“some things, you have to be gentle for. let me show you.” — miniseries masterlist.
s u m m a r y : as a med student, you spend long nights shadowing a resident neurologist as you work towards your degree. this leaves you with no choice but to take the last running night bus back to campus after your shifts. hardly anyone else is ever on the n-51 owl bus; aside from lee heeseung, of course - the quiet and mysterious student with a world of secrets you are desperate to uncover.
s o u n d t r a c k : now playing "a little more time" by role model; find the rest of the playlist here!
c o n t e n t s : lee heeseung x fem!reader, grad student au, mostly fluff and angst, mild suggestive content, potentially slow-ish updates as i myself am a grad student (save me)
t a g l i s t : let me know if you'd like to be added!
it feels odd to even be writing this right now, but i wanted a place to actually state how im feeling. as an iland engene, my heart is hurting. a dear friend of mine got me to watch the show and it ended up being during a very, very dark time in my life. from the first moment i began watching iland, i felt an instant connection to heeseung. he became a great source of comfort to me in a really painful period where it felt impossible to find happiness and connection at times. i related a lot to his introverted nature and felt inspired by him as someone pursuing their dreams despite the hardships they faced. i even forced my friends who knew nothing about kpop to download weverse just to vote for him to be in the group. seeing him leave the group feels like a bit of a sick joke someone is playing on us. i know we are all in the dark regarding the details right now, but this truly feels so horrible. i hope he is okay, and i hope the rest of the members are too </3
❝ don't spin this on me. this is about you getting turned on by your best friend's sister, you freak. ❞
PAIRING ▸ jake sim x fem!reader
GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, brother's best friend au, academic rivals to lovers au
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol, weed, lots of banter, sexual tension, dry humping, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), semi public sex, jayhoon bullying jake
SUMMARY ▸ in which jake comes to the horrifying realization that he might have somewhat of a masochistic streak. case in point: he can't stop himself from getting turned on whenever you argue with him.
WORD COUNT ▸ 12,652 words
PLAYLIST ▸ sweet lies by exo • damn right by jennie, childish gambino, kali uchis • red angel by s.e.s. • thirsty by tinashe
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this was written on a whim because of that weverse live clip of jake nerding out lol hope u like it!!
JAKE SIM WAS CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A MAJOR PREDICAMENT THAT PROBABLY WOULDN’T SURVIVE MOST FRIENDSHIPS.
To preface, when it came down to it, he respected Lee Heeseung a whole lot (although he would rather die than admit this out loud). There was something special about having a childhood friend—someone who was there for him at the awkward stages of puberty and lowest points of his life—and Jake would’ve been a fool to ever take that for granted. For their tight-knit friendship to carry into university made their bond irreplaceable to Jake. He genuinely trusted that he and Heeseung would be friends even when they were old and cheating at bingo together in a retirement home.
That being said, the chances of that happening were looking bleak now that you, Heeseung’s younger sister, were constantly occupying a space in Jake’s head that was strictly reserved for something more… impure.
It was strictly lust; however, that somehow made matters much worse because how could he possibly lust after his best friend’s sister? If it was some complicated emotion like love, then at least Jake could tuck his heart away and hide his feelings until the day he died.
Hiding a boner, though—that was difficult.
Even more so because you were in the same Engineering & Society seminar as Jake, and since the course was structured for small group debates, the two of you were often at each other’s throats in heated arguments. Of course, Jake tried to approach you as civilly as possible, so their professor believed the intense back-and-forth was simply a healthy dialogue, but neither of you would back down once it started.
The problem only made itself clear last month, despite how many excuses Jake made for himself to deny your involvement. It took him three more weeks to accept that his hard-ons were your doing and not simply a standing ovation out of respect for the debate (which was one of his worst possible reasons, to be honest).
And the cherry on top was that they always happened when you two were quarreling.
You two could be insults deep in what was supposed to be a casual discussion about greenwashing in product engineering, and Jake would, without fail, feel all the blood rush to his dick until it was uncomfortably stiff.
Unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts, he kept chanting to himself, attempting to force an image in his head of Heeseung kicking his sorry ass. Unfortunately, it did very little to prove effective against the scarily overwhelming libido that tented his pants.
Jake was ashamed to admit that he was also mildly turned on by the idea of being caught, which made absolutely no sense because that was also his biggest fear.
So, to summarize, Jake now found himself horny in situations where:
he was pissed off
he was in the middle of a heated argument
he was potentially going to get beat up
It wasn’t looking good for him, to say the least.
Now, there was a justifiable reason as to why Jake was under the assumption that Heeseung was going to punch the living daylights out of him. Although you were only a year younger than your brother, he was awfully protective of you because a little sister was all he ever wanted.
Back when they were middle schoolers, running over to each other’s houses across the street to show each other their new comic books, Heeseung would always bring you around. Jake had nothing going on in his head but Spider-Man and legos back then, so he wasn’t very pleased with you constantly trailing behind them like a lost puppy. Naturally, that led to you and Jake often bickering about your annoying, lingering presence.
The last time Jake ever complained about you hanging around them was when he blew up on you for following them to the corner store. That place was practically their sanctuary back then. The 99 cent AriZona iced tea was like uncut cocaine to him. The fact that you, a mere fifth grader, encroached on their safe haven was an insult—a disgrace! The reputation of the fine establishment simply didn't allow for puny elementary kids to come and go as they pleased (in Jake’s head, at least).
“Quit following us, Y/N,” eleven-year-old Jake muttered back then, throwing you a glower over his shoulder. “Don’t you have other friends to bother?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah, I can tell, so stop trying to steal mine.”
Although you were all pigtails and Barbie dolls back then, you were surprisingly sharp-tongued for an elementary schooler. “Sure, Jake. You can have my brother and the rest of your imaginary friends.”
He wasn’t even the type to get angry. In fact, Jake had glowing reviews about his personality; moms loved him, the guys always picked him first for sports teams, and he even caught the attention of some of the girls at school. It wasn’t like him to get so riled up over something so small and petty, but he always happened to blow his top when it came to you.
It was rather unbecoming of him (considering Park Sunghoon later deemed him Mommy’s Little Misogynist for this one), but Jake was boiling with so much anger that he wound up chugging the rest of his iced tea in one go, crumpling up the aluminum into a disc, and throwing the empty can straight at your forehead. The force of his throw, normally reserved for intense sessions of Four Square on the playground, left behind an angry red mark that quickly brought you to tears.
Before Jake could even stutter out an apology, he was met with a blow to his gut that had him doubling over Heeseung’s fist. It was then that Jake realized that his friend did not take any disrespect toward his sister lightly.
This carried on into high school, too, where Jake got to witness Heeseung hunt down your first ever boyfriend for cheating on you. It was quite the scene, full of threats and rather creative insults, but Jake realized that he was only let off the hook because of his close friendship with Heeseung.
Over the years, he learned he could bicker with you all he wanted—Heeseung finally realized that you could stand up for yourself—but to lust after you so shamelessly was a death wish. It was the pinnacle of disrespect toward you. If your brother ever found out, Jake was a dead man.
That was why he was now fiercely determined to get through the rest of his seminar without having to cross his legs and hide the deplorable tension in his jeans.
Today, he prepared himself by starting his day off with a bowl of Corn Flakes, intended to curb sexual desires by John Harvey Kellogg himself. Then, he devoured a handful of graham crackers before class, which Jake wasn't quite sure would be useful as an anaphrodisiac, but it was worth a shot. Actually, he wasn't very confident with either of these options, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The question they were tackling today was whether engineers were to be held accountable for how their inventions were used, such as facial recognition for surveillance or military drones. Thought-provoking, for sure. Jake made a mental note to discuss it with the professor at office hours—anything he could do to suck up to the guy to compensate for his crass behavior during discussions.
“You can’t just start something potentially dangerous and walk away from the consequences,” you claimed, that challenging look in your eyes daring anyone to speak against you.
Usually, no one other than Jake dared to oppose you, so the silence that followed after was thick with anticipation, stuck in their throats like honey. Your gaze met Jake’s for a split second, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. He would usually be standing up by now, but he didn’t feel the need to. To be quite honest, Jake agreed with your point this time, so there was no reason for him to come up with some half-baked counterargument for the sake of participating. Plus, it was far too risky to argue with you; he was already determinedly set on making it through this class without his blood rushing to rather inappropriate regions.
Still, the way you were looking at him, waiting for him to argue back with those sickeningly adorable eyes, had him rising to his feet, anyway. What a weak-willed man he was. Sunghoon would laugh right in his face.
“But if someone misuses the technology, that’s on them, not the people who created it,” he countered, surprisingly convincing for someone who didn’t believe a word he was saying. “The engineers can’t control how their technology is used once it’s sold to whoever.”
“But don’t you see how technology’s being used? You really think mass surveillance keeps improving because engineers are just super passionate about innovation? It’s all about the money, isn’t it?” He could hear the emotion rising in your voice; you were just an overly-passionate person when it came to these things, but you sucked in a breath to collect yourself. “If they know the harm their inventions cause and keep going, they should be held accountable for what they make!”
This was honestly ridiculous. Jake fully agreed with you, yet here he was, scrambling to think of a rebuttal so that he could watch the irritation grow on your face.
“Then what about the ones built with good intentions? Should they be held responsible because their honest work was manipulated?”
“Impact over intent,” you replied with a firmness intended to shut him up. “Honest work only goes so far. Would you be okay with the vision for your product getting warped into something else entirely?”
“So, you think if someone designed tracking features on a health app or some shit, they should be held responsible if that data gets sold or used by the government?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I think.”
Well, yeah, that checked out.
Jake raised a brow. “How are they supposed to know? Most engineers are working on small parts of these big projects.”
“Seriously? Look at Boeing! All these sloppy engineering decisions resulted in those plane crashes.” There was a hint of venom in your tone and your eyes were sharp. Jake could tell you were getting to that level of frustration that he couldn’t help but get excited over. “Over three hundred people died because of plain negligence. Who’s to blame, then?”
“I just wanna ask where you think the line should be drawn,” he said. “If we hold every single engineer accountable for how their work gets used, then no one’s gonna build anything. You just end up driving them all into a corner.”
“Are you trying to be an engineer for the money, or are you in it for meaningful work?”
“Uh… yeah, the meaningful work, of course.” And the six-figure starting salary. That was beside the point, though.
“Then shouldn’t you be approaching what you create with some more tact? You can’t just mindlessly build whatever without thinking beyond your creation.”
“Are we still talking about engineers here, or are you just coming for me now?”
“Well, if the shoe fits.”
“The most I’ve done is code a calculator. I don’t think the government’s interested.”
“I’m clearly not talking about that. I’m talking about—”
“This is a seminar, Y/N. We’re supposed to be talking about society here.”
“Are you not part of society anymore, Jake? I sincerely apologize for assuming.” There was nothing sincere about your tone, though. “What? You’ve got nothing else to say?”
And, like clockwork, there was that telltale strain once again as Jake felt his chest grow hot. He reached behind him to grab the head of his chair and sit back down, slowly crossing one leg over the other. You frowned as you watched him concede, and Jake felt rather pathetic that everyone was under the impression that he surrendered. There was a chill in the room—whether it was from a draft or the tension from the conversation, he couldn’t tell.
“I think I’m done, but I agree with you, by the way,” he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Just wanted to participate.”
A few snickers rose from some of their classmates. You scoffed, partly out of amusement and partly out of exasperation, and slumped back in your seat with your arms crossed. The seething look on your face wasn’t doing him any favors, nor did the Corn Flakes and graham crackers, apparently.
“Okay, good stuff, good stuff,” said Jay Park, Jake’s longtime friend and current TA for the semester. “Anyone who isn’t Y/N or Jake wanna give it a go? Hopefully without making the rest of us painfully uncomfortable.”
He unfortunately had to bear witness to every single one of the showdowns between you and Jake, but he always kept his mouth shut in front of Heeseung because, as Jay put it, the feud between the two was “too messy to escalate.” Jake was just glad he didn’t have to resort to blackmail to shut Jay up.
