the urge to kiss your wine stained lips
The lines are blurring between friends and lovers and you wouldn’t mind taking advantage of it, leaning in closer until you can taste the gin cocktail on his tongue.
pairing: haechan x reader
genre: fluff, suggestive (MDNI!), slight angst
warnings: heavy makeout, reader gets tipsy
happy early 300 followers (still 20 away!)
You’re not naive. Okay, well, maybe you are but that’s not the point here. The point is that your relationship with Haechan is something you care about. Cherish, even. So much so that the idea of screwing it up with him is terrifying. So terrifying that you feel like running away any time you feel those little sparks fly through you any time he does anything that could be perceived as anything other than friendly.
You’ve heard the warning, that guys and girls can’t just be friends but you never bought into it, using your friendship with Haechan as proof. That is, until he got his dick sucked for the first time and dyed his hair pink. He gained such an attractive confidence and his regular teasing jokes started to feel more like flirting and suddenly everything you used to find endearing about him became straight up torturous.
The worst part of it all is that you aren’t just attracted to the new Haechan, you have grown real life big girl feelings for him too. The scary ones, the friendship ending ones. The ones you’d never have the courage to confess to him. The ones you desperately hope he reciprocates but aren’t quite sure if he does.
It’s all come to a head tonight. Of course it does, your hormones are insane and he just got his roots touched up and his hair is styled in a perfect quiff.
You’re scowling, thinking about the damned attractive man in front of you as you down your final sips of red wine in your glass.
“Woah,” he grabs your wrist and that makes you want to groan. “What are you going so fast for? I’m not done yet and you’re already on your second glass.”
There’s a reason for your sudden affinity for binge drinking, but you can’t tell him. He had grown interested in sophisticated life skills recently for some godawful reason and decided tonight was the perfect night to show off his new cooking skills to you.
So now you’re here in your kitchen that you’ve never so much as turned your oven on in, while your “best friend” flies around in an apron making you a meal.
Goddamn. He looks so fine.
You sink, dropping your glass down onto the counter you’re sitting on beside you.
“Bad day I guess.” You lie, swinging your feet back and forth.
He chuckles an extremely attractive chuckle, “Cacio E Pepe will make it all better.” you frown at that, you’ve never even heard of such a dish but it sounds amazing and totally not something that your best friend would know about either.
With the courage of a wine glass behind you, you allow your curiosity to get the best of you.
“Why are you doing this anyway?” You ask, words slightly mumbled from your tipsiness. With a soft groan you pull the cork out of the wine bottle you were supposed to share with him with no difficulty preparing to pour another glass.
He frowns, his eyes not leaving the pan as he stirs the pasta, perfectly pretending not to have heard the cork pop.
“What do you mean, cooking for you?” He asks.
You take a sip, “No, the learning to cook thing. Why? Trying to impress girls?” You try to hide your bitterness but you aren’t sure how well you’ve done it. You take another sip.
He looks at you this time and you want to hide.
He pauses for a minute, an unreadable expression on his face before he looks back down to his pan and says softly, “Something like that.”
You scoff and roll your eyes at that, the jealousy burning alive at the idea that he’s using you as a trial run.
“Well, thank whoever she is for making you want to get your act together.” You jump off the counter and brush past him on your way to the fridge.
Bending over, your head half in the vegetable drawer looking for the gin you keep stocked for nights like these.
“So I’m your fake girlfriend for the evening?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you shuffle through your fridge.
He giggled to himself at your comment before saying, “I guess so.”
“What was that giggle for?” You tease, poking his shoulder, making him rock a bit and let out another chuckle.
“Nothing.” He says casually before grabbing the pepper grinder and twists, adding his own flair as he flicks his wrist.
Fuck, you’re going to go crazy. If he was anyone else you’d make fun of him for the stupid moves he’s pulling clearly in an attempt to impress you. The issue with that, of course, is that you want him to want to impress you.
So you draw your attention to the cocktail you’re stirring up for him, your own little sophisticated life skill you picked up around the same time Haechan began cooking.
