#through my tags and saw this agaain

[maatryoshkaa]

merry christmas, kiss my a** | lee minho [teaser]

✒︎ in which both you and minho get dumped by your partners on christmas eve, run into each other on christmas day, and begin to find yourselves grudgingly confronting all the reasons that made you enemies in the first place.

ryu says: i can explain the title—i wrote out the plot while listening to “merry christmas, kiss my ass” by all time low 🤡

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au, holiday!au, fluff, drama, romcom, all that good stuff--and a pinch of angst if you move your bang to read it again. 

tags/warnings: fratboy!minho is your typical playboy asshole, perfect student!reader is all business and no-nonsense, mild profanity, mentions of drugs/marijuana/alcohol and addiction, unsafe frat parties (never let go of your drinks, guys), slightly (?) suggestive, but more chaotic than anything, some unhealthy relationships, reader and minho have bad blood, a long history paved with misunderstandings, and lots of unpacking to do.

length of excerpt: 1.6k

With the remnants of a ruthless migraine still wrenching your skull, you pried your eyes open. A weak groan left your dry lips, muffled by a mouthful of fabric. As you came to—brain feeling like jelly sloshing around in your head—you realised you were lying nearly face-down on a queen-sized bed, white comforters tangled around your very sore body. Bright sunlight was filtering in from a window somewhere, and you vaguely registered a green velvet couch sitting in the corner. Frowning, you tried to roll onto your side—and came face-to-face with the yellow eyes of a ginger cat.

You didn’t own a cat. Or a green couch, for that matter. Blinking in confused unison with the feline, you looked around the room—just as the bathroom door swung open, and a very naked Minho stepped out from the wisps of steam.

You screamed, scrambling back on the bed, and grabbed for the first solid object your hands could find—a rusted candelabra on the nightstand. Brandishing it at Minho in horror, you stammered, “Did I—did you—did we—”

Minho looked just as bewildered as you, one hand shooting up as if in surrender. With a yowl, the ginger cat leapt onto the green couch, but neither of you spared it a glance. Minho’s other hand, you realised, was gripping the towel wrapped around his waist as if his life depended on it. Okay, so he wasn’t naked—thank heavens—but that did nothing to stop the sour panic steadily rising in your throat. His gesture sent a vague memory rippling through your muddled mind. That’s right. Last night—the Christmas party at Changbin’s fraternity. You had bumped into Minho, just your rotten luck—the boy you’d despised since high school, and under the mistletoe, to boot. Your mind flashed back to how you’d furiously chugged the drink a frat boy had handed you to fill in the awkwardness, and had desperately tried to eject yourself from the conversation.

Then police sirens had sounded throughout the frat house, students scrambling like cockroaches and hurriedly hiding their marijuana—and that was the last thing you remembered before you had blacked out entirely.

You turned back towards Minho, one hand clamped over your eyes and the other around the candelabra. Two more cats had slinked out from under the bed—a tabby, and another ginger—and were joining the first one in watching the commotion. You put two and two together, voice growing shrill. “Did you—drug my drink, Lee Minho?”

He sputtered, and you could almost imagine his eyes bugging out. “Did I—” he raked a hand through his wet hair, composing himself. “I thought you took something—you were out cold the second you finished your drink.”

Fragments of the night before were slowly returning to you, and with increasing dread you recalled the solo cup you had taken without looking twice, the frat boy who had winked at you with a greasy smile.

“I think you got roofied, princess,” came Minho’s voice, surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t call me princess,” you snapped back automatically, but grudgingly lowered the candelabra. Cautious, you peered through your fingers, and immediately regretted it when you were met with Minho’s shit-eating smirk agaain.

“Not gonna lie, it took me by surprise. Since when did you become a party girl, showing up to Changbin’s parties?” He reached back into the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a smaller towel. “Here I was, thinking you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly haven’t,” you shot back coldly, counting off your fingers with a biting laugh. “Treating people like your personal toys or stepping stones. Messing around with multiple girls a night. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow.” 

