living room while the guys and Miyoo are outside playing a rematch from yesterday’s game of beach volleyball. As soon as everyone finished eating dinner, Miyoo demanded a rematch and everyone, with their competitive souls, agreed immediately. It’s already dark outside, but with the back lights on it’s possible to play, at least for a while before your eyes get tired.
The four of you ended up sitting around the coffee table, talking about relationship drama or just telling funny stories. You don’t have much to add to the conversation, so you just say a comment or joke from time to time and give your opinion when asked. That’s until you’re given the spotlight.
“So, Y/N,” Gyuri catches you off guard and you look at her confused, “what’s up with you and Mingyu?”
“That’s right! I see you together a lot these days.” Sami adds excitedly. Three pairs of eyes are now watching you closely, curious for your answer.
“Oh, nothing… I don’t know.” You shy away when a little smile cracks at your lips, hugging your knees close as you glance at the beach to see if you can spot Mingyu, but all you see is a blur due to the poor lighting. “We just happen to end up together a lot I think.” It is partially true, because it’s not like you actively searched for him.
“C’mon! Don’t you think he’s hot?” Gyuri’s so forward she just makes you laugh. “If I wasn’t a lesbian lemme tell you, the things I would do.”
“Gyuri oh my god! He's right there, have some decency.” Sami brings her back to earth.
“Right, sorry sorry.” she apologizes and takes a sip of her beer before speaking to you again. “But really, you should do something!”
“Like what? I don’t know guys maybe he’s not interested.” Do you want him to be?
“I saw you two at the beach yesterday and trust me, he is.” Sami puts her hand on your shoulder to make you look at her, and tries to encourage you, with no bad intentions whatsoever. She just wants to see you happy and you know that.
His words from the night before echo in your head. ‘It’s always more obvious from the outside'. But you don’t really want to talk about it out loud with them, afraid you’ll jinx it. Jihyun throws you a knowing look and opens her mouth, but she gets interrupted before she can outer a word.
“Guys! Guess what-” Chan suddenly enters the house and the four of you shut up instantly, guilty look on your faces. “Wow what were you talking about? Am I not allowed to hear it?”
“It’s girl stuff!” Jihyun doesn’t hide that he is in fact, not allowed to hear your conversation, and throws a pillow his way, but he doesn't budge. “What do you want?”
“What I was going to say was... we beat them!” You chuckle and the four of you applaud lightly.
“That’s great babe!”
“You should’ve seen them when we-” Chan comes inside to show off their win when gets interrupted by a sudden darkness. The power went out, and everything and everyone sits in silence for about two seconds before Jeonghan comes in.
“How does everyone feel about turning on the fireplace?”
Lighting the fireplace on turned out to be a great idea. Hours passed and the power is still out. All ten of you are sitting on the couches and on the floor, surrounding the only source of light and warmth, and drinking the beer that’s left from the previous days before it loses its gas.
It’s warm and cozy, and everyone is engaged in different conversations with the people by their side. You listen as Jeonghan talks about his new job at a museum, trying to pay attention, but it’s really difficult when, from the corner of your eye, you can see Mingyu and Minghao talking comfortably. It’s weird, seeing the guy that caused you so many emotional breakdowns over the past year talking with the only guy who was able to make you forget about it. Even if every day that passes you feel yourself getting more and more over him, there’s this little voice on the back of your brain reminding you how you stupidly thought you might’ve had a chance with him.
Someone by your side shifts and you see Jeonghan’s expression change before he exclaims, “no touchy coupley things when we’re all around!” Everyone’s eyes are now on the couple behind you. Jihyun just sat on Chan’s legs and they're just hugging, but Jeonghan’s low-key right, most of you are single and it looks like they're rubbing it on your faces, even if it’s not what they want.
“You’re just jealous because you’re lonely and sad.” Jihyun rebuttals and everyone huffs. It’s normal for them to bicker like this, so you just watch like it’s a comedy show.
“I’m single by choice, I’m not letting anyone tie me down.” Jeonghan replies proudly.
“Didn’t you go out with that girl for the whole winter? What was her name... Miyeon? Or what about Seungcheol last year?”
“Well, I’m all free now so”
“Then don’t come to me asking for tips on what to say to girls ever again.” That is the kind of burn that makes Gyuri start clapping like crazy, which she does.
“I’m sure everyone gets what I mean.” Jeonghan looks around, checking to see if anyone agrees with him. Even if it's quite dark, you can see a few heads nod in agreement, including yours.
“Oh c’mon! Doesn’t anyone here have feelings for someone?” Now Jihyun is the one looking for backup, but it’s something harder to admit. “If you like someone, then you know you want to be close to them, to touch them!” She makes eye contact with you, knowing you do understand her, because she was the only one you told about Minghao, because you used to tell her everything.
“No one?” She asks again, looking at everyone one by one, but no one comes forward. And she lastly looks at you again. You shake your head as panic starts invading you, fearing everyone will notice why you, what she means. You make eye contact with her probably for less than a second, but it feels like your whole life passes in front of your eyes.
“Ok, fair enough.” The tense climate stills the air, because even if Jihyun agreed to minimize the public displays of affection, her speech got to some of you, and it takes a few minutes for everything to go back to normal.
But you’re still anxious. You never discussed what happened with Minghao after you found out he was seeing Sami, you couldn’t. Her indirectly letting you know she remembers makes you feel seen, exposed, bare, like she just disclosed your deepest secret to the whole world, like everyone now knows the most pathetic thing about you.
Eventually, the atmosphere starts getting full of laughs and different voices again, but you’re still in your head, so much so that you almost don’t notice the power is back on.
As everyone is celebrating, you get up and announce quietly that you’re going to call it a night. Throwing some lame excuse, but no one really bats an eye, they just say goodnight and go back to their conversations. Everyone except for one person.
Mingyu, who’s been keeping an eye on you the whole night, and who’s already accustomed to your shyness, noticed that you got more reserved after Jihyun’s speech, but didn’t want to ask you anything that would make you uncomfortable in front on everyone. So, when you rapidly escape to go back to your room, he takes the opportunity to leave as well, putting the same excuse you did about being tired and not wanting to wake up super hangover again.
As you’re in tucked in bed, about to burst out crying in any second, Mingyu knocks softly on your door.
You don’t answer, staying as still as possible, trying to stop your sobs so nothing can be heard from outside. It’s been a few minutes since you left, so maybe it’s believable that you’re already asleep.
“Are you alright?” Hearing Mingyu’s voice shatters you and the tears and sobs become impossible to stop.
“Yeah, everything’s fine!” You wouldn’t believe you if you were him.
“You’re not fine.” He sounds actually worried
“How would you know? Just leave me alone!” Your voice breaks at the last words, telling Mingyu everything he needs to know
“I can’t just leave if I know you’re crying."
“Yes, you can! Just go!"
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” A playful tone mixes in his voice. “You can talk to me.” You know, but this is different. This is exposing something to him that makes you feel pathetic, idiotic, and it's much more than you ever told anyone
There’s silence while you consider letting him in. He’s not a stranger, not anymore, but he’s oblivious enough to the situation that he wouldn’t care about the drama. Maybe you can trust him not to tell anyone. And he cared enough to come and check on you, which is way more than what anyone else did.
Mingyu waits for you, worried about what could’ve caused you to leave so suddenly and start crying alone in your room.
“I’ll be in my room if you need anyth-" He was about to give up when you open your door just barely, as to not let the corridor light reveal your blotched, tear-stained face. But you don’t stay there, you run back to the bed as he figures out that you’re letting him in.
He enters your room carefully, slowly stepping in and closing the door behind him. Even with the lights off, he sees you sitting on your bed, legs crossed and back against the wall while you’re fidgeting with your fingers, avoiding his eyes. Before he says anything, he sits beside you on the bed, testing what you’re comfortable with. When he’s sure you’re not going to tell him to fuck off, you finally hear his voice.
“What’s wrong?” He experimentally puts one hand on your knee, trying to comfort you, but it ultimately makes you sob a little before you reply.
“You have to promise not to make fun of me.” You’re still avoiding looking at him, entranced looking at his hand, but when he doesn’t answer you for a few seconds, you look to the side to meet his eyes, and only then he notices how serious your request is.
“I’d never make fun of you, or what made you sad like this.” He fixes his posture, sitting back against the wall like you and legs stretched on the bed. “If you’re comfortable, you can tell me, but if you’re not, then I can at least try and make you feel better, take your mind somewhere else, whatever you need.”
Stupid. You feel stupid. Crying about something that happened months ago, about a guy that isn’t really worth your time, when in front of you have this perfect man that for two days has made you feel more comfortable than anyone has ever. Sure, you don’t know if he just does this for all his friends, if you can even call this a friendship, but at least he cares. In this moment, you feel you could tell him anything, your deepest secrets, and he would welcome it with open arms. You'd do the same for him.
“You also can’t tell anyone,” you rush to add, “like, not even Chan, okay?”
Mingyu nods, a little smile showing up at his face as he realizes you’re really trusting him. “I promise.”
And you do. You open up to him, trusting him with what you have been carrying on your back these past few months that you didn’t trust no one else with.
You tell him how you always liked Minghao. How you found out you actually went to the same middle school but didn’t know each other. And how you thought he liked you back. How you don’t even like to talk about people you fancy, but you trusted Jihyun with it, before she distanced from your group and from you. How she suddenly became close with Minghao and his friends. How every time you managed to be with Jihyun alone, she would show off that she talked on the phone with him every day, that she regularly crashed at his place after work, that he often paid for her meals. She obviously had started liking him too, and it killed you inside. You couldn’t talk to her because his name would always come up somehow. A few weeks pass, you fight with your friends, and Jihyun and her new group welcome you in. They start inviting you to their hangouts, to their houses (often Chan’s). You always felt a little bit out of place, even if Chan and Jihyun always tried to invite you, and even if they always made sure to engage with you in conversations. But you were happy, you had a group of friends you saw every week, who made you laugh if you were going through rough times, and you got to spend time with the guy you liked. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good, until it wasn’t.