It turned out that people were, in fact, willing to participate as long as you and Jake weren’t involved. Jake got to sit back for the rest of class and grit his teeth, willing his hard-on to go away before they were all dismissed. What made that quite the feat was the fact that you kept watching him for the rest of class with calculating eyes, as if you were peering into his very soul.
By the time class ended, Jake felt relief flood his chest. He needed to get a mile away from you before your eye contact made his situation a whole lot worse. As he was zipping his backpack back up, Jake saw your perfectly manicured fingernail dragging across the grain of his desk through the corner of his eye.
You were standing right in front of him.
He looked up, alarmed. From behind you, Jay, who was about to approach him, was backing up slowly, shooting his friend a grimace and opting to duck out the door instead. As the last few people in the classroom were filing out, Jake realized he was now left alone with you.
Fuck.
Jake cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”
“You can start by explaining why you keep going out of your way to get on my bad side,” you said. “If you agreed with me that entire time, why were you purposely trying to piss me off?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it going out of my way,” he retorted. “Class participation is a requirement. All I did was stand up.”
“And refute every single point you believed in?”
He clicked his tongue. “What can I say? I do it for the love of the game.”
“Uh-huh.” Completely unconvinced, you looked him up and down. Your demand was simple, yet downright mortifying: “Uncross your legs.”
Jake froze.
“Odd request, don’t you think?”
Your gaze dropped for a split second—not long enough for it to be obvious, but Jake caught it in time. “I don’t think so. We’ve known each other since, like, forever. I think we’re at the point where I can make odd requests.”
He felt his mouth going dry. What were you even on about? Sure, Jake was probably close to you in a forced proximity sort of way, but that didn’t mean you two were suddenly buddy-buddy. You two were close in the sense that Jake went to your high school graduation (as per Heeseung’s invite, of course) and drove you to your tennis practices whenever your brother was busy—not whatever this was.
But who was he kidding? Nothing about this conversation screamed buddy-buddy. You were clearly onto him, and all Jake could do was think of every sad movie he’d ever watched to get rid of the growing erection in his pants.
Jake swallowed thickly. “You want me to uncross my legs,” he stated matter-of-factly, and you snorted.
“What, didn’t hear it the first time?”
“Can’t do that,” was all could say in response—strained, like something was lodged in his throat.
“You can’t… move your leg?”
“Nope—arthritis.”
“Arthritis,” you repeated blankly.
“Yeah. Runs in my family.”
You shook your head, seeing right through his attempt to steer the conversation back into calmer waters. “You’re a terrible liar, Jake.”
“Really? I thought I was doing a pretty good job earlier.”
“Mmhm. A real Oscar-winning performance for someone arguing against his own opinion—truly,” you said. “Also, you’re stalling.”
“Here,” he bit out, and slowly—deliberately—Jake uncrossed his legs for you to see. The bulge in his pants had effectively gone down with much mental gymnastics, and you simply stared down at his groin with a frown settling on your lips. “Happy now, you pervert?”
All you did was look at him with a beady gaze, raising a perfectly arched brow before pulling your phone out of your bag. Jake could only return a look of absolute bewilderment as you flipped your hair over your shoulder and tapped away furiously, the glow from the screen illuminating your features just enough for you to look even more radiant.
“I see. So, uh… Heeseung’s gonna be out of town for his hockey tournament and I need a ride to Kazuha’s place tonight. She’s throwing this huge party, and I was planning on pregaming before I head over, but I’m not about to drunk drive, for obvious reasons.” You wouldn’t even look up as you spoke, keeping your eyes trained on the text messages that seemed to be delivering in a flurry. Notification after notification—Jesus, would it kill you to turn your ringer off? “Pick me up at eight?”
Jake blinked slowly—a few more times, for good measure. He couldn’t believe his ears. You just grilled him to a crisp, and now you were acting as if nothing happened? He was fighting his own blood from pumping to his dick, and you were just casually changing the topic?
But—whatever. As long as the attention wasn’t on his crotch anymore, he could roll with this.
He scowled. “Kazuha’s? Hey, I’m not your chauffeur.”
But you were already walking out the door. “Yeah, yeah. So, eight?”
A retired sigh fell from his lips. “Sure—fine, whatever. I’ll be there.”
In a happy world, Jake’s schedule was packed with classes all day so that he wouldn’t have to run into Heeseung right after that not-so-fun encounter with you.
In the real world, however, Jake’s schedule was specifically structured so that he and Heeseung had the same breaks between classes. They planned this out well in advance so that they could meet up once they were done with class. Of course, this didn't always work out because of overlapping course times, but the two of them happened to luck out this semester (although it wasn't exactly working in Jake’s favor right now). Just as he walked out of his classroom, his friend was making his way down the hallway to get to him.
“Yo,” Heeseung greeted. He had his hockey stick slung over his shoulder; for weekend tournaments like these, Heeseung would usually leave campus early so that he could commute before nightfall. “I thought you’d be at our table already. Jay isn’t with you?”
“I was hanging back for, uh… homework help,” he lied, hoping it came out smooth enough to convince his friend.
“Couldn’t you just ask Jay?”
Well, he had a point there. Jake settled for saying, “Nah. Fuck that guy.”
To his relief, Heeseung just laughed. “Yeah, true. That fucker goes on for hours if you get him to start explaining something. I asked him one question about my calc homework the other night, and I swear the sun was coming up by the time he was done.”
“That’s why you come to me first.”
“I tried. Your ass was knocked out, so all I had was Jay.” Then, Heeseung added, “By the way, since I’m gonna be out this weekend, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Yeah?”
“Y/N said she needed a ride to this… I don’t know—I guess Danielle’s sorority’s hosting something? A charity event or some shit like that. Anyway, I won’t be here, but she needs a ride. Are you free? It’s Saturday evening.”
“I’m already—” Jake stopped himself. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to disclose the minor detail that he was also going to be driving you to Kazuha’s party tonight. As hard as he racked his brain for an excuse, he couldn’t think of anything productive he’d be doing the next day. “Yeah, it’s no problem.”
“Appreciate it, man,” Heeseung said, thumping Jake’s chest with the back of his hand.
Their chatter continued out of the science building, pushing open the doors to be hit with a gust of cold wind. Heeseung then stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at his phone before throwing his head back in exasperation.
“Coach wants us to meet in the gym before we leave,” he told Jake with a resigned shrug. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Tell Sunghoon and Jay I said bye.”
The one thing Jake despised in the world was saying goodbye to people. He got far too emotional over a gesture that really wasn’t that dramatic, and he hated how seriously he took them. Still, acting as if he was a normal person who knew how to act normally about such matters, he clapped his friend on the back and wished him good luck before watching him walk off.
Seriously, he felt like a military wife sending off his husband.
When Jake found the table that Sunghoon and Jay were sitting at, scarfing down their sandwiches at record speed. Jake dropped his bag on the ground and collapsed into the seat next to Sunghoon. He reached over to grab one of Jay’s curly fries, twirling it around in his finger before he nibbled on it.
“Heeseung’s gone,” he told them.
“Oh. His tournament?” Jay took an obnoxiously loud sip from his drink. “You phrased that like he died.”
“He said bye.”
Sunghoon nodded wistfully. “He will be missed—mostly ‘cause he always does the dishes. Now we’re responsible. Ugh.”
With his elbow on the table and chin sunk into his palm, Jake nodded along to Sunghoon’s words, still stuck in some strange sort of daze.
Sunghoon shot him a questioning look before turning to Jay. “Okay, I'll bite: What’s up with Sadness?”
“Dunno.” Jay covered his mouth to finish chewing the rest of his bite. “He and Y/N were getting into it during class today.” He looked up from his food to turn back to Jake. “What happened after she cornered you after class?”
“Cornered?” Sunghoon asked with sudden intrigue.
To state his concerns as vaguely as possible, Jake groaned feebly into his hands and said, “I’m in deep shit, you guys.”
The two men were dumbfounded to hear Jake Sim, who had a shiny record of being a perfect son and perfect student all his life, make such a claim. (Well, perfect enough to make his parents proud; there were surely several imperfections that wouldn’t earn Jake his Perfect Son badge if they were ever to find out. Exhibit A: whatever was happening to him because of you.) Not once had he gotten a detention or even a warning. Jake was a poster child all his life, which was why he felt especially embarrassed that he was acting so shamefully when it came to you.
“You didn’t make her cry, right?” Jay asked.
“No!” he exclaimed. In fact, you almost made him cry. “I just…” He sighed and straightened up, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness. “You can’t tell Heeseung.”
Jay raised a brow. “What’d you do, throw a book at her?”
Sunghoon let out a low whistle. “Mommy’s Little Misogynist strikes again.”
“I got a boner, okay?” Jake blurted out, sick of their mindless assumptions, even though his confession was probably a one-way ticket to the deepest circle of Hell.
At first, there was silence. Then, a scream—an obnoxious, garbled sort of scream that Jake almost thought was a squawk. Sunghoon and Jay doubled over in laughter, dropping their sandwiches to swat at each other as they were unable to contain themselves. Jake sat there for a good two minutes, a deadpan expression on his face while he waited for them to calm down.
“A boner?” Sunghoon clarified, a Cheshire-like grin plastered across his face. “A stiffy? A hard-on? An erec—?”
“Okay, Merriam-Webster, I don’t need every single synonym,” Jake snapped. “But, yes, I’ve been getting hard during class because of her, it’s—”
Jay spluttered out, “Been—!” And then they exploded into a fit of laughter again, collapsing into each other and wheezing from the absolute joy of their friend’s humiliation. With tears now spilling from his waterline, Jay rose up and pointed a finger at Sunghoon in utter glee. “Multiple times!”
“Multiple times!” Sunghoon cried back, pounding his fist on the table.
Jake was not amused in the slightest. “Okay, I feel like you guys are just overreacting now.”
It took Sunghoon and Jay quite a few minutes to pull themselves together after laughing hysterically for what felt like forever, so Jake took it upon himself to steal a couple more of Jay’s fries as revenge.
“It’s fine, dude, seriously,” Sunghoon placated, as if he hadn’t been losing it moments earlier. He sucked in a deep breath to collect himself while Jay’s shoulders were still shaking.
“You guys were just making fun of me!”
“Did we laugh? Yes. Do we think you’re kind of a freak? Also yes.” Sunghoon shrugged. “But do we have your back? No.”
At that, Jay straightened up. “I think you messed that up.”
“I think so, too.”
“I’d assume we do have his back.”
“Should I change it to—”
“Okay! I get what you’re saying—very heartwarming, I think,” Jake interjected. “But am I seriously in the wrong here? No matter how much Y/N pisses me off sometimes, I’d never want to disrespect her. It feels weird, you know… getting hard over her, of all people. I mean, she’s Heeseung’s sister!”
“So you popped a boner over her—who cares?” Sunghoon placated. Jake fought back the urge to roll his eyes; they clearly cared when they were cackling like hyenas. “I’ve gotten hard in situations I probably shouldn’t get hard in. It happens to the best of us. It’s fine.”
“What kind of situations?” Jake questioned.
“Don’t spin this on me. This is about you get turned on by your best friend’s sister, you freak.”
“But you said it was fine!”
“That was before you pissed me off. Now I’ve changed my mind: Heeseung’s gonna kick your nasty ass straight to Hell.”
Frustrated, Jake tugged a hand through his dark hair. “Jay, do you have anything to contribute? Preferably anything that shuts Sunghoon up.”
“I knew this day would come.” Jay wiped the stray tears from under his eyes with his thumb. “See, Jake, when a man and a woman, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, or a person and a per—”
“Yes, I’m aware of all the possibilities on the spectrum,” Jake interjected. “Continue.”
“When a man and a woman love each other very much, they—”
“Oh my God,” Jake cut in once again, digging the heels of his palms into the hollows of his eyes. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need the sex talk—and I’m not gonna have sex with her, either!”