Something about all of this feels insanely domestic and it’s comforting. As selfish as it sounds, you don’t mind stealing the memories from Haechan’s future girlfriend. It’s a life you wouldn’t hesitate to steal from her provided the chance, too.
You squeeze the lemon peel once to spritz the glass before pouring in the spirits and taking your knife to the lemon to curl a perfect twist for his drink.
Satisfied with the cocktail you’ve created for your fake boyfriend (gag, by the way. You’ve never been into cute stuff like this. Of course, until now.) you turn around, placing a hand on his shoulder to grab your attention and hand him the glass.
He smiles down at the glass and then once he’s caught your eyes he says, “Thanks, fake girlfriend for the evening.” His arm loops around your waist, pulling you into him as he plants a delicate kiss on your cheek.
Your brain goes haywire as he doesn’t let you go, taking a sip of the drink. You’re not quite sure what to do as you stand, slightly stunned by the proximity.
Lowering the glass from his lips, he smacks them together and grows a thoughtful frown on his face, “This is your best one yet.” He says looking into your eyes again with a glimmer.
Your stomach drops the moment your eyes lock. And as if he has some sort of insane agenda, his sparkling eye winks at you before letting go to give his attention back to the pan in front of him.
Your wine is calling your name again as you try to will away the blush that’s definitely arisen on your cheeks.
As much as you probably shouldn’t, you pop the cork and top off your glass, situating yourself back up on the counter to watch him again.
You sit quietly and sip, watching his every move. Every once in a while he’ll sneak a glance out of the corner of his eye, a smirk growing on his lips watching you turn your gaze quickly elsewhere as to pretend you weren’t just staring at him.
He’s getting confident, aware that he’s had some sort of effect on you as he pulls out his tricks, gallivanting around the kitchen, faking a French accent as he explains the ingredients to you.
Your face is warm with flush from the wine you’ve been drinking all night and a permanent small smile is on your face as you watch him, eyes low with relaxation.
Maybe it’s the wine, or the “fake girlfriend” title, or the intimacy of the moment that boldens you to flirt the way you do next.
“We should do this more often.” He looks at you, surprised by your first words in a while.
“I cook for you all the time!” He fakes offense and that leads you to laugh and stretch out your leg to kick his hip.
“Not ramen, but this sort of romantic dinner thing.” You half speak into your wine glass, the embarrassment catching up to you but but enough to prevent you from saying it all together.
“Ooooh,” he teases, shifting his weight from one hip to another, “you like the romance, huh?” He giggles and with a smile he attempts to catch your eye.
You blush outright this time, the butterflies in your belly erupt from their cage, sneaking up your sternum when you make eye contact. Quickly, you look away and giggle.
“Shut up.” You whisper, both hands on your wine glass in your lap. You stare down and try and preoccupy your thoughts with counting the bubbles that come to the surface, playing with the overhead light reflection in the effervescent pale yellow.
Thankfully, Haechan does shut up this time and you watch him again, this time he’s lost his playful edge and you feel the tipsiness rock you back and forth, setting your glass down beside you. Maybe it is time to slow down, you don’t want to forget tonight.
He looks more pensive as he continues, he’s standing up straight and is looking straight ahead at the pan. It worries you how when a song you know he despises comes on shuffle and he doesn’t move to change it or complain to you how it’s still on your playlist although you know he doesn’t like it.
The butterflies have settled down probably a bit too much, as you feel a sinking feeling of embarrassment that you spoke too candidly earlier, the flush on your face taking on a new meaning.
“Y/N,” he says with a small voice, looking over to you.
“Yeah?” You croak out, watching with wide eyes as he looks you up and down. You gulp when his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. What has gotten into him?
He drops the wooden spoon in an act you weren’t expecting one bit and traverses the 3 steps over to stand in front of you, his hips inches away from your knees.