And after you finished senior year, the group was still intact. Hanging out whenever everyone could and talking on the group chat constantly. Except, you saw Minghao more often because you got into the same college, and even though you were on different majors, you still managed to bump into each other. One Friday, long after, everyone managed to get free to see each other after so long, you all went to some bar and you didn’t realize how late it got, so Minghao, being that he lived close to you, offered to take you home. Things happened and you ended up sleeping together. He was your first, God how pathetic is that, and it just solidified how much you liked him, and you thought it meant something for him too. But nothing changed after that, you two never talked about it and he just pretended nothing happened. And you didn’t tell anyone about it.
Months later, on Chan’s birthday, people started telling inside jokes that you didn’t understand about Sami and Minghao, teasing them to no end until they both turned red. When you looked at Gyuri for context, she whispered that they’ve been on numerous dates in the last few months. Your heart dropped, you had to pretend that everything was fine for the rest of the night, but as soon as you got home, you started crying and overthinking. If this was going on for months, were they already something when he slept with you? Did that solidify to him that he liked Sami? All the times you thought maybe Minghao was flirting with you were probably just your mind fucking with you, or the worst cascenario, he was flirting with the both of you until he decided which one he liked best. You felt stupid, pathetic, but most of all you felt betrayed. Because everyone knew, including Jihyun. And all this time you geeked to her about every interaction with Minghao, telling her every detail, she knew he was seeing someone else. Sure, your relationship had changed, she had new best friends, and she probably didn’t want to disclose something about Sami’s personal life, but letting you delude yourself was just mean.
Days passed, and a new secret was revealed to you, that Jihyun and Chan started dating. This just enforced what you thought that she just didn’t trust you anymore, you weren’t as much of a part of her life as before. You never talked about Minghao with her again, the last time she asked you about him was the same day you found out her and Chan were dating, almost half a year ago. But the topic ended there, and it was never brought up again, until tonight.
“So, earlier when she talked about liking someone and she looked directly at me,” you breathe for the first time in at least half an hour that you’ve been talking to Mingyu nonstop, “she was referring to me liking him, and I felt so exposed, her looking at me right in the eye trying to make me confess to liking someone just so she can win an argument, it felt like I was naked and at her mercy in front of everyone.” You feel like a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders.
You can still feel tears rolling down your face. Sometime during your talk, Mingyu put his arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You’re sure his sweatshirt must be damp with tears now.
He doesn’t say anything for a while, letting you calm down and stabilizing your breathing. You concentrate on his breathing and his fingers drawing circles on your shoulder.
“Thank you.” You finally speak up after a few minutes of silence.
“For what?”
“For listening.” You answer like it’s an obvious thing. “It was a lot, and you didn’t have to, but you listened anyway.”
“Of course, and I asked, didn’t I?” You chuckle lightly. He has a way of making everything easier.
“So, what do you think?”
“Do you really want my opinion?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” You copy what he said before and he chuckles.
“I think you should tell them how you feel.” You don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you, as if analyzing how you respond to what he said. “They’re your friends after all, they’ll understand.”
“I've thought about it, I’m not very good at that kind of talks, I kinda just keep it to myself until I get over it.”
“I don’t mean to be harsh, but it doesn’t seem to be working.” It’s hard hearing that, but it’s true. You’ve been carrying this for years and you’re still crying over it.
“Wow.” He’s not trying to be mean, but it really left you speechless. “Maybe I should… to get it off my chest at least.”
“You don’t have to, but maybe you’ll get some closure with Jihyun that way, that’s the only way she’ll know she’s making you upset.”
“No, you’re right, I’ll talk to her.” When? You don’t know. "But only her, talking with Minghao kind of scares me, because what do I do if he forgot about it?”
“Don’t tell anyone but,” he starts, and you smile at his silliness, “I never really found Minghao likeable in the first place, I don’t know why, but now I have a reason to dislike him.” You can’t help to laugh.
“You don’t have to dislike him just because of what I told you, you should get to know him!” You don’t resent Minghao for what happened, and he’s still someone you can call a friend, regardless of your history.
You dare to look up at Mingyu from his shoulder, and your face is much closer to his than you thought. It’s dark in your room, only the moonlight providing you with enough light for you to see how his head turns slowly to meet yours, and his eyes encountering yours, like he knew you were staring at him.
“He’s an ass for what he did to you, and I don’t want to be friends with someone like that.” He speaks softly, almost in a whisper, but with such a serious tone that it gives you goosebumps. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, and neither of you want to stop. It’s becoming a habit of you two to stare at each other, testing who’ll look away first. His breath fans over your face, and you think about his words. You knew Mingyu was a good listener, he proved it several times over the span of four days, but now he’s even taking what you said into consideration before establishing a friendship with someone? Sure, he already didn’t really like Minghao, or so he said, but you gave him a reason to, so he must believe and trust you enough to truly take it into account.
This time, Mingyu breaks the silence first. “Let’s go watch the sunrise tomorrow.” But he doesn’t break the eye contact. You swear you see a little spark in his eyes at his words, and it makes impossible for you to say no.
“You really want me to go with you?” You just want confirmation that he does, that he’s not taking pity in you after crying your eyes out in front of him.
“It’ll be sad if I go alone, and besides, you’re the one I like the most here.” And it’s like a thousand butterflies fly out of their cocoon simultaneously inside your stomach. "Don’t tell Chan I said that.” You both laugh at his words.
“We should go to sleep then, what time does the sun come out? Like 5:30 am?” You groan while saying the last words. You were never a morning person.
Cold hits you all around when Mingyu takes his arm off your shoulders and gets off your bed. You almost want to ask him to stay the night here so you can wake up together. But you don’t.
“I’ll come and wake you up, but don’t punch me please.” He jokes about what you said the day before and you chuckle. “Good night, see you in a few hours.” He says as he walks to your door slowly, hoping you’d ask him to stay. But you don’t, and he doesn’t say anything either.
DAY FIVE
Waking up so early in the morning isn’t difficult. You barely got any sleep; you spent the whole time watching the ceiling overthinking about everything that happened. You even heard Mingyu’s alarm in the distance, so when he knocked to wake you up, you were already ready.
The sky is starting to show more colors as the minutes pass. You’re sitting on a mat at the beach while Mingyu’s inside making coffee for the both of you. Is it wrong to think that there may be something more to your friendship with Mingyu? You’re almost certain you’re starting to like him, and these moments you’ve been having together don’t do anything to suppress your bubbling feelings. It’s dangerous, and you don’t want to let it go too far, not again.
You hear his steps behind you before you see him. He hands you the coffee in silence and you thank him with a smile. You’re both slowly sipping away your coffee admiring the colors of the sky as they become more alive the more the sun comes out. The soft morning breeze gives you chills, but the warm cup in your hand eases it away, and the waves crashing provide with enough background noise for it to not be completely silent. But being quiet with him hasn’t been uncomfortable, you don’t feel the need to fill the void, you’re just two people enjoying each other’s company.
As the sky turns orange and pink, with swirling clouds making it look like a painting, Mingyu takes his camera out and takes photos beside you. You watch him as he does his thing, changing the settings of the camera and picking different angles, mesmerized, and you don’t notice he says something to you.
“Sorry?” You come back to earth and find him looking at you already.
“I said I’m glad we did this.” His smile almost outshines the sun.
“Me too.” You smile back, afraid to show just how you really like to be with him, afraid to scare him away.
“You’re the first person that doesn’t think I’m weird for wanting to do this you know?” He mutters after he puts down the camera. “People always tell me it’s too much of a sacrifice.”
“That’s so stupid!” You huff, incredulous look on your face. “I get not wanting to wake up early on vacation but like, a sacrifice? That’s so dramatic.”
“You get it! Thank you.”
It’s quiet for a little while after. Every few minutes a new shade of orange paints the sky and Mingyu points his camera up to take more pictures. He probably took a thousand pictures already but shows no sign of stopping. You opt for laying down, the little sleepiness you felt already slipped away, and you’re left with your thoughts until Mingyu lays down too.
“I wish we could freeze time and just stay here like this.” You prefer being here alone with him than inside the house getting overwhelmed by everything. Here, it’s much peaceful, comfortable.
“That would be nice wouldn’t it.”
The sun is fully out by now, the birds already started singing on the background, and you can hear cars on the distance. The day officially started, you’re no longer on the limbo in between yesterday and tomorrow.
After everyone wakes up and has breakfast together, you and Mingyu take a quick nap before lunch time. Eventually the lack of sleep got to both of you, and you weren’t even able to keep a conversation going.
The house is suspiciously silent when you wake up, it’s probably 3 or 4 pm but no one seems to be at the house. Except for the one person you encounter when you go out to the porch for some air.
“Hey! You're finally awake!” Jihyun greets you with excitement, too oblivious about what happened the day before, “that was some nap!” Maybe you should really tell her, she has the right to know if you’re mad or upset at her. It's not like she forgot about what you’ve told her, you just have to let her know how that makes you feel. It’s easy!
“I think I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, I must’ve been too tired.” It comes out a little colder than you intended, hopefully she’ll mistake it by sleepiness.
“Were you okay yesterday? You went to bed so suddenly.” Now’s the time, you can’t just lie now, if you don’t tell her now then it’s pointless.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” You go to the point straight away and she notices your serious tone.
“Is everything okay?” There’s a little voice in your head telling you she’s not actually worried, but right now you decide not to believe it
“It’s about what you said yesterday, I wanted to ask you...” your hands shake as you lean against the rail by her side, looking at the beach, not so peaceful like in the morning now, and you turn your head to look at her. “It may be stupid but, were you like, indirectly asking me if I still like Minghao?” You do feel stupid as the words leave your mouth.
“Oh, I don’t really remember why I did that, I was kinda drunk and saying stupid shit.” You relax a little, at least she wasn’t trying to put you on the spotlight on purpose. “But maybe? I mean you never talked about him again.”
“I just thought it was awkward, since I became friends with everyone.” The conversation isn’t really going anywhere. You could leave it like this, but the topic out in the open and it could be the only chance to get answers, “and with you also liking him and all that.”
“I-I didn’t, I mean-” she stutters, and suddenly dropping the bomb that you know more information than she gave to you in the first place doesn’t feel right.
“It’s okay, well no it’s not really, you should’ve told me, but I’m past it by now.” Jihyun visibly relaxes at your words, but the air starts getting thicker, the atmosphere awkward.
