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Sunscreen | Mingi x Blk Fem Reader

a/n: wrote this for myself cause I'm a little sad and in my feelings. I discovered this lovely song on Spotify called sunscreen and fell in love with it. lyrics are worked into the fic. sorry for any mistakes.

With every break-up, it always seemed like it was your fault. Your recent breakup had been no different from the rest. You felt numb when it suddenly ended. You thought of every single thing that could make your ex look like a bad person in your eyes, but he wasn't a bad person at all.

But you needed him to be.

When people ask you why it ended, you'd shrug, saying, "I don't know." because you really didn't know.

One minute he was here talking about marriage and how he would cry when you walked down the aisle. And the next he's storming through your apartment collecting his things, shoving them into his duffle bag, saying how he couldn't do this anymore. All you could do was cry and beg him not to go. He still left.

Now it's 2 am. You're in your bathroom listening to Erykah Badu while drinking warm red wine from a paper cup. You stare at your hair clippers, turning them on and then cutting your hair. It was freeing in a way you always did this after every breakup. Making you feel less light, but that numbness will still linger for about two more weeks, maybe even months.

So you move through your life without ever really thinking of your ex until something suddenly reminds you of him all over again. Like how when you hear his favorite song that you two would sing while drunk late into the night or when you run into some of his friends and you try your hardest not to ask them how he is doing.

These days were always a little harder.

After when you thought it was okay to actually move on, you get dressed up. Put on your favorite red lipstick and your favorite perfume.

The singles mixer was at a karaoke bar. You signed your name getting a sticker that read: ‘Hello, I'm Y/n’.

You smooth the sticker on to your black Chanel blouse while you order a drink. There were some people already up on stage singing some Taylor Swift song that you heard one time at the grocery store. Cruel summer.

Once you had your drink, you sit back watching everyone as they talk. Remember, you came here to have fun, and meet someone new.

From across the room, you see a guy walk in. He's awkwardly smiling, greeting anyone who walks by him. He slaps on his sticker and you squint your eyes in the dimly lit karaoke room to see his name tag. But all you could make out was ‘Min’

He slid down beside you. You pretend not to notice him. He leans towards you spooking you.

“Y/n's a cute name.” He says with a smile.

With the brim of your glass to your lips, you mutter, “Thank you.”

You glanced at his name sticker. ‘Hello, I'm Mingi.’

The host of the mixer came around encouraging those who were just sitting to get up and have fun. Mingi holds a mic for you. You stare at it before shaking your head.

“I can't really sing.” You say.

“Karaoke is not about how good you can sing. It's about having fun. Sing with me, please?”

So you take the mic. Go up on stage with Mingi. The song Mingi picked was The Black Eyed Peas My Humps. Mingi sings and dances on stage. Everyone was cheering him on. He grabs your hand getting you to dance a little. You're hesitant to sing at first but you sing having fun, but when Mingi twerks, you burst into laughter midway through the song.

You just met the guy and you couldn't help but imagine yourself with him. And it felt nice.

I want someone to remind me to wear sunscreen. And take my vitamins when it slips my mind.

You could imagine Mingi peeking his head out of your bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth as he reminds you to not forget to put on sunscreen and to take your vitamins as you're rushing about the kitchen trying to grab your tea mug, keys, and bag so you could head the door.

I want someone who knows how I like my coffee and wants to share a bed from morning to night.

Then you couldn't help but imagine him in your kitchen early in the morning, with messy brown hair and shirtless. He would know how you liked your coffee in the mornings. It would take him a week to get it right and when he does, it's worth seeing your smile and telling him he tastes like heaven. Then Saturdays would be your favorite again. Mingi would want to sleep in with you on his days off. And on the days he comes to your place late after work, sharing your bed at night with you would become his favorite thing.

“I would like to get to know you more,” Mingi says as the two of you walk off the stage. At first, you didn't know what to say, too scared that if Mingi eventually knew the real you, he'll be gone too.

But I'm stubborn. Selfish. Easily Jealous at times.

It's hard being you. Now you start to see why things never worked out with anyone else. You were just being yourself. What's a relationship when you couldn't be your true self? So what if you're stubborn? You've been that way since you were five. Selfish. Because you're the eldest daughter who had to be a parent to your younger siblings when your mother didn't feel like being a mother. Being easily Jealous comes from the time in 11th grade when your ex-best friend was far prettier than you, and got all the boys. These things made you into who you were.

I'm hard to love and I just want someone to try.

Of course, you weren't the easiest person on earth to love. But you think that came from your father. You tried your best to make your love easy, to make it comfortable for others to want to lean into. It was the opposite, though. At the end of the day, all you wanted was someone who would try. That's all you ask for.

You let Mingi in a little that night at the mixer. What could it hurt? The worst that could happen is you're crying into your pillow a couple months from now because he breaks up with you.

Ending up in your bed naked by the end of the night with Mingi wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. You'll regret it in the morning when he sneaks out while you're still asleep. So right now, while he's sleeping, you stare at him, counting how many breaths he takes.

By morning, you're a little groggy. You didn't expect to be pulled into Mingi's naked body. He's still here.

I want someone who knows that I'm not made for mornings and doesn't scold me for smoking when I drink.

Mingi doesn't try to pull you out of bed with the talk of breakfast and getting your day started early. Mornings weren't meant for you. And he somehow knew that. By the afternoon, Mingi is still at your place. He's wearing a pair of your sweat pants that go above his ankles. You make lunch for the two of you. Sometimes you like having a smoke during this time of day with a drink. Mingi isn't bothered by it. He doesn't try to scold you telling you how bad for your health it is. He doesn't know you to tell you what's good or bad for you. You liked that, though.

I want someone who can ground me when I'm too high. Light up the dark side of my head.

There were days when you floated on the surface of your mind, not really here, you functioned like you were on autopilot most days. It's been two weeks now. You knew Mingi's last name and all his favorite things. He spends nights at your place on the weekends. He noticed you weren't being yourself, he'd stroke your back, speaking to you softly. Sometimes being in your head all the time makes you depressed. Because you would find your ex still lingering there. Mingi sits and listens to you talk about your ex.

"I want to hate him, Mingi. But my heart won't let me."

Mingi kissed the top of your head. He understood what you were going through he's been here before too.

"Sometimes it takes a while for our hearts to want to let go. It's normal. You just haven't had the time to grieve for the loss of your relationship with your person."

He knew it was going to take you some time to heal and he was willing to wait to for you.

I want someone to share my coffee and sunscreen. My mornings, my stories and my bed.

Two weeks with Mingi turned into two months. He moved into your apartment. His toothbrush had a permanent spot next to yours. You had someone to share coffee with in the evenings. Sharing your sunscreen with Mingi became a daily thing.

You told Mingi all your stories from like the time you were ten and your pet cat Frankie brought you a dead mice, and how you when turned thirteen and your mom forget your birthday and tried to make it up to you by giving you a hostess chocolate cupcake she got from the gas station.

And lazy Sundays cuddled up with Mingi felt nicer than anything in the world. You liked having someone to share your bed with again. Mingi got comfortable with you in a sense he knew you better than your ex had.

Mingi tried with you.

That's all you ever wanted from someone was to try.