His hands find your knees and it feels like fire as he pushes them apart to make space for himself between them. While he’s doing this his gaze is locked on you. Well, your lips, that is. You swallow thickly, trying to figure out his motive as his hands trail farther up your legs and finding their home eventually on your hips. You’re still sitting quite stiff, until he looks into your eyes as if to ask permission. When you don’t protest, he moves in closer and closer until your lips are finally together.
The sparks that are present every time he touches you seem so small compared to the absolute lightning you feel as he kisses you. It’s slow at first, his soft lips moving against yours gently and carefully. He’s holding back in a way you wish he wouldn’t, your hands moving to find the back of his head as you kiss him harder.
He takes the hint, his hands holding you just a bit tighter as he licks into your mouth. You can’t help the moan you let out, absolutely shocked at your own reaction. This is your first kiss with your best friend. Yet you can’t seem to hold it together.
Unsurprisingly, he can’t either as his hands move down just a bit further to tease at touching your ass. You move off his mouth to trail kisses down to his neck where you begin to suck and lick. He’s panting in your ears, his hands grabbing a full handful now.
“So, uh, Y/N,” he says, and you hum in response not picking up on his tone. You’re on a mission you don’t particularly wish to be taken off of.
You hum, moving your hand to his hair and kissing him again, humming to urge him to go on.
“Can I tell you something?” He says and you lean back to get a proper look at him. He looks unbelievably sexy, but you have to ignore that for the slightly worried look behind his eyes. This is not the same man that boldly started this make out session with you. This is Donghyuck, your best friend of 9 years.
“Yeah.” You say, your hands intertwining behind his head, forearms on his shoulders.
“I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend.” He breathes out, avoiding eye contact and looking back down at your lips as he begins chewing on his own.
“Oh?” Your confidence takes over as the butterflies are released from their cage and flutter upwards out of your belly and light up your body in a strange tingly feeling.
“What do you want to be then?” You whisper, eyes wide waiting for him to look back up at you. He does, but only in short sequences as his eyes find yours and then back down. He’s holding his breath, you can tell by how his fingers that were dancing across your skin before have stilled uncomfortably.
He’s taking too long, you decide, so you make the executive decision to get back on track with the original plan by pulling on the back of his neck to join your lips again.
It’s the right call obviously as he kisses you back almost immediately and the tension from the moment before is expressed through strong squeezes of your thigh and ass flesh as his tongue enters your mouth again.
The same guy that kissed you in the first place is back as he situates both his hands on your hips and pulls you forward harshly so that his hips can officially meet yours.
You moan, letting your head fall back at the feeling of him underneath his jeans meets your core. You wrap your legs around his hips as he kisses down your neck, pressing his hips harder into yours and sliding up to offer some much appreciated friction.
“Hae- Haechan.” You stutter, blissed out and he responds with a hum, clearly not appreciating being interrupted on his mission to mark you.
“You- oh fuck” his hand slithers up your shirt to grasp your breast, thumbing your hard nipple through your thin bralette. He smiles into your neck as he listens to you breathe, gauging what makes you make the noises he loves so much.
“You never answered my question.” You half moan out and that makes him lean back from his work on your neck and look into your eyes with an incredulous look. Taking in your stunned features at him halting his work on you, he groans and lifts you up from the counter.
With a squeal you wrap both your hands around his shoulders as he moves to carry you out of the kitchen.
“Wait-“ you smack his shoulder.
“Haechan! The stove!” You point from your look over his shoulder.
“What? Oh” He then chuckes a deep chuckle before walking back into the kitchen, releasing his grip on one of your thighs to turn the knob and remove the sauce pan from the stove.
“Thanks for that.” He smiles at you and gives you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth drawing a giggle from you.
“That’s what fake girlfriends are for, right?” You joke and something switches behind his eyes, the fierce sexy guy who was just about to carry you to his bed is now looking at you with the same soft heartbroken eyes that he had when he got stood up that one time freshman year.
He sighs long and loud before letting you down. Your feet touch the floor with unceremonious thuds as you watch him take a step and a half back from you, a pained expression on his face as he lets out a sharp breath through his pursed lips.