“You’re right I should’ve told you, I’m sorry.” She avoids your eyes. You’re looking right at her, but she keeps her eyes on the ocean, or the sand, or literally anywhere else. “It was just a silly crush, it didn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t think it was, but it’s fine.” How can she just brush it off so easily?
“Actually, you don’t know how it was.” Suddenly now she’s capable of facing you, and her eyes are almost on fire, “we weren’t even friends by then, so you don’t know what it was like.”
“Why are you saying that like it’s my fault?” Anger starts to take over your brain, “and we were definitely still friends.”
“It just wasn’t the same and you know it.”
"You were the one who pushed me aside!”
“I pushed you aside? I welcomed you! When you were alone! I invited you to every hangout, every party, I invited you everywhere!”
“You stopped trusting me.” There’s a noticeable hurt in your voice, “you didn’t even tell me when you started to like Chan.”
“You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself that you didn’t notice, even Vernon noticed, and he has zero awareness of what happens around him.”
“Because my best friend liked the same guy as me and didn’t even tell me!”
“I just couldn’t tell you.”
“Yes, you could’ve! and I really still wanted to be friends with you, at least I thought we still were.” Flashbacks of times your other friends told you how you should stop taking to her come to your mind. “And you did tell me.” Jihyun looks confused at your statement. “Maybe not directly, but every time you decided I was good enough to have alone time with, and knowing just how much I liked Minghao, the only thing you ever talked about was him, and how smart he was, or how funny he was, or how he let you have his jacket, it was pretty obvious.”
Jihyun freezes in place. She looks down again and red stains start appearing on her cheeks.
“So yeah, I didn’t exactly want to talk about him with you.” This really isn’t turning out the way you thought it would.
“I- I didn’t realize,” you barely hear her whisper, “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
“Did you also just didn’t realize that it would’ve been nice to tell me that they were going out?” Their names aren’t said out loud, but Jihyun knows what you’re talking about, “I had to found out myself, and everyone knew except for me, stupid old me who was obliviously still hung up on him.”
“I’m sorry.” If you weren’t so angry, maybe you’d take pity on her and stop arguing, but at this moment, it just makes you madder.
“Do you know how horrible it is to see the girl who used to give you insecurities and the guy you’ve liked for years be together? Or how hard it is not to cry in that moment? Surrounded by other people who don’t know how you feel, while the only person who did know just ignores you?” Tears start blurring your vision, but you don’t let them fall, you can’t. “Luckily I don’t like him anymore, but the guilt is killing me.”
“She asked me not to tell anyone, they weren’t serious at first.”
“You could’ve just told me beforehand that he was seeing someone, you didn’t have to tell me who it was.”
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Jihyun looks at you in the eyes for the first time in minutes, her eyes also glittery with tears.
“And yesterday, I felt so exposed, like you only wanted me to confess so you could win a stupid argument, like my feelings didn’t matter at all.”
“I really wasn’t trying to do that, I’m serious.”
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted or didn’t want to do, that’s how it made me feel.”
“I’m sorry.” The front door opens on the other side of the house and a chorus of voices reaches your ears. What a time to have a full house again.
You both look inside at the first sound, and you can feel her eyes on you again a second after, but you can’t turn your head, you can’t look at her, not right now. Without looking back, your feet walk you off to the beach, maybe with a load off your shoulders, but a little more broken than before.
A walk alone might just be what you need. Tears don’t fall, the wind blowing them off before they can. By the time you come back, you find someone else alone on the porch, and it’s almost like the universe wants you to suffer today.
Minghao stands in the same place you were before, with his body resting on the rail and looking at the ocean. He sees you at the distance and waves, but you can only find the energy to give him half a smile.
It’s impossible to ignore him now, so you walk over to him and stand by his side in silence. But that doesn’t last long. Something in you seems to want to let go today, free you from everything you’ve been holding inside for so long. At this moment, revealing to him how you felt seems like the best option, and you don’t argue with your brain about it.
“I’m gonna tell you something,” your words catch his attention, and he turns his head to you, but you stay still looking ahead, “but you don’t have to say anything back, it’s just so I can let it go, okay?”
Minghao nods slowly, confused by your words but listening, nevertheless.
“I used to really like you, you know.” Your gaze catches his for a second before going back, “I don’t anymore, but yeah, I just wanted to get it off my chest.”
His mouth opens, as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. His silence doesn’t scare you like you thought it would. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, and I don’t expect you to say anything.”
“I just… I didn’t know.” He sounds apologetic as he replies. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t know, it would be embarrassing if he or anyone else knew.
“We never talked about what happened between us.” It pains you to remember, but now you have to finish what you started, “but it meant something to me, I know for you it was probably nothing, because you started seeing Sami right after, and don’t get me wrong you two are perfect together I’m not trying to interfere, but yeah, it really hurt me that you just pretended that everything was normal after.” You finish with a sigh of relief. Everything you’ve been holding onto is now out in the open, and you’ve never felt so relieved, like you could finally breathe.
“I was an ass.” His statement is surprising. “I don’t have any excuse for what I did, I was truly an ass, and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you were.” You joke as you turn around, and he chuckles. You catch a glimpse of the living room through the window and see Mingyu sitting on the couch with Chan and Jeonghan. The three are paying attention to Vernon, who’s standing up telling a story, making dramatic movements with his arms.
“Are you okay?” Minghao asks and catches your attention again.
“I had a fight with Jihyun.” You don’t want to tell him, and you hope he doesn’t ask about it further. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” It’s a little awkward, but there’s nothing you can do now. You told him what you had to, and he apologized. “I’m gonna go inside then, is everything okay between us?” He’s almost at the door when he asks.
“Definitely, and sorry I dumped all of that out of nowhere.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” With that, he finally goes in and joins the guys on the couch.
After dinner’s over and everyone moved from the dining room and onto the couches, you’re left alone picking everything up and doing the dishes. After three days of cooking every meal, you collectively chose to order from a local restaurant instead, so luckily there's not much to clean.
Dinner was awkward as it has never been. Jihyun couldn’t look you in the eyes, even if she tried to act as if nothing happened. And not a word came out of your mouth, besides when you offered to do the dishes. No one else probably noticed the weird energy in the room, but to you it was suffocating.
As you’re putting the glasses on the sink, Mingyu re-enters the room. You try not to pay too much attention to him as he walks over to you, even if your skin tingles every time he’s around.
“Do you wanna go for a walk around town?” He has to crouch down to whisper in your ear.
“Right now? I promised to do the dishes.” The idea excites you for sure. The house has been weighing you down all day, and spending time alone with Mingyu is an activity you’re starting to love too much these days. But you also fear what everyone might say if you leave out of nowhere.
“We’ll get someone else to do it.” You’re not usually this easy to convince, but for him it’s suddenly too easy.
“Fine, but you do the talking.” He chuckles as he motions for you to follow him.
His back is hypnotizing as you walk behind him. His hair is damp from the quick shower he went to take right after he finished his plate. The woody smell of his cologne reaches you strongly, and you fear it may become your favorite smell ever.
You manage to get past everyone that’s lounging on the living room without getting noticed, but as Mingyu’s about to open the front door, Chan comes out of the bathroom and bumps into you, questioning look on his face. Before he can ask anything, Mingyu tells him that you two will go out and to please do the dishes. Chan's brows don’t stop frowning, but in the end, he lets you go out, agreeing with a groan.
It's the first time you’ve been out of the house for the last few days. The supply runs that were done you didn’t go, and the beach is kind of a part of the house, so it doesn’t count. The fresh night air hits you when you step on the street, and with Mingyu by your side, you no longer feel suffocated, you can finally breathe.
When Mingyu starts walking in one direction, you follow him. Since him, Chan and their family have been coming here every summer for their entire lives, he knows the town pretty well and you trust him to guide you.
You walk around the streets for a while, talking about trivial things, telling each other anecdotes and joking around, getting to know each other more than you were able the past few days. Because even if you spent quite some time together, it was always situational, but right now, alone with no one you know around, it’s much easier to let go.
The town feels cozy and warm, like the hometown from a Christmas movie. It’s very quiet and you don’t encounter many people, only the occasional old couple that goes out for a walk or few people walking their dogs.
“How come I’ve never met you before? I went to your house multiple times.” You ask when you decide to sit down at a park.
Such a strong presence like his is hard to ignore, but somehow, after all these years of being friends with his brother, you only heard about him, never met. Your friends would talk about him from time to time, and you were always itching to meet him, but it was like he was never there.
“I let Chan have his space when he has people over.” He shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, but it’s something that’s been plaguing your head ever since you were introduced.
“But you've met the others?”
“They're at our house a lot, a little more than I'd like if I'm being honest.” You both chuckle at his statement.
“Yeah, they can be a little annoying and loud but that’s why I like them, they can take your mind off other things.” A lot of times, when you were having a rough day or you were sad about something, having fun with them would make you forget about everything. Focusing on a stupid cooking competition Gyuri made up or playing a new card game Jeonghan discovered, those would become your favorite days.
“I know you said you don’t really like Minghao for some reason, but what about the rest? Don't you like them?” You’ve seen him talk with everyone by now, so you’re just curious.
“Is it bad that I don’t care about them enough? To have an opinion on them I mean. They're just my brother's friends.”
“Are you saying you don’t have an opinion about me?” Deep down, you really want to know what he thinks about you, and why he seems to want to spend time with you out of all the others.
“I'd like to think you’re not just my brother’s friend by now.” That could mean a lot of things, but it doesn’t stop your stomach from contracting and a smile from appearing on your face.
“That does not answer my question!” You push him lightly to the side, so he doesn’t see the tiniest blush creeping up your cheeks.
“I already told you I like you the most out of everyone at the house.” He keeps finding the words to make your mind collapse and saying them so nonchalantly.
“You only said that to make me feel better because I was crying.”
“I mean it.” The poor lighting at the park doesn’t prevent you from seeing the truthfulness in Mingyu’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you out here with me if I didn’t.”
“That’s good.” You respond through a smile, and you see his smile form in his eyes before the rest of his face joins.
“Why?”
“You might be becoming my favorite too.” The confession shocks you as it leaves your mouth, and you regret it instantly. But when you see him getting shy, and even detect a little blush on his ears, it proves worth it. “Should we get back? It’s getting really late.”