“You’re not?”
“No!”
“You don’t think she’s hot?”
“Well—I… I mean—that’s no reason—”
“You’re not getting a boner over someone you’re not physically attracted to, that’s for sure,” Jay said, clearly tired of his friend by now.
“I’m calling for plausible deniability,” Jake announced.
“Implausible. Vetoed.”
“Wait,” Sunghoon chimed in before looking at Jay, “how did you not notice?”
“Notice what?”
“His boner, dude.”
“Are you crazy? I have better things to do than stare at Jake’s dick all class,” Jay answered. Recollection seemed to hit him like a slap, his hand raising halfway to his mouth. “Actually… now that I think about it, I did think it was weird that you sat back down before you finished your debate… and your legs were crossed for the rest of class!”
(“So you did stare at Jake’s dick all class,” Sunghoon said.)
Jake threw him a withering look. “Yeah, I know. That’s probably why she caught me.”
Sunghoon’s jaw froze mid-bite, and without any respect to the onions that were falling off his bread, he dropped his sandwich and exclaimed, “She caught you?” Jay, who was equally as shocked, seemed to also be struggling to hide how gleeful he was about the drama.
“Well, almost,” he corrected. “It was more of a suspicion, but I didn’t give in—and I called her a pervert! It feels good to win.”
“Cool! What’d you win?” The unexpected voice nearly made Jake jump; thanks to years of working on a collected composure, though, chills ran up his spine instead. Sunghoon and Jay were both caught off guard, too, judging by their nearly imperceptible jolts that had them pulling their shoulders back.
He turned to see you with a hand on your hip, a curious smile on your lips. If his expression didn’t give it away, surely knocking over Jay’s curly fries was a sure sign of Jake’s nervousness.
“Uh… League? League match—nothing important—yeah, um… so—what’re you—what’re you doing here?”
Real smooth, Jake.
Jay, who looked as if the scene before him was physically painful to witness, valiantly chimed in to save Jake’s skin, “Are you looking for Heeseung? He already left for his tournament.”
“Nope,” you said, walking over to stand behind Jake so you could card your fingers through his hair. He remained frightfully still and tried not to think about your fingernails against his skin. Your sharp, manicured fingernails… dragging across his—okay, his mind really needed to stop wandering. “I have a quiz next class, so I came here to ask for a calculator. I just need it for my next class.”
Jake’s TI-83 was most definitely tucked away in his backpack, but he was reluctant to move with the way you were running your fingers through his hair. Albeit how he had to fight to keep his mind out of the gutter, Jake could also admit that this was rather… soothing. He could stay like this all afternoon and he wouldn’t mind at all.
Sunghoon started, “Oh, I’ve got—”
“I got it,” Jake, with a deep edge of unease, spoke over his friend. Sunghoon didn’t seem to look upset about being cut off, though; in fact, the senior was trying to hide a growing smirk that he had to cover with his hand. Jake dug into his backpack, sifting through each of the pockets haphazardly, before pulling out his graphing calculator and handing it to you. “You can just give it back to me later.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find an opportunity,” you replied before turning on your heel. “See you guys later!”
After their goodbyes, the three boys lapsed into silence. Jake wondered if they were all thinking about that interaction with you and how strange it was. The three of them took high school graduation pictures with you, went over for Thanksgiving dinner at your house, and even awkwardly lingered about in Victoria’s Secret while you were trying on bras—but this? This change in behavior was something none of them would’ve ever expected from you.
Sunghoon was the first to break the silence, saying, “That was weird.”
“Indeed,” Jay agreed, perplexed.
“She was all over you,” Sunghoon observed. “Like, I’m almost convinced that Y/N was replaced with a horny clone last night.”
“Jake, at this rate, you might—”
“Don’t say it,” Jake pleaded. “Don’t say anything about me and her. I swear, I just need to get back on Tinder or something, and I’ll forget all about Y/N—probably.”
Jay gave his shoulder a weak punch. “Yeah, I believe you, man.”
He did not, however, sound like he believed in his friend at all.
Jake didn’t quite fit the partying archetype.
Heeseung was a social butterfly, Jay and Sunghoon could get by as long as they could slip away to recharge from time to time, but Jake always looked for a way to get out of such events. Whether it was a project or a supposed family emergency, he played any card he could—although it was usually a fruitless attempt. Plus, Jake was strictly herbal; he wasn’t a big drinker like his friends were, especially when it came to his mortal enemy (Everclear).
So, now, while he was watching you stumble down your driveway to get into the passenger seat of his car, Jake was already trying to do the math in his head to calculate when he’d be back in the comfort of his room.
Tonight, you were dressed up a little more than usual. Your strappy black stilettos were dangerously high, and paired with the little black skirt that stopped halfway down your thighs, Jake found it difficult to pull his gaze away from you.
“How’re you getting back home?” he asked as he pulled out of your driveway. Jake recalled several occasions where Heeseung had to do a U-turn to pick you up from Kazuha’s, so he was quite familiar with the route. “Uber?”
“—and he was trying to get with me, even though I know he has a girlfriend! Isn’t that crazy? I literally have the same lab section as her, like, I could walk up to her and tell her everything. Are men just stupid? Like, I can literally ruin his relationship—I mean, he pretty much did that on his own—but I could just expedite the process, you know? Ugh, and he wasn't even cute—so mid, like, not my type at all,” the lilting voice through your phone kept rattling on.
You shot Jake an apologetic look before you kept trying to calm down Hanni Pham, who he often saw you with. Well, he supposed small talk was out of the question now, which Jake didn’t mind one bit. Still, lowering the volume of Kendrick Lamar’s new album just to listen to Hanni’s incessant ranting for the rest of the ride was starting to drive Jake insane.
Finally, you made a quick excuse to Hanni before ending the call, and Jake waited a few more moments before he raised the volume again. He kept his eyes trained on the road, for if they wandered in your direction, Jake was sure he wouldn’t get away with crossing his legs in this situation.
“You didn’t have to hang up,” he said.
“I didn’t?” You gave him a knowing look. “You kept looking over at me like you were in agony, so I thought I’d put you out of your misery.”
A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks for that. Who’s the guy she was talking about, anyway?”
“Wow, so now you wanna hear more?”
He shrugged. “You could at least repay me for the ride by entertaining me.”
“Entertaining you?” This time, you were grinning. Jake felt a bit nervous as you leaned over the center console. “If you want entertainment, then come to Kazuha’s with me.”
“Really?” Jake kept his tone light as he looked for street parking, and then he pulled over to the sidewalk to let you out. You had the door half-open, looking at him expectantly. “I’ll pass, then. Have fun.”
You leveled him with a glower. “You’re seriously not coming?”
“I’ve got, uh, homework.”
“Homework? It’s a Friday night, Jake. Just do it over the weekend.”
“Just get inside already, Y/N. It’s cold.”
“Fine,” you said, curt. There was little gratitude in your tone when you added, “Thanks for the ride,” and flung the door shut, too.
Jake sat back with a sigh, hoping that the solitude would aid in unclouding his judgement. He couldn’t just go to that party with you; things were weird between you two, and that was only putting it as simply as he could. But, on the other hand, maybe he should’ve just gone. There was no harm in showing face for a while, and it wasn't like Kazuha was a complete stranger, either.
He let one opportunity fall right through his fingers; another presented itself right in front of Jake.
Your phone.
You left it on the seat before you left, whether it was intentional or not. The polaroid of you, Hanni, and Danielle showed through the back of its clear case, and Jake stared at your (admittedly charming) smile before he unbuckled his seatbelt in defeat.
One hour. That was all he’d give himself in there.
He was sure the duration of his decision-making process wouldn’t keep him from catching up to you in time, but that wasn’t the case at all. Jake couldn’t spot you at all, not even after he did a lap around the first floor. You must’ve noticed your phone was missing by now, so where were you?
Cramped, narrow hallways. Blaring music. Flashing lights. Sweaty people packed together. The lingering stench of booze.
It was dreadful.
Jake had to take a break in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop where someone’s bluetooth speaker was blowing out his eardrums. To his knowledge, Kazuha was renting next to an elderly couple with low tolerance for noise. How she could get away with throwing parties like these was beyond Jake.
“Oh, shit,” a familiar voice called out. “You’re here, too? Thank fuck.”
Jake turned to see Choi Beomgyu walking over to him, cradling a red solo cup. Perfect. Jake was dreading the very idea of being sober right now, and he knew Beomgyu would have the fix he needed. Last time he saw Beomgyu, the guy was canisters deep in whippets; it would’ve been impossible to tell he was conscious if his hand didn’t keep inching inside of Jake’s bag of chips.
“I was supposed to sell Yeonjun some weed, but where the fuck is he?” Beomgyu went on to complain, setting his empty cup down and flicking it across the counter with little care. “When’d you get here? Just now?”
“Yeah, have you seen Y/N?” Jake shouted over the music. Beomgyu gave him a little shake of the head, and a weary breath escaped Jake’s lips. His eyebrows lifted as he then suggested, “Smoke break?”
“Hell yeah.”
It just so happened that Jake was already breaking his one hour rule. At one minute past his self-mandated curfew, he was not in a state to be driving at all.
All thanks to Beomgyu, he was blazed out of his mind now, moving through the house with an air of indifference this time. Normally, Jake felt like his brain was buzzing constantly, like a hurricane that never stopped raging. But when that sweet Mary Jane filled his lungs, he felt more in control of himself. It felt almost as if he was underwater, weightless and drifting along with the current. For someone who swam desperately his whole life, he liked that he could just float.
And, because the universe apparently decided that weed was the answer to all of Jake’s problems, he eventually wandered back into the kitchen and found you.
Minor problem: There was a man right next to you.
But Jake, floating about in a blissful daze, strolled right up to you without a second thought about interrupting your conversation.
“... fucked up how she curves, it’s usually—oh, what the hell?” You did a double-take when you saw Jake walk up beside you, noticing his red and glassy eyes almost instantly. Your attention was immediately pulled from the unmemorable man beside you, which was not good because this was a horrible time to stroke Jake’s ego, and you grabbed onto the sleeve of his leather jacket. He took a step back to avoid your drink sloshing onto his clothes. “I thought you went home!”
Another minor (or maybe major) problem that Jake forgot about prior to his smoke break: Weed only made it easier for him to get turned on.
That—coupled with standing so close to you—was sure to be disastrous.
“Had to return this,” he answered, holding up your phone, which you snatched at record speed. You were going on about how forgetful you were before Jake asked, “Were you two busy? I can leave.”
“Oh, uh, we were just talking,” you said, looking between Jake and the other dude (whose name still remained a mystery) a couple of times before clearing your throat. The guy, who earlier had a hopeful glint in his eyes, seemed to wilt a bit. In a more cheerful tone, you added, “He’s an old classmate. We both had Robbins for O-chem.”
Robbins for O-chem. Sounded like a cheap excuse to talk you up, was what Jake thought. Last year he had physics with Kim Minji, but he wasn’t cornering her in the living room to talk about the good old days of wave mechanics.
Jake gave you a smug look. “Robbins? What was that about the curve, then?”
“Someone scored a hundred and screwed the rest of us up.” You scoffed. “Always that one kid.”
“Ah. That was me.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t show anyone my score—except Jay, but he said he felt sick looking at it.”
“I feel sick hearing about it. You should’ve just kept that to yourself forever.”
That was the plan, actually, but Jake strangely felt the need to impress you in comparison to Background Character #1 and his unremarkable presence. Well, considering all he achieved was pissing you off, he supposed it wasn’t going too well.
“That was the plan.” Slightly miffed, he leaned back against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. “But I earned that hundred. I didn’t sleep for three whole days to study for that final.”
“Oh, boo-hoo. I stayed up, too—and got a sixty.”
Jake simply shrugged. “You passed the class, didn’t you? That’s all that matters.”
“Easy for you to say! You got a perfect score!”