“What?” You say, concerned by the crease between his eyebrows and the way he won’t make eye contact with you.
You suddenly feel exposed, and extremely stupid. Your roommates were right about you, you are the dumbest bitch on the planet. Why would you say something like that? Bringing up a fake girlfriend joke when he’s trying to hook up with you freaked him out.
“Ouch, I mean ouch, Y/N” You don’t say anything, continuing to stand and stare at him with wide eyes.
“Damn, that hurt to hear. Do you know what you just implied?” He finally looks up at you and you can finally read him— he’s hurt.
“I mean I’ve been trying to prove to you that I’m into you for months. Like months, Y/N. I’m here now cooking a romantic dinner for you and I just kissed you. I don’t know what else to do here. You don’t get it at all.” His hands are flying about, exasperated. His words cut you like a knife.
Your heart sinks and you can’t pin down the emotion that is creeping up inside of you. Similar to relief and shock but it’s more than that, much more.
“You were okay with the fake girlfriend bit before, how was I supposed to know it would hurt you now?” You say, finally landing on your feelings of offense at his words. How dare he make this into something more than it was?
“I was fine with it until I kissed you! I did that and was about to do a whole lot more and yet you still think this is a game to me?”
That shut you up fast. You didn’t know, you truly didn’t.
“I- I didn’t know.” You say, your sternum stinging with the telltale sign you may start crying soon.
“Of course you didn’t, I didn’t tell you but trust me I’ve tried. I just thought you understood.”
“I’m sorry.” A tear slipped. Overwhelmed with far too many emotions of finally having the awareness that the man in front of you is familiar with his own demon of having feelings for you.
At the notice of your tear, Haechan’s face changes from anger to concern as he steps into you, toes touching. His hands find your cold biceps and he rubs his hand up and down to comfort you.
“No, no don’t be sorry. Please don’t be sorry. It’s me, it was my job to tell you how I felt and I was expecting you to read my mind.” He sighs to himself, head hanging low to try and meet your eye.
“I just thought you wanted to hook up. That’s all you’ve been doing nowadays anyway I thought that was happening here too.”
You say, chin still tucked into your chest.
“Fuck, I’m sorry that you felt that way. You could never just be a regular hookup to me. I- I mean I’ve been all about you for a long time. That’s why I was having all those hookups and everything. Like, for you.”
You laugh through your sniffles, finally looking up into his eyes with a teary smile. He smiles back and giggles with you.
“That didn’t sound right I just mean— I meant— I dunno, hookups are hookups but you’re more I hope you believe me.”
“I believe you.” You whisper, eyes flicking between his two. He notices your stare and his smile softens to a comfortable one.
“So, I did my part.” He draws out with a playful tone in his voice, hands still on your arms. “How about you?” His pleading eyes pierce into your heart.
You sniffle once more, hand coming up to wipe one stray tear from your chin. It’s now or never, you think as your heart beats out of your chest. You’re surprised he can’t hear it.
“I like you, you idiot.” You finally speak, giggling at the last word. His face lights up in a bright smile, eyes swimming in adoration as he stares down at you.
“Really?” He gasps and you both laugh, eyes filled to the brim with fondness for one another meeting.
You bite your lip, watching his eyes immediately stare down at your lips as you hum, nodding in affirmation.
He smiles a satisfied wide grin, “how lucky am I?”
His lips barely meet yours in your kiss, both of you simply unable to stop grinning or laughing with joy. When his hand travels down to grab your hips with more passion, you finally kiss him for real. He responds quickly, slotting his pillowy lips with yours, eyes squinting shut.
“You’re my girl now, right?” He says once you both lean away to catch your breaths, cheeks blushing and warm.
You nod again in response, a “yeah,” escaping your swollen lips through a giggle.
His eyes open fully to look at you again and something mysterious flashes in his eyes as his wide hands find the space between your ass and thighs, picking you up swiftly.