The walk back is just as calm and comforting as before. But the difference is you’re much more aware of Mingyu by your side. How his hand slightly brushes yours every now and then, sparking electricity that runs through your veins and birthing just a tiny bit of hope that he’ll connect them for once. How your steps coordinate even if his legs are much longer than yours. You don’t care if your being quiet, not with him.
“I have seen you around at my house, I just never went over and said hi.” He confesses after a few minutes. “I really should’ve, we could’ve met sooner.” There’s a tone of regret in his voice, and his eyes shine at the possibility.
“You’d like that?” His words warm up your insides and you can’t resist the smile that breaks on your face as you look at him.
“Yeah.” His eyes shine as they meet yours, entranced. “I feel like an asshole. Chan always invited me to hang out with you guys when I was home, but I always refused, I don't know why.”
“I get it.” You both look at the empty road ahead, breaking the eye contact before you trip and fall. “I probably would’ve done the same.”
“But, eventually I met everyone, except for you.”
“Maybe we were meant to meet this way.” Your choice of words makes him look at you with curiosity. “Like maybe if we met before you wouldn’t have spared me a second thought and you wouldn’t have asked me to ride with you on the way here.”
“You believe in destiny and that stuff?” There’s no mocking tone on his voice, but you’re still careful with your answer.
“Something like that, more like the universe prepares us for our future, like we go through things for a reason.” You feel a little stupid talking about it out loud, but Mingyu won’t judge you. “I try to see the good in the bad, is it silly?”
“I do believe in destiny, so if it’s silly then I’m fucked too.” His joke takes a laugh out of you and your eyes connect again. “You look really pretty when you smile.”
“Oh, shut up!” You avoid his eyes by looking down, but your red stained cheeks reveal his effect on you. Why is he saying all of these things all of the sudden? The talk about wishing to meet sooner and destiny already had your stomach filled with butterflies, but his sudden flirting makes your insides want to explode.
“Missed it today.” You look up slowly at him. “You looked down at dinner earlier, did something happen?”
“I impulsively talked with Jihyun, and it didn’t end well.” You start fidgeting with your fingers, embarrassed by your behavior. “She tried to apologize but, in the moment, it didn’t feel genuine to me, so I kinda just stormed off.”
“At least you got to tell her what you felt.” Your head tilts like you can’t believe what he’s saying. “See the good in the bad, like you said.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” You huff, but the release of all those pent-up feelings did feel relieving. “And I also talked to Minghao after all.”
“Oh yeah I saw you guys talking earlier, how did that go?” It’s disappointing to see you’re already back at the front of the house. You don’t want the night to end, you wanna keep carelessly talking with Mingyu forever.
“Better I think.” You shrug as he lets you in. “I told him that I used to like him.” He follows right behind you as you walk towards your rooms. The lights are all turned off, the silence interrupted by your steps and your voices. No one’s up beside you two. “It was awkward but at least I got it off my chest.”
“Used to? You don’t like him anymore?” Mingyu asks with curiosity. A tiny glint of hope reveals in his eyes waiting for your response.
When you think about why you liked Minghao, you can’t really think of much. Memories of times he’d remember details about you or say casual flirty things come to mind, but is that enough to like someone? Times when he straight up ignored you to go after his friends, or when he couldn’t even say hi to you when you saw each other in college always made you doubt.
“I don’t know if I ever really liked him actually.” Saying it out loud feels almost freeing.
“How so?” It’s scary to open up to someone like you’re doing with Mingyu, but for some reason you find it easy to tell him things you’ve never said out loud.
“I think I just liked the idea of a guy I found attractive liking me, even if he never actually did.” You always thought he was attractive, and when he’d say little flirty things to you your stomach your burn up. But before that started you didn’t think about him in that way. “I don’t know if it was all in my head or not.”
“Any guy would be really stupid not to like you.” He stands with his back against the wall beside his door, looking down at you with the most honesty you’ve ever seen in his eyes.
“You keep saying things like that.” Confusing you, giving you hope. The wall hits you as you stand back, staring at him in the same position he is. Both beside your doors, you could end the night right now, stop this back and forth between you, but something keeps you out here, longing for him to do something.
“I mean what I say.” It feels like a challenge was laid down in front of you, but you want him to take the first step.
“I know.” He smirks at your words.
“Good.” His eyes stare so intensely, like he’s trying to read your mind, to know every thought passing through your mind. He’s usually very hypnotizing, but right now, under the moonlight, flirty haze and smirk adorning his face, you can’t look away.
Everything around you blurs as you stare at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence, to make a move, to do anything. Every second it passes the tension becomes more and more palpable, even the tiniest move might snap it. But the both of you stay static, only a faint noise of rain beginning to fall filling the silence.
Seconds feel like minutes, and every second that passes that Mingyu does nothing gets more disappointing. Maybe it was all in your head after all.
Defeated, you throw a little smile and a muffled ‘good night' at him as your hand turns your doorknob, and you finally break eye contact, entering your room slowly as his face drops.
When you close the door, you regret it instantly. You stand there, listening attentively for any noise. Is he still standing there? Maybe you should’ve done something, maybe he was also waiting for you.
There’s no noise coming from outside, and as more seconds pass, you lose hope. You don’t even breathe in case it blocks any possible noise from reaching your ears, but it’s pointless.
You take a step closer to the door and open it slightly, stupidly hoping he might be waiting for you, but the hallway’s completely empty.
Once again, you deluded yourself into thinking an attractive guy might like you, even if this time the “signs” seemed so much clearer, but it clearly didn’t mean anything. You don’t regret spending time with him though, he actually helped you a lot these past few days, it’s your fault you thought it meant something else.
DAY SIX
After tossing and turning all night, sleeping in short periods of time while your mind over thinks instead of resting, you finally check the time and see it’s a normal hour to wake up.
You won’t admit, you kinda hoped Mingyu had texted you during the night. Your stomach contracts as you remember how he gave you his number a few days ago:
Everyone was sitting on the couches hanging out. It was early in the afternoon, but no one had really any plans. Mingyu was sitting in between you and Gyuri. They were talking about some band they both like. You grabbed your phone to google something he said, sure he got a fact wrong. When you smugly showed it to him, he huffed defeated, and grabbed your phone to read it again. But then you noticed he started typing something really fast. You looked at Gyuri by his side with a questioning look on your face, but she just raised her eyebrows teasingly after looking at what he was doing. When he returned the phone to you, it was on the contact list, a new one stood with his name on it.
Doesn’t really matter now, as you probably won’t use it after the vacation is over.
A smell of some kind of breakfast welcomes you as you open your door, someone is cooking something really yummy, but before you move forward to check who it is, Mingyu’s open door draws your attention. Judging by the time and his empty bedroom, it’s most likely he will be the one standing in the kitchen right now, and you can’t stand to face him. Not after last night. Not after you embarrassed yourself.
The sound of your stomach growling reminds you to feed it, and you remember a cute cafe you saw the night before while walking.
You manage to head out without the mystery person hearing and walk to where you remember the shop was. The sun in the sky warms up the atmosphere, you almost can’t notice the heavy rain it poured all night. As you near the cafe, you see they sell Jihyun’s favorite cupcakes. Maybe if you get her a few she’ll be unable to ignore you.
Ignoring Mingyu might be an easy task for these next few days, but Jihyun is someone you can’t ignore until the issue doesn’t bother you anymore. One of the thoughts that kept you up all night was how to fix things with her, you were both wrong, so it’s only right to approach her and talk things through again. What you didn’t expect was seeing Jihyun enter the same shop while you’re paying.
You make eye contact, knowing you’re both here with the same purpose. As you walk towards her, she doesn’t walk away from you, and that confirms she also wants to talk things through.
The shop has a few tables placed outside, and after Jihyun sits on one you sit in front of her. It's awkward as you put the cupcakes you just bought in front of her.
“I’m-” your voices overlap as you speak the same words. You both laugh awkwardly, and she motions for you to talk first.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday, it was childish of me to just walk away and not letting you explain, and I shouldn’t have dumped all that to you out of nowhere, I’m sorry.” Afraid of her reaction, the words leave your mouth so fast you barely register what you say.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” her response is surprising, as you expected to be the only one apologizing, “you were right about what you said, I was a bad friend for not telling you, and I shouldn’t have asked you in front of everyone if you were still in love with him, that was really stupid.” In love. It's weird to hear that about Minghao again, after so many days of getting over him, those words attached to him feel odd.
“And I’m sorry for not noticing that you and Chan liked each other, you really are perfect for one another by the way.”
“Thanks,” your comment breaks a laugh out of her, and you can finally breathe, “so are we ok? I really hate fighting, especially with you.” As the atmosphere relaxes between you two, Jihyun finally grabs one of the cupcakes you bought and starts eating it.
“Yes, I hate fighting too let’s not do that ever again please.” Making up was so easy, you feel ashamed for walking out on her, but now you’ll never do it again.
“Great cause I have something to ask you,” the relief you felt quickly turns into curiosity and you look at her expectantly, “well, it’s more so to confirm Chan's suspicions that a question but, do you have something going on with his brother?”
Red rushes to your face and your stomach drops in shock. Your shyness is a dead giveaway and Jihyun catches up in no time.
“Oh my god he was right?! You must tell me everything now!” Excitement shines through Jihyun’s voice, talking loudly and earning a few weird looks from people passing by.
“Nothing happened, I guess we’re together often and Chan noticed,” the disappointment on your voice is noticeable, “he’s really nice.”
“Channie told me yesterday that you two were acting weird and asked me if you had told me anything.” Jihyun notices something’s wrong, she stretches her hand to take yours, “did he do something?”
“It’s more about what he didn’t do”. The questioning look she gives you urges you to continue, “we went on a walk last night after dinner and Chan caught us before leaving, and I just,” remembering everything you talked about, how he wished he’d met you before, it’s a new kind of pain you’ve never felt before, “I thought he might like me or something, but it was stupid.”
“You know, for Chan to think there was something between you, I don’t think it’s nothing.” Jihyun always tries to be positive, and you do too, but this time you just can’t.