“I don’t think that—”
But you weren’t backing down, cutting Jake off to ask, “What’d you put for the cyclobutene question?”
Jake scowled at you. He thought one or two drinks in your system would calm you down, the same way weed did for him, but you were pushier than ever.
By now, he also realized that Guy-whose-face-he-now-forgot was long gone. He probably realized that there was no hope in trying to hit on you after seeing how your full attention was captivated by Jake. He wasn’t trying to boast—he was just calling it like he saw it.
“Seriously? That was a whole year ago, Y/N.”
He felt the weight of your incredulous stare. “But you remember your answer, don’t you?”
To be honest, he did.
“Conrotatory ring opening under thermal conditions,” he answered after a minute of spacing off to remember what he put down (and ignore your blatant staring). “Four pi electrons.”
“Wait, no, then it wouldn’t follow the Woodward-Hoffman rules. 4n would be antiaromatic in the transition state, so it would be forced to be a disrotatory mo—”
“Nope, the 4n system makes it conrotatory. Disrotatory would misalign the orbitals. Dude, I’m telling you, I remember it perfectly. I drew it out and everything.”
You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and Jake found great pleasure in watching you flounder for a response. Moreover, he was starting to imagine very dangerous things that involved his body pressed up against yours—preferably somewhere private, but he was almost tempted to pull you closer right now.
“But… but then the cis product—”
“Stays as is,” Jake finished for you. “I can even draw the diagram for you. I’m sure there’s a paper and pen somewhere.”
“Ugh, don’t bother. I’m pissed off.” You shook your head, frustrated, and a lazy smile stretched across Jake’s face. “Why are you so smart when…”
It took him a moment to even notice that you stopped in the middle of your sentence, dragging the syllabus an octave deeper than usual. Jake thought that he finally pushed you to your limit, that you were going to stop talking to him altogether, but the reality was much, much worse.
You jabbed your elbow sharply into his side, hard enough to make him wince in pain.
“Okay, ow. What’s—?” Then he looked down.
Oh.
Jake’s lips parted, framing an apology that he couldn’t bring himself to utter. He was caught somewhere between alarm and shame, hardly able to move as the cold reality sank in that you just saw his growing bulge.
It was dark enough so that only you were aware of it, but fuck, Jake couldn’t even get himself out of this one.
He looked down at you to say something—anything that would save him from this horrible situation, really—but there were no words to explain himself. Jake looked helplessly to the side for some escape route out of this situation, or perhaps even his Deus ex Machina: Beomgyu. Before he could open his mouth, you smoothly stepped in front of Jake, effectively cornering him in the kitchen and shielding him from onlookers.
Heroic, truly—except your thigh was now pressing firmly against the tent in his pants.
His blood ran cold when he saw the twinkle in your eyes, as if you were getting a kick out of this. Meanwhile, Jake made a mental apology to Jay and Sunghoon, who were going to be very disappointed that Jake didn’t take any steps toward forgetting all about you. It proved rather difficult when you were as intoxicating as the drugs in his system.
“I fucking knew it,” you whispered, triumph tugging your lips into a smirk. “You were hard during class today, too, weren’t you?”
This time, Jake was the one at a loss for words, flailing for any excuse that would defuse the tension, but he was already a lost cause. In less than twenty-four hours, Jake managed to expose his deepest, darkest secret to the one person who was never supposed to find out. All he could do now was accept slow, torturous suffering as the jaws of social suicide ripped into him.
“Y/N, p-please, I can—”
You threw your head back to laugh, delighted. “What? Are you trying to apologize for a boner?”
He stammered, “No—I mean, yes—but… I…” One more brush of your leg against his clothed cock had Jake holding onto your shoulders, trying to keep his lust at bay. “Y/N, stop. You’re Heeseung’s sister.”
“Excellent observation. Wouldn’t have figured that one out.”
“I mean, this”—he gestured between him and you—“isn’t gonna work out.”
You blinked. “Why not?”
“W-what do you mean, why not? Heeseung and I have been friends for years. I can’t just… I can’t do that to—”
“Oh, give it a rest. Why are you even bringing him up right now?” you asked in a snippy voice, waving his qualms off.
“Because—”
“Anyway, I’ve put together a little theory, and I think I’m right.”
Jake raised his brows at that, slightly intrigued to what you could’ve possibly pieced together in the past twelve hours. If it had anything to do with why he was getting turned on, he was certain that you would be completely off the mark.
“You get horny when we argue, don’t you?” you asked.
Oh, so you were spot on. Fantastic.
He let out a desperate, wanting breath, trying to cover it up as a sound of misery. The kitchen was mostly cleared out since everyone gathered in the living room to play beer pong, but Jake lowered his voice to speak, anyway.
“Pretty much. Nothing sexual—just attracted to the mind, is all. Debates can be stimulating, you know?”
“Nothing sexual about your dick getting hard?”
In a rather strangled voice, he answered, “Normal physiological reaction, really.”
He felt your hand smooth over his chest, your fingers splaying out before you dragged your hand lower and lower. He shivered as he felt your fingertips run across his abs, tracing each groove of muscle before your hand dipped to the front of his pants. Jake screwed his eyes shut when your palm pressed against his stiff, aching cock.
You simpered. “Really? So you don’t need my help getting you off?”
He suppressed a growl at the back of his throat, opting to loop his fingers in your belt loops and pull you closer instead. “Don’t.”
“Hm?”
“Not here. We’re in public.”
But your other hand was snaking around his neck, playing with the ends of his dark hair that fell to his nape. Jake could feel his body trembling as he restrained himself from holding you close and kissing you like his life depended on it.
I shouldn’t, he told himself, forcing the words to burn into his skull (and still, they would not stick). I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t—
But, fuck, the way you were looking at him. It was enough to drive a sane man to the brink of madness.
Well, Jake presumed he had always been a bit out of his mind when it came to you.
After an unsteady breath, Jake slid one hand up your waist, up your arm, and then across your shoulder to hold your neck. Your chest swelled before you leaned into his touch. Jake found his thumb straying from where his hand cradled your jaw. He traced the outline of your lips with careful precision, charting each curve and line in his course.
He kissed you once, light and fleeting—just enough to taste you.
The sweet second of contact lost its grace soon after. He wet his lips, chasing what was left of your lipstick. With one more look into your eyes, all the nerves that gripped him seemed to melt away in a breath. Jake held your gaze before reaching up to hold the sides of your face and pulling you in for a searing kiss. It had been merely one taste—one press of his lips against yours—and jagged splinters of desperation tore into him, burying deep in his flesh.
Jake, with a heavy heart, wished he could formally apologize to everyone who was bearing witness to their sloppy makeout session. He simply couldn’t help that you were both intoxicated, turned on, and extremely riled up from bickering. He shoved his tongue past your lips, messy and eager, sating a hunger that had him starved for longer than he thought.
It soon slipped Jake’s mind entirely that he was making out with you in the kitchen. His cock throbbed in his jeans, pulsating each time your hips made contact with his. You were slowly rolling your hips over his—subtle enough to go undetected, but it was driving him wild. Honestly, though, if Jake truly wanted to stop you from moving against him that way, he would’ve let go of your hip by now.
You were an insanely good kisser. Jake felt a small pang of jealousy upon recollecting all the times he witnessed you kissing someone before him—your first boyfriend, your senior prom date, your college situationships. He never thought too deeply about how he felt in the moment, but it was like he had locked up all those messy feelings bordering on jealousy. They were all spilling out now, like a crack in the dam, threatening to make Jake feel something for you that he hadn't felt before.
He broke from the kiss to leave gentle pecks along your jawline and down your neck, each one leaving you sighing happily. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, leaving a featherlight kiss in its wake. His drawl was stronger when he lowered his voice to a murmur, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”
“Shy? I’m not shy.”
“Oh, yeah? Look me in the eyes, then.”
“Shut… shut up—and follow behind me, unless you want everyone here seeing your di—”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
You, being his knight in shining armor now, led the way upstairs, allowing for Jake to stand directly behind you and hide his boner. He kept his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, trying to focus on anything but the nape of your neck. Having his bulge pressed up against your body was making his senses go haywire.
(Also—and he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit this to himself just yet—he kind of wanted to lace his fingers with yours.)
Jake hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was sure he must’ve looked like an absolute douchebag walking around like that, considering the amount of lipstick he had just rubbed off.
The first empty room was theirs for the taking. Jake sported a wolfish grin as he closed the door to whoever’s bedroom they locked themselves in. You, however, looked uncertain.
“I’d feel bad doing it on their bed,” you confessed.
Jake, who didn’t realize he was going to encounter a moral dilemma amidst getting his dick wet, blinked slowly.
“That’s true,” he agreed. Sure, yeah, he would probably kill his friends if any of them hooked up with someone in his bed. Jake made his way to you slowly; at first, you didn’t budge, but then you let him walk you backward once he grabbed your hips. “I wouldn’t feel as bad doing it against their wall, though.”
Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, as if you were about to peel it right off him. “Then how about I suck you off first? Make up for all those debates?”
“Really?” he spluttered out, gawking at you as you turned him around so that his back was against the wall.
You hastily undid the buttons on his jeans, all the while maintaining eye contact with him. “You’re too cute. Don’t tell me you weren’t waiting for this.”
His gaze darkened slightly.
He joined you immediately in getting rid of his pants. Jake couldn’t help but let out a blissful sigh as he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprang up. Seeing you slide down to your knees to wrap your hands around his length nearly made his knees buckle under him. His hand moved to the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair.
Just like that, Jake Sim lost all willpower to keep himself away from Lee Heeseung’s sister.
“I don’t know if I can fit all of it in my mouth,” you told him, lips ghosting the tip of his cock.
“That’s okay, baby.” He tightened his grip in your hair. “Take however much you can.”
You started with a gentle kiss to his tip, and it was enough to make Jake shudder. He watched you in wonderment, eyes glued to your mouth and how his cock disappeared past your lips. With one hand holding onto his hip for leverage, you ducked your head to lick from base to tip, running your tongue along a rather thick vein that wrapped around the side.
Jake was thankful for the pounding music below; although he prided himself on his self-control (prior to Y/Ngate), he was never good at being quiet in the throes of pleasure. Slowly, you sucked on the tip, earning a drawn-out moan from Jake that he hardly bothered muffling.
And then, you were hollowing your cheeks to take more of him in, and a flicker of intensity flashed in his eyes when he felt his cock hit the back of your mouth. Jake had to hold onto the nearby dresser for support, his knuckles going white. You gagged a little as his head brushed against your uvula, and then a few tears sprang in your eyes.
Jake watched them pool at your waterline, and he wiped at them with his thumb, cooing at you sympathetically.
“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, stifling a groan. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the back of your head to thrust into your mouth—careful, experimental. “Ah—fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good.”
Despite the unbelievably erotic image of you blowing him, Jake could also detect some smugness. As you bobbed your head, each motion driving Jake closer and closer to a release, you could pick up on the effect you were having on him.
His eyes, glazed over with lust, were threatening to roll back, but he was determined to keep them on you now. He couldn’t get enough of watching how you were taking him in, how you were so quick to pleasure him.
Then, as Jake felt heat burning under his skin, he gently pulled back, holding your jaw securely to keep you from chasing his cock. You looked up at him with a frown, head cocked to the side.
“What’s wrong?” you asked as he wordlessly helped you back up to your feet.
Jake switched your positions, backing you into the wall again. He slid his hand under your thigh, pulling it up so that your leg wrapped around his hip.
“My turn,” he said. “I’d rather be inside you when I cum.”
A needy little moan escaped your lips, and suddenly the both of you were a mess of hands, clawing and tearing to get each other’s clothes off. You yanked at Jake’s shirt, shoving it up and over his head, and he didn’t let it go unnoticed that your gaze dropped to the lines of his chest. You didn’t get much time to ogle, though, because Jake was quick to get rid of your clothes next, even snapping your bra off in one go. Your underwear, however, was pulled down with slow reverence. Jake had to take a minute to admire your breathtaking body in all its glory.