If your words stung Minho, he certainly didn’t show it—only raising his eyebrows in that way that had infuriated you for as long as you’d known. The typical Lee Minho look of nonchalant contempt, spiked with a shot of amusement to give the impression that he didn’t give a single damn. You hadn’t run into him since—well, since that incident back in high school, and the memories his mere expressions could still rouse made your skin crawl.

Minho watched you curiously—sheets still wrapped around you like makeshift battle armour, your hand wielding the candelabra he’d thrifted from a garage sale, Rapunzel-style—and he had to fight the genuine smile tugging at his sneer. His chest felt...funny, fluttery, even, and not in the gut-wrenching, hangover way he had grown so used to. He almost wished it was, because this new feeling made it seem as though the ground had suddenly been ripped out from under his feet, and that terrified him.

The party. Some snitch had called the cops on them, and that had promptly shut the party down. The flood of panicked students evacuating had shoved Minho flush against the wall, and you flush against his chest. When he hadn’t felt you shoving him away immediately, Minho had almost felt his heart swell with a strange, terrifying shred of hope—until, upon closer look, he had noticed that your entire body had gone limp, glass empty and eyes fluttering shut. 

Panicking, Minho had carried you out of the house, clawing out of the sea of elbows and overheated limbs until he had reached the main road. Mind racing, he had fished his phone from his pocket and called the only mutual acquaintance the two of you had—your boyfriend.

But when Minho had explained what had happened—hey, uh, your girlfriend’s out cold at Changbin’s party, so you might want to come pick her up—Taehyun had scoffed, a harsh bark of laughter that had made Minho’s ears hurt. 

“Yeah? The hell’s it to me? That bitch’s your problem now.”

Before Minho could choke out a surprised reply, Taehyun had hung up. 

Trouble in paradise? He had thought to himself amusedly, before remembering his own situation. Then, the fact that he had no idea where you lived, and he couldn’t very well leave you, unconscious, out on the street. In the end, he had brought you to his last resort—his apartment. 

Carefully stepping over the trail of shattered ornaments his ex-girlfriend had left behind during their fight, Minho had lowered you onto the couch—then, with a second thought and a deep sigh, he’d lifted you onto the bed, tucking the white comforter over your slack body. Sipping a hangover concoction, he’d stood over your sleeping figure contemplatively, a mix of bemusement and worry churning in his gut, before deciding he was probably being mildly creepy and collapsing for the night on the velvet couch. 

“Look,” Minho began, shaking his head as though clearing his thoughts and turning his attention back on you, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I—we—didn’t—do anything. You were out cold last night.”

Hands shaking, you peeled back the covers—and the smallest sigh of relief left your tightened chest when you saw that you were still wearing the same jeans and top as last night—albeit creased, stained, and reeking of marijuana and booze, but completely intact. The next moment, though, a wave of anxiety washed over you and you clutched the sheets closer, fingers trembling. Someone had still slipped something into your drink at that party. And if the party hadn’t come to a screeching halt—no, you realised, with an inward groan of frustration, if your sworn enemy hadn’t been there, there was no telling how much worse things could have gone. 

The thought made you shudder, panicked tears pricking at your sore eyes. Damn it ll. Here you were, sitting in Lee Minho’s bed, of all people—about to cry in front of him while he watched. Your humiliation—a belated Christmas present for him, no doubt. 

But when you glanced at his face, you were startled at the expression on his face. It was unfamiliar—not exactly condescending, or vicious, or even mildly smug. His lips—rosy from the hot shower—were pressed together slightly, eyebrows almost knitting together in a frown. 

Maybe he was holding back laughter?

Minho’s eyes had caught the way your lips had begun to tremble as you curled in on yourself, and had instinctively moved forward before freezing. What could he do? Give you a hug? He was sure he would end up with a candlestick in his eye if he tried. Comfort you? The words seemed to dissolve to sand on his tongue. He cursed himself silently. Words and actions came so easily with all the other girls—endless sweet talk and flirting, until he had them wrapped around his finger. With you—even after all these years—he was left frozen, mind blank, and only that damned feeling in his chest.

“She’s not yours,” came Changbin’s voice from the previous night, ringing in his ears.