“Well, he had the chance, and he didn’t do anything, I was giving him bedroom eyes and everything!” Now you’re starting to get mad. At you. At him. At you for believing this was more than a passing friendship. At him for being so kind and hot and nice and handsome and a good listener and everything a girl could ask for.
“Maybe he got nervous!”
“He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to get nervous around girls.”
And you’re right. He isn’t. So why did you have such an effect on him that he couldn’t make a move?
From Mingyu’s point of view everything was different. He understood after a few days that he liked you a little more than he should, and it only intensified after you watched the sunrise together.
After your date that shouldn’t be called a date at all, but it felt like one to him, all he wanted was to kiss you, to prove that you’re worthy of someone being head over heels for you. He had been thinking about it the whole night, but in that moment, he froze.
You were looking at him so expectantly, with droopy eyes like you wanted to eat him. It was too much for him, and he’s beating himself for it since.
As soon as you closed your door, his feet automatically lead him to the windy beach, with only the tiny porch roof to shield him from the storm, but he didn’t care.
In the morning, he woke up before everyone as usual and started making breakfast for the two of you, hoping you won’t hate him, hoping he didn’t lose his chance. But then he saw you sprint out the front door like you were running away from him.
All day Mingyu’s been waiting to get you alone, but you were always so busy, talking with someone else or helping to clean up so the house is squeaky clean before everyone leaves tomorrow. If he doesn’t get to explain himself and make it right, he fears he probably won’t see you again for a long time.
As your last night at the house, everyone decided to have a goodbye party. And by ‘party’ you mean a hang out with no alcohol, because no one wanted to drive six hours while hang over and because you all spent the whole day cleaning and tidying everything up. Just hang out, playing games, maybe one beer or two, not enough to get anyone drunk.
Sitting on the couches as usual, you can feel Mingyu’s gaze piercing through you from across the room. You did avoid him all day, making yourself busy whenever you saw him around, but you didn’t think he noticed.
Your attempts to evade his overwhelming presence are pointless. You don’t look at him, focusing on whoever is talking or pretending to look for something on your phone, but every time you stretch to grab something off the table, he coincidentally goes for it too.
The distance between you might not be noticeable for the naked eye, just casually sitting across from each other, you’re not one to talk much so it’s usual for you to look at who’s talking and not interrupt them. Mingyu’s just the same, but his eyes seem to have got a life of their own and wander to you at your every movement.
It’s killing Mingyu inside to know that you’re avoiding him. He knows he fucked up, but fears that if he confronts you, you’ll just deny it. There's not much he can do in this group setting.
His opportunity arises when everyone decides to do a movie night. It’s weird to watch a movie on your last night, but he won’t oppose to it if it’s an unanimous decision. And when you’re tasked with the popcorn, he knows it’s time to talk to you without anyone hearing. He tags along, throwing some lame excuse to the others saying he’ll help you.
You object, you’ll do just fine on your own, but your legs betray you and don’t stop even when he insists. You’re both inside the kitchen in no time and there’s no running back.
“I’ll just heat the bags on the microwave, and you can take them to the coffee table.” You avoid looking at him too much, trying to focus as best as you can, but the popcorn bags are nowhere to be found. You look inside every cabinet, doing a very rigorous search, anything to keep the interaction as short as possible.
“Let me help you.” As the kind man Mingyu is, he attempts to join you in the search, but if he gets a mere inch closer to you, you might lose it.
“No, it’s fine I can find them.” It comes out harsher than you intend, but at least he backs away.
There’s a minute of silence, only your huffs of frustration can be heard.
“I’m sorry.”
You stop in your tracks, search already forgotten as you scavenge through your mind to find any usable words to respond.
“About what?” You huff incredulously.
“About last night.” Mingyu looks small as he waits for your reply.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The big kitchen suddenly feels too small, the four walls imprisoning you. You ignore his figure as you walk over to the tiny storage room right beside the kitchen. Maybe there are forgotten popcorn bags there and you can finally end this conversation. But Mingyu's committed to his cause and follows you.
“But there is.” It’s almost annoying how adamant he is about whatever he wants to say. You don’t want him to pity you, it’s already embarrassing enough.
“It’s fine, really.” Mingyu followed you inside the tiny room, and when you turn around to face him, he’s dangerously close. Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to not have another reaction.
“It’s not,” barely a meter separates you from Mingyu, too close for your liking but at the same time too far. He realizes and moves forward half a step, so now if you concentrate enough, you can feel his breath as he speaks, “I know you’ve been avoiding me all day because of what happened... I shouldn’t have-”
“Look, maybe I've been avoiding you but it’s because I want to keep the last bit of pride I have left, I thought you wanted to kiss me and you didn’t, it’s okay, you don’t have to pity m-”
The words stop coming out of your mouth a millisecond before Mingyu grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours with force.
The kiss lasts merely seconds, but you melt under his touch instantly. Mingyu’s lips mold over yours perfectly, pillowy and soft, but with authority.
He backs away slowly, your eyes still closed, and your foreheads connected, he gives you a peck before finally separating.
“I wanted to kiss you, I mean, I want to, like all the time.” You watch him with glossy eyes, still dizzy from the kiss.
Your bodies are close like they’ve never been before, you have to move your head up to even see his face. The pumps of your heart are so strong he might even feel them. Your mouth hangs open in shock, your brain makes no sense of what’s happening, and words don’t seem to want to get out of you.
“I should've done that yesterday.” Mingyu can barely contain his smile as he confesses.
“Yeah, you should've!” You chuckle as you jokingly slap him on the chest, “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” his hands sneak around your waist, fingers creeping inside your t-shirt to touch your bare skin, “you make me nervous.”
“Right, but you don't seem so nervous now,” as his fingers trace circles on your sides, your arms wrap around his neck naturally. Your faces get ever so slightly closer by the second, your chin up and his head down, eyes connected in a trance that draws a smirk on his face.
“Do you forgive me?” He breaks the eye contact, gaze focused on your parted lips.
“Hmm, I don’t know… I’m not convinced yet.” It’s your turn to smirk, trying to get a reaction out of him.
Mingyu’s eyes change before something takes over in him. He wraps his arms around your waist and erases the little distance between your bodies, connecting your lips in a frenzy kiss, nothing like the sweet one before. Your arms hug his neck, bringing his face and body impossibly closer to yours.
You sigh when his hands start traveling across your back as he deepens the kiss, licking your lower lip and tangling your tongues together. His arms hug your waist up, forcing you on your tiptoes to reach his height while your hands on his neck push him down. Like a game of push and pull, both of you fighting for dominance, one pushes their body against the other and the other pushes you both closer, if even possible.
Inside you feel like exploding. You knew you wanted him, but your body wants more, you need more. From the first touch the only thing on your mind is him, his hands on you, your chests flushed together, his lips on yours with force, where they belong. Everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire. When his hands sneak below your t-shirt and his fingers wander around the unexplored territory, you sigh on his mouth again and you feel his smirk against your lips.
The metal shelves dig onto your back, but you don’t care, all that’s on your mind is him, until some lonely can falls to the ground and makes an inexplicable loud noise that alerts not only the two of you.
“Is everything okay?” Chan’s question comes from far away, but it’s enough to make you jump and push Mingyu away from your face.
“Yeah! We just,” You’re too out of breath to speak more than a couple of words, “couldn’t find the freaking popcorn.”
“Doesn’t Mingyu remember where we keep it?” You turn to catch Mingyu as he smugly retrieves his hand from behind your head to reveal the bags you’ve been looking for.
“Need any help?” Chan’s voice gets dangerously closer.
“No need! Thank you!” You take your chance to snatch the popcorn out of Mingyu's hands and start walking away from him and towards the kitchen, “Mingyu’s so annoying!” You hear Chan's laugh as he leaves.
“But you like me as I am,” Mingyu whispers in your ear, already caught up beside you, smirk so prominent you can even hear it.
“Is it too late to retract?”
“Yep, you’ll have to deal with me forever now.”
“Forever huh?” The humming of the microwave accompanies the moment as you turn around to find Mingyu standing against the kitchen island, arms stretched as if he’s showing off his muscles. He definitely catches you ogling him, but that’s what’s fun.
The knowledge that you’re able to make him nervous is too powerful. Your hunger translates in the way you look at him, standing against the sink in the same way he is, you look at him exactly the same way as the night before, lust and want almost tangible.
You stand still, waiting for him again, but this time he doesn’t chicken out. Slowly, he steps closer to you and cages you in between his arms. The air becomes too thick, atmosphere heavy as you look up at him expectantly.
The microwave beeps behind you but none of you react, too in your own bubble to care about the outside world. His eyes switch between yours, with his eyebrows raised and lightly biting his lower lip, using no words but telling you everything.
His hands sneak around your waist, and you don’t fight the smile cracking on your lips. You move your head forward, craving his lips on yours again.
“Guys what’s taking so long?” You’ve never separated faster. You barely get to turn around and open the microwave before Chan appears inside the kitchen, notoriously troubled. A few steps by your left, Mingyu searches for bowls, his back facing the both of you as to not reveal his blushed face.
Chan’s eyes switch between watching his brother and watching you, waiting for an answer as you grab the piping hot bag and dump the freshly done popcorn into a bowl. The silence is telling, even to him.
“Sorry, we’ll be right there.” Chan grabs the bowl reluctantly, clearly aware that something happened, just not sure what. As he walks away, he even turns his head around to analyze the two of you for a second.
The movie democratically chosen is quite interesting at first, but after some boring scenes, the little power of concentration you have evaporates. Mingyu’s body is next to yours, legs touching and his arm resting on the back of the couch. What you want need is so close yet so far.
You sit back so he can wrap his arm around you without raising any suspicions, goosebumps run across your entire body when he finally does.
Not engaged in the movie at all, you opt for looking at the man by your side. Mingyu notices your gaze as soon as it lands on him, but he pretends he doesn’t. Everything about your current situation is making him lose his mind. The way you keep searching for his touch, even with all your friends surrounding you, inviting him to sit so close to you, not hiding as you stare at him, everything is making him nervous. The nervousness from the night before crawls back onto his body, because of you, his brother’s best friend, here, how you’re making him feel. He just doesn’t know how to act around you.