He never imagined this. All this overwhelming passion. Your body pressed flush against his—no walls up between either of you.
Jake almost felt like all of this was dreamlike as his finger skimmed your folds, moving to rub your clit in a slow, languid motion. A shaky whine fell from your lips.
“You’re already soaked, sweetheart,” he said. He slipped a finger inside you as you were opening your mouth, and your words died on your tongue. “You’re just as filthy as me, aren’t you?”
All he got in response was another petulant whine, like music to his ears. Jake added another finger, pumping it inside you while his thumb pressed against your clit. You squirmed in his hold, but Jake held you steady, keeping you pinned to the wall as he fingered your cunt.
“I thought about this so many times,” you gasped out, much to Jake’s surprise. He raised a brow while speeding up his ministrations. This only made it harder for you to get your words out coherently, so it took you a while to add, “Thought about you fucking me after those stupid arguments, just like this.”
Jake, a simple man, wasn’t built to handle such words; he would’ve come on the spot, untouched, if he wasn’t so eager to bury his cock in you.
Jake guided his cock to your slit, and the two of you moaned simultaneously as he pushed inside you. The room went a little fuzzy for a moment—something high-pitched seemed to be ringing in his ears—and then Jake’s hips met yours, drawing shuddering breaths and whimpers from you two.
Shit. He felt like he was on fire and your every moan was ice.
Caging you in his grip, he gave a shallow thrust, rousing a gasp from you. In turn, your leg curled tighter around his hip. Jake had to bury his face in your neck to suppress his groans, his hot breath fanning your skin as he littered kisses and bites along your supple skin. He just hoped your makeup could conceal the marks that were blooming along the tender column of your neck.
Another thrust—deeper, this time. He seemed to hit a spot that sent stars glittering behind your eyelids, judging by the dazed look that clouded your expression.
“M-more,” you begged, your voice catching on the end of the sentence.
"More? You want more?"
Your response came out in a breath. "Please."
Your hand threaded into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, like it was all you could hold onto. The position your leg was in was strained at this angle, but you didn’t seem to care, clawing at Jake’s back to keep him closer.
His tongue slipped into your mouth without hesitation, and he was pretty sure he was getting drunk off the liquor on your tongue. Slowly, like he was taking off the training wheels, Jake’s hips started to move at a steady rhythm—shallow thrusts going deeper and deeper.
As Jake relentlessly thrusted into you, he left no place untouched, each stroke dragging inside you a little longer. It drew out the prettiest whines from you, so he couldn’t help but tease you a little longer. His otherwise consistent rhythm, however, faltered as you clenched around him tightly.
“I-I’m close,” you gasped out, pulling from the kiss to watch where his cock disappeared inside you.
“I've got you, sweetheart,” he replied gently, honey dripping from his words, and Jake held you tightly in his arms as he sped up his pace to bring you closer to your orgasm.
He was getting there, too—real close, actually. Jake felt like he was unravelling, his nerve endings alight, skin buzzing, and his breath trapped in his lungs. With a couple more thrusts, you shattered with his name on your lips, crying over the music. Jake had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet, but he couldn’t deny that he was loving how responsive you were. He followed after you with a loud groan, making sure to pull out before his cum spilled all over his hands.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jake watched as your chest rose and fell for a couple of minutes. He tried to ground himself—convince himself that what just happened wasn’t a dream.
For the rest of the night, neither of you addressed how the next kiss held something deeper—something that reached beyond lust. Jake was sure you felt it, too, lingering like a secret between your lips, but he wouldn’t dare give that feeling a name just yet.
“Jake would be the type to catch feelings after hooking up.”
Park Sunghoon was the one to make this outrageous statement, effectively snapping Jake out of whatever dreamy daze he was in. Ever since he had sex with you hours ago, Jake couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt around him. He thought FaceTiming his friends would help clear his mind, but he was starting to believe that they were, in fact, the problem.
He didn’t return home immediately. Jake had to pretend like he didn’t just blow your back out when he went downstairs to talk to Kazuha and her very drunk roommates. One of them was so obviously flirting with Jake that you cornered him later to leave a prominent hickey on his collarbone. Then, after he sobered up enough to drive you home, you didn’t seem to have your heart set on getting back; you requested that Jake stop at a parking lot on two separate occasions (during a fifteen minute drive) so that he could eat you out in the backseat.
After that, there was a lot more kissing on the way to your doorstep, a lot of heavy petting as he carried you to your room, and you graciously offered to ride him before he drove back home.
When Jake recounted all of this to Jay and Sunghoon, he left to get himself a midnight snack because they were laughing their heads off for a record-breaking amount of time. It started to feel like a humiliation ritual.
At the end of the call, Jay spouted some bullshit like, “Heeseung won’t even care, trust me.”
Jake refused to even consider that as a possibility, but he vowed to keep his distance from you to make sure last night wouldn’t happen again. (It was important to note that he laughed right after because even he couldn’t believe that.)
Despite the shame that bubbled in Jake’s gut, he had to honor the commitment he made to Heeseung, even though it was a terrible idea to see you again. (No, it’s a wonderful idea! those feel-good neurotransmitters in his stupid, horny brain argued. Viagra in your future! Always prioritize sex! Get laid quick!) So, the next day, there he was—at 5:00 p.m. sharp—parked outside of your house with a sinking feeling that you were going to greet him in a way that would make your older brother faint on the spot.
The sky was splotched with peach and lavender, like a watercolor painting that dried into soft, muted hues. There was a dreamy glow out on the horizon, but when Jake turned to see you walking out of his house, there was the sun—ablaze with brilliant light.
Your eyes caught, and he felt suspended in time for a few seconds. Jake’s stupid, pathetic heart pumped out blood a bit too quickly.
Something was off, though.
You were wearing cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt with Snoopy printed on the front—more fitting for a sleepover than a charity event, no offense. Jake understood that plenty of people prioritized comfort in their outfit choices; although he was quite surprised that you, of all people, would fall in that category. He recalled that blink-182 concert where he had to take turns with Sunghoon to give you a piggyback ride back to the parking lot because you were so damn adamant on wearing your death trap high heels. Your ankles, of course, suffered the consequences.
But maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this meant that you felt comfortable around him… and whoever else was going to be at that charity event, he supposed.
Would it be so wrong to ask for clarification on the event, though? But what if he came across like he was prying too deeply into your personal life?
No—he would not dare make one comment about it.
So he didn’t. Until he realized that he made a grave mistake.
“A Love Island watch party? Heeseung told me this was a charity event!” Jake exclaimed, utterly baffled.
“Yeah, the winners get a hundred grand,” you replied casually, as if you hadn’t been withholding crucial information that would’ve changed Jake’s mind about following you into the house. “Voting for your favorite couple is basically charity work, if you think about it.”
Jake groaned. This was a set-up, and he was not about to stay over at Danielle’s to watch Love Island, of all shows.
But then, you leaned over to press a chaste kiss to Jake’s cheek. “If you don’t vote for Nicolandria, you’re dead to me, by the way,” you whispered. Although your choice of words weren’t exactly tempting, Jake found himself unbuckling his seatbelt and following you into the house. The effect you had on him was absurd.
To his surprise, though, he was thoroughly entertained for the night. Sure, he was the only guy in a room full of girls that had enough Stanley cups to beat him to death, but Jake almost felt like he was in his element. When Kim Minji went on a five minute rant to explain why Nicolandria deserved to be the winning couple, Jake was so intrigued that he ended up agreeing to join their Love Island nights until the season ended.
(He later discovered that Love Island released a new episode five days a week, but that somehow didn't change his mind on attending.)
In a tangled mess of feelings and desire, Jake was now making plans to keep seeing you. He only hoped that he could muster up the courage to tell his friend everything before things got serious with you.
Heeseung’s return didn’t change much, to be honest.
Jake was under the impression that he’d be far too paranoid to be messing around with you once your brother was back, but it seemed to be the exact opposite. He couldn’t get enough of you these days. Although you two were keeping things under wraps for now, Jake found it hard to not reach for your hand and think about how it would be if he could keep you by his side for longer. Whenever he woke up in your bed, he wanted time to freeze so that he could hold you until the moon came out again.
Oh, and their seminars.
You ended up proposing a solution to Jake’s problem. It wasn’t anything very sophisticated, but as soon as class ended, you’d be dragging Jake somewhere private to ease the tension growing in his jeans.
Or, when he was really done for, Jake would be the one pulling you along.
“No way,” you mouthed once as Jake grabbed your wrist right as soon as you walked out of the classroom. A smirk was creeping up your lips as you kept your eyes trained on him, effectively cracking through his impassive facade. Jake’s eyes flitted away before you could see any color bloom on his face. “Horny already? And to think I was holding back…”
Jake, who was too busy looking for the closest enclosed space that offered enough privacy, was walking so fast that you were nearly stumbling to keep up with him. He flung open the door to an empty lab. It seemed too risky to simply close the blinds when there was no lock on the door, but there was, however, an equipment room in the back. He pulled you over by the wrist, ushering you inside.
“Yeah,” he finally replied, turning the lock on the handle, “I was holding back, too.”
And then he fucked you against the door with one hand bruising your waist and the other wrapped around your throat.
He truly didn’t think this would be the course of his love life. Not that Jake was complaining, but he wished that being with you didn’t involve the daunting feat of confronting Heeseung. Not only could the interaction go disastrously, but Jake was terrified that Heeseung would look at him differently for going after his sister. He didn’t want to be the guy that Heeseung should’ve watched out for.
Jake willed himself to break the news to Heeseung after spending a Friday night with you, curled up on your bed and catching up on the latest season of Love Island. Jake had to admit that he was too deeply invested in the contestants’ storylines.
While he played with your hair, he heard you ask, “Can you ever see us dating? Like, officially going out?”
“Yeah,” he murmured back. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
The first time you told Jake you wanted things to get serious, he outright told you no. However, his body betrayed him when he nodded enthusiastically along with his refusal, making you even more confused. Now, though, Jake was determined to get that conversation with Heeseung out of the way. Leading you on would break his heart more than not getting your brother’s approval.
When Jake decided to fess up to Heeseung, though, he made sure Jay and Sunghoon were right with him. They knew how honest Jake’s intentions were—kind of—and they would surely have his back when it came down to it.
Unfortunately, he forgot that Jay and Sunghoon were the two worst people for this sort of situation.
“This is the worst boba consistency I’ve ever had,” Sunghoon complained, stabbing at the last of the boba pearls in his taro milk tea. “Sorry, Heeseung, what were you saying? You made the basket or whatever.”
(“Oh, Heeseung, I need to tell you something,” Jake mumbled as quietly as possible, although the wind successfully drowned him out.)
“Close—that would be basketball,” Heeseung replied. “But, yeah, I made the winning goal. Whoever wants to ride my dick is going on a waitlist.”
(“Speaking of…”)
“Shit. Put me on the waitlist,” Sunghoon said. “Priority reservation, please.”
(“Heeseung…”)
“I’ll get to you eventually, Twenty-Six.”
(“Heeseung?”)
Jay pounded a fist on the table. “Jake has something to say!” After witnessing his friend moping about and mumbling for so long, it was only a matter of time before he snapped.
Heeseung looked alarmed for a moment before asking, “What’s up?”
Jake only had a few seconds to shoot Jay a death glare before he had to fix his face and explain, “Right, um… I kind of have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s really not that bad if you think about it.”
“Okay…”
“And, actually, it should be more reassuring that it’s me and not—”
Heeseung scratched the side of his head. “Uh, I’m still gonna need context.”
“I’m, uh… so, I’m…” Jake sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “So, I’m kinda seeing Y/N.”
There it was. The truth was out and Jake could stop skirting around it. He knew it would be near impossible to keep hiding it because Jake discovered that he was becoming far more endeared by you with each coming day. Absolutely terrifying, really, considering that he was already endeared at an incomprehensible level.