“I know,” he had replied. But why did acknowledging it feel like ripping a Band-Aid off of a nearly-healed wound? Like he had reopened the scar, along with all its pain once again? 

Maybe it was because after all these years, Minho still clung onto the hope that you would hear him out, just once.

Gesturing helplessly, he found himself offering the only sort of comfort he seemed to know how to. “Do you want—uh...some wine? The fridge’s empty, and maybe it’ll calm your nerves a bit.” He tilted his head when you didn’t reply, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Do we need wine?”

Forgetting momentarily that he was nearly naked, you lifted a withering, exasperated gaze at him, getting an eyeful of his bare chest before yelping and burying your face in the covers again. “No. You know what—I need wine—you need to put some damn pants on.”

You could hear his devilish grin return to his voice then, even through the covers. “But life is so freeing without them.”

“Pants. On. Now.”

to be continued

[50shadesofjakemckenzie]

Me and my prompts agaain!✨ "When you and I were together, every single atom in my body told me that it was the right thing. That we were the perfect fit." for Jake x MC please

You are one of my favorites, do not worry! Plus I love your prompts so :))

This one is gonna be kinda sadder by the way.

Summary: Jake and MC talk for the first time after she left him in Costa Rica. (Also, lemme know if you catch the One Direction reference lol)

-

He had pushed her away. It was what he did best after all, isolating himself. The entirety of the helicopter ride, she had begged and pleaded with the man she was in love with. Her hand held his, tears slipping from her eyes. “Let me stay,” She had choked between sobs, hoping the man would come to realize that he was her life now.

Jake was stone cold. He knew she deserved better, and he also knew she’d be stubborn about the topic. That’s why he did it. Once they landed on a nearby island, everyone preparing to book their flights back home, he had told her something that broke both of their hearts. “I don’t want you to come back with me, I don’t love you,” He hissed, jaw clenched as he spat out his lie.

The look on her face was too much to bear. Her eyes had widened in shock, hands clutching the cool metal dog tags hanging from her neck. She had thought she would be stronger if they didn’t last, but each word felt like a knife to her back. The girl practically crumbled in front of him, he knew he had shattered her. 

Cautiously watching the woman he loved, Jake felt himself falling apart. He never wanted to hurt her like this. He wanted to give her the entire world, but he could never do that. He was a wanted man, and he was likely to be until the end of time. She would understand that eventually. She would understand why they could never be together.

Her expression had suddenly shifted, her eyes narrowing as her face turned to a scowl. She pulled the dog tags from her neck, glancing at them once more before hurling the metal at Jake. As she threw the last piece of him away, her mind seemed to go a blank. Her back turned to him as she stormed off the dock, running to catch up with the rest of the group.

If she hadn’t turned her back, Jake would have seen the tears spilling from her eyes yet again. He had bent over to pick up his precious possession, his fingers gripping the metal. He had hoped she would have kept them, but why the hell would she? It only would have been a reminder of him, the man who broke her heart.

Tears prickled his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He coughed loudly and wiped his face with his jacket sleeve as he tried to compose himself. Jake stood tall once more watching the girl with his heart escape his clutches.

A few months had passed since that dreadful day. Jake had adjusted to his life in Costa Rica once more, drinking himself away as he continued to live each day in solitude. He was miserable without her, but he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. 

Diego had been the biggest pain in his ass since she left. He had known that Jake was lying to her, he knew she was the best thing to have ever happened to the pilot. As hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, Diego begged for him to contact her. 

Because, little did Jake realize, she hadn’t moved on. As she woke every morning, she found it difficult to pull herself from bed. The girl could hardly sleep, eat, or convince herself to go to class. She was hung up on the man she loved, she didn’t have anything back at Hartfield. The only thing she had was Diego, and all her presence at the University was doing was tearing him apart.

He despised to see her in the state she was in, but there was nothing he could do. Her best friend tried desperately to help her in anyway he could. Diego brought her food, walked her to her classes, even stay in her dorm to try and raise her spirits. She was only withering away, and he wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

Diego had Skyped Jake from his laptop. As the pair had been communicating pretty frequently, the pilot didn’t find the video chat suspicious. 