As he wraps his arms around you, you snuggle closer to him, only a blanket hiding your closeness from prying eyes. The movie’s long forgotten, with your head on Mingyu’s shoulder, you can only concentrate the rise and fall of his chest, his soft touches on the side of your arm. His warmth is hypnotizing, prompting your hand to place itself on the uncovered skin of his thigh, just above his knee. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches at your touch, goosebumps reveal around the cold of your hand. He expects for you to move it, but your hand stays there, squeezing softly, much too close to his knee, for a few minutes.
When a fight scene breaks on the movie, you take advantage of the noise and the initial shock, and move your palm slightly up Mingyu’s thigh, over his shorts but closer to where his groin starts to wake up.
Judging by Mingyu’s face, there’s nothing suspicious about you two. He stays looking up front, pretending to pay attention to the screen, while inside all he can think about is your hand and what you’re planning to do with it. The expectations excite him just as much as they scare him. All he wants is your body close to his, making you feel through his actions just how much he likes you, but he didn’t think you’d start something while surrounded by all your friends. It’s dark, only the movie lights up the room, and you’re on the far end on the couch where it would be hard for anyone to see you, but it’s still quite exposing. Someone could catch you, you don’t seem to care, and it excites him more than it should.
“I know what you’re doing,” you barely hear his whisper through all the noise.
“Is it working?” Your thumb slowly grazes his skin as he flexes his thigh muscles.
“I have probably minutes of self-control left, so we’ll see.” He backs his head away again and you turn to watch his reaction as your hand moves over his already semi hard cock. Only a few touches and he’s already halfway up. It fills you with pride to know how much of an effect you have on him. Big, strong, serious Mingyu, coming apart under your hand.
Your palm moves up and down his covered length slowly, feeling it getting harder under your touch. His reactions are so minimal that you only notice because you pay attention closely.
What you didn’t anticipate was his hand creeping up your thigh. Slowly, his fingers find their way inside the tiny shorts you put on, drawing circles on your inner thigh, nowhere near enough to your core but still sending waves of arousal through your whole body.
Half of the run time of the movie passes, but your touches stay over your clothes, teasing, barely grazing. You stop palming him the second his index fingers ghosts over your covered clit, your breath hitches and you’re too shocked to keep up your movements. As the seconds pass, Mingyu runs his fingers through your covered folds, feeling how wet you already are.
The movie’s suddenly silent, the main characters looking at each other in the eyes. It's probably a very important scene, but you only concentrate on not making any noise as Mingyu works you up under the blanket.
With your hand still motionless on Mingyu's cock, he stretches until his head reaches your ears when the scene changes and noise fills the room again.
“Let’s go to my room.” There’s no hesitation in his voice.
“You don’t wanna watch the ending?” You tease back. You don’t even know what happened in the movie this whole time.
“If I don’t have my fingers inside you in the next five minutes, I might go crazy.” His statement leaves your jaw hanging as he, contrary to what he just said, removes his hand from you.
“I’m sorry guys, gotta drive tomorrow,” Mingyu suddenly gets up and everyone's confused eyes are on him, “don’t wanna be up until too late.” And with those words, he’s out of the living room in no time.
Everyone's eyes, including Chan’s, go back to the screen, but you stay still. Should you follow after him right now? It’ll be too suspicious, but do you really care?
You wait until the scene changes, as to not seem too obvious, and fake a loud yawn.
“Sorry guys I think I'm calling it a night,” every move you make, you make sure to do it slowly, to show how tired you are, “I don’t wanna fall asleep on the couch.”
As you take a few steps, Jihyun calls for you, “But it’s about to end!”
“Oh! I’ve already seen it it’s fine,” you lie as you face the hallway again, your back turned to Jihyun so your face doesn’t expose you.
You can hear her voice saying something like liar! You wanted to watch it! But you don’t turn back, because you can see Mingyu waiting by his door. He's about to speak but you run and smash your lips with his before he can utter a word.
Your bodies are so tangled together you stumble backwards, but luckily Mingyu manages to catch you before you fall and turns you both inside his room. With his hand pillowing your head, he pins you against the now closed door and you both laugh lightly at your clumsiness. But as soon as your eyes land on each other again, it’s like you’re both hypnotized because your mouths attach again like magnets.
His hair feels soft between your fingers, long enough for you to tug at it lightly. He groans against your mouth and now it’s your turn to smirk. That ignites something in him, because he presses you against the wall at the next tug you give him.
He’s everywhere. His thighs intertwined with yours, his firm chest against yours, one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.
The feeling of his lips is addicting, and now that you’ve finally tasted him you never want to go back. His mouth glides over yours with familiarity, like it’s something he's been doing for years, like he knows exactly how to get you head over heels for him.
You chase his lips as he steps back just a little, and you instantly miss the warmth of his body. The only light source in his room is the moonlight beaming though the window, but it’s enough to admire Mingyu’s messy hair and blood red lips. Your hands stay around his neck and his on your waist, neither of you wanting to stop touching the other.
A strand of hair blocks your view for a second before he brushes it back and tucks it behind your ear.”
“Did you mean all that?” Not his words, but his actions. Kissing you. Did it mean the same for him as it did for you?
“I've been wanting to do that for days,” his hand caresses the side of your face gently and you lean into his touch.
His lips are on your again without warning and you melt at his touch, giving in to him. His lips guide yours slowly, taking his time savoring you. Every move of his has a purpose, every deliberate touch makes you more needy for him.
He's in total control, caging your body against the door, pressing himself against you so you feel his almost fully hard dick against your upper thigh.
His mouth travels down to your neck and makes you gasp, leaving damp kisses on your sensitive skin. Your hands play with the hem of his black t-shirt, and you feel his smirk against your neck. His hands travel all around your body, from your neck to your back to your waist and your ass. You feel him everywhere every second and the heat inside you intensifies per second.
The only thing on your mind is having him. Your hands start lifting his shirt up, he smirks against your lips before separating briefly to take it off and slip his shoes off. You do the same.
You barely get a glimpse of his shirtless body before he’s on you again. Lips on lips, skin on skin, your insides pulsate with need feeling every muscle of his against you. His biceps tense under your touch when he picks you up by your thighs effortlessly.
Legs wrapped around his waist, Mingyu walks with you on his arms towards his bed. He makes sure to drop you softly before getting on top of you. His mouth finds your neck again as he lets you feel his hard bulge against your core. You grind against him, eliciting a moan out of the both of you, but it’s not enough.
With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you press him further against you. Even with the layers of clothes between you, his length grinds deliciously against you, the friction causing the heat inside you to fire up and the idea of having him inside releases a wave of arousal.
“Mingyu!” You intend to draw his attention, but he grinds against you again and it comes out like a moan. He hums against your skin and your fingers on his hair and back encourage him further. His hands roam your body until they reach your poorly clothed chest, but the lousy fabric doesn’t stop him from groping with excitement.
“Mingyu take off your pants.” You manage to grab his head to make him look at you, and he follows immediately.
You take your pants and bra off easily and prop on your elbows to admire him while he struggles to take his off. His frustration makes you chuckle, but his defined muscles distract you quickly. You saw him in just swim shorts days ago, you knew what to expect, but it still shocks you how broad his shoulders are, how his pecs flex at the tiniest movement. The size of his biceps are probably three times the size of yours.
When he finally throws his pants away, he aims to get on top of you again, but you think ahead. You move to the side, so he drops on the bed, and you get on top of his big thighs. The little fabric between you allows you to feel just how hard he is under you, hitting all the right places, making you moan while wetness gushes out of you.
Your hands travel slowly through his chest, fingers tracing his muscles, torturing him with your slow pace and making him squirm at your touch. His little sighs and whines are music to your ears, reaching the deepest parts inside you and ruining your panties more and more.
Proud of the effect you have on him, you grind softly and feel his hard twitch under you. But your fun doesn’t last. Mingyu grabs you by the neck and lowers your body until your faces are millimeters apart, keeping your hands from moving. He attempts to kiss you, but you grind on him again, causing him to moan in your mouth.
“You’re making me crazy,” his lips graze yours when he speaks, and you have to fight every internal scream telling you to kiss him back.
“Good.” You smirk as you shimmy down until your core is no longer sitting on top of his, leaving kisses down his neck while your hand travels down to palm him.
He sighs when your hand sneaks under his underwear to feel his now fully hard cock. Your hand barely wraps around him as you slide it up and down his length slowly, smearing the precum coming out from the tip.
Every little reaction Mingyu gives you encourages you to continue. Every moan when you squeeze harder, every whine when you pay attention to the tip, every sigh when you leave tiny bite marks around his clavicle, where no one else would be able to see them, but hopefully you.
Your wrist works hard as you notice Mingyu’s breath getting heavier and faster, and the fire inside you becomes impossible to ignore.
“Do you have a condom?” You ask as you slowly stop your movements. The ache between your legs keeps you from concentrating on anything else. If he wanted to, he could slide right in with how wet you are.
“Maybe,” the raise of his eyebrows tells you he’s up to no good and you look at him questioningly, “there’s something I gotta do first.” He slots between your legs with a smirk, hands on both sides of your waist and mouth getting closer to your ear.
“Gonna make you cum so hard you won’t even know your name.” His lips leave a trail of kisses below your ear to your mouth, and you sigh as he connects your lips once again. His hands go down and spread your thighs, taking his time grazing and groping everywhere between your inner thighs except for where you want him the most. You can only sigh and push him more against you, still in shock from his previous words.
One hand ghosts over your somehow still clothed core and you try to grind against it, but he moves it away with a chuckle.
“I need you,” you gasp when his hand presses against your pussy, fingers running up and down your lower lips and teases your hole through your panties, “please Gyu,” the nickname slips out of you with a moan.
“Whatever you want baby,” the not so accidental pet name goes straight to your core, too wet by now.
Mingyu starts a trail of kisses down your jaw to your boobs, paying especial attention to them while helping you out of your panties. You try to press against him, now fully naked, but he pins your hips down with force.
His head goes down leaving wet kisses on your skin and making you needier and needier until he reaches your pulsing core.
“You’re so wet already,” he kisses all around, teasing you endlessly as his hands pins you down so you don’t grind up to him, and his breath fans over your wet hole making you shiver, “so needy for me.”