Heeseung’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “You and Y/N?”
As if the whole thing couldn’t get any more awkward, you walked right out of the boba shop that the four of them were just in. To be fair, Heeseung was the one that called you over because he put in a request for a breakfast wrap after stalking your location, but of course you had to come out right this minute.
“Damn,” you said, scrunching your nose up in distaste. “Garbage boba consistency.”
“Right!” Sunghoon exclaimed. Jake was starting to think that he should’ve just met up with Heeseung on his own. “All I taste is disappointment when I drink this.”
Jake was petrified as Heeseung, completely unfazed by your arrival, stared at Jake in utter disbelief. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, even after you dropped his breakfast wrap onto the table in front of him. “Wait, hold on—before anyone says anything else—did you just say that you’re seeing Y/N? Y/N, my sister?” He practically flung his arm to point at you. “Her?”
Jake swallowed thickly, but you casually answered for him, “Yeah, he is.”
The air around him thickened, pressing down on his chest like a weight. Jake’s thoughts were spiraling by now, imagining countless scenarios of Heeseung dropping him as a friend and forever plagued by his betrayal. Jake knew his friend deeply, and he knew that when Heeseung was hurt, he’d—
“Nice,” Heeseung drawled, raising his fist so that you could fist-bump it. “About time, too.”
What?
“You’re not mad?” Jake blurted out, floored by the response. Now this was a turn of events that he didn’t prepare for in the countless scenes he practiced in his head.
“I asked you to drive her to Danielle’s for a reason, dude. She could’ve just taken an Uber.”
“Wait… you were in on this?”
“I wouldn’t say I was in on anything, but I knew she had a thing for you. I was just glad she’s interested in you and not, like, Sunghoon.”
“Hey,” Sunghoon piped up, sounding stung, but he seemed to recover quickly. “I’m saving myself for you, Heeseung.”
“Twenty-six—remember that.”
“See? I told you, you had nothing to worry about,” you said as you slid into the bench next to Jake, reaching over to squeeze his hands. “Now you can stop denying that it’s perfectly fine for us to date.”
“I guess I was a little in over my head.” Jake returned a sheepish—and frankly, lovesick—grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. Now that Jake had you, despite his friends cringing before him, he didn’t want to let you go.
He could probably also admit to himself that he had liked you all along.
That, he supposed, was what Jay meant about implausible deniability.
AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ the jake brainrot really got to me this time 🚬 thank you for reading this if you made it all the way here !! i'm so so grateful if you chose to give this fic a chance so i hope you enjoyed :') also contrary to how the summary sounds, jake is too babygirl for me to not make him a loverboy <33 i swear something about him just screams Yearning
Lee Heeseung has mastered the two unspoken rules of leaving the assisted living facility in the wee hours of the morning. One: leave quietly to avoid disturbing the sleeping residents. Nothing would earn you a sour reputation faster than triggering a panic among the easily frightened individuals who call these halls their home. Two: keep your head low to avoid pitied glances and hushed whispers from the nursing staff. Heeseung has noticed over the years that their eyes always seemed to be prying, and nothing made him feel more exposed. Over his visits, he has become quite proficient in sticking to these guidelines. However, on this particular night, he has no choice but to reluctantly break his second rule.
He stops by the front desk on his way out, pulling his mask down below his chin. The overwhelming scent of hand sanitizer and bleach instantly floods his senses. “Excuse me?” His voice is hoarse from hours of not being used. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I have a quick question.”
The older woman sitting behind the desk pauses her game of sudoku – which, if Heeseung were to be blunt, appears to be going horribly – and smiles up at him, wrinkles creasing at the corners of her eyes. “Hi, Heeseung. What can I help you with?”
He feels a sudden tightness in his chest, unsure of whether it’s guilt or embarrassment at the fact that the nurse remembered his name, but for the life of him, he can’t recall hers. A side effect of his second rule – by ignoring the nursing staff for the most part, he is unable to be his usual observant self. Hence, the forgetting of names. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence – most of the staff here know his name, given that he’s one of the few people allowed in this late past the facility’s visitation hours. He has his friend Jay to thank for that; his parents oversee the facility and gave him a special exception to come in late at night, once his classes are over.
Regardless of its etiology, he pushes the feeling of guilt down and gives a strained smile. “I was just – I hadn’t received any calls or emails in a bit regarding her general status, so…”
“Let me take a look.” The nurse – Okja, her name tag reads – clicks a few keys on her work-designated laptop that’s humming so intensely, Heeseung wonders if it’s about to take off. “Nothing much has really changed, sweetheart. Her irritability has increased somewhat, but not significantly enough to warrant any particular concern.”
“Ah.” Heeseung nods – pulls at the collar of his shirt. Everything feels too tight, too restrictive all of a sudden.
Okja hesitates, eyes filling with that familiar sense of pity that Heeseung has come to loathe. “I must say, Heeseung… given the natural progression of the disease, these things are expected to worsen rather suddenly. I would recommend savoring these moments, right now, while you’re able to.”
He’s going to suffocate – he’s sure of it. The air feels much too thick, and he swallows harshly, pressure building behind his eyes. “Thanks. Have a good night, Okja.”
He’s desperate to escape. He needs to get out of here, before the walls close in and crush him – calloused hands, darkly-circled eyes, staggering heart and all. He only gets one step in before Okja stops him. “Heeseung?”
He pauses, turning to face her. His throat is closing up, each breath a labored effort. All he can manage in response is a choked, “Yes?”
“Your eye…”
His fingers instinctively come up to brush the bruised skin around his eye, tender and sore and certainly a sight to behold, with his skin a few shades purple and blue. “Ah, that– don’t worry, it was just an accident. It’s already healing.”
“Well, be sure to ice it.”
He nods in understanding, mumbling something about having to hurry before he misses the bus. He all but sprints out the doors. The brisk air outside cleanses the tightness in his throat, leading him to take big gulps of it as he leans back against the side of the building. He closes his eyes, instinctually placing two fingers over the frantically pulsing beat in his wrist. When the pulsing is not quite as erratic, he pries his eyes open as his all-too familiar ritual begins.
Five things you can see. A perfectly manicured plot of grass with a few trees extending far above it right outside the facility’s doors. An empty container that used to contain instant coffee tumbling across the sidewalk in the wind. The scuffed toes of his own sneaker that’s barely hanging on for dear life, held together by nothing but sheer desperation and a bit of duct tape beneath the sole. The faded hangul printed on the street sign just in front of him. The faint light of the distant crescent moon.
Four things you can touch. His pulse beneath his two fingers. The sore inside his cheek, raw from his nervous chewing habit, brushed by the tip of his tongue. The rough denim of his black jeans. The cool brick against his back.
Three things you can hear. The gentle hum of an electric car as it passes him by on the otherwise empty street. The whistling of the wind as it dances around him. The huff of his breath as it goes in through his nose, out through his mouth.
Two things you can smell. The lingering scent of hand sanitizer clinging to his nostrils. The musk of his cologne.
One thing you can taste. The coppery blood on his tongue – he hadn’t been able to stop himself from chewing on his cheek once more, reopening the same wound.
His pulse has slowed down considerably, and he sighs in relief. He pulls out his phone to check the time – 2:50 a.m. With five minutes before the last bus arrives, he knows he doesn’t have much time to spare. Not every driver is willing to re-open the doors for him when he shows up just a hair late. However, before making his way to the bus stop – no more than a two minute walk – he opens his messages app and clicks on your name.
The same message he sent yesterday is staring back at him, the torturous “delivered” hovering beneath it, taunting him. The message itself is simple. Hey Y/N, this is Heeseung. He had stared at it and checked it over for mistakes repeatedly before finally feeling confident enough to hit send. He hadn’t exactly expected an award in return for his bravery, but a text back would have been nice. With a heavy sigh, he shuts his phone off and slips it back into his pocket, pulls his face mask on, and heads towards the bus stop.
He arrives just as the bus screeches to a halt, doors swinging open. It’s like clockwork – stepping up, tapping his IC card.
Looking for you.
He sees you immediately, and his heart falters, uncertainty clawing its way up his chest. In an ideal world, you would’ve responded to his text, and he would’ve felt emboldened to come and sit beside you, picking your conversation back up where it had last left off without a second thought. Well, without a third thought, at least. Instead, he has been left on delivered, feels what must be the exact opposite of emboldened, and is experiencing far more than three thoughts rushing into his head at the sight of you.
The bus departs, jolting him forward a bit and leaving him stumbling to catch his footing. He should already be sitting, or at least grabbing onto a handrail, but he hasn’t moved. Perhaps he’s hoping for you to look up and catch his gaze, remember his existence, and explain why you had seemingly forgotten about it in the first place. You, however, are entranced in your own world. There’s an orange in your hands and your head is bowed low, hair falling over your eyes and blocking them from Heeseung’s view.
Slowly, he comes to terms with the fact that you couldn’t be more oblivious to his presence. He opts to make his way past you cautiously, claiming the seat behind yours. A part of him remains hopeful that you’ll glance up at him as he walks past, but it’s as if you’re living in a reality completely separate from his own, where only you and your orange exist.
He sighs, sitting back into his seat. His is elevated above yours, granting him a view down into your lap, where he is able to see you begin to work at your orange. You’re helplessly trying to get your nail to slide beneath the peel to seemingly no avail. With each attempt, your movements grow harsher and more desperate, accompanied by frustrated grunts and exasperated sighs. At first, he finds it endearing – until he hears you sniffle and sees your shoulders begin to shake.
In an instant, there’s a tightness in his chest and his eyes grow wide. Your sniffling increases until it becomes obvious that you’re crying. Heeseung is growing panicked, uncertain of what to do. He’s had a total of one real conversation with you, and is struggling to know whether or not that is grounds enough to approach you when you’re upset. Yet, as he watches your trembling increase, his own apprehension subsides and he’s taken over by an overwhelming need to approach you, to comfort you, to fix something.
He stands before there’s enough time to let his self-doubt come creeping back in, taking a step down so he’s on your level. You don’t notice him at first, though this no longer surprises Heeseung. He crouches down, hand resting on the back of your seat. He unhooks his mask from one ear, letting it hang down from the other.
“Y/N?” He keeps his voice soft as he doesn’t want to startle you. You tense, lifting your head to look at him. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes red and watery, widening slightly in surprise.
“Heeseung?” He knows it’s not appropriate given the situation, but he can’t help but find the nasally tone of your voice adorable.
“You okay?” He asks, glancing down at the unpeeled orange still stuck in your grasp.
You sniff again – loudly – and your lips begin to tremble as you shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Not really. I know we don’t really know each other, and I probably shouldn’t be venting to you considering I gave you a black eye like, less than 48 hours ago, but I just had a horrible shadowing shift, and all I want right now is to forget about it and eat this goddamn orange, but I’m not even competent enough to peel it, and –”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, bringing your distressed rambling to a halt as your crying intensifies. You let your mouth fall shut, a whimper slipping past your lips that pulls at his heartstrings. He gestures for you to scoot over and you oblige, making room for him to sit down. Your gaze is directed down at your lap now, as if you’re too embarrassed to let him see you cry any longer. He gently reaches over and takes the orange from your hand. You allow him, eyes following as he holds it in both of his hands now.
He begins to gently massage the orange, loosening up the skin. It’s a technique he learned in childhood, seated around his grandmother’s table with his older brother and cousins. The others would rush the process, often destroying their oranges in their haste, too eager to rip through the skin and devour the fruit to take their time and peel them properly. Heeseung, however, clung to the insights from his grandmother, leaning into the patience required to carefully peel his oranges in order to enjoy them to their fullest. He’s more than happy to pass the knowledge along to you now – especially if it helps to dry up your tears.
“Some things,” he says quietly, “you have to be gentle for.” He pauses, eyes meeting your own once more. “Can I show you?”