Diego had told his best friend that it was a Skype call to a therapist. He expressed his concerns to the crushed girl and told her the video chat was in her best interests.

He had escaped her dorm room just as the connection between the two computers was established, their mouths dropping as they saw who was on the other side of the call. The pair was speechless. Neither of them had ever expected to speak to one another again. She didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do.

They both thought of ending the call immediately, but they couldn’t find the strength to do it. He had wanted to see his princess ever since she left, and she had dreamed of seeing him ever since he broke her heart. 

The sight of how weak she looked damaged him. A blanket was wrapped around her small frame, dark circles were evident under her eyes, and her hair had looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. 

The sight of how weak he looked damaged her. His eyes were red, likely due to the excessive amounts of alcohol he had been consuming. His hair framing his face had grown wildly and it was clear he hadn’t shaved in a couple of weeks.

They both knew that they were lost without one another.

The first word she had managed to choke out was, “Why?” 

She didn’t have to elaborate. Jake knew exactly what she was talking about, and it hurt to hear her say it. His hands rubbed over his face as he tried to contemplate the lies he could tell her. But as he looked at her once more through the screen, he knew he couldn’t deceive her ever again.

“I had to lie so you could return to your future. I wasn’t going to let you throw your life away for me, princess,” He admitted, gaze focusing on the tiles in his bungalow. She flinched at the nickname. Although she loved the sound of it spilling from his lips, she couldn’t help but remember how deeply he wounded her.

She ran a hand through her hair in pure frustration, “So you tell me that you don’t love me? You acted like that everything we ever went through was a lie. You acted like I was nothing, Jake. For the past few months, I’ve believed that. You broke me, why would you do that? All because you think I’m throwing away my future?” Tears began to form within both of their eyes as she continued, “My life is falling apart because I’m without you. Because the man I loved made me feel like I was shit, that our time together meant nothing to him. So tell me, was anything we had real? Did our time on La Huerta mean absolutely anything to you?”

She choked back her sobs, a tear falling from the corner of her eye. Jake immediately noticed and almost reached out to wipe it from her cheek, only to realize that they were hundreds of miles apart. He was crying too. Her confession that she hadn’t been doing well because of him was more than fatal to Jake, and she could see that. She saw his face fall as she had spat each word at him. She noticed the way he turned his head so she wouldn’t see his tears fall, the way he wiped his eyes harshly with the sleeve of his shirt. She saw that she was breaking him.

He didn’t compose himself. He didn’t see the need to. As he caught a breath between his sobs he answered, “Our time meant everything to me, you meant everything to me. You still do, princess. I’m still madly in love with you and I had convinced myself if I watched you walk away, I could move on in a couple of weeks, couple of days even. But I haven’t,” 

She watched as he wiped away a few stray tears before continuing, “On that island, I knew we were soulmates. Because when you and I were together, every single atom in my body told me that it was the right thing. That we were the perfect fit. Once I realized that, I couldn’t let you figure it out. I don’t deserve you princess, I never have and I never will. You deserve the whole universe and I can never give that to you,”

Her heart melted at his confession. All she had wondered after all this time was if he truly loved her. As she watched him fall apart, admitting the secret he had been withholding, his devotion to the girl was evident. He was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy, and in his mind that meant ending what they had.

“Jake,” Her voice croaked, “You are my everything. You’re my life, my voice, my reason to be breathe. Without you, I have been an absolute mess, you idiot. I love you with all of my heart,” The two smile at one another and Jake touches the laptop screen, wishing with all of his being that he could just hold her.

“How about I give you what we both always wanted? I’ve got a bungalow here in Costa Rica that’d be a hell of a lot less lonelier without the love of my life here to share it with me,” He chuckles, eyes still red from his crying.

“I’d love that, I’d really really love that,” She responds breathlessly, ready to begin their happily ever after.

All within the next hour, she had managed to pack up her belongings, purchase a plane ticket for the following day, all in preparation to spend the rest of her time with the man she loved.