“I swear if you don’t st-Fuuccck,” his tongue flattens on your core mid-sentence, slowly licking up and down, drowning any thought you might possibly have. He dives into you with no intend of stopping any time soon.
The dreamlike scenario of his head between your legs is in no way comparable to reality. He switches between swirling his tongue around your clit and teasing your entrance, drinking up all the juices you give him.
It's embarrassing how fast you’re getting to your orgasm with just a few minutes of him working you up. You tremble as he tortures your clit with his tongue once again, sucking on it lightly almost making you scream. You don’t care how loud you are, and he loves how you sound, how you moan uncontrollably because of him.
His hair is all disheveled because of your hands, tugging and pressing him closer to your core. He moans as he tastes you, sending vibrations through your whole body.
When you close your legs unconsciously around his head, he spreads you again with force, keeping you from shivering and adding newfound energy to tip you over the edge.
“Feels s-sso good Gyu oh my god,” his tongue teases your hole as his nose perfectly grazes your clit. Your mind is so numb you keep mumbling praises you can’t understand, the only thing you know is your orgasm is so close to snapping, you can almost see it, hear it, taste it.
You tremble in his hold, and he knows you’re close. Your hands on his hair keep him in place as you grind on his face, intensifying everything. He moans as you use him, and the vibrations finally make you snap.
Your legs tremble as his tongue licks you clean of the mix of saliva and your juices. It's when it becomes too much for you that you push his head back, and the sight leaves you more breathless than you already were. His chin is covered in your arousal and his lips are swollen from the work they’ve done.
His head stays on the lower side of your body, kissing your inner thighs as you recover. You can only watch him, his hands touching and massaging every part of your legs he can reach, his lips so close to your core, but teasing around where you’re starting to need him again.
“You look really pretty like this.” His words send shivers down your spine.
“So I usually don’t?” He halts his movements as you tease to look you in the eye but continues after he takes notice of the teasing tone.
“You are always pretty,” you throw your head back against the pillow at his words, “every second of every day,” the kisses on your inner thigh come closer and closer to your core, already gushing with need.
His lips ghost over your folds as he backs away just the tiniest bit to reveal his index finger moving towards his mouth. His eyes connect with yours as he licks his fingers, and the sight almost blocks your airways. You don’t want to stop watching but when his wet finger starts circling around your clit slowly, your eyes shut instinctively.
You feel him collecting your juices when he suddenly dips his finger into your hole. You moan at the intrusion but he’s quick to remove it and he’s back at circling around your wet clit.
He does the motion a few times, finger in then quickly out, circles around your covered clit with the freshly collected juices, and repeat.
“please" only a broken whisper leaves your mouth as your hand stops his movements. Your eyes connect with Mingyu’s after what feels like hours of teasing, and you can see a little smirk forming before following your needs.
His two fingers enter you slowly, letting you feel everything until he’s knuckle deep inside you. You’re so wet and needy from the foreplay that they just slide in.
He stretches your velvety walls perfectly, with a pace hard and deep that has you moaning uncontrollably.
When he finds that perfect spot that has you seeing stars, your hand jolts down to keep his in place and his fingers start abusing your gspot mercilessly. You almost scream when he adds a third finger inside you, squelching sounds filling the rooms with your moans as you get closer and closer to another orgasm.
Your walls begin to spasm around his fingers, letting him know that you're close once again. With your hand freeing his, he thrusts sharper into you, even if your walls close hard around them pushing them out.
All 5 senses explode within you when you feel his tongue toying with your clit again and your second orgasm hits powerfully. His hands help keep you in place as he maintains his movements, prolonging the orgasm as he pleases.
He licks his fingers clean as he climbs on top of you again. Your haze connects with his and you can’t look away as he removes his digits from his mouth and directs them to yours. Almost robotically, you open your mouth to welcome them and lick them clean without breaking eye contact. The mix of your juices and his saliva spike something within you. Your gaze turns to fire as you grab Mingyu by the neck and pull him towards you. Your lips connect with his fingers in between, both of you licking then clean as the same time. Your tongue plays with his fingers, finding his tongue doing the same and intertwining.
Entranced by you, Mingyu backs away once more and can only watch as you lick his fingers like it was his cock. Your eyes still meet his as you swirl your tongue around and eventually stop with a pop.
The speed of light doesn’t compare to how fast Mingyu crashes his lips with yours again. He grabs you by the waist and flips you both so now his back is against the headboard and you're sitting on top of him. His lips guide yours lazily as his hands travel around your naked back, and when you moan when he grinds up to you, he has to stop before he cums straight away.
You’re still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm he gave you to speak, and he just looks at you with a little smile growing on his face. He pecks you sweetly, but when you don’t respond he worries.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay,” you chuckle as you feel your face turning pink, “you were kind of a beast down there, I need a second.”
“I could do that every day if you let me,” he sounds way too enthusiastic as he begins a trail of wet kisses on your neck. A moan escapes you when his hands find your breasts and your wetness uncomfortably starts to stain his boxers below you.
“Take these off.” You grab the waistline of his boxers to draw Mingyu's attention away from your neck and it works. He slips them off at the speed of light and you're back on top of him.
Your wet folds finally come in contact with his cock and you both moan at the feeling. With his hands on your waist, he aims to kiss you, but you surprise him by grinding on him and he moans on your mouth, your lips barely touching. His veiny cock grazes against your clit deliciously, clouding any coherent thought you may have. Mingyu’s just as gone as you are, with his hands playing with your boobs and your juices wetting his entire cock, he might just be in heaven.
“I’ll cum If you keep going like that,” Mingyu has half the mind to speak up. It’s a warning, but you take it as a challenge.
“What if that’s what I want?” You wrap your arms around his neck as best as you can as you slowly keep grinding on him, trying to hide the fact that it has as much of an effect on you as it does on him, maybe even more.
“Hmm I don’t think that’s what you want.” His left-hand sneaks between your bodies as the other plays with your nipple and you halt your movements. His fingers quickly find your clit and press on it with a little force, making you gasp.
“You can have anything you want, if you just ask.” His hands pleasuring you everywhere simultaneously blur your mind. You can’t find it in you to form a coherent sentence, so you resume your grinding. It's so slow you can feel every drag against you, every vein against your wet folds, his tip perfectly against your clit. You want nothing more than to feel him inside you, stretching you until your walls are shaped like him.
“Need you inside,” your words come out more of a gasp than anything, “please.”
Mingyu’s hands stray away from your body, quickly reaching the small packet that was waiting on his nightstand and rips it open as you move away from his cock to give him some space. He rolls the condom on swiftly and you stop yourself from jumping on him.
His hands on your waist and yours on his shoulders to stabilize you, you slowly sink on his length. Yours and Mingyu’s moans synchronize as his cock stretches your walls, filling you up until you feel him on your throat.
When you completely sink down on him, he reaches so deep you almost have trouble breathing, reaching places you’re just now discovering. You stay still as your gummy walls hug his length tightly, trying to get used to the new stretch. Sensing your hesitation to move, Mingyu kisses you softly, both of you melting into the other’s touch. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck for the millionth time, like they’re meant to be there until the end of time, and the slight movement causes Mingyu to shift inside you.
His lips muffle your moans as one of his hands sneak back down to stimulate your clit once again. His fingers draw circles on you, you can feel your arousal dripping onto him, and little by little, the stretch stops stinging, the feeling replaced by want and need.
Using his body to support you, you lift your hips slowly. His low groans fill your ears as every vein drags inside of you deliciously.
Without warning, you sit back with force, getting a moan out of the both of you. His lust filled eyes watch you in awe as his hands grab your ass while you’re repeating the motion. The addictive hitting of his cock inside you almost makes you not notice how tired you’re getting.
Mingyu stops you once you sink down again, embracing you with his arms and pulling you towards him. Your chests are flushed together again as he kisses you deeply, his tongue quickly encountering yours, and he flips you over.
Your back hits the mattress and he's between your legs again. He begins a slow pace, thrusting into you until his pelvis barely touches your swollen clit and then almost all the way out. The pace continues to be torturous until he finds the spot he’s been looking for and you almost scream, egging him on to hit it again and again and again.
With force, every thrust of his hips has you seeing stars. You can’t control your noises any longer, even mumbling a few phrases you can’t quite decipher, but that Mingyu seems to like.
The bed squeaks and hits the wall repeatedly but neither of you care. With your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging on his back, you can only think about the tight knot on your lower stomach about to burst.
His face is so close to yours, but neither of you have the mind to do anything other than moan in each other's mouths. Any sound you make, he replicates, blessing your ears and sending waves of pleasure to your already so close body.
Your walls are tightening so hard that Mingyu has trouble keeping up his fast pace, but after telling him how close you are, he starts pounding on you so hard you have to hug him so stay in place. Caged between your arms and legs, Mingyu’s body is glued to yours, his hot skin burning him on you as he drills your insides and blurs your brain.
“y-you’re so t-tight, pleasse tell me you’re cl-close,” his words barely register on your mind and your brain can’t work out a response, so he makes sure you hear him by putting his mouth next to your ear, but never stopping pounding into you, “are you fucked dumb already?”
His words shoot straight to your core, pulsing tight around him. Mingyu tries to muffle a moan by chuckling, but you already know the effect you have on him.
“s-so close Gyu, wish you-” you clench around him around him as you say, “wish you could come inside.”
Mingyu’s hips stutter at your words, and he has to slow down his pace to not cum right that second, but doesn’t miss the chance to play your little game, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me filling you up until you’re so full you start dripping?” His lips leave a trail of goosebumps below your ear, giving you a few kissed around your neck before going back up to look you in the eyes as he continues his tortuously slow thrusts.
“Yes yes I want it so bad,” you have no idea if what you’re saying makes any sense, but the smirk Mingyu shows is worth it.
“You wouldn’t waste a single drop right?” his thrust become hard and pointed after you nod eagerly, hitting your gspot with force after every word that leaves his mouth, “I'd stuff it back into you, and you’d be a good girl and keep it in.”
The pet name combined with the sharp thrusts send you over the edge embarrassingly fast. Without warning, you’re cumming on Mingyu’s cock, moaning all kinds of nonsense, squeezing him so tight it’s hard for him to delay his own orgasm. His thrusts don’t stop, stretching you orgasm and chasing his, and in no time, you feel his dick twitch inside you as his hips stutter with a moan.