You nod slowly, which prompts him to rotate the orange in his hands, loosening the skin more along the way. Eventually, he is able to slide his thumbnail beneath it with ease, peeling it back in a few swift motions. The citrus scent fills the air immediately, and the mood feels much lighter – possibly helped by the fact that you’ve stopped crying.
He sets the now peeled orange back in the palm of your hand, still holding onto the skin. You notice and grab an empty plastic bag that had been sitting at your feet. “Here,” you say, gesturing for him to discard the peels. He does so, and you tie it up and look back at him, a soft smile on your lips. “Thank you. I know I probably seem like a crazy person right now, but this was my last straw. If you couldn’t tell.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t. Long day?”
“Yeah.” You pry the orange into two halves, extending one to him. He takes it wordlessly as you continue speaking, tossing the first piece into his mouth. “I’m a med student, and I started shadowing a neurologist this semester. That’s why I’m always on the bus so late. And today was just… I dunno, usually I can take things in stride, but there was so much today, it just felt…”
“Heavy?” Heeseung asks, memories of white coats and hospital beds flashing through his mind as you speak. A familiar weight settles on his chest, and he blinks harshly a few times, clearing the images from his mind before eating the next piece of his orange.
You nod, leaning back against the seat as you swallow your first piece. “Yeah. Really heavy.” You turn your head towards him, brow raised. “Are you a med student too?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No, no – I’m getting my Master’s in fine arts. Photography.”
“Oh, that’s awesome! First year?”
He nods, breath catching along with his words as he hesitates. He opens his mouth to speak but instantly loses courage, opting instead to toss the rest of his part of the orange in his mouth – a poor decision, as the bite was much too big and he’s now struggling to chew. With no shortage of regret, he figures it would have been less embarrassing if he had just said what he wanted to in the first place.
You seem to have picked up on his hesitancy, giving him time to swallow before asking, “Were you gonna say something?”
He clears his throat, face growing warm. “Um, I was just – since we brought up my degree, there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
He hesitates again, but knows it’s much too late to back down now. “For my semester project, they’re asking us to do a portfolio. I was able to choose the topic, so if you’re not interested, I’d be okay with switching it or asking someone else, but…” He clears his throat one again, the acidity from the orange burning at the back of his tongue. “I had this idea – to do candids of helping professionals, in an ‘after hours’ sort of setting. And seeing as you’re a med student, I was wondering if you’d be interested in being my subject for the project?”
He hates how his request has come out as a jumbled mess, but he’s proud of himself for getting it out in the first place. He wasn’t being dishonest – he had wanted to do candids of helping professionals, even before you dropped your notebook full of shadowing notes, making him aware of the fact that you were entering into a helping profession. However, you were not the original subject of interest for the project. He had initially planned to ask the assisted living staff if they would participate for him, and they were still on his radar.
But they weren’t you. He can’t explain it, but the pull he feels towards you – it’s impossible for him to ignore. He wants to know you; why you always buy an orange as your late-night snack of choice, whether or not the dark circles beneath your eyes are from a lack of adequate sleep or nutrition (or both), where you’re from, who you want to be. What better way to find out then through a bit of an academic push?
With a mustering of courage, he lets his eyes meet yours and is surprised to see you flustered. Your cheeks are dusted pink, eyes wide, still a bit glassy from the tears shed earlier. “Really? You want me to be your subject?”
He nods eagerly. “Only if you’re interested. There’s no pressure.”
“I mean, I’m honored, and I’d be happy to help.” Your words send sparks through his veins, and it takes a concerted effort for him to not crack what would be the biggest smile in recent history as they sink in. “But am I really a good choice? I don’t know if I qualify as a professional, being a student and all. There may be more to see from an actual professional.”
He hums scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know – I think I’d disagree. You’re seeing the same things as the other professionals, and often for little to no pay. You’re juggling shadowing shifts, clinicals, classes, and sometimes part time work on top of that just to scrape by. You have to sacrifice a lot for very little in return.” He smiles. “I think that’s an experience worth showing.”
You smile back warmly, eyes scrunching up. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. I’d be happy to be your subject, Heeseung.”
His smile widens. “Great! I mean, thank you. I’d say we could start tonight, but I didn’t bring my camera…”
You shrug. “It’s okay. We take the same bus several times a week, right? I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities in the near future.”
He nods, tapping his phone as it rests in his pocket. “That’s true. And we could set up some times during the day as well.” He pauses, glancing down at his lap. “You’d have to actually read and reply to my texts, though.”
“What?” Your brows scrunch in confusion as you pull out your phone. “You never texted me, though. I was waiting.”
His heart skips at that, but he pulls his phone out, showing you where his unread message still sits. You take the phone from his hand, clicking on the contact. “Ah, this is the problem.” You tap the screen several times, then hand it back to him. “I put my number in wrong. Try now.”
He sends another text – this time to the correct number, and your phone pings a moment later. He laughs, shaking his head as he slides his phone back into his pocket. “I can’t tell you how relieving it is to know that you haven’t been purposefully ignoring me for almost two days.”
You laugh as well, bumping your shoulder against his. He freezes – it seems to be such a mindless action for you, yet it sends him into an internal frenzy that he struggles to conceal. “How could I ignore you? I still owe you an ice cream for, like, physically assaulting you. If I ignored you after all that, I wouldn’t be surprised if you decided to press charges or something.”
He shrugs, chewing the familiar spot on the inside of his cheek as he works to maintain a facade of nonchalance. “I’m still considering it. Depends on how quick you are in fulfilling the ice cream thing.”
You sigh, leaning back against your seat once more. Heeseung glances at the route illuminated at the front of the bus, disappointment settling in his bones when he sees that your stop is next. He’s not ready to part ways with you. These stolen moments on the otherwise silent bus feel like a personal safe haven from the cruel realities of a world he’s not quite ready to step back into.
“We’ll plan it soon,” you assure. “I haven’t got my schedule for next week yet, but once I do, we can plan around that?”
He nods, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Deal.”
You gently wrap your fingers around his, still a bit sticky from the orange. He doesn’t mind, relishing in the warmth of your touch as he repeats back, “Deal.”
“some things, you have to be gentle for. let me show you.” — miniseries masterlist.
s u m m a r y : as a med student, you spend long nights shadowing a resident neurologist as you work towards your degree. this leaves you with no choice but to take the last running night bus back to campus after your shifts. hardly anyone else is ever on the n-51 owl bus; aside from lee heeseung, of course - the quiet and mysterious student with a world of secrets you are desperate to uncover.
s o u n d t r a c k : now playing "a little more time" by role model; find the rest of the playlist here!
c o n t e n t s : lee heeseung x fem!reader, grad student au, mostly fluff and light angst, potentially some steamier scenes (?), potentially slow-ish updates as i myself am a grad student (save me)
t a g l i s t : let me know if you'd like to be added!
When it comes to convenience stores in the wee hours of the morning, there are two unspoken rules that you’ve become aware of. Rule number one: make no unnecessary noise. This includes chattering, humming, whispering to yourself; anything of the sort. Rule number two: be quick and efficient – in and out in just the amount of time it takes for you to grab what you need and be on your way.
You are currently breaking both of these unspoken rules.
“Are you sure you can’t find them?” A voice whines at you through your phone, and you pinch the bridge of your nose for what seems to be the hundredth time in the past five minutes. You close your eyes against the glare of the fluorescents, a stark contrast to the pitch black night outside the sliding doors. The air smells of recently bleached floors and grease from the display of fried foods on the counter to your left.
“Yes, Jake,” you nearly hiss back, glancing over the display of chips in front of you once again. “There are no honey butter chips. You shouldn’t be eating such greasy things so late at night anyways. You’ll get heartburn.”
“Technically, it’s early in the morning.”
“Technically, I’m about to hang up on you.”
“No!” His frantic plea is nearly a screech in your ear. You pull the speaker back from your face and cringe at the sound. Taking a glance at the employee behind the register, you can only assume he has been glaring at you from the moment you stepped into the store with your best friend on the phone. You mouth a silent apology at him and he grunts, looking back down at the manga in his hands.
“Can you just get me some other type of chip then?” Jake asks through the phone. “Please, please, please, please, pl–”
“Fine! Fine, just shut up.” You grab a bag of some type of spicy flavor that you know he’ll like. You wonder, as you do on an almost daily basis, why you thought moving in with your best friend from your med school cohort was a good idea. “Why are you still awake anyways? It’s nearly–” you glance down at your watch and your eyes go wide. 2:32 A.M., it reads.
“Shit! I have to go.” You end the call before he can reply and bolt to the register, grabbing an orange from one of the refrigerators on your way. The cashier grumpily scans your items at what can only be described as an agonizingly slow pace. You pay and express your gratitude regardless, grabbing the plastic bag that holds your orange and Jake’s chips before rushing out the door. You hear the chime of the store’s bell behind you as the door swings shut in your wake. The late September air is crisp, sending goosebumps across your skin. You cross your arms across your chest and rub your shoulders as you scurry along, wishing you had remembered to bring a jacket as your messenger bag full of books and notepads smacks against your thigh.
You stop when you reach the N-51 bus stop sign, sighing in relief when you glance down at your watch again to see that it reads 2:34 A.M., meaning you made it with just a minute or so to spare. A quick glance around shows that you’re alone in waiting for the bus, which isn’t uncommon given how late – or early, according to Jake – it is. You lean against the pole, rubbing your side as you feel a stitch come along from your frantic rush to get here. The single street light attempting to lumiate the stretch of sidewalk flickers, adding to the pulsing headache that has begun to form in your temples. The usual hum of traffic that floods the air of Seoul has faded into a quietness that makes you uneasy.
In these quiet moments, your day tends to catch up with you, memories and worries flooding your mind the moment you have the space to stop and breathe. Your shadowing shift at the hospital today was not an easy one by any means – not that it ever is, really. The neurologist you have been shadowing for the past three weeks – Dr. Song – was fully booked today, leaving you rushing along in his wake, scribbling down notes and trying your best to take in everything you were witnessing. The beeping of CT machines and vital monitors is still ringing in your ears, the smell of disinfectant clinging to the inside of your nose.
Your reminiscence is cut short by the screech of brakes, jolting you upright from your slouching position against the pole as the N-51 night bus – known more commonly as the “Owl Bus,” comes to a stop. It releases a puff of air before the doors fly open. You adjust your messenger bag on your shoulder, sliding the plastic bag from the convenience store onto your wrist so you can reach into your pocket and grab your phone. After climbing up the steps, you tap your IC card and give a quick bow to the bus driver, who appears much too tired to acknowledge your existence. You can’t blame him, of course. The dark circles under his eyes mirror your own.
You step up into the aisle, noting that you are alone on the bus, as per usual. Occasionally there will be another student like yourself returning from a late shift, a part time worker, or a pair of drunk friends accompanying you. More often than not, you’re the only one on board at Jongno 3-Ga station, with a few other night owls boarding at the later stops along the route. You slide into the third row back from the door, choosing the window seat so you can lean your head against the glass. The bus lets out another hiss as the doors close. You jolt forward a bit as it begins rolling down the street.
You slide your bag off your shoulder and set it in the seat beside you, then reach into the plastic bag from the convenience store to retrieve your orange. Biting the inside of your cheek, you attempt to push your fingernail into the peel – a difficult task, given the fact that your nails are basically non-existent. It’s a glorious side effect of your lifelong anxious habit of chewing them off, which has only gotten worse the further you’ve advanced in your education. After a few minutes of struggle, you’re able to slide your thumb beneath the peel, tearing it off bit by bit in swift motions and tossing it into the plastic bag. Perhaps you should worry about the juice sticking to Jake’s chip bag, but it’s the furthest thing from your mind as you toss the last of the peel into the bag and tie it up.
Peeling the first piece apart from the rest, you lean your head back against the seat. You toss the slice into your mouth, enjoying the burst of tangy sweetness as it spills across your tongue. Oranges are familiar, comforting. They taste of summer days back home, reminding you of those precious years when you had the luxury of someone else peeling them for you, the comfort of knowing they were always there waiting for you. You close your eyes for a moment as you chew, as if to convince yourself that no time has passed at all since those days. Remembering the ease of childhood, even if it’s just for a brief moment, is a guilty pleasure of yours.
The bus comes to a pause and you force your eyes open, sighing as the illusion of comfort slips away. The taste of the first orange slice has somehow reminded your body of the necessity of food, and the fact that you haven’t eaten any in over 12 hours, since the start of your shadowing shift. Your stomach growls, prompting you to devour the rest of the orange as an older man all but collapses from exhaustion into the first row of seats, taking his cap off of his head as he leans back. A wave of sympathy rolls over you as you wipe your sticky hands on the front of your pants.
The bus doors slide shut again, and you’re about to take off when you hear frantic pounding against the glass. You raise a brow, peeking over the seats to see a figure pleading with the bus driver through the door windows to be let on. The driver curses under his breath but opens the door regardless. The late arrival – a guy who appears to be around your age – is spilling a flood of relieved thank you’s accompanied by just as many bows as he taps his IC card. The driver, of course, ignores him and sets the bus in motion once more.
The man is clad in all black – jeans, hoodie, overcoat, face mask, and a beanie that pushes his dark brown hair down into his slanted eyes so that they’re barely visible. You’re mildly curious as he takes a seat one row up from you, sighing heavily as he tosses his backpack under the seat in front of him. He’s vaguely familiar, you note, but quickly divert your attention when he glances behind him, eyes connecting with yours for a split second. Feeling exposed, you return to your previous position – head against the glass, eyes closed.
The rest of the bus ride goes smoothly, with you dozing in and out of a light sleep, the flash of street lights passing seeping through to your vision every now and then. Perhaps it’s muscle memory, but you automatically open your eyes and sit up as you approach your stop, right outside the university. You lean forward and hit the request stop button on the handlebar beside you, pulling your bag up over your shoulder once more, grabbing the convenience store bag full of orange peels and Jake’s chips, and making your way to the front of the bus.
When the doors open you step down onto the pavement, shivering once more in the chill of the night. You pick up the pace of your steps, desperate to reach the warmth of the apartment you share with Jake. You can hear the bus take off once more in the distance behind you, leaving behind the silence of night in its wake. Your path is illuminated fairly well, but you still feel uneasy walking anywhere alone at night. The mild anxiety motivates you to increase your pace.
The anxiety isn’t helped, of course, when you hear footsteps picking up their pace right behind you.
Your breath catches and you clutch the strap of your bag tightly, moving even quicker than before. The person behind you begins to move faster as well. Your heart is pounding in your chest now, breaths heavy and labored. You can hear them saying something behind you, but the sound is muffled and you’re unable to make out their words – not that you’re particularly interested in doing so regardless.
A hand touches your shoulder. “Excuse me–”
It’s automatic, the way you spin around, eyes squeezed shut, and swing your elbow out with as much force as you can muster. You know you’ve hit something when you feel the sting of impact ring through your bones and the startled yelp of your presumed attacker. Your eyes fly open, and your heart drops when you realize who you’ve hit. Dark clothing, masked face, messy hair pushed into his eyes – it’s the guy from the bus.
He’s bent over a bit, one hand covering his eye, and the other…
“Shit,” you whisper, bringing your fingertips up to your lips. “Is that my–”
“Yeah,” He groans, slowly extending his other hand, where he’s holding onto a small notebook – your notebook, full of observations, thoughts, doodles and other scribblings from your shadowing shifts. It’s easily identifiable as yours, given how your name is scrawled across the front in sparkly gel ink, with stickers of your favorite video game characters stuck in random places all over.
“How did you know it was mine?” You ask, taking it from his extended hand. He straightens up, still covering his eye with his other hand.
“I’ve, um– I’ve seen you around campus. I think we had some intro classes together during undergrad,” he explains nervously, gesturing to your name on the notebook. “Y/N, right?”
You nod slowly, and he tilts his head before speaking again. “Also, I kinda watched it fall right out of your bag.”
You glance down, cursing under your breath when you see that the pouch on your messenger is fully unzipped. You’re surprised your notebook is the only thing that you lost in your rush to get home. You slip the notebook inside, zipping it up quickly as you do so.
“Thank you–” You look up again, and the reality of what you’ve done sinks in. Your eyes go wide, hands covering your mouth once more. “Oh my god, I am so sorry–”
“No, no, please,” He shakes his head, hand still pressed against his eye. “I shouldn’t have approached you from behind like that.”
“Is it bad?” You ask frantically, stepping forward and raising your hand to his face, fingers pausing a breath’s distance from his cheek. He goes still, eyes wide, the one you hit with your elbow red and watery.
You watch as he swallows and slowly unhooks one side of the mask, letting it hang from his other ear. With his face exposed, your breath catches once more. He’s made of sharp lines and angles, full lips and eyes that remind you of a doe’s. He blinks, smiling in a crooked, almost hesitant way. “I dunno. Does it look bad?”
You shake your head, letting your hand fall as you take a step back. “Just a little red. But it might bruise– oh god I feel terrible–”
“Please don’t,” He urges, hands twitching at his sides, as if he were about to reach out for you but thought better of it at the last moment. “I mean, not that I can dictate how you feel but– really, I’m okay. And it was my fault, y’know? For scaring you.”
He’s rambling a bit, which does something to ease your worry in a strange way. You can’t help but laugh at the situation now; it starts as a quiet giggle that you attempt to push down, but devolves into breathless laughter that has you holding your stomach. He cracks a smile, letting out a laugh of his own.
“Still, I’m sorry,” you say as the laughter subsides. “How can I make it up to you? Can I get you an ice cream? A first-aid kit? Oh, I know– do you wanna punch me in the face and call it even?”
He smiles widely, teeth showing. “Tempting as it sounds, I think I’ll pass on the physical assault. And I think an ice pack will do the trick in terms of first aid.” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “The ice cream though, I might take you up on.”
You nod urgently. “Of course! Where should we go? Do you have a favorite place?”
“Mm, I think everything’s closed right now…” Your face drops, and he hesitates before slipping his phone out of his pocket and extending it towards you. “We can set up a time though, if you want?”
You gingerly take his phone in your hands, smiling brightly. “Sure, yeah. Yeah– that works.” Your words are coming out in jumbles, and you’re not sure why, but you’re nervous. The twisting of your stomach and the warmth in your cheeks tells you so. It’s something about the way he looks at you, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Mostly curious, but slightly fearful. You figure it must have something to do with the fact that you just gave him a black eye – potentially fractured some nose cartilage while you were at it.
You punch in your number, handing the phone back to him. He smiles at you again, softly. “Okay. Cool.”
“Yeah, cool.”
An awkwardness settles in the air, and he looks a bit pained. Then you remember that he is, in fact, in literal physical pain. “Ah, you should probably…” You gesture to his eye, guilt settling in your stomach once more.
“Hm? Oh– oh, yeah, yeah I should probably…” He closes his eyes tightly, shaking his head before opening them again, a bit more composed. You would laugh at his fluster, were it not mirroring your own. “I’ll see you around, then, Y/N?”
You nod, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah, see you…” You pause, racking your brain for a name you’re just now realizing you never received.
“Heeseung,” he says. You notice the way the street light catches in his eyes when he smiles softly, making them sparkle. “My name. It's Lee Heeseung.”
“Aphrodite’s son should know more than simply what sex is — what a relief that you exist to teach him just that.”
greek god! au | historical! au | smut, fluff | 23.8k words
s u m m a r y : despite being a child of the embodiment of love and desire, heeseung never experienced such emotions, opting instead to throw himself in literature of his gods and goddesses. however, after one encouter with you, notorious elite escort, all logic and sense abandons him. as tense meetings and feverish conversations turn lustrous, heeseung experiences what it truly means to be the son of aphrodite — what it truly means to crave not for knowledge, but for you.
c o n t e n t s : son of aphrodite! heeseung, escort! reader, heeseung is a stupid loser virgin at the start, reader is most definitely not, son of hades! jay, son of hermes! sunghoon, jay and sunghoon are full-time bullies of heeseung, this is basically a bullying campaign for heeseung im so sorry, fluff because no good relationship exists without fluff, mc teasing heeseung, heeseung will undergo character development (basically meaning he will finally know where the clit is) a lot of sexual tension but that’s mostly because i am incapable of getting to the smut, mature content ↠ making out, dirty talk, oral (m. and f.), handjob, unprotected sex (stay safe!!) heeseung kinda becomes a dirty horny mf
t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @axartia @lhsng @aizzon @defxciii @shmooooo @skzenhalove @hwaluvx @sjakewrld @jjhenluv @garamdoll @nyanggk @jiawji @duolingofanaccount @taekbokki @kpoplover718 @wntrsgf @sd211 @artgukk @22222222claieze @yongboksfreckles12cards @anunconditionallylover @liliansun @rawrszh @danyxthirstae01 @jaylaxies @3nh4luvr @ashrocker123 @hyukiebb @jkmonica @cruelfever @missharubear @sweetjaemss @yngwife @kelly-fushiguro345 @cyuuupid @trimebruhh @stealercore @sensiblebutch @soobmint (send an ask if you would like to be added <3)
p l a y l i s t : here!
a u t h o r ’ s n o t e : it’s here it’s finally fucking here i’m so sorry for taking so long but she’s here thank you to lysol for pushing me thank you @hyuckworld you horny incredibly bitch ily for forcing me to write this every waking second and thank you kim mingyu of svt for your role in all of this you know what you did… anyway!! do enjoy this unedited version yikes <//3
back to masterlist
HEESEUNG WAS ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN, WITHOUT A SHADOW OF A DOUBT, THAT THE PATH WHICH HE FOLLOWED WAS RIDDLED WITH SIN.
That was a certainty he could not shake, no matter how much he wished it otherwise. His elders had warned him, his instincts threatened him, yet his mind was a mess which seemed unable to be put into order.
What did not help were his good friends, encouraging in this behaviour.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” One of them drawled, clearly speaking for himself as he dragged Heeseung along the lush streets of Corinth, mocking salutes to every woman who eyed his lean figure.
“You know Jay always spouts tomfoolery, but this time even I agree with him!” Another one of your friends chimed in, holding onto his arm. “Think of it as another one of your silly lessons.”
“Shut your ugly pig-eaten face, Sunghoon.”
“But I was agreeing with you!”
Of course, Heeseung thought, preferring to ignore his rather idiotic companions, gazing ahead as he entered the higher section of the mountain, into Upper Corinth. He should not have been surprised at the sheer vibrance of the environment, markets bustling in the streets carved from the mountain, every merchant offering possessions from all corners of the Greek world.
hello there! thanks for taking the time to check out my blog. i go by chae, it’s lovely to meet you! i enjoy music, writing, studying (mostly), and drawing. i was born in 2002 and i’m a current psychology student in university who plans to pursue a career as a therapist! i’m addicted to kdramas, so if you need/have recs, shoot me a message or an ask and i’d be so happy to chat about dramas with you! my favorite game series is fire emblem and i play a few other games casually from time to time.
my ult groups are txt, enhypen, ateez, and the rose. i semi-ult treasure and stan many other groups, including the boyz, stray kids, shinee, got7, nct, day6, and more! my ult biases are soobin, heeseung, seonghwa, jaehyeong and taemin :)
if you’d like to reach me on a platform outside of tumblr, i’m very active on discord and you can add me there at chae#1998 ! you can also find me on twitter (@ soobmintz) and on wattpad (@ soobmint).
thanks for stopping by! i hope to hear from you soon :)
i classify drabbles as less than 1k words, oneshots as more than 1k words, and timestamps as super short pieces written in one sitting. titles are sorted alphabetically underneath their corresponding member!
please note that i do not write smut for any member of enhypen. any suggestive pieces will be written for the hyung line only. do not request smut for any member or suggestive pieces for the maknae line or you will be blocked.