He stills inside you, body draped over yours as you both recover. You're so tired your eyes start closing on their own, but Mingyu sliding out of you wakes you up instantly, triggering a quiet moan out of your throat.
You don’t want him to leave, and he catches your worried eyes as he gets up, “I’m going to grab a towel to clean up, I'll be right back,” he reassures you with a soft hand on your thigh.
After he hands you a clean towel, he gets back to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Alone in his bedroom and all cleaned up, you scan around after grabbing his big t-shirt to wear. It's obvious this is the room he uses in their frequent family visits, judging by the framed photos and the few posters on the walls. Even with only the bedside table lamp on, except the clothes recently scattered around the floor, you can see you clean and tidy the room is, his clothes are packed neatly, only a few items still on his desk.
“That looks nice on you,” Mingyu’s voice startles you, and you find him watching you from the bathroom door.
“Thanks, it’s some guys’, you probably don’t know him.” He chuckles, walking towards the bed as you tuck yourself in.
“And who is this mystery guy?” Mingyu asks as he get in bed behind you, embracing you in his arms with your back against his chest.
“It’s this guy who’s totally head over heels for me,” you turn around in his arms to find him smiling, “and I really like him too.” His eye wrinkles appear as his smile widens, but you don’t notice as you’re too shy to look at him again after your confession.
“He’s really lucky then.” Mingyu, aware of your shyness, grabs your chin and makes you look at him, “do you really?” The question freezes you in place as lock his serious gaze. He’s dying of nervousness inside, worrying about you, and him, and the two of you.
“Yes,” your voice comes out small and careful, but it relaxes him, “I really do like you Mingyu.”
No words can describe the burst of emotions Mingyu feels as those words leave your mouth. He can only hug you tighter and aim to kiss you, but you turn your head away laughing.
“Hey hey hey! What about you! I’m not letting you anywhere near me until you give me an honest reply!” You find yourself play fighting with this giant man for like three seconds before he pins you down.
“Funny thing to say while you’re in my bed, wearing my shirt,” your hands are trapped by his on both sides on your head, he’s all you can see, and you have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I know I should’ve said it before, but I really like you too, I’m most comfortable when I’m with you, I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t want this to be a quick fling between us.”
His confession has your stomach doing flips and turns, your blood rushing to your cheeks and ears, and your smile to wide it almost hurts. “That's what I wanted to hear.”
DAY SEVEN
Mingyu’s arms now rank first as your favorite place to sleep ever.
After making each other repeat their confessions multiple times – mostly you, but he found he loves the way you blush every time you say you like him – and kissing lazily while wrapped around one another, time flashed by and sleepiness got to the both of you.
The culprit of waking you up from your dream forcefully is Mingyu’s damn alarm, ringing and ringing somewhere in his room. You turn a couple of times, trying to locate his phone without getting up, but it’s pointless.
“Mingyuuuu your phone,” your voice echoes alongside the annoying alarm as you try to wake him up.
“Hmm sorry,” his raspy voice barely reaches you as he gets up and grabs his phone from the pocket of his pants laying on the floor.
He quickly gets back under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and snuggling against you, both of you too awake by now to get back to sleep.
Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his chest rising and falling behind you and his hand caresses your waist through his t-shirt. You lay your hand over his as he kisses your neck softly.
“Good morning beautiful.” You’re too trapped in his embrace to turn around and face him, but you get to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks at his words.
“Good morning.” Being wrapped around Mingyu’s warmth is addicting, his touch, his smell, his skin. How did you live all these years without them? “Should we get up? Everyone is probably awake by now.” You really don’t want to, but sadly you can’t stay here forever.
“We will, we will,” his hands wander lower and lower on your body, contradicting his words, until they reach the hem of your his shirt and sneak inside to caress your bare skin as he keeps kissing your neck, “are you not wearing-”
The sentence is left unfinished, his state of shock loosens his hug and you’re able to turn in his embrace, cocky smile on your face as he tries to figure you out.
“Oh, I must’ve forgot!” Mingyu joins you in a chuckle, hugging you tightly again and bringing your face towards him. Lazily kissing him, with your limbs intertwined and a little morning sleepiness, everything makes you so dizzy, already needy for him.
His tongue breaches into your mouth, messily dancing with yours as his hand pushes your shirt up and sneak to your core.
You don’t stay still. With your hands you touch and grope every spot of his torso you can reach, earning a few sighs from him, and you slowly start grinding on his hand, coating his curious fingers with your arousal.
Mingyu moans in your mouth when your hand catches his growing bulge, trying to be as quiet as possible in case anyone awake wanders your way.
“You’re gonna be de death of me.” His raspy whisper shoots straight to your core, but you can’t give him a proper reply, his lips go back to yours to shut you up as his fingers run through your wet folds.
Both of your hands work wonders on the other, your hand sneaks under his boxers to stroke him properly while he toys with your clit. It’s getting more and more difficult to quiet down the sounds coming from your mouths, your mind barely able to remember that task as the fire inside you stomach arises.
A knock on the door freezes you both in place. You stop breathing, locking eyes with Mingyu, waiting for the unannounced person to speak up. He looks as scared as you probably are as you both wait.
Another knock makes you get away from one another, and the ruffling sounds draw the attention of the one outside the door.
“Are you awake bro?” Chan asks through the door, luckily not opening it. Your eyes emanate panic as you evaluate every possible outcome for this interaction, but Mingyu motions for you to calm down.
“Hmm yeah, what do you want?” He pretends to just wake up, feigning a loud yawn.
“You know where y/n is? She’s not in her room and Jihyun’s looking for her.” Now Mingyu panics too, trying to come up with any excuse, no matter how lame.
“I don’t know bro, maybe she’s in the bathroom.” Definitely the lamest excuse ever, but it seems to work.
“Right, right, I’ll tell her that, but get up bro! We’re leaving in like an hour!”
“Okay! I’ll be right out.”
You both stay still, listening as his steps get farther and farther until there’s silence again.
“We really should tell him about us, he won’t be mad.” He sounds serious as he picks up your clothes from the floor.
“Take me out on a date first!” You snatch your clothes from his hands as you both chuckle. How would a date with Mingyu go? Outside of this bubble you created, everything could be different, but the change excites you.
The drive back to the city is full of laughter and songs, just like the first day. This time Chan managed to get on the passenger’s seat first, leaving you sitting next to Jihyun’s curious eyes and separating you from Mingyu.
You feel much better than on the first day. Relaxed, with less weight in your shoulders, and a really hot man making eyes at you through the rear view mirror.
Mingyu leaves Chan and Jihyun at his house first, saying it’s more practical to drop them off first and then you. None of them argue about it, and Jihyun throws a wink your way as you get on the passenger’s seat.
“You know, yesterday Jihyun asked me about us, she says everyone’s suspicious.” You mention when he parks in front of your building.
“That’s funny, cause Chan asked me today too, he intercepted me as soon as I got to the kitchen.” He replies and gets out of the car, leaving you hanging for a few seconds before opening your door.
“Really?” Mingyu’s grabbing your bags while you’re dying of curiosity behind him. “And what did you say?”
He chuckles as you walk towards your building, car locked and your bags still in his hands. He only answers once you get to the elevator.
“I told him… that I really like you.” A smile cracks wide on your face. You’ll never get tired of him saying that.
“And did he seem okay with it?” You quickly reach your floor and head to your door, anxiety creeping up on you at the thought of Mingyu being inside your apartment.
“Yeah! He even seemed kind of happy,” you stand by your door just watching him expectantly and he seems confused by your stillness, “are we coming in?”
“Oh yeah just, it’s a little messy I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting to have guests you know.” You turn your door handle slowly, waiting for him to nod before fully opening it.
You walk in slowly, watching his every move and reaction as he steps behind you. He gives it a quick look around before crouching to leave your bags on the floor and walking towards you.
“I like your place, it’s so… you.” His arms wrap softly around your waist, and yours instinctively around his neck.
“How do you know? We’ve know each other for like seven days.” You’re not strangers, you told him stuff you’d never tell anyone else, but you've also known him for a very short amount of time.
“I just know.” The sweet smile he give you melts you in place, if it weren’t for his arms surrounding you, you’d probably fall onto the floor. “And I really want to make that time longer, I meant it when I said forever.”
And he proved to you, time and time again during those seven days, that his words are always true. You have no reason not to trust him, and you always will.
i really hope you liked this >.< share your thoughts!
taglist: @gaslysainz @soffiyuhh @oneandonlyluvv @gyuwoosbabie sorry for the wait
kim mingyu’s (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity
❝ you’re telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here. ❞
PAIRING ▸ kim mingyu x fem!reader
GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, rated m for mingyu, slow burn, he fell first but she fell harder but then he tripped and ate shit, probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written, mingyu and mc are both virgins, sexual content, sexual tension, protected and unprotected sex (i would not advise doing the latter), lots of teasing and banter, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, wall sex, couch sex, public sex, mingyu discovers what pasties are, soonyoung orders 20 connect fours, they are avid enjoyers of the barbie movies
SUMMARY ▸ after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn’t), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).
PLAYLIST ▸ perfect by one direction • spell by niki • fatal flaw by ellise • give me a kiss by lolo zouaï • step? by bibi
WORD COUNT ▸ 31,273 words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ someone (fia) once told me i write too many college aus. i said yeah ur right. and i’m gonna do it again
“BIRDS AND BEES CANNOT PHYSICALLY FUCK.”
You sounded more distressed than informative while you were trying to reason with your longtime best friend, Kim Mingyu. He, on the other hand, appeared visibly worked up over this childish level of argument you two were having.
“It is a metaphor,” he said. “Everyone knows birds and bees aren’t screwing each other up in the trees.”
You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hours ago, you had fucked yourself over after Kwon Soonyoung had casually brought up the topic of body counts. After everyone in your friend group went around listing theirs (Soonyoung: 3; Jungwoo: 3; Minghao: 2; Vernon: 5), you accidentally blurted out that your body count actually existed—one, to be exact.
This was a problem because, to everyone’s prior knowledge, you were a virgin.
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
areudirty
dailybridgerton
izzy806
